#up. the novelty here is simply how incredibly young he is; this is one of his very first screen appearances‚ not only many years before his | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

atlas-of-a-human-soul · 3 years

Text

Draw your swords, pt. 10

Summary: Haunted by her own mind, Y/N isn’t sure what to do with the information she uncovered. On the other hand, the Darkling felt a growing distance between them, allowing himself to admit something he never thought he’d say.

Warnings: angst, swearing, fluff, sexual innuendos

Part one // Part two // Part three // Part four // Part five // Part six // Part seven // Part eight // Part nine

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A long time ago lived a young boy with the power of saints. He held the darkness at the tip of his fingers, capable of forcing the day into an eternal night. Back then, he made all the wrong choices for all the right reasons. To protect the ones he loves, he allowed the shadows to consume him. Cursed with immortality, he walked the earth ever since. Forever alone, hurt and betrayed, the Darkling's heart no longer beat as it turned to stone. No longer did he suffer, no longer did he feel pain or anything at all.

Until now.

There was no escape from emotions when he looked at her. Even in the darkness, she had the ability to set his world on fire.

A single badly made decision in a moment where everything feels more important than love can make your entire life feel like a failure. He would never make the same mistake again.

This lifetime he gives to her – wholeheartedly.

When they stopped for the night, he had felt uneasy as Y/N conversed freely with everyone but him. It seemed like she’s on edge and not knowing why gnawed at him. Once night came and they settled in their tent, the Darkling couldn’t contain himself.

"I sense some...hostility."

Scoffing, she rolled her eyes, "Oh, how observant of you."

"What happened?” He asked, “Did someone at the Palace do something to you? Was it Genya?"

"And what if she did?” Tilting her head ever so slightly, she neared him. “What would you do?"

Without thinking, he answered, "I'd protect you."

Inhaling sharply, she raised an eyebrow. "And what if it was you?"

Pausing, his eyebrows furrowed as he unclenched his jaw. "Is it me?"

"If it was you who upset me, would that bother you?" Y/N pushed further, genuinely wondering if he cares for her as much as she thinks. After all, who’d believe the Darkling has a heart? She was still trying to convince herself it’s real when he kisses her temple when he thinks she’s fast asleep.

"Immensely."

With her hands on her hips, she narrowed her eyes at him. "So, how would you protect me from yourself?"

Letting out a heavy sigh, Aleksander ran his hand through his hair. "I'd let you decide."

Closing her eyes in frustration, her lower lip curled inwards as her front teeth sunk into the flesh. A part of her wanted to ask him about being the creator of the fold, but it was an advantage that would be unwise to let go of.

"Why are you being so agreeable? Is it because I spread my legs for you now?"

"I've never known you to be so crude." The muscles in his jaw tighten as he squints at her and it’s taking everything in her not to smile because she absolutely loved when he’d look at her like that. It felt more natural than the soft, wistful looks he’d send her way.

"And I never realized you could be so easily tamed”, she remarks, her voice louder than before.

Chuckling in disbelief, the Darkling shrugs off his kefta without breaking eye contact. "You believe that you've tamed me?"

Pinching the bridge of her nose, she shut her eyes. Her face is flushed, her head spinning and she has nothing concrete to tell him. She can’t make sense of anything anymore, the image of him in her head changing with every passing minute.

"I don't know what to believe anymore."

In two strides, Aleksander found himself before her. Cupping her cheeks, he tilts her head up to face him and when she opens her eyes, she’s lost in the universe that’s captured in his eyes. She loved the night sky littered with stars, but she never truly knew what it means to stargaze until she met him.

“I’ve discovered I love you.”

Raising her eyebrows, her jaw slacked. “When have you discovered that?” Her voice is high, tone defensive, but his smile grows because it wouldn’t be her if she didn’t fight him even when he’s trying to admit to something he long forgot exists.

“When all my decisions started to revolve around keeping you safe.”

Shaking, her eyes widened. “That’s impossible! You hate me!”

Placing a hand over her mouth, he used his other to press his index finger to his lips. “Shh”, he chuckles, “You’ll wake the others.”

Rolling her eyes, she licked his hand.

“Really? I’ve touched you in a way that made you scream long into the night”, he deadpans, “Your tongue can’t possibly disgust me.” Smirking, he leans in, “On the contrary.”

Slapping his hand away, she turned away from him. Grabbing her head, she sat down with her thoughts running so fast, too fast for her to pick one out to decide what she thinks, feels, wants.

Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her back flush against his chest. “I know you hate me now, but I’m a patient man. I won’t give up on you.”

He held her for a while, too long for either of them to realize the night had slowly trickled away from them and given way to dawn. Their journey wasn’t quite as long anymore. Soon enough, they’ll be at the fold and Y/N didn’t know what to do.

Should she tell him? Ask him for an explanation?

Would he kill her even if he said he loves her?

She still felt his kisses as he laid her down beside him. For the first time since they made love, they didn’t initiate any physical intimacy. Instead, they simply stared at one another.

She’s not for feeble minded people, there’s no doubt about it in his mind and if anything, Aleksander was more determined to love her because of it. She tested him in every way possible and while she was incredibly frustrating to argue with, Aleksander refused to give up on her. She’s difficult to understand to ordinary minds, but he isn’t ordinary.

His love will conquer in the end, he truly believed that. He could have continued on like nothing changed between them, but he could not be silent any longer. After all the time he’s spent in vein, all the years he wasted and lives he’s lived, Aleksander never found someone who gave him a reason to believe. Not until he met Y/N.

While she remained silent, stunned by his admission, he spoke of the day he first met Ivan and Fedyor. He spoke of their adventures, of their silly mistakes and she found herself smiling at first. Soon, she was laughing with him, and though she had no courage to admit it yet, she fell asleep thinking about him. Their knees were touching and her heart was racing, but the world never felt so right as it did when she was next to him.

Once on the road, she took the reins once again.

Kirigan ignored the whispers about her riding his horse, choosing to glare them into silence. No one dared to speak of it after.

Stopping a few miles short of their destination, Y/N drew a shuddered breath. The sight is hauntingly beautiful, a nightmare come alive. Swallowing thickly, a faint line formed between her eyebrows as they furrowed.

How could Aleksander be the Black Heretic? How is it possible for him to live so long?

“I’m here”, he whispers in her ear.

Goosebumps rise across the back of her neck as his warm breath dances across her skin. And there he is again, with her when she’s looking for solitude, offering his hand to hold and shoulder to lean on even when she least expects it. The worst thing is that she’s actually becoming dependent on his help and that scares her most of all, because what is she supposed to do when he decides he never did love her and all of it was simply an obsession fueled by her rejection.

She’s still a novelty to him, that will wear off eventually.

“I’m not afraid”, she remarks, “I’m-“, she pauses in an attempt to find a better word, “Admiring it.”

“Admiring”, he repeats in surprise. “Most people find it absolutely terrifying.”

She wondered if it frightened him. What would happen if he went in?

Turning her head to the side, she caught a glimpse of his parted lips. She felt ashamed how it caused her heartbeat to quicken, how it ached for a taste.

“I’m not most people”, she reminded him. And he knew that well. The Darkling would never fall for an ordinary woman.

“What I want to know is what went through his mind”, she grips the reigns tighter.

“Of the black heretic?”

Feeling his hands tighten around her waist, she nods. “I wish I knew what led to the creation of the fold. Why did he do it?”

“Maybe he just couldn’t help himself”, Aleksander’s voice is strained, “Maybe he’s just pure evil.”

Leaning the back of her head on his shoulder, she looked up at him. She longed for him, for an earnest conversation with their souls laid bare, but would she live long if she unveiled what her mind’s been tormented by?

“I don’t believe that”, she says softly.

Their eyes meet in an instant, the closeness forcing them both to hold their breath and look at each other silently. Looking at her, he touched her cheek gently with the back of his hand.

“Why give him the benefit of doubt?”

Aleksander’s free hand gently moves along her arm, finding its rightful place at the side of her neck, touching her skin so tenderly she felt blissful and it reminded her of that night where he unraveled her, made her scream in pleasure she never found before.

There was no denying it, Y/N had a weakness for his hand on her neck and his words in her heart, neither of which she had any willpower to refuse, especially not when she couldn’t breathe when he looked at her with such longing, shameful lust and indisputable passion and understanding.

It took everything in her to find the strength to speak again without her voice cracking under the pressure of her own emotions.

“Because darkness doesn’t equate evil, just as light doesn’t equate good.”

Without a warning, he kissed her fiercely, violently, leaving her raw. She didn’t move away, she didn’t make a sound. All she did was close her eyes and part her lips and in that fraction of a second, she allowed herself to get lost in the beauty of a lover’s touch for when his lips claimed hers, nothing mattered anymore.

When he broke away, she was breathless and undeniably his.

“What was that for?” She raised an eyebrow, a shadow of a smile forming on her bruised lips.

She shuddered, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip ruthlessly as Aleksander’s breath caressed her skin. It felt so right, too right to resist his advances. She lived for those long nights in their bed, those thick with lust and romance and naked kisses.

Aleksander shrugs, “I wanted to.”

Lips parted, she didn’t know what to do with that. He told her he loves her, that he’d wait for her to love him back and most women would fall at his feet. Something inside her refused to do so. To admit her feelings out loud would be the end of her.

If she allows herself to love him fully, how could she possibly be the cause of his downfall?

What would be left of her if she took his love and used it against him in the most cruel way possible?

She’s losing who she is around him, but it hurt so much more to reject his love. Hating him, pretending her heart isn’t a feeble muscle where he resides is exhausting.

Truth is, he doesn't make her feel safe or comfortable as she once believed a man should. He makes her feel like she's teetering at the edge of a cliff and she's getting addicted to that feeling. She’s getting addicted to him – his scent, his touch, his handsome smile and devilish smirk and most of all to the way his darkness drives away her demons.

Love has to come at once, with thunder and lightning like a hurricane that wreaks havoc on your life, to shake you up and break the heart like leaves off trees, to drag it into the abyss - abyss he created.

She used to fear the dark, but now she found herself running into it.

In that moment, she smiled.

Perhaps the darkness is not so bad if he’ll be there, holding her hand.

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A/N - So, I literally wrote this in about two hours and I’m about to pass out. I wanna thank you for Eid Mubarak responses and especially for the feedback, I was just reading through them and they made my day so much better. I’m seeing some interesting theories too, some paragraphs you loved or just thoughts about the characters and IT GIVES ME LIFE. I’m so, so grateful for it all.

Tags: @bruxa0007 @rangotangomango @kaitlyn2907 @thestoryofmylife9 @shelivesindaydreamswme @hxrgreeves @safetyhtom @kaqua @savannah-elliott @all-art-is-quite-useless @azure23x @girlmadeofavocados @ashdab2611 @acciorudolphx @ladyblablabla @wckedheart @xceafh @sanna2020 @tarkanelima-blog @takethee @mellifluous-cosmos @marvel-ousnesss @tea-effect @starlightofsolaria @p3nny4urth0ught5 @blackbirddaredevil23 @sarcastic-and-cool @slytherinsbiggestproblem @within-thehollowcrown @notthatchhavi @musicconversedance @freakytillthemoon @lgkoval @honeyofthegods @queenmalhinewahine @misselsbells06 @whatthefluffrichard @aami98 @britriestbr @itsfangirlmendes @padme-parker @readingsssssssss @runawayolives @thehighladyofasgard @emlynblack @keithseabrook27 @dailydoseofchoices @deceivedeer @olympiacosplay @pansysgirlfriend @extrakyloren @daybleedsintonightfa11 @thoughts-and-funnies @weirdowithnobeardo @folkloresworld @remugoodgirl

PART 11

#the darkling #the darkling x reader #aleksander morozova x reader #aleksander morozova #general kirigan #general kirigan x reader #shadown and bone

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tenthgrove · 3 years

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Helloo~~

I was wondering if i could request,child!reader being adopted by Gelato and Sorbet(they kept the child a secret) and when they have to go away on a mission they leave child!reader with la squadra to look after? Howd they react? If this is okay!

La Squadra Babysitting Sorbet and Gelato’s Adopted Child

La Squadra x Reader, platonic/parental, sfw.

Sorbet and Gelato had always hoped to be parents someday. Originally intending to adopt by legal means as soon as they left the assassination busines, their plans altered considerably as their 30s dragged on with no sign of escape from the criminal underworld.

Still, you were an impulse.

Your parents were business folk. Though incredibly wealthy, they had run afoul of Passione and for that they had to be punished. Your room was on the far side of the mansion, where you couldn’t hear the sounds of your parents’ murders.

There was never a reason for the assassins to find you, but your fate was altered by a fleeting, split-second decision to find a different way out of the house. The second Sorbet and Gelato laid eyes on you, they knew their search for a child had ended.

For the merciless brutality they regard most of humanity with, your new fathers are excellent to you. You are showered with love every day of your life and you are never harmed or neglected. Within weeks you are already beginning to feel happier than you ever did with your old parents.

A few months after Sorbet and Gelato adopted you, you are bundled into the car with a bag of your things and driven to a large house in the middle of the city. You are somewhat familiar with this place as the dwelling of your fathers’ friends, and according to them, the place they spent most of their time before you came along. Still, you have not spoken much with the eccentric men who live inside, recalling little from your brief conversations with them other than their names.

Sorbet and Gelato lead you up the doorstep and kiss you goodbye. They explain that they have to go away for a few days for work, but their friends will take good care of you in the meantime. You watch them drive away, before a tall man clad in black calls you into the house.

Risotto- The Capo of La Squadra is still a little bitter about the stunt Sorbet and Gelato pulled to keep you with them. How convenient it was, that they simply forgot to inform him of your adoption until the point where it would simply be too cruel, even by Risotto’s standards, to demand they give you away. But even if he’s only known about your existence for a few weeks, you are still a part of Risotto’s family and he’ll be damn well sure the team looks after you like they promised. For one, Risotto will be overseeing everyone else’s responsibilities, making sure that anyone who agrees to watch you for a certain period actually does it. However, especially as the days drag on, Risotto will frequently find himself taking on your supervision personally. The man can clear a playground just by showing up, so whenever he has an hour free he’ll take you down there so you can get some fresh air. It fills you with a sense of pride and self-confidence to have such a scary-looking man as your friend. And having you smile at him makes Risotto feel human again.

Prosciutto- Jesus Christ on a bike. In retrospect, Prosciutto is starting to wish that the very obvious secret Sorbet and Gelato were badly hiding for those months really had been a plot against the boss. They would be more likely to come out of that alive than parenthood. But… Prosciutto isn’t going to risk getting his knees caved in for letting your health falter in their care, so the second-in-command is going to take on the more practical elements of baby-sitting you. Food, clothes, hygiene… he’ll bitch about it, but if anyone else offers to do it for him he’ll turn them down. The truth is, Prosciutto secretly enjoys looking after someone. It feeds his naturally caring nature, a side of him he rarely gets to explore.

Pesci- Personally he doesn’t know what everyone else is angry about. He thinks it’s great Sorbet and Gelato got a kid! They’re both so nice to everyone! (Pesci thinks this because he hasn’t been on many missions with them yet.) Prosciutto doesn’t like him spending too much time with you because he sees it as an excuse to slack off from his training, but whenever the opportunity arises Pesci is going to watch you play. He doesn’t join in, always fearing he’ll ruin things for you with his clumsiness somehow, but if you ask him, he will.

Formaggio- This guy has had like no experience with young children in a long, long time, so having you around is somewhat of a novelty to him. At first, he scares you a little with how loud and unpredictable he is, but it isn’t long before you find yourself having a lot of fun with him. He’d like to take you outside, kick a ball around perhaps, but Risotto insists that you’re only allowed out the house with him or Prosciutto. Instead, Formaggio will settle for watching some TV, always ready with his own weak-humoured commentary to make it more entertaining for you.

Illuso- He immediately finds himself more endeared to you than he would have liked. He shouldn’t be getting attached to some random kid, even if it is his colleagues’ child, but you’re just so damn sweet to everyone. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad wasting his time with you. When things are getting tense around the hideout, Illuso will let you and you alone see him through the mirror. It always makes you giggle, and you forget whatever it was that’s worrying everyone.

Melone- Don’t ask him how, but he figured out Sorbet and Gelato had adopted a kid a while before everyone else did. Given his stand, it’s useful for him to be able to identify the signs of someone being a parent, and this came in handy here. Anyway, Melone knew it would inevitably come down to you staying over with them whenever Sorbet and Gelato needed you off their hands for a bit. He bought a few new toys, to add to the collection he uses for educating babyface, and spends his allotted time with you observing how you interact with them. Although his demeanour may seem detached and experimental during these times, he genuinely does enjoy watching you. It fills him with happiness to see how obviously happy you are in your new life with your dads.

Ghiaccio- He tries to avoid you at first, thinking that a child in the hideout can only ever go wrong. But then he realises you seem to think you’ve displeased him somehow, and deep down, Ghiaccio feels bad. You aren’t a bad kid, he supposes. You’re not annoyingly loud or stubborn, and you generally do as you’re told. You do cry sometimes, mostly when you miss your dads, but you always stop whenever Ghiaccio gets them on the phone for you. He’ll tolerate you. If anything, he wouldn’t mind doing this again if Sorbet and Gelato need them too.

#la squadra #risotto nero #sorbet and gelato #formaggio #illuso #pesci #prosciutto #melone #ghiaccio

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romeulusroy · 4 years

Text

Novelty Pt. Two (Thomas Shelby Oneshot)

Character/s: Tommy, Shelby family mention

Word Count: 1,606

Requested: @captivatedbycillianmurphy @parochialism

Inspired By: @parochialism

Tag List: @dontdowhatisayandnobodygetshurt

A/N: First, if you're going to give anyone credit for the plot, we should all thank @parochialism :) Thank you my love!!! Your idea was so lovely and I felt so stuck about what to write, your reply was so incredibly helpful and I couldn't have written part two without you!!! Second, I really like writing parts to fics! I'm not sure I'd be able to write more than just two parts, but I thought the same when it came to this! Third, this is the longest thing I've ever written and idk, I'm really proud!!! I'm proud of how it turned out! I haven't been able to say that in a while, but I think I needed a lil break from mini-fics to get back into the swing of writing. Feedback is always appreciated my loves! 💜💖💜

~ FIC MASTERLIST PART ONE. / PART TWO. ~

PART ONE.

A curse, the greatest loss of them all, to see young love die.

He could have burned them, used them as an ash tray, put his cigarettes out on them one by one until it held the whole pack. He could have thrown them away, tearing them apart, shredded to pieces. But he didn't. Instead the divorce papers sat there, lifeless, collecting dust in the corner of his desk. Other papers, books, things of more importance stacked on top. Neglected, just like your marriage. Didn't matter, not really, it sent the same message all the same, no use in trying. No one could divorce a Shelby. Tommy never would have agreed despite the lack of love he felt for you, and no lawyer dare let you set foot through their doors with a last name that dangerous. If you'd known all those years ago this is where you'd be, sitting, waiting for him to react through the thin walls of the office, bracing for the worst, you never would have said yes on those fucking tracks.

He knew how you felt regardless of those papers. It was clear the space between you was growing, opening a pit you wished, you hoped, you'd fall into one day. Two lives lived separate, coming together only when neccesary. Grew up, apart, wanting different things. A man of power, he cared more about the toy soldiers he sent out, doing his dirty work for him, than the spouse he left at home each night, rotting alone in the bed they used to share. Greedy, angry, hungry. This was his life, his business, you were nothing more than a tiny, mangled piece of the puzzle. Meant to speak when spoken to, appear on his arm with a smile and only good things to say, put on a good act when there were eyes watching. When there weren't, he didn't give your actions much thought. You weren't even sure you existed out of his line of sight.

You came to family meetings. Not to nod and smile, the family knew just how you felt about one another, but because you had every right to be there, same as the rest. Your feelings for Thomas didn't bleed out towards the rest. Greeting Pol, Arthur, John, Michael, even Finn with a kiss on the cheek, a kind word, a lighthearted quip towards their brother or cousin. Sweet as ever, complimenting you quietly. You were their small reminder of the world before the war. A lifelong friend before an in-law. Someone to cherish, to protect. Regardless of what your husband felt for you, they still loved you. You sat with them instead, an us vs. them. None of you afraid to call him out, to stare in those deep blues and question him, his authority. He needed that, to be knocked down, challenged, learn that the world would not bow or smile per his beck and call.

You didn't work for him, or any of them. This wasn't your place. He wanted to be the provider, for you to wait long hours for him and him only, but you wanted your own freedom, your own worth. Found a shop. Used your maiden name. They all knew, but no one dare say a thing. Hired you on the spot, your boys visiting often per his request. Checking up, making sure you behaved. It wasn't much, but it was yours, and that was enough. Quiet, without him. A place of escape, to fill your own time with. No guns, no bodies, it was safe here. He knew his place, not to set foot. You had your own territory. This was yours. Untouchable, sacred. Tommy still knew his place sometimes.

You thought about leaving, disappearing, packing your bags, showing him you meant what you said. And you had, a few times, caught yourself on a train ride to nowhere, but you always came back, wasting the day, frustrated with yourself. You weren't only leaving him. They were your family, too. Your nieces and nephews, brothers and sisters, your friends, people you cared for and who cared for you. It was your home, too. The same place you grew up, a place you never really wanted to stay too far from. It was yours, not just his. He'd find you unpacking, shoving the suitcase in the closet, knowing what you did today, why his men couldn't find you working. There were a lot of things you gave up becoming a Shelby, a lot, but your home would not be one of them.

No one defied him the way you could. There was an art to it all, a dance. Though he wanted to be the one in power, you always lead. Slamming a bowl in the sink, a drawer shut, a door or simply stomping your foot. A reminder that you made noise, that you were to be heard. Rage pickled under your skin, burning your eyes, sharpening your words. Nothing touched him. He was just as ruthless, uncaring, slicing you to shreds with the things he said. You knew one another better than you knew yourselves. All his soft spots, weaknesses, fears, they sat on the tip of your tongue, ready to pull the trigger. Broken bits strewn across the floor, neither of you picking it up. It was no shock to the rest of the world that the Shelby's were unhappy. The way the help spoke, you weren't surprised. Left to pick up the pieces, the two of you unable to look at one another, word spread quick.

There were others. Other bodies he spent the night with, other smiles he charmed, buying drinks for, other hands he kissed. It was easy for him to find a companion. Strangers threw themselves at him, falling for the same eyes you did. Those lipstick stains were not your shade, nor were the scratches on his back by your nails. He gave up hiding it, and you gave up caring. You stopped looking for one another for that kind of comfort. He wasn't the only guilty one. Trips to London, where no one had to know who you are, where no one needed to. Dressed up just for them, needy for attention, a touch, to be wanted. No feelings, no names, no strings, just mindless, naked fun. You never let yourself get too close, too attached. They'd face a fate worse than death. The animosity meant you and them were safe. He never asked where you were, what you were up to, as long as you were home by Sunday.

Sometimes, though, those stars would shine through when he looked at you, the barriers crumbling, the walls falling. He'd carry to the car, bring you home when you drank too much at the bar. Tuck you in under the covers and apologize softly, sorry for the man he's become, sorry for the life you live, sorry you're stuck with him, this new him. After particularly bad fights he'd sigh, convinced you were asleep, apologizing for the things he said, wishing he'd been able to take them back. He apologized a lot when he thought no one was listening, when he could drop this angry facade, revealing just how tired he truly was. Laying beside you, over the blankets, his tie loose, jacket long gone, he'd apologize for all the things wrong in the world, wrong in the marriage. Apologize for taking your youth, stealing so many years from you, for never giving you the family you always wanted, the husband you always wanted, the one he promised to be in a past life. Sorry for this, and that, and everything else. . . .

It didn't fix anything, it didn't make you love him the way you used to, it didn't make him the man he used to be. There were still fights, nights you spent floors away from one another, in beds that weren't your own, in booths trying to drink your problems into oblivion when you hated the very sight of him. It didn't prevent you from staying with Esme and John, taking the couch at Pols, even disappearing back home with your side when that house felt too haunted. It didn't fix a goddamn thing, and it never could, but it humanized him, a corpse he'd been carrying around since he stepped off that train.

It wasn't hate. You never hated him as a person. You hated the words he said, and the things he did, but there would always be peaks and hints of the boy you first fell for. You were mourning in your own ways, bitter, crying for a loss no one else could see or feel. For the people you always pictured yourselves being, the houses you'd have, the life you'd live, the children you always wanted to have. Never would you raise on this environment, not now. Mourning your lost youth, your own broken heart. It was a marriage of grief, a graveyard of wedding vows, made up of dead promises. This was never like anything the two of you expected, and that was something to grieve for. It wasn't easy watching happy engagements turn into a lifetime of unconditional love. It wasn't fair. Faces younger than your own had been still happy to this day, their hair white,terth gone. Til death would they part, you guessed. . . .

When your request was denied by the very man who promised to do whatever it was to make you happy was the day you realized, no matter what you did in this lifetime, your own grave would still have the name Shelby carved into it.

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raendown · 4 years

Link

I almost forgot today was the start of @narutorarepairweek! This is my entry for the day 1 prompt the moment love hits.

Pairing: SakuraHinata Word count: 2149 Rated: G Summary: Pink is a color that represents many things. Friendship, affection, harmony, love, all of these things and more, all of them perfect for the one who stole her heart. Hinata never imagined that a feeling like this could ever be hers.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

Pink

It took hours of walking and a dozen different shops to find the perfect gift. Hinata was glad she’d come out early today, although the guilt still weighed quite heavily that she hadn’t been able to get out and buy anything before now. Usually she was the sort of person to be ready with gifts well in advance but her genin team had been running her ragged these days and time had been slipping past faster than she realized lately. She’d already made seven different mental notes just this past week to thank Kurenai-sensei the next time she saw her old teacher.

When she finally spotted the figurine it was as though her ancestors were guiding her, turning her round and bidding her to look at just the right angle to spot the last item tucked in behind a row of novelty teddy bears. Her hand was moving almost before the rest of her caught up and a moment later she was holding a beautiful porcelain figurine of a rose pink cat, elegant and feminine, yet the beautiful green eyes spoke to her of a certain fierceness. It was perfect. This was just the sort of gift she’d spent the last several hours looking for.

The rest of the shop was surprisingly empty so Hinata made her way to the front counter unhampered. As she set the figure down with careful hands she noticed a sign hanging just behind the bored cashier and smiled.

“Hello,” the man greeted her in a dull voice. “Did you find everything alright today?”

“Yes I did, thank you. Ah, I’m sorry to be of any trouble but I see you offer gift wrapping?”

“Bag or box?”

Shifting her weight back and forth, Hinata gave that some careful consideration. “I would like it in a box, please.”

The cashier nodded and brought out a sheet of thick paper to wrap the item before pressing it inside a small cardboard box. He pointed out a selection of wrapping paper and waited with an empty expression until she chose one with a design of blue and green balloons. In just a couple of minutes he was handing over a beautifully wrapped present for which Hinata handed him back the right change with a small tip that she hoped would brighten his day.

After making sure the gift was tucked away safely in her admittedly oversized purse she checked her watch and gasped, hurrying out of the shop and down the street so fast her hair blew out behind her like a handkerchief waving in the wind. She hadn’t realized it was so late already!

Luckily the streets weren’t nearly as busy now as they had been earlier when she began her shopping. Hinata was able to make it across town in record time, just fast enough to pause on her friend’s doorstep and smooth her hair back down before knocking on the door at precisely six o’clock, exactly when she’d promised she would arrive.

Sakura’s welcoming smile as she opened the door was like a ray of golden sun doing its best to outshine all the rest. As it always did the sight took Hinata’s breath away and left her with nothing but a tiny squeak to give in response. The kind soul that she was, all Sakura did was chuckle a few times and lean in to brush Hinata’s cheek with a gentle kiss, generous enough not to comment on the blush that rose in the wake of such blatant affections.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she murmured.

“Well I promised,” Hinata reminded her. “I…I like spending time with you.”

The two of them traded bashful looks before a young voice called for Sakura’s attention inside and she beckoned Hinata in as well. After nearly a year of pining in silence, believing with all her heart that such a wonderful person could never return her feelings, it was still a shock for Hinata to realize that Sakura did. It had already been a handful of months since that first date filled with nervous laughter and shy smiles and still she woke some mornings wondering if this had all been just a wonderful dream.

“Mama where’s my red jumper? I wanna wear my red jumper!” A tiny face with wide black eyes peered around the corner.

“It’s in the wash, sweetie.”

“But I wanna wear it!” Delicate eyebrows furrowed with childish temper and Hinata bit her cheek to hold in a smile at the sight of Sarada stomping her foot. At four years old she already had enough attitude and independence to rival either of her parents.

Sakura, however, was a good enough mother to take it all in stride. “Perhaps you should have thought about that before you covered yourself in soy sauce yesterday. I’m afraid you’ll just have to wear something else. What about that pretty blue one?”

Eyes narrowed in thought, Sarada weighed her options. A few seconds passed before she apparently decided to forgo having a temper tantrum. Instead she blinked rapidly in Hinata’s direction and then disappeared back around the corner where they could hear her little feet patter away towards the bedrooms, ostensibly to find a different jumper.

“I hope you don’t mind if Sarada joins us for dinner,” Sakura called over one shoulder, walking back towards the kitchen. “Naruto was supposed to watch her for the night but something came up at the office and he’s going to be in a meeting with the elders until well after her bedtime.”

“That’s okay, I don’t mind,” Hinata assured her.

“Are you positive? This was supposed to be a nice romantic night for just us.”

“No really, it’s fine!” Slipping off her shoes, she hurried forward without removing purse or coat, following her partner in to the kitchen and meeting Sakura’s eyes with a gentle expression. “I like spending time with both of you – and I was hoping to see her anyway.”

Sakura gave her a curious look but her question was interrupted as Sarada marched back in to the room with all the bold swagger of a model on the catwalk. Odd as it was to see her in any color but her very favorite she did look very nice in blue. And it appeared that she had realized this, making an obvious effort to do a fancy walk as she modeled the pretty outfit she’d chosen to attend dinner in. Hinata clapped her hands appreciatively while Sakura only rolled her eyes with a chuckle.

“You look lovely,” Hinata told her. To her delight Sarada dropped a very off-center curtsy.

“Thank you!”

“I’m glad you’re here; I have something for you.”

With no further prompting Sarada zoomed across the tile floor to hug her around the knee. “Presents!?”

“Just the one. Yesterday was your birthday, wasn’t it? Sorry I didn’t give it to you then. I tried to get us back from our mission in time but Miho-kun wanted to stop and look at some rare insects and I just couldn’t tell him no. I’m afraid he’s too much like his uncle.” Hinata tried for an apologetic smile as she pulled the gift out of her purse and held it out.

Clearly she was forgiven for her tardiness if the squeal Sarada let out was anything to go by. Wrapping paper went flying carelessly in every direction until the birthday girl was left holding a teeny pink cat that stared up at her with graceful nonchalance. Waiting to hear what she thought was absolute torture, not one of them speaking or even moving for several minutes, until finally Sarada carefully pressed the figurine to her chest with dark eyes wet and shining.

“It’s perfect!” she declared. “I love it! It’s like Mama but as a cat!”

“That’s why I liked it too.” Hinata’s lips curled in a relieved smile only to part with a dawning blush as she realized what she had just said. Gaze snapping up, she needed only a single glimpse of the look on her partner's face before looking away again, heart thundering with nerves in her chest.

“Mama look! Look! Won’t this go perfect on my windowsill? I’m going to put it there right away!” In a flash the little princess was gone just as quickly as she had come in to the room.

This time being alone with Sakura felt so much more precarious and Hinata desperately wished that she had a reason to call Sarada back in to the kitchen. She kept her eyes on the floor in the silence that followed, resisting the urge to fold down under the weight of the stare she could feel from over by the stove. The more time passed without either of them saying anything the more flustered she grew, wondering just how much of a fool she’d just made of herself. It had only been a few dates after all. They weren’t all that serious. Had she overstepped some sort of boundary that she hadn’t known about?

Soft footsteps approaching nearly made her flinch. If it weren’t for the years of hard work that had gone in to improving her self-confidence she would have turned tail and run or simply fainted dead away on the spot. It was, she would realize a few moments later, lucky that she did neither.

“You didn’t have to get her anything,” Sakura murmured softly.

“It really wasn’t much.”

“I...didn’t even realize you knew when her birthday was.”

Hinata shuffled nervously. “You mentioned it a couple of months ago and I know I should have started looking for a better gift much sooner but I just always seemed to be busy! Next year I promise that I’ll be more prepared. Do you really think she likes it? I could–”

Whatever other nonsense was about to spill from her mouth was lost to the tender press of pink lips against her own. Hinata sighed and tilted her head instinctively for a better angle. When they parted she found her head fuzzy with bliss in a way that happened all too often around this incredible woman. Sakura smiled, her eyes as wet and shining as her daughter’s had been.

“I love you,” she whispered. Hinata’s jaw fell open. “I know that it’s probably much too soon but- oh I don’t care. I don’t! You listen to me, you remember the little things and the big things, you’re so good with Sarada and she likes you too! Please don’t freak out! And don’t feel obligated to say it back just because I did! No rush! No pressure! I just…I had to say it. Do you know what you do to me?” Sakura lifted one hand to stroke the lines of Hinata’s jaw, reaching out with the other to steady her when she trembled.

“You give me too much credit.”

“No, love, I really don’t.”

“I…I love you too!”

Once more Sakura paused to stare at her but this time Hinata understood that look of awe. She felt quite the same to know that her feelings were returned.

A moment later she had been gathered in to strong arms and her girlfriend was kissing her as though the world were ending around them and Hinata really had no problems with that. Because she also understood the feeling of that moment when your own heart comes crashing down on you and the realization hits that your world would never be the same again. Poets had been trying to capture love in words for centuries. Standing outside of a rundown café with the sun in her eyes watching this woman before her greet one of her young patients with a smile, Hinata had known then that love could never be explained, only felt, cherished, protected at all cost – and most importantly shared.

“Is this too soon?” Sakura whispered, pulling away only far enough to breathe her words across Hinata’s lips.

“No. I don’t think so. Um, it feels right to me.”

Sakura graced her with a smile so bright she could have rivalled Naruto with it. “It feels right to me too.”

From the other side of the house they could hear Sarada squealing over how cute her new figurine looked next to the plants that already lined her windowsill and Hinata thought to herself that surely she would never feel this happy again, this content. It was hard to imagine how anything could be more perfect than holding Sakura close and feeling love brushing against her skin over and over knowing that in only a few minutes Sarada would return and the three of them would sit down for dinner together in a way she had hoped for yet never dared to presume until now.

As a family.

Hinata could think of no family she would ever love more than the ones who had chosen her as surely as she had chosen them.

#rae writes #narutorarepairweek2020 #sakuhina #hinata #sakura #sarada #fanfiction

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m00nslippers · 5 years

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Everyone Crushing on Jason 2

Today is my birthday, and I’ve got a present for you all! It’s chapter 2 of the ECoJ AU! Later tonight I’m going to post the first on AO3 under the title Jay-Crazy, then a few days later I will add this chapter tow it and then all future chapters will be simulposted. So I hope you all enjoy this slice of complete crack.

If you missed Chapter 1, it’s here.

- - -

“Holy shit, who is that?” Hal demanded of Barry, jabbing his friend with his elbow to get the hero's attention.

They were in the Watchtower Satellite after routing a poorly orchestrated alien invasion attempt. Even compared to the usual morons that thought they could conquer Earth despite it's super-powered protectors, it had been especially inept and the whole endeavor had barely made it to the ground. Martian Manhunter, Cyborg and the Watchtower scanners had detected the alien vessels quickly and, once hostility was ascertained, the satellite and vacuum-hardy heroes like the Kryptonians and Lanterns lit their asses up. A small force managed to slip by their attacks and make it to the Earth, but according to MM, a hastily dispatched contingent of available JLA members mopped them up easily enough. Hal hadn't heard any of the reports, was actively avoiding them to be honest, but everyone seemed to have come out of the incident alright except the bad guys, so he'd say everyone in participation had earned a beer, especially himself for being a front-line badass. Too bad he was stuck on the Watchtower until the all-clear went through.

He and Barry had just managed to dodge an after-action report with ugh Batman and were loitering in the infirmary—partly because Barry suggested they should be around in case anyone needed more hands with the injured, but mostly because Hal had found out the Bat was allergic to medical care—when Hal's eyes had zoned-in like a laser on the most exquisite pair of tits he'd ever seen on a man.

Jesus that chest was toned! Hal didn't know what kind of exorcize gave a guy pecs developed enough to spill out of your hand, but this guy was doing them and clearly never skipped. Hal was damn near hypnotized as he watched the man strip out of thigh holsters and shrug out of black reinforced-Kevlar body armor that zipped up from the back, revealing a body like a battle axe, hard, cut and stacked, shoulders broad and muscular. The man's legs were insane, his thighs were bigger than Hal's head! He looked like he could dead-lift Hal with one hand and Hal was suddenly wishing the guy would try.

Hal had pretty much been sold before he managed to take in the full package, but lighting on the guy's face Hal realized he was young, in his early to mid twenties, and almost painfully good-looking, even with the domino mask obscuring his eyes. His hair was dark and had a hint of a wave, longer on the top of his head and short at the sides, and at his temple was an interesting streak of white. His face was long and he had a wide, dynamic mouth that was on the verge of a snarl as he argued something with—oh, hey, Nightwing! Damn, he'd been so distracted with the view that he somehow missed that Nightwing, AKA the best ass in the entire vigilante community, was trying to stitch up a nasty three-inch gash in the mystery man's side that should have curbed Hal's arousal but somehow just made him hotter. Yeah, Hal liked the battle-worn and sweaty look all of a sudden.

Barry squinted where Hal was staring (he assumes, Hal refused to look away from those drool-worthy abs, squeezable pecs and powerful arms and back muscles that had him drooling a puddle on the infirmary floor). Luckily his friend had an answer for him because Hal needed a name to put to that amazing piece of real estate ripe for the tapping that had presented itself before him.

Barry's voice was incredulous as he answered, “That's Red Hood. You know, the guy we all voted into the JLA two nights ago?”

Eh, Hal never paid attention at those things. “Remind me, will you?”

“Gotham Vigilante. Like Nightwing, he used to be Robin. He was a bit of a villain until a few years ago, but he's cleaned up his act and Batman vouched for him—which is all information you should know if you listened at the meetings,” Barry complained. “Don't tell me you voted for someone without knowing anything about them again, Hal...”

Hal tore his gaze away from the smoking hot Red Hood so he could roll his eyes at Barry. “Does it really matter? You listen to the boring stuff and look into all these people and I just vote what you vote.”

Barry sighed, wearily shaking his head. “Hal, that's not--”

Hal raised his fingers to Barry's lips and cut his friend off mid-sentence. “Shh—Daddy's on the prowl,” he whispered and bobbed his eyebrows suggestively.

The speedster's wince was clearly communicated despite his mask as he shoved Hal's hand away from his mouth. “Please don't let me ever hear you refer to yourself as 'Daddy' again, Hal. I'm begging you.”

Hal smirked and clapped his friend on the shoulder. “Begging me, huh? Don't let Iris hear about this, she'll be jealous.”

“Why are we friends again? I can't say anything to you,” Barry mused, covering his face in embarrassment, ready to phase through the floor to disappear from the conversation.

“Don't know, but here is where I leave you, pal.” Hal gave a lazy two-fingered salute and grinned. “I've got a pair of pants to get into or die trying—and the pants don't belong to me!”

“I don't even know what to say...” he heard Barry profess as Hal smoothed his hair and strode confidently across the infirmary floor to where his future—Boyfriend? Sex friend? Morning regret? He'd take what he could get, honestly—had an arm resting on Nightwing's back while the other vigilante was underneath it, bent over his side, putting stitches into the long red gash across the man's ribs. And honestly it spoke to the power, or maybe just the novelty, of his new obsession that he wasn't drifting behind Nightwing to get a view of his fantastic booty, but was marching straight up to Red Hood, ignoring Nightwing almost entirely.

But no sooner had he stepped up to the plate then Guy Goddamn Gardner stepped out in front of him with his dumb red hair and his cocksure strut, cutting off his path.

“Hey, is that your jacket, there? Looks nice,” his rival Lantern said, nodding to a brown leather jacket laying on the medical cot next to Red Hood.

Guy's head blocked his view as he raised a brow in disbelief. 'Hey, is that your jacket, there'? 'Looks nice'? What kind of opening line was that? The hell was Guy playing at?

The Red Hood looked up from where he'd been scowling at the floor—damn, his scowl was mean, it was freaking hot—to eye Guy with the confused incredulity such a stupid ice-breaker deserved.

“Uh, thanks?” Hood said, sounding confused as to why anyone was talking to him, which was vaguely adorable to Hal for some reason. “'s kinda breezy, though. Gotta few bullets holes I haven't patched up yet.”

Hal thought he was going to melt into the floor. Shit, even Red Hood's voice was hot. On the deeper end of baritone with a street-sounding drawl Hal had only ever heard in movies because most people didn't actually have accents that strong.

Gotham vigilante, huh? He sure sounded like it. Hal usually had a 'no Bats' policy when it came to pretty much everything in his life he could manage, but this guy seemed different, more chill, more down to Earth than the usual Bat—or maybe Hal was just making excuses to justify sucking face with the guy. Whatever, he wasn't about to question it. The dick wants what the dick wants.

“Yeah, I used to do the whole leather jacket biker-schtick,” Guy said, his usual cockiness leaking into his tone as he flipped up the collar to his vest as if he actually thought he looked cool emulating a 60s greaser. He pointed a thumb at himself with pride as he said, “I incorporated it into my Lantern uniform and everything. It's a one of a kind style in the corps.” Hal could hear the attempt at a smolder in Guy's voice as it dropped half an octave and he praised, “I bet it doesn't look as good on me as it does on you, though.”

Red Hood's expression slanted into bafflement, mind clearly whirring as he processed the words spoken to him, turning them over every which way before hitting on the realization that he'd just been hit on. All at once Red Hood's cheeks blushed pink and he reached a hand up to tug through his hair anxiously, almost as if he wasn't used to people pulling out corny one-liners trying to get his attention and he had no idea what to do about it. It was so damn cute that Hal's brain momentarily ceased to function. Hal was stunned, amazed, incredibly turned on. What the hell, how does someone who looked like they could punch a hole in a car door, no powers necessary, and shoot you without remorse, look that sweet and innocent? It would be wrong if it wasn't so sexy.

Crap, he couldn’t let this go on. Hal had to get in there and break this up or he was going to be shown up by freaking Guy Gardner of all people, and that was something he simply couldn’t allow, especially when someone this good-looking was on the line.

“Okay, move over Horatio, the real Green Lantern has arrived,” Hal said, reaching out to physically maneuvered Guy out of his way before the other Lantern realized what was happening. Taking advantage of the opening, Hal swooped in to his place in front of the delectable Red Hood, whose eyes flicked from Guy to Hal and back quickly, with the almost creepy assessing intelligence that Gotham vigilante's were known for.

Hal offered a hand and his most dazzling smile. “Hi, Red Hood? I'm Hal Jordan, AKA Green Lantern, AKA Earth's first and best Green Lantern, AKA one of the JLA's founding members. I hear you just got accepted into the league, congrats! I bet you'll be a worthy addiction—I mean, addition, around here. Maybe after Wings finishes fixing you up I could show you around? I know all the best spots to avoid Batman.”

The Red Hood didn't take his hand but his mouth stretched into a lop-sided grin, a thing of brightness with a hint of mischief that had Hal going weak in the knees and he didn't know what he said to get said smile but damn was he going to enjoy it. Red Hood snorted in amusement. “'All the best spots to avoid Batman', huh? Maybe I'll take you up on tha—ow!”

Red Hood scowled down at Nightwing who was glaring at the Red Hood's wound as he tied off his stitches. “Oops,” he deadpanned, sliding his disapproving gaze Hal's way. Hal narrowed his eyes back, not sure when the guy had put on that party-pooper bat-look Hal hated, but now he suddenly couldn’t forget the other vigilante had worn the cowl of his greatest rival, world-class busybody Bruce Wayne. He'd always liked Nightwing better in the role of the big bat—he was more laid back, he cracked jokes even if they were mostly stupid puns—but he might have to reassess that opinion. Apparently Nightwing had picked up a thing or two from his mentor. Specifically, how to make Hal feel like scum for breathing.

Hal opened his mouth to ask Nightwing why he was here and what his relationship even was with Red Hood, but before he could confront his potential cockblock, Guy grabbed Hal by the arm and dragged him away to the corner of the room with a mumbled, “Excuse us, guys...” as Hal complained, “Hey, easy on the goods there, Guy!”

As soon as they were out of ear-shot, Guy rounded on Hal with fury in his face. His usually pale complexion was flushed red with anger and embarrassment, twin to his fiery red hair.

Guy shoved Hal hard enough to rock him back on his heels, whisper-shouting, “What the hell, Jordan! Why you gotta butt into my business?”

Hal scoffed. “Your business? No no no, I let you have first crack, but now it's my turn.”

Guy snorted and got in his face, as if he actually thought he could back down the GL Corps original 'man without fear' with his inadequate self. Please, Guy wasn't even close to his level. “You didn't let me do anything, Jordan. I saw him first and you just shoved your way in, like an asshole!”

Hal threw up his hands, unrepentant. “Hey, the man has a right to make his own choices, and clearly the better choice is yours truly. I'm just presenting him the option of my amazing self.”

Guy looked ready to strangle him with his bare hands, which was pretty typical of the man. “Why do you always have to be number one, huh Jordan?” he demanded and an edge of pleading entered his voice that put a momentary damper on Hal's sense of entitlement. “I might have found my soulmate here, why can't you just let me have this?”

Hal frowned, suddenly uncertain. Did Guy know Red Hood previously and have some relationship with him Hal didn't know? Was there some connection between the two that Hal was selfishly getting in the middle of?

“Soulmate?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest and regarding his fellow Lantern with skeptical but open ears. “You think Red Hood is the one, huh? What makes you think that?”

Guy's face turned dreamy-eyed and dopey as he explained, “I saw him right-hook an alien in the jaw, take the goon's own gun and blast his face off in a quarter of a second, then back-flip off a car and detonate an explosion that wiped out a landing craft. I fell in love instantly Hal, this is the real deal, man!”

Oh, so he didn't have a connection, Guy was just being typical Guy.

Hal rolled his eyes, unimpressed. “He's not your soul-mate, you just saw him do something badass and now your smitten!”

“Well you just saw him take off his shirt and now your smitten,” Guy countered with a snarl, “At least my reason isn't superficial!”

Hey, physical attraction was usually the first step to a relationship, or so he'd heard somewhere. It was human nature to see a hot body and go after it. “There's nothing wrong with—”

“Hey!” Hal heard as someone snapped their fingers in front of his nose and he looked over to see another fellow Lantern, Kyle Rayner, gracing both of his predecessors with something like irritated disbelief. “Are you two seriously fighting over Jason Todd of all people?”

“So his name is 'Jason Todd'?” Guy perked up, voice soft, “I love it. It just perfectly captures his, like, his everything, and—”

Hal shook his head. “Words are not your strong suit Guy, just stop.” Please.

Kyle pinched the bridge of his nose beneath his Green Lantern's mask, wearing a pained look as he said, “Okay, let's just put on hold the absurdity that is anyone thinking that dickhead Todd is attractive enough to pursue despite his garbage fire of a personality--”

“Woah, that's a bit harsh Rayner,” Hal said with a raised eyebrow, taken aback by the fierceness of Kyle's insult. What the heck? The kid was usually so nice. What did he have against the other man, how did he even know him?

“—aside from all the obvious reasons Todd is a bad idea,” Kyle went on, ignoring him. “If you're really interested, then you guys have way bigger problems than each other.”

Guy crossed his arms and tilted his head in question. “The heck are you talking about?”

Kyle jerked a thumb behind him and Hal looked over his shoulder to find the object of his and Guy's affections, Red Hood, one Jason Todd, was crowded by no less than Supergirl, Superboy, Booster Gold, Arsenal and Starfire, as Nightwing and Orphan hovered nearby like stodgy nannies. Kara had actually latched onto one of Red Hood's arms like a leach and was pressing her breasts against the man's biceps as she covertly ran her eyes all over him, no doubt putting her Kryptonian x-ray vision to good use (so unfair). Superboy—the older one, Kent's kinda-clone, not his kid—was trying to shove Kara out of the way and insert himself into the conversation, but the girl was clinging fast and refused to let go. Booster Gold was yacking and gesticulating, trying to draw attention to himself, but Red Hood seemed to be ignoring him in favor of chatting with Green Arrow's old partner and the Tamaranean princess who were looking way too friendly, with Starfire's hand on his shoulder and Arsenal poking at his ribs, as Red Hood swatted back.

“What the hell is this?” Hal demanded, the unfairness of it all pissing him off. “We were there first, come on!”

“I was there first,” Guy corrected and clicked his tongue angrily. “Man, this is freaking bullshit. This is all your fault, Jordan!”

Hal huffed, indignant. “My fault? You're the one who dragged us away! If you hadn't we—”

“Seriously guys, don't fight over the Red Hood. He's the worst,” Kyle spat with an uncharacteristic vehemence. “He thinks with his gun instead of his head and he's a broody goth-nerd lone-wolf-wannabe who he doesn't know when to quit!”

Guy's face screwed up in confusion. “What's your angle here, Kyle? You're just making him sound hotter.”

Kyle put a hand on Guy's shoulder, inviting him to listen closely as he explained, “Look, he's not hot—I mean, yeah he is, he's like crazy hot—but he's not, trust me.”

Guy looked like his brain was struggling to keep up with Kyle's non-logic. Actually, Hal's was too. “You are making no sense,” Hal informed the kid.

Kyle didn't look especially bothered. “Just don't fight, okay? Seriously, I'll sic John on you.”

Oh, not John Stewart-stick-in-the-mud! He'd shut down their whole operation like the by-the-book buzzkill he was! Damn, when did Rayner get so bitter? The kid was still in his twenties but he was already old and jaded and wise to he and Guy's ways.

“Woah, calm down,” Hal said evenly, as if soothing a potential jumper away from the edge. “We don't need to get John involved. We're cool, right Guy?”

Guy was a bit closer to John than Hal was, so he wasn't sure if the other Lantern would back his play on keeping the third Lantern out of it, but Guy also seemed to realize they needed to think smart here.

“Yeah, we can act civil about this. Probably,” Guy said, fluttering his lashes innocently.

Okay, 'smart' was relative.

Kyle rolled his eyes, not in the least sorry that he was trying to ruin their day with a lecture from John about GL solidarity and keeping your mind out of the gutter, or whatever rules the architect-ex-Marine followed to keep his nose so damn clean.

“Yeah, sure you can,” was Kyle's skeptical retort. The younger man rolled his shoulders wearily and finally seemed to let up on the oppressive tone. “Well, I'm out of here—they sent out the all-clear, no casualties, so I'm flying to my apartment to crash.”

“Okay, goodnight, I guess. Good work out there,” Hal said by way of a goodbye.

The younger Lantern smiled back, suddenly more himself. “Thanks. You guys too.” As he started to walk away Kyle hesitated and stabbed a finger their way, saying, “And if you take my advice you'll stay away from Todd.”

With that, Kyle set off toward the door, only pausing as he walked passed Red Hood and his accumulated admirers to sling a snarky, “Not dead yet, asshole? Shame.”

Jason immediately reacted, throwing up a middle finger as he tossed out a, “Fuck you, Bitch-Lantern,” that sounded almost playful. “I've already come back once, what makes you think I wouldn't rise up from the grave just to kick your ass?”

Kyle was still walking towards the door, yelling back, “I'd like to see you try, Failure-Robin.”

“Suck a dick, Rayner, I could bend you in half,” Jason retorted easily.

“I've got a piece of alien jewelry that says otherwise.”

“I bet your ring runs out of power before I run out of bullets.”

Kyle huffed. “Pff, whatever.” He turned the corner out the door with a much more friendly, “See ya nerd.”

Red Hood rolled his eyes and flapped a dismissive hand at him. “See ya geek.”

Hal stared wide-eyed and dazed in Kyle's wake. The hell was all that? How the heck did Kyle know Red Hood, Jason Todd? And what was with all the belligerent sexual tension? Did he have to worry about Kyle now too? Damn it, this was getting out of hand!

“That kid's a problem,” Hal muttered darkly.

Guy looked like he had somehow fallen even deeper in love after hearing his crush shout at Kyle to suck a dick. “Shit, this is bad,” he said and Hal wasn't entirely sure what Guy meant by it, but he was also certain that the man was correct.

“I hate to say it, but I agree.” Hal chewed his lip, for the first time beginning to think this wouldn't be an open and shut case of show-up-get-laid. He might actually have to work for his prize. It would probably be worth it, though. God, but he could die happy crushed between those beefy thighs.

“Maybe we should...I don't know, join forces or something,” Guy offered.

Hal frowned. “How would that work?”

Guy raised both brows and pointed at himself with a deprecating chuckle. “You're asking me?”

Of course, what was he thinking? “Good point, um...” Hal thought a moment before he said, “How about...we share information and give each other space to work, but everyone else is the enemy. If either of us land him we back off.”

Guy nodded. “I'm game. Truce?”

“Truce,” Hal answered. They sealed their alliance with a fist bump, ring to ring, and both Lantern rings sparked green briefly. Hal and Guy dropped their hands and moved to regard their competition with zealous scrutiny.

“Right,” Hal said after a moment to strategize. “Now let's get in there. You try to push out Booster and the ex-Titans and I'll take the Supers.”

Guy punched a fist into his hand and grinned, ready for a brawl. “Got it.”

#ECoJ AU #Everyone Crushing on Jason AU #Chapter 2 #Jason Todd #Red Hood #robin #Hal Jordan #Guy Gardner #Kyle Rayner #Green Lantern #dick grayson #Nightwing #JayKyle #JayHal #JayGuy #fanfic #Justice League #crack #jason todd rarepairs

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nuttyrabbit · 5 years

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Forge the Coelacanth Bio

So a couple of days ago,an anon sent me an ask telling me to talk about my OC Forge. Seeing as how I’ve never formally introduced him on here, I thought I’d instead just post a ref an a brief description of him. Instead, that turned into writing him a full on fucking bio.

So once again, before diving into the bio proper, I should give a major shout out to @pidgeonspen for not only designing Forge, but also helping to beta read and edit his bio.

With that out of the way, let’s get into the bio proper. Like always, everything is under the cut

Name: Forge the Coelacanth

Age: 1000+

Height: 6'0

Occupation: (Former) Commander of the Atlantean Knights

Personality: Contrary to what his imposing size, booming voice, and various scars may imply, Forge is an incredibly affable and endearing individual. His commitment to those he is sworn to protect goes beyond the purview of his duties, going so far as to try to befriend or at least get to know most of the people within Atlantis, especially those he fights alongside. Because of his extended lifespan, Forge has formed friendships that transcended generations, from the first of a line to the last. As a result, many considered him just as much a part of their family as those related by blood.

Forge is also an incredibly jovial person, often indulging in revelry with others following a successful mission or other joyous occasion. In these instances, his love for telling stories, singing classic Atlantean songs, and of course, his boisterous laughter all make themselves readily apparent. His jovial nature also shows itself around children. Forge absolutely adores children, having raised many himself over his long, long life and even having adopted some who had become orphaned. But above all else, Forge has an unwaveringly strong devotion to both Atlantis and what he believes to be “justice”, even two centuries after its fall. As a result, he has no tolerance for anything he either perceives or is told is “evil” or a threat to Atlantis and resorting to any means he deems necessary to get rid of it. On that note, Forge's morality is rather black and white, firmly believing in notions of objective "good" and "evil", leaving little to no room for any sort of nuance or moral "gray" area.

All of these traits have in some way or another contributed to him becoming a sort of "living legend" amongst his people, treated with immense respect and in some cases, even reverence.

While Forge appreciated and even sometimes used his status as a living legend to inspire his people both on and off the battlefield, he disliked the idea of being out and out worshipped and even discouraged the few that partook in it from doing so. At one point, Forge was rather religious. He often prayed to Atlantis' patron "god" of Levias for a variety of reasons, ranging from victory in battle to the continued propserity and safety of Atlantis. But as Atlantis fell to nothing, so too did his faith, feeling that he was no longer worthy of his god’s protection for one reason or another

Skills: One of the things that gave Forge his status as a living legend amongst his people was his nearly unmatched skill in combat. In particular, he is extremely skilled and adept in the realm of lightning magic, channeling it through both his armor and his sword to devastating effect. His most frequent application of this magic is simply shooting lightning from his sword, but he can also cover his entire body in lightning as a makeshift barrier, create massive shockwaves by slamming his charged sword into the ground, use it to supercharge his limbs, giving him a significant boost in strength, and even call down bolts of lightning. Even without his magic, he is still devastatingly adept with his sword. The sword itself is a massive greatsword, forged by Forge himself from pure Atlantean steel and named "Tempest". The sword is also magical in nature, being attuned to Forge specifically.Despite having centuries of formal training,his style actually forgoes finesse and formal technique in favor of a surprisingly loose style, revolving around using a combination of swinging Tempest around, using his lightning magic, and his own raw power to simply overwhelm foes. As stated before, Forge is able to use his status as a living legend to inspire his allies, especially on the battlefield.

Hobbies: Forge is someone who has rarely, if ever had the time to truly pursue any hobbies between his duties as an Atlantean Knight, his duties as a father and husband to the families he has helped to raise over his extensive lifespan, and other miscellanous matters. On the rare occasion he had a usable amount of free time, he usually either spent it honing his abilities through training. However, that changed once he decided to not start another new family after the 2nd one he had formed ultimately ran its course. With all this newfound free time, Forge had to find something to do, and indeed he did. He rediscovered a field he had very briefly considered pursuing a long, long time ago: blacksmithing, using it not only to craft novelty items, but also repair and improve both his equipment and that of his fighting companions.

Likes: Atlantis (Obviously), children, Octopus/squid (His favorite food. Don't worry, they're just normal animals, not mobians), storytelling, mead, combat/battle, blacksmithing, singing.

Dislikes: What he perceives as "evil" and general injustice, being the object of worship/reverence, bureaucracy (Politics just goes over his head), his near-immortality, bitter foods.

Backstory: Forge was born into the world as Atlantis, which was but a a small, simple city at the time started its expansion into the empire it would come to be mythologized as. As such, Forge grew up hearing about the glorious conquests of the Atlantean armies, the brilliant innovations of Atlantean scientists, and how the people of Atlantis were the noblest, smartest, and strongest people of the Seven Seas. But above all else, Forge heard and witnessed countless tales regarding the Knights of Atlantis (Or more simply known as the Atlantean Knights); an elite group of soldiers and guardians who were said to represent the very best of Atlantis, men of unmatched valor and heroism whose explots inspired some of Atlantis' finest artistry. The young coelacanth could not help but be enraptured by these tales, by these men who seemed to be larger than life, who represented everything noble and good about Atlantis, who were equal parts loved and revered.

As he grew up, Forge's fascination with the Atlantean Knights continued to grow larger and larger, as did his nationalistic attitude about Atlantis and all it stood for. On the cusp of adulthood, Forge knew that he wanted to serve his country someway, somehow, but he wasn't sure as to how until it hit him. Instead of merely fawning over the Atlantean Knights like everyone else did, he could *become* one, be the shining knight that all others aspired to be. Even though he knew it would require a nearly Herculean amount of time, effort, and perhaps even blood to do so, if it served Atlantis well, it would all be worth it.

And so, Forge enlisted in the Atlantean army. It was there he would earn his trademark armor, his legendary blade and mastery of magic. With these in hand, Forge would come to aid Atlantis in many of her conquests, quickly climbing the ranks and gaining the attention of his superiors due to a combination of his combat aptitude, valor in battle, and unmatched dedication to Atlantis' cause. Before he knew it, several decades had passed and before he knew it, Forge would finally take his place amongst the Atlantean Knights, fulfilling his near-lifelong ambition, and even starting a family along the way. But something else had shown itself. Despite his many battle scars and literal decades given to Atlantis' conquests, Forge himself looked as if he had barely aged at all.

Forge continued to serve Atlantis, taking part in her many conquests, leading her crusades - all the while continuing to raise his family. Decades came and went, his love eventually passing on to the next world, their children growing older and older... and for Forge, time had seemed to stop. He outlived them all, never seeming to age further. No matter what he did, whether it be forming yet another family, leading endless crusades against Atlantis' enemies, or throwing himself fully into his duties and working tirelessly to uphold his personal sense of justice and righteousness, he could not escape one simple fact: he would come to outlive everyone he would ever know and loved. He would be forced to watch everyone he cared about wither and die, and no matter how much he tried not to, he would come to feel immense pain at every loss he suffered. Forge tried to keep himself busy; starting yet another family, leading crusade after crusade against the enemies of Atlantis, burying himself into his work- but little of it helped to distract him from the truth: he would come to outlive them all. As time went on, he would bury everyone he came to know and care for, and it never did get easier. When the last of his children from his second marriage passed on, Forge solemnly decided that bloodline would be his last, instead focusing on his duties as Grand Commander of the Atlantean Knights. He defended his homeland against all her enemies, both real and imagined, his loyalty to those in power absolute and unwavering.

Forge was so convinced that this was what he was meant to be - a paladin of his people, carrying out Atlantis' will and standing as a testament to her greatness. He would gladly give his life and soul to protect his home from the perceived evils that dared threaten her... but he as unable to see that the greatest enemy to Atlantis came from within. The rulers of the great city, the aristocrats and the councilmen, nobles and advisors -- all of them polluting the seemingly unfaltering city with their greed and corruption. Forge was so eager to please, to abide by his superiors and do whatever it took to keep his city safe, that he didn't see any of it for what it was. He never questioned the crusades he was told to lead, the atrocities committed during those wars, the supposed heresy he was called to put an end to - he did it all for his homeland, for his people. He had to, in his mind, lest Atlantis fall for a moments hesitation.

But no matter how hard Forge fought to smite the "evils" plaguing Atlantis, he ultimately could not stave off the inevitable. Centuries of greed, corruption, and in-fighting came to a head and the once seemingly invincible empire of Atlantis tore itself asunder from the inside out. Soon, despite Forge's best efforts, the once great empire of Atlantis that had stood triumphantly and unfaltering for centuries, her capital city a shining beacon of greatness and prosperity, was reduced to naught but ash. Her once vast empire, which stretched for endless miles, was shattered, with her territories either abandoned or fought over by the very people they had once conquered. And her people, once innumerable, were reduced to none but a select few surviors, amongst which was Forge. Soon enough, they too would perish, leaving Forge as the sole survivor of his people, the last relic of a once glorious civilization.

Forge's worst fears had come to pass. Not only did he outlive all those he cared about, but he even outlived the very thing he had loved so dearly, the empire he had spent centuries helping to build and defend. The streets he had spent his life patrolling, the houses he had raised his families in, the taverns in which he celebrated his greatest victories, the graveyards where he mourned his worst losses, they were all gone, which nothing but ash and rubble in their place. There was nothing left for him there, but he couldn't just abandon all he had fought for for so long, could he? No, he decided, he could not. He had sworn an oath so very long ago that he would defend Atlantis to his last dying breath from all that may harm her, and even though there was nobody left to defend, nothing left to protect, he could never break that oath.

And there he stayed, guarding the ashes of what little remained; an unmoving, unwavering sentinel with nothing left to protect. As he partook in his seemingly fruitless patrols, his mind couldn't help but wander, and it always end up at the same place asking the same question: Why? Why did Atlantis fall? What had destroyed it? And the answers to those questions would always pin the blame on one person and one person only: himself. Forge had failed Atlantis somehow. Maybe he hadn't fought hard enough. Maybe he wasn't vigilant enough and let an "evil" in that had destroyed her people. Maybe he wasn't able to unite the people in a time of crisis and be the leader that they had needed. No matter what it was, the blame would always shift inwards. But he wouldn't fail them now, he couldn't. He may not have been able to save his people, but he can at least try to save what's left. If there was anything to be gained from this curse of his, it was that he could stand vigilant forever, and that the legacy and spirit of his people would never truly be lost.

For over a century, the coelacanth continued to stand vigil at the tomb of an empire, bound there by his unwavering sense of justice and his oath. Things would change over time, for a threat unlike any other would come to this hallowed ground: creatures of pure darkness and reek of fetid evil began to manifest, drawn to the very ruins Forge swore to protect with his life. And protect the remains of Atlantis he did - but no matter how many of the foul creatures he smote, more would spawn as night fell. The horde was unending, and Forge eventually realized to put an end to this evil, he would have to destroy it at its source, whatever and wherever it may be... and that meant he'd have to leave Atlantis to find it. Even if it meant temporarily leaving the ruins at the mercy of these monsters, he knew he could not idly stand by while such vile creatures existed, seemingly intent on destruction. It was time to take action and to put a stop to these monsters for good.

And so, in his search for answers, he emerged from the depths to a land none of his kind had dared to venture: the surface world. A world so vastly different from everything he's ever known, where the black & white ethicality he'd so strictly followed would be challenged, a land where he would be confronted with an evil far beyond anything he had ever encountered... and where he would ultimately come to face the truth about what really caused the fall of Atlantis.

#Sonic OC #Forge the Coelacanth #Sonic FC #Sonic #Sonic the Hedgehog #Sonic Fan Character #Archie Sonic #OC Stuff #I've been sitting on this character for the better part of a year now #It was about time really #OC Bios and Refs #OC Bios and References

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bunny-banana · 4 years

Note

I'd love to hear a director's commentary on La leggenda di Niccolo please :D Have a star as well ⭐

HA! Okay well, I’ll talk about the sections that I actually wrote so here it comes:

Chap 1

Engulfed in the never ending masses of water, he reckoned one should feel intimidated. No ground under his feet, only limited amounts of air to his disposal, and the uncertainty of what lies within the darker corners of the ocean should normally frighten you. And yet, he never felt more at peace than when he was floating so freely in the sea, almost as if gravity and the world outside didn’t exist

the fucking IRONY of me writing this while being deadly afraid of deep water. its honestly like “yeah,,,,, lemme list all the things i personally hate about deep sea…. and lets add ‘well, but theres something good too about that for sure,,,i guess,,,, ”

But what was more important for me was this contrast to what Ermal dreams about, his lowkey fantasy - and where he is irl, the icy south pole. I’m rather fond of opposing things/contrasts.

The soldier breathed heavily in and out, but there was no time to rest as the next blaze of fire was aimed at him.He countered and evaded but his opponent was more forceful, his flames harsher, faster until the soldier’s back hit the cold railing. He was caught, and when his opponent mercilessly stroke once more, he knew he had to save himself by escaping into the cold water.The man remaining on the top deck smirked. Ah yes, he’d almost assume those new soldiers were just too easy to take on even if only for practice reasons, but it pleased him more to say that he still got it.

i really hope this introduction just tells you everything you need to know about Renga’s character.

How much sooner the war could have been won had it not been for the Poles!

While actually reflecting on the universe, i realised, it must be incredibly difficult for firebenders on the poles. like, I just assume they really, really arent fit for the cold which would make invading incredibly difficult for them. also lol, renga hates it at the poles obviously.

Shaking so hard that kids ran towards their mothers and the watchtower fell over and when the fog cleared up, Ermal felt his stomach drop. ”No.”

Nothing, absolutely, nothing in that universe is more frightening than seeing the Fire Nation military pull up to your doorstep.

Also, lmao, love to imagine Rinald quietly going “oh nooo my watchtower D:”

Ermal pushed himself through the crowd until he was right in front of everyone, until he was the last barrier between the Fire Nation soldiers and the village.

Ermal has Strong Opinions™ about the Fire Nation, with reasons of course, and seeing them here is the absolute nightmare to him.

“You mean the Avatar that disappeared off the face of the Earth? The one that nobody has ever seen and that was probably never even reborn? That Avatar?”And if his cockiness gave off a certain invitation to smash his face in, then this was perhaps a little bit Ermal’s fault.

to quote the Smiths: Bigmouth Strikes Again!

“B-but he’s- he’s so young? I swear to the Fire Lord, if this is yet another trick then-”

Chap 2

Niccolò had always been in awe of the Fire Nation’s advanced industrial sector. The machinery that originated from the Nation had always had cutting edge quality which no one in the world could quite imitate nor match. This ship however was beyond anything Niccolò had ever seen. This ship was fully steam-driven with the powerful motors roaring under his feet. And those weren’t the only novelties.Steel processed so professionally that it makes impenetrable walls and doors which opened and closed only through quite sophisticated lock mechanisms. It all looked so modern, it all looked so futuristic.

so the idea was, since Nic had missed an entire century, the ship looked super modern to him. while its a canon fact that the FN is quite advanced with machinery, the ship itself is just to an up-to-date standard. But to Niccolo personally it seemed futuristic. i like the idea of him being amazed at things he has never seen in his life just to find out they’re pretty common in the current timeline.

There was not much time left, Niccolò had to think quickly. Extremely convenient how his nose started tickling right in that moment.The powerful sneeze that followed had two consequences: One, the guard in front of him was catapulted straight into the metal door of the cell, rendering him unconscious.Two, Niccolò and the guard behind him were also forcefully pushed back to the other end of the corridor, crashing into the hard wall.Well, at least the guard did. The young airbender was spared that fate, by that nice pillow the guard turned out to be, so he quickly got onto his feet and ran as fast as he could with his hands tied behind his back.

so yeah ngl, this was just copied from the OG ep

Now that his hands were freed, he opened the first door that presented itself to him, but in front of him, he simply saw the quarters of General Renga who stared at his now roaming prisoner in shock. Okay, time to turn around, it seems.

listen, i just love the thought of overconfident General Renga being so shellshocked to see his prisoner escaping that he just gapes at him. And ofc Nic slamming the door shut immediately jsfkld

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Niccolò cursed as he evaded a burst of fire that was aimed at him before taking the next corner “Where’s the exit?! Where’s the goddamn exi- AH!! A DOOR!!” He pulled it open to reveal a startled guy sitting there just minding his own business. An unexpected sight, with an even more unexpected odor following. “Oh? uhm- Sorry man! Just- just take your time! Also, perhaps light a candle when you’re done. Bye!” The young Avatar swiftly apologised as he closed the door of what was most definitely not an exit.

Fav OC so far! That simple FN dude was just trying to take a dump in peace but who would have known that all hell would break lose and the goddamn Avatar of all people would walk into him smh. Also, I really enjoyed the thought of while this is all hectic and dangerous, Nic still being human enough to go like “oh, my bad! sorry dude!” at this random soldier. Who knows, maybe we should bring that one back some time later. And i kinda wanted the whole escape to be funny, since its Nic’s POV, and it just wouldnt suit his carefree spirit to make this super serious (yet).

“I’ll give you that, hiding for so long was sort of impressive.” Niccolò heard Renga’s voice behind him as the General had caught up with him.

almost wrote “century” there but then remembered nah omg he can’t know yet

A piece of ice may or may not have also hit Renga straight into the face but nobody would complain about that anyway.

yeah i just love the thought of this super dramatic scene of Nic entering the Avatar State and then theres a chunk of ice knocking Renga unconscious lmao get fucked, dude

“Nic!” Ermal ran towards the slowly decreasing water pillar to catch the unconscious airbender in the last second, dropping to his knees in the process. That was beyond anything anybody of that age should normally be capable of. That was beyond what any waterbender could ever be capable of. And yet, lying in his arms, Niccolò looked so exhausted, so weak. Just like any other kid. Not a trace from the sheer force that was unleashed moments earlier.

I think this was really the moment Ermal started feeling real responsibility over Niccolo. Just seeing him do all these crazy things and yet being reminded that this huge burden of being the Avatar is literally thrusted upon a simple kid. Also, this is the first time he called him “Nic”

Various noises and sounds buzzed through the air that afternoon: The loud shoveling of snow from the bow, the quieter crackling emerging from the hands of the firebenders who were melting their frozen compatriots, the fast steps rushing left and right over the ship. All these different sounds were heard, but none of them were chattering. Nobody dared to chat. Not after this disastrous defeat. What a disgrace that had been, General Renga thought grinding his teeth.

Everybody on this goddman ship is just scared shitless that Renga will roast them if they so much like whisper. they know he moody, they know he’ll blame them for the avatar’s escape. so lets all just work and repair shit and keep quite.

When he found consciousness again, he was left with not only one horrendous purple bruise on his face, but also with a half destroyed ship.

jdsfksajfklf OK SO YEAH, my first intention was “lmao let a piece of ice hit him” but then i realised “oh wait he’d have a bruise afterwards” and then “LMAOOOO he’d be like Zuko, how perfect is that” ok so granted, unlike our dear fire prince, Renga’s bruise is only temporary, but i really hoped someone would pick up the connection to Zuko

Whatever had happened to the Avatar earlier, it left a colossal mark on the ship, and secretly, on Renga personally too. He might have gotten fooled once, but he wouldn’t get fooled again.

basically, he feels personally insulted about being beaten by a kid. what a loser lmao

“Martino!”

“Y-yes, General?” stuttered the lanky assistant with the askew glasses, clenching his hands around his writing board. One would think you’d get used to Renga’s harsh tone over time, but that was simply not the case..

rip martino but renga absolutely needed a poor anxious assistant whom he could terrorise

“We need the best of the best to defeat him. And I just know the right choice for that job…”

heeeeheeee ….. no comment ..for now. but im curious to what you guys think about that

Thank you so much! this was a lot of fun to do ! :)

#ALLDN #my fics

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treatian · 4 years

Text

The Dark One Chronicles: The Dark Curse

Chapter 2: An Assessment of the Sexes

Their tavern was just as sad as the rest of their pitiful little town. There was nothing special or unique about it. It was exactly the same as every other tavern he'd been in since he'd become this creature. Which was how he knew it would be the perfect place to meet a stranger who claimed the Dark One had need of him. The dark and dampness of the business at least gave him some bit of comfort as he strolled over to a private table farthest from the door and sat down. Vultures. All barmaids were vultures, and they were on him as though he'd only just died yesterday.

"Sir, what can I…"

He removed the cloak from his head, and instantly she choked on her words, eyes rounding at the sight of him.

"What…what can I get you?" she asked in a much softer tone.

"Ah…nothing for me, Dearies, but my company, if he arrives, will have some of your strongest ale!" he pronounced. Alcohol wasn't good for much, but a loose-lipped meeting was certainly better for him. Besides, he'd only be throwing away his money if he got something for himself. He'd noticed since losing Bae that alcohol had little effect on him in this form.

"Are…are you sure?" the barmaid asked, suddenly getting the courage to offer a small smile and tilt her hip in his direction. It reminded him of Ava, the woman who had once tried to seduce him so he'd make her his "queen". "Is there anything else I can help you with." It sounded like something Ava too. But he was quite sure that he didn't need what the wench was offering — filthy town.

"Quite."

She left with only a single glance thrown back at him over her shoulder. Women. He understood entirely why half of them shrank away from him in fear, but he was clueless as to why the other half eyeballed him like he was a roast turkey, and they were starving. He hadn't a single interest in what they were after. Not at the moment, at least. Not until he got back to Baelfire, then perhaps some of those old desires might be permitted to come to the surface again. Although, after a year of searching for his answer, he was positive that getting to Baelfire also meant surrendering his power; that meant gaining a limp. He couldn't be sure that women would continue to look at him this way when he was no longer the Dark One, weak and nearly as pitiful as this tavern.

Many people came and went as he sat there in that tavern contemplating the mind of the "fairer sex", but he knew the second the man he was looking for came in. Timidly he looked around, and when his eyes finally fell on him in the back, he noted the swallow that made his throat bob up and down. As he got closer, he smelled distinctly of fear, just like so many did when they came into contact with him for the first time and weren't prepared for the sight of him.

"It really is you," he stated with wide eyes as he sat down at the table. "The Dark One, in the flesh. Or…whatever that is."

He managed to restrain himself from rolling his eyes only by keeping them cast down at the table and avoiding Smee's gaze. He'd been looking for him so long, that was the best he'd come up with? He had a hard time believing this man had anything he could ever want when he approached him with stupidity like that.

"You've gone to a lot of trouble to meet me. You better hope I agree it's worth my time."

"I've heard you'd been looking for something. And, as luck would have it, I'm a man who trades some hard to find objects."

Perhaps he'd been wrong about the man. He'd spoken quickly just now, but it didn't have the same cadence that fear had. It had the tone of necessity. He'd spoken to move things along. And better yet, as the woman from the bar brought a stein of ale toward their table, William Smee got suddenly silent. A quick glance told him Smee was eyeing her with suspicion and unwilling to talk in front of her. Perhaps he'd underestimated him. It seemed the man knew how to hold his tongue around others. At last, someone with a brain. That was a lifesaving skill in his line of work.

"Like a bean?" he muttered, once the woman moved away. He'd whispered it really drawing his head closer to his own and cupping his hand around his mouth to block the sound from even potentially getting out into the crowd. "A magic bean that can transport you between worlds."

He had his attention before out of curiosity, but now he possessed it out of necessity. The Dark One was an experienced deal maker. He'd been doing it since long before even his own parents had been born and he knew that sometimes offers were false and even worse, sometimes they were traps. That he should be summoned to a strange woman's hut and told of this man's need to meet him, and that he had the one thing in the world he needed more than anything, was suspicious all on his own. The phrase "too good to be true," came to mind. He couldn't seem too interested.

"I've been told, they no longer exist in this land," he pointed out.

Smee leaned forward, his eyes wide. "Not in this land, no," he admitted. "But the ships that dock here often return from far off lands with treasures they don't always understand."

"And yet, you do?" he mocked. This man with a red floppy hat…he understood what they didn't? It was difficult to believe, and yet here he was. It was for Bae. Anything else and he would have left already. But if there was hope he could get him a bean that could take him the Baelfire, what choice did he have but to stay and listen?

"It's my job. As is knowing the rumors of who might pay the highest price for said treasures."

Rumors indeed…he'd been incredibly careful not to let many know what he'd been searching for. The fact that this stranger knew what he wanted most of all without any familiarity with him was disturbing. He'd have to find the source of these…rumors. If they were true, of course…

"And what rumors could they be?"

"That you were once a great coward, but that you became the Dark One to overcome that and protect the, uh, son who you lost, despite all-"

He had to summon his magic and use it to limit the air getting into his lungs to stop him from talking. A fool's brain buried beneath a wise talker. He should have known. William Smee must have had some kind of familiarity with his former village. That must be where the rumors he'd heard had come from because he could think of no where else he'd get information like that. He'd have to do something about that. And about…this.

"It's not nice to spread rumors!" he snapped loudly, so the entire bar could hear him, just in case a single person had heard him. Best to stick to business! "The bean – where is it?"

"I don't have it," he rasped out, with his own hand around his neck as if it could help him in some way. If he'd just lied to him, there was nothing that could help him. "But I can get it, I swear!"

He was begging. But he'd also said the magic words. And so with that, he relinquished his hold on Smee's throat and sat back, trying to look just as disinterested as he had when they'd first started. All the while, inside, he was nearly leaping for joy. He had a lead on a bean, an assurance they did exist! Forget the curse he'd been worried about finding; he was about to prove that Blue Bitch wrong and join his son!

"You haven't heard my price," Smee commented after the coughing fit he'd barely noticed had passed.

Price. What was that word to him anymore? He'd heard every other rumor about him, had he not heard the one about gold?

"I spin straw into gold. Price shouldn't be a problem."

"I don't want money," he insisted quickly. "I want eternal life."

He let out a loud, obnoxious laugh that he hoped passed along the message of just how ridiculous his request was. Smee knew what he wanted, he'd give him that, but he didn't want it enough. He wasn't desperate for it, and that made him no threat to his blade, only his comfort. There was no spell for eternal life, not one that wasn't a curse at least. There was a spell to keep an individual young, which could go on a lifetime, but it needed to be repeated and reset constantly. That would require keeping Smee in his life forever, and if he got the bean and he left, he wouldn't be able to fulfill the deal. But there was something else, something close to his request that a man like Smee might accept.

"Only the Dark One has life eternal. So, you want more, son. What I can do…what about youth? Spin the clock back till you're a little boy again?"

He could see his mind working behind his eyes. It was reassuring. If he was considering the bargain, then he'd been right. He wanted eternal life for the novelty of it, not out of necessity. He had nothing to fear of him.

"Close enough. Deal!" he agreed just a bit too eagerly. He wasn't desperate enough for eternal life, but he was betting that he would be desperate not to meet an untimely fate. A little motivation for getting that bean couldn't hurt.

"But remember – you fail to deliver, I spin the clock forward, and turn you into dust."

He understood. He could see it in his eyes, and in the way he pulled his hat on and rose from the table to get to work. "Thank you. Thank you!"

He was gone quickly. He liked that. His assessment of William Smee was that he wasn't exactly the brightest burning candle he'd ever met, but he seemed to be a savvy enough businessman and he had managed to get the butter blossoms for the old lady. Probably he was good at his trade and little else. But he knew better than to get his hopes up. After all he'd had more than a few leads on magic beans since Bae had gone away, and each and every one had failed. He knew better now than to count his chickens before they hatched, or in this case, count the beans before they were sitting in his hand.

"You sure you don't want anything?" the barmaid questioned, coming up to him but staying a safe distance away.

He'd been about to vanish, to simply leave her staring at his empty chair when he heard a voice that rang out in his ear and grabbed his attention. It was a familiar voice. Someone he recognized but couldn't place until-

He glanced over in the direction of the sound, and the glance became a shocked stare. Black clothes, earring, elaborate beard…he recognized that voice, and now he knew why. It was because the last he'd heard that voice he'd been quaking so hard in his boots he hadn't been able to move and watched helplessly as he stole away his wife. Killian Jones. The pirate who'd taken Milah.

He watched now as he walked into the bar without fear of conviction like so many pirates in this town did after they'd paid the lawmen. "Where's my beer?!" he questioned with a joyful smile on his face. A joyful smile…a joyful smile like the one he had stolen from Baelfire when he'd taken his mother. If he'd never taken Milah…

"You know, I suddenly find myself quite thirsty," he explained to the barmaid, who happily set one of her mugs of ale before him and marched off to take care of the new guests. Rage simmered beneath his skin and he allowed it. Let them drink. Let them gorge themselves on food and drink. His thirst was much more murderous. It would only be satisfied by blood. For Baelfire.

For Milah.

#Rumbelle #ouat #rumple #dark one

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dreadhaus-literature · 5 years

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{Collection} A Haunted Haus : Day Two & Three

That is a mask...right?

Day Three, Start.

The past 48 hours haven’t exactly been “business as usual” for the Stone Spider Family.

Atamu hadn’t figured life would be all sunshine and roses every day since the Merger almost three years ago, but the Patriarch hadn’t ever anticipated anything quite like this. His displeasure in the recent, strange goings-on under his roof was clear on his dark, weathered face as he sat with his massive arms folded across his broad barrel of a chest. His long dreads were secured back in a thick braid that reached his waist, an impressive feat for a man over eight feet tall--it was a task he’d asked His little to perform, something Monica was quite skilled at by this point and had done so without hesitation. Atamu wanted his hair out of his face so he wouldn’t have to think about it or push at the long, thick twists of soft hair as the day’s events continued on around him. And while he normally reveled in the time Monica spent playing in his dreads, enjoying the way her small fingers felt beneath the lovingly secured strands, today it had been more for business than pleasure. There were events going on at the Haus that required the old Chieftain’s full attention and he didn’t want to miss a single detail.

Helen’s office was currently holding several select, key members of the immediate Family--the Reaver herself was behind her desk, with Thomas standing in front of it. Atamu was seated in a high-backed chair facing the desk, with Monica safely in his lap--she wasn’t allowed down, much less out of the Patriarch’s sight.

Not after what had happened yesterday.

And while normally Monica might chafe under strict restraints on being told what to do...after what happened she wasn’t too keen on being out of Atamu’s embrace at all, much less where he couldn’t see her.

Luvon Dreadful was the newest addition to the room, the Alpha standing beside his Father and lifemate. The werewolf had his arms folded much like his Father, his large, heavily muscled body blocking Monica from the door and providing a second wall of protection for the young vampire. If Atamu hadn’t been overprotective enough to keep Monica at his side, Luvon would have done it. The overprotective Alpha did not play around when it came to Monica’s safety and well-being and anyone who looked at him now would only notice his tightly locked square jaw and the way his orange eyes glowed almost ferally. There was a dormant volcano of rage smoldering dangerously close to Luvon’s surface. All he needed was a target to unleash it on--but that was part of the problem. No one was quite sure what happened yesterday, and that was the cause of the current meeting.

“Would you like some tea, sweetheart?” Thomas straightened up from leaning against Helen’s desk, his gentlemanly smile aimed at Monica. “I would be happy to make you some, or perhaps a snack?”

“You need to be here for the recording, Thomas, you cannot be off making her tea. That’s why we have staff,” Helen’s sharp tone was back in full force, sounding like a whip of censure, though Thomas was used to her by now and didn’t react as if scolded. His smile didn’t even falter.

“I’d happily do it if she’d like me to.”

Helen didn’t doubt that for a split second.

“That’s okay, Thom.” Monica offered the Detective a small but genuine smile, showing she meant the gratitude.

“How about a blanket?”

Monica shook her head, leaning a little closer to Atamu, who reacted immediately by tightening his arm around her. “Poppy’s really warm!”

“Oh, of course he is,” Thomas’s smile deepened, before he tried again. “Perhaps a stuffed animal?”

“Thomas for god’s sake would you stop fussing over her? She’s fine.” Helen gave the man a look of heavy disapproval, and this time he had to sense to clear his throat and fold his hands against his trim middle, his earth-toned vest-coat a perfect compliment to the paleness of his skin and hair.

“Right, of course, so sorry.” His apology sounded even more sincere in his British accent. “I’m afraid I’m a little...out of sorts.”

“Why?” Luvon bit out gruffly. “Nothing happened to you.”

Monica looked up at Luvon in surprise at the line that might have been misinterpreted as hostility, but Thomas either was so used to Helen’s way of speaking he didn’t rise to the challenge...or he was simply too non-confrontational and understood Luvon was reacting as a lifemate should. Thomas simply answered honestly, as he was one of the more emotional members of the Family and was unafraid to show it.. His chin lifted, with the truth lightening his blue eyes and his accented tenor.

“Something could have happened to Monica. I’m as upset as you are about that.”

Luvon didn’t speak, unsurprisingly, but his defensive posture relaxed. It was an acceptable answer by the Alpha’s standards.

Monica reached up for Luvon’s hand and he met her halfway, lacing his fingers through hers with a grip like iron. In a movement that brought both of her men together, she turned her smile back to Thomas, one that he readily returned, pleased that she seemed to understand how deeply he cared for her. Feeling emboldened by her smile, Thomas moved to press a kiss to her forehead, and a little of the tension seeped out of the office.

“Are we all ready to review the recording?” Helen glanced first at Monica, then Atamu, then lastly at Luvon as Thomas returned to leaning against her desk.

It wasn’t an easy question to answer; Monica didn’t necessarily want to relive yesterday’s experience, Atamu didn’t want to put her through it again, and Luvon was still grappling with a lifemate’s raging need to protect his mate and being unable to do so. But all three knew there would be no moving forward without reviewing what happened, and when Luvon squeezed her hand reassuringly and Atamu’s lips found her temple, Monica felt strong enough to nod from her safe place between them.

“Yes! Let’s do it,” Monica nodded, and was rewarded by one of Helen’s rare, proud smiles. Monica seemed to be the only one to ever receive them, though that wouldn’t surprise a single member of the Haus to learn.

“Rollback the recording, JARVIS.”

Day Two, Recording Start

It was a fair assumption on Wade Wilson’s part (for once in his insane life) that Usopp had never been to a Halloween store, before. And that was why it was his duty, as Usopp’s newest bestest friend in the whole wide world, to take the sniper captain shopping for more costumes than there are days in a calendar year!

It was also a fair assumption that Wade Wilson often lost the rights to his Family credit card for doing things like buying 500+ Halloween costumes.

“Is this...how we’re supposed to celebrate?” Usopp asked, watching Staff member after Staff member bring in armfuls of shopping bags. The Staff had tried to arrange the bags in some semblance of order but Wade had quickly upended the entire system, because as soon as a servant set a bag down he was rifling through it like a kid on his birthday, flinging costumes over his shoulder with wild abandon. “All these costumes?”

“One for every day of the year!” Wade cheered incorrectly, arms lifted over his head.

Usopp was left staring and wondering how Wade had managed to pull a long blond wig on over his masked face in the split second it took him to straighten up.

The recreation room of the Haus (one of many, actually) was quickly covered in fabrics and masks, novelty weapons and other assortment of accessories for the many, many costumes that lay strewn about. It was no coincidence that the majority of the costumes were couples’ costumes, or “Bestie Suits” as Wade kept referring to them to Usopp in the store. There was no denying the Merc with the ever-running Mouth was thrilled to have a friendship with Usopp and true to his clingy nature, wanted to do everything with his new friend. In his twisted, often incorrect mind, somehow he was going to figure out a way to do a couple’s costume with Monica, Usopp, Peter Parker, Dick Grayson, Nathan Summers, Logan Howlett, Bruce Wayne, Bruce Banner (just to piss Hulk off) and Oliver Queen (to piss off Clint Barton because the hawk-eyed assassin ate his leftovers). He didn’t know how he was going to do this, just that he was, and like everything in Wade’s life, somehow this would work out.

Or it wouldn’t.

He didn’t know.

“Soooo...” Usopp watched with his hands on his waist as Wade upended another bag onto the floor. “How do we decide what to dress up as?”

“Well~” Wade’s strangely pitched voice was all aflutter with excitement. “Tomorrow is one of the costume parties being held this month and I’m pretty sure there’s no contest because we’re all supposed to love one another and just have fun, but if I insult enough people’s costumes by saying ours is better then we can get one started and win!”

Usopp didn’t think that sounded right but was quickly learning arguing with Wade was a dangerous game--because you either got sucked into an argument that lasted six hours because Wade liked to talk, or he’d kiss you to shut you up. Usopp was still deciding which of those was the lesser of two evils.

“So we just need to dress up as something really fuckin’ kick-ass so we can win!”

Usopp’s brow pulled together in the center. “...Win the contest that isn’t happening?”

“Oh it’s happening, good buddy.” Wade straightened up, holding up an incredibly stereotypical pirate captain costume, complete with a hat emblazened with a cheap skull and bones across the front. “Would Luffy be mad at me if you were captain for a day?”

“At you?” Usopp asked, confusion clear on his tanned face. He was still learning everything circled back to Wade eventually...even if it shouldn’t.

“Yeah! I mean, he can be mad at you but I’m a sensitive boy. I have all these emotions. Feelings. Mostly in my junk but that’s where they come from.”

Usopp’s face was blank and Wade didn’t even miss a beat.

“See because my thought is, if you’re the pirate captain, then I can be the parrot...sitting on your shoulder for the whole night. And I can just say really raunchy things and no one can be mad at us because I’m just a bird, the fuck do I know?”

That cracked Usopp’s resolve, imagining Wade in a giant bird suit. He was tempted to say yes just for that.

“Oooo!” Wade’s squeal indicated his wandering eye had caught something else and he tossed the first costume to the side, picking up two costumes to hold up side by side, peering around them to grin at Usopp. “How about Peanut Butter and Jelly!”

Given the years he’s now lived at the Haus, Usopp recognized the food items and the oversized jar costumes Wade was holding up were definitely...something. The hands were connected, sewn together actually, so whoever was wearing the costume would have to hold hands the entire night.

“That’s...uh, if you want!” Usopp was too kind to shoot Wade down, which was partially why they’d been gone the entire afternoon and also why they’d run up a bill with more zeros than Usopp wanted to remember. It more resembled a bounty than a price to be paid.

Wade dropped the costumes before making a heart with his hands and sending it in Usopp’s direction. “This is why you’re one of my besties. You just get it, Usopp.”

“Get what?”

“Everything.” Wade stated, dramatic and somewhat breathlessly. “You get everything.”

If Usopp thought shopping with Wade was an ordeal, that turned out to be only half-truth--now that they were home, they had the monumental task of sorting through the haul to find what they wanted to wear.

“Gorilla and his really big banana?”

A pause before Usopp ventured, “that sounds kinda...lewd.”

“Oh! So Franky would do it.”

Usopp didn’t know if Wade wanted Franky to be the gorilla or the banana and he wasn’t going to ask.

“Okay so we’re not getting anywhere and since you won’t let me take your pants off--”

“You never told me why you needed to take my pants off?!”

“I need a reason to take your pants off?” Wade asked, blinking beneath his lifted mask. Usopp could easily read the confusion in the scarred half of Wade’s face he could clearly see.

“I’m starting to see why Nami hits Brook so much.”

“I thought Nami was going to hit me once but it turned out Sanji kicked me in my face before she could, which was just as good.” Wade quipped, but his attention was on one of his many pouches on his belt that he was rifling through.

“Why did Sanji kick you?”

“I think it’s because I was saying something about Monica sitting on my face--”

“HAHA WOW, YES, MHM, WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING FOR IN YOUR SUIT?!”

Wade paused in his search, slowly looking up at Usopp’s panicked expression. His visible grin was nothing short of wicked.

“Does Monica sit on your face, Usopp? I bet that nose is her favorite part--”

Shutting Wade Wilson up was a monumentally difficult feat to accomplish, something Usopp had learned recently, but had been told that food helps. Wade’ll still talk with his mouth full, but it might help distract him from his train of though--so Usopp started carrying around an extra stash of candy in his own pouches and pockets, aside from the stash Monica kept on him. Acting quickly, face red with the ideas Wade was putting in his head, Usopp plucked up a piece of candy and expertly tossed it into the Merc’s running mouth.

“S-So what are y-you looking for?” Usopp took control of the conversation in the split second Wade closed his mouth around the candy, nearly exhaling with relief when Wade’s multi-tracked mind switched lanes.

“My phone, I wanna text Monica.”

Trying to ignore the way his heart skipped at the mention of her name, especially so soon after the recent topic of conversation, Usopp cleared his throat.

“Why?”

“Oh, well she’s the smartest person I know--I mean Tony Stark likes to say he is, and he’s not the only one who says it either, but even he doesn’t argue when I say it’s Monica, so I think that’s the consensus.” Wade switched pouches for the fourth time. “Fucking thing’s gotta be here somewhere...anyway I wanna text Monica and have her come help us pick a costume!”

Usopp couldn’t argue with that, Monica was the smartest person he knew, too--well, she was a lot of things. Smartest, funniest, prettiest...even now, he was smiling wide enough to show teeth at the thought of Monica coming by, even if there wasn’t a reason for it. For as long as he’s known her (and he was very proud of the years!) he’s been head over heels in love with her and to feel it only grow as time passed wasn’t something he’d been prepared for. So much of his young life had been about action and adventure, a lot of the emotional journeys he’d taken had somewhat been overshadowed--but Monica brought them to the surface. He’s loved and lost--not always necessarily people, either--and that taught him that holding onto love so you don’t lose it is very, very important. Usopp was considered a lot of things by a lot of people, but the only opinion that really mattered to him was Monica’s. Yes, his captain and crew, but it was different when Monica talked to him, about him, told him things that no one else ever had before. Love becomes as necessary to one as air when they’ve had it for a while and now Usopp couldn’t imagine loving anyone more. It was a sentiment echoed by his entire crew and she became the central, uniting force behind the Straw Hats. Nothing and no one else would ever be more beloved or important to them.

Wade could definitely relate to his new bestie’s feelings; Monica was the love of his life and had been since the first moment he saw her. He’d fallen and fallen hard, not even bothering to get back up. He didn’t want to. She was smart, beautiful, funny as hell, sexy enough to make his suit uncomfortable 24-fucking-7, witty enough to put anyone to shame--she was a knock-out in every sense of the word. The Merc knew he wasn’t anything to look at and he knew Monica liked pretty things, pretty people; he didn’t know how he’d managed to slip under her radar but now that he was here, he wasn’t going to leave. Much like the fact that he couldn’t die, Wade couldn’t live with Monica. Plain and simple, end of story. That fierce love and his tendency to hyper-fixate made for one needy combination that Monica had to deal with--the fact that he was in near constant contact with her was one result but she was always so sweet to respond to his many, many text messages, to send him pictures when he asks for them, and to even pick up when he calls needing to hear her voice. Wade wasn’t dumb or oblivious enough to think he deserved her, he knew he didn’t but had decided, fuck the universe. He’d been dealt a real shit sandwich for breakfast, lunch, and dinner for years and years, so now that he had something good, someone who loved him and took care of him, why shouldn’t he get to have her?

Monica was never really ready for the love every member of the Haus had for her, but that didn’t stop her from being bombarded with it at any given hour of the day. The matching, exuberant expressions on Wade and Usopp’s faces should have scared her--just how much time had they been spending together?--but she could hardly find one single thing to focus on amidst the insanity she’d walked into. From what she could tell, Wade and Usopp had bought an entire costume outlet and then thrown every single costume onto the floor and were now standing in the aftermath, waiting for her.

“Monica~ Sweet angel girl. You came for us!”

Monica laughed at Wade’s loving coo, missing the way Usopp’s smile widened at the sound. “You make it sound like you got kidnapped. What is all this?”

“Costumes! Usopp and I went shopping.”

“Yeah you definitely went shopping,” Monica’s eyes lingered on a giant grape costume whose grapes were at least the size of human heads. “Are these for the whole Haus?”

“Noooo, the whole Haus can suck it.” Wade slung one heavily muscled arm around Usopp’s shoulders. “These are just for Usopp and me. But don’t worry!” Wade held out his other arm, giving his eyebrows an enticing wiggle in the hopes Monica would move beneath the hollow of his shoulder. “I bought you and me a whole room to go through later~”

“...A whole...room?” Monica couldn’t resist the offer for affection, slowly side-stepping costumes as best she could to move into Wade’s embrace.

“Yep! They’re mostly lingerie, mostly for you but I did buy myself a few things I thought you might like to see me in. My juicily scarred ass looks pretty good in lace, I’ve been told...by myself.”

Monica immediately turned to Usopp, avoiding that topic of conversation. “S-So, you and Wade are going to dress-up together?”

Usopp’s smile was boyish and loving as he nodded down at her. “We need your help, though! We don’t know which ones to wear for the party tomorrow.”

Wade was nuzzling into Monica’s hair, sniffing with keening little noises. “And since you’re so smart...and pretty...and smell like fucking heaven...”

Usopp gave Wade a look when Wade didn’t even bother finishing his sentence, far too wrapped up in being affectionate with Monica, who was grateful for her inability to blush at this particular moment.

“...We thought you’d be perfect to help.” Usopp finished for Wade, his smile returning full-force when Monica met his gaze.

“I’d love to help!” Monica nodded, smiling just because Usopp was. He looked so happy!

And so, the hunt for the perfect bestie costume began, re-energized by Monica’s presence. The trio sifted through the insane costume pile side by side by side; neither man moved too far away from her, wanting to be near and enjoy her presence. Wade’s openly affectionate ways were rubbing off on Usopp, who, on more than one occasion, was brave enough to give Monica’s hand a squeeze or even lean down to kiss her cheek or forehead, when he was so overcome with happiness at her participating that he couldn’t help himself! It felt good, doing this with her; it was good for both of them, Wade now so relaxed his mask was entirely off his face and Usopp feeling confident enough to express himself to the woman he loved.

The banter between the three was natural and flowed as if they’d always been, just like this.

“AAAA?!” Usopp reeled back with a surprised peal of laughter. “Wade! Take off that mask! ...That is a mask, right?”

Monica was nearly doubled over at the giant baby mask Wade had on, because it looked so ridiculous on his normal, man-sized body.

Wade did not help matters by beginning to talk and gesture with the mask still over his head, so his scratchy voice was coming from the baby’s pudgy face and gap-toothed cartoon smile. “I know it’s hard to tell when I have a mask on, okay, because my face looks like a melted candle in the shape of what I think Freddy Kruger’s balls probably look like--”

Usopp’s laughter was so loud it cut off Wade’s sentence and Monica all but threw herself on the Merc, because she couldn’t take his words coming out of that stupid looking mask!

Wade caught Monica effortlessly, strong arms like steel bands around her back as he took full advantage of the hug, and as soon as she pushed the mask off his face he was nuzzling against her soft skin, cooing and murmuring like one might imagine a baby would actually do.

“Mommy’s skin is so soft~”

“W-Wade you’re being silly,” Monica’s giggling turned shy, but she held onto him all the same. His words had come out like a self-deprecating joke but she knew the Merc and she knew his self-esteem was likely the worst in the Haus. So when Usopp laughed, and Monica took the mask off, it helped Wade feel a little better--because Usopp was paying him attention, and Monica wanted to see his face.

Time flies when you’re with the ones you love. Monica could hardly believe that an hour and a half had gone by and they hadn’t even made a dent in the pile of costumes the two had brought home. It left her a little concerned about how much time it would take to go through the room Wade had set up for the two of them...not to mention the tummy flip at the thought of what all would likely take place in said room supposedly filled with costumed lingerie for two. Smiling to herself, Monica picked up and then immediately tossed aside a naval sailor suit that Wade probably wanted to try and stuff Cora into. It was safer not to ask what his plans were for half of these things--

A prickle of unease had Monica’s attention snapping up, and her green eyes fell on...well she didn’t know if it was Wade or Usopp since the mask on the face made it impossible to tell. Her face broke into a smile, the unease chalked up to that feeling one gets when they’re being watched and it dissipated as quickly as it came. She hadn’t heard them approach, so it made sense she’d be a little startled. The mask itself didn’t exactly help; it was modeled after an old timey ventriloquist dummy, with the finely painted wooden features, including the slits down the side of the mouth where the dummy would “talk”. It’s eyes were brilliantly blue and inhumanly realistic looking, like doll’s eyes, and apparently came with a costume to match because the wearer was decked out in a full suit and tie. She must have been really involved in her searching to not notice Wade or Usopp pulling on a suit, but she had to commend the boys. A dummy and a ventriloquist was a pretty damn creepy costume combination--especially with the way this one looked. As she continued to stare at the mask, the mouth slowly opened but given it was a mask, couldn’t smile. They were just standing there with the mask mouth unsettlingly wide, as if frozen in a silent scream.

The prickle of unease returned.

Monica knew Wade and Usopp would never scare her on purpose, but she couldn’t make sense of what was happening, why they were just standing there. Were they expecting a different reaction? Maybe just wanting something more than her smile? ...It still wouldn’t make sense, Wade was never this quiet and to be honest now that she thought about it a bit more, Usopp would probably have to be coaxed into something this creepy, and she definitely would have heard Wade trying.

It was then that she saw Usopp pass by her peripheral, his spine bent as he traced a lengthy costume to it’s source.

That only left Wade--

“If I get my head stuck in a bag again I’m gonna be really pissed off.”

Wade was directly behind her, apparently head first in a bag.

So who...was in front of her...?

The mask’s eyes continued to bore into hers, it’s mouth open as if silently challenging her to scream, to say something, do something, but every instinct Monica had was fighting against that urge. She felt fear wrap around her silent heart like ice, and fight or flight was kicking in and fast--

And that was when it moved.

Slowly, the head inclined to one side, the arms of the suit coming up, up, then twisting, as if the elbow joints were being wrenched to the side. There were no hands coming out of the sleeves but there was definite sound like bone breaking as the arms twisted--which caught Usopp’s attention first, and he let out a bellow of surprise, all but leaping the distance between himself and Monica to push her behind him.

Some might consider Usopp a coward, but he never, ever hesitated when it came to Monica.

“What, is my ass hanging out agai--WHO THE FUCK IS THAT?!” Wade’s surprised bellow was accusatory, angry that someone was scaring his babygirl and bestie. His bulky body came into Monica’s line of sight but she caught the back of his suit, keeping him from fully approaching the mask--it had fallen still again, it’s face still staring straight at the group but it’s arms were still horribly twisted.

“W-Wade, don’t,” Monica managed, her instincts screaming at her not to let him get any closer. She didn’t know why, she didn’t know what they were looking at, dealing with, but she wasn’t going to let Wade get hurt--whether he would come back from it or not.

“Look, Dummy McDumbass, you better hope like hell you’re not anyone I know because you’re going to get spanked with the sharp end of my katana for scaring my wife and bestie like this,” Wade shot out, only held in place by Monica’s hand clutching the back of his suit. He was standing directly in front of her and she was grateful for that, but she couldn’t resist leaning around him just to keep an eye on their silent “companion”.

It just stared back at her with that same screaming expression.

Usopp kept Monica in his hold, just a little bit behind him, but when the mask didn’t speak, when one of their Family members didn’t yank the mask off with a laugh, he felt the first shivers of true fear race down his spine.

This wasn’t someone they knew and loved. This was something else.

Wade just got angrier, slipping his gun from his thigh holster. He didn’t like the way he could feel Monica’s fingers trembling. He didn’t like that at all.

“All right, even better. You’re a literal dumbass who broke into this Haus to die. Congrats.” Wade cocked his gun, sights perfectly positioned right at the forehead of the silent, staring mask. “Gonna say, I don’t know, fucking anything before I shut you up forever?”

The mask still didn’t speak, but it did move.

Slowly, just like with it’s arms...the head began to spin around. The trio watched as the doll’s head slowly, creaking as if made of wooden bone, turned toward the right and then kept turning. As the neck started to break, the eyes remained locked to the trio, and it wasn’t until it snapped that the mask and suit fell to the floor in an empty, crumpled heap.

There was no one there.

Monica turned away from the reality of what they’d just seen, burying her face against Usopp’s chest and was relieved when his arms closed around her, his own face buried in her hair.

“I-It’s okay, it’s okay,” Usopp comforted, his voice quiet but trying to be strong for Monica. “I’m here, W-Wade’s here, we’re okay.”

Angry and with nothing to do about it, Wade unloaded an entire clip down into the mask that had somehow fallen face up, those blue eyes staring at the trio until Wade shot them out.

But a full clip shot into the floor couldn’t erase the truth--there had never been anyone there, at all.

Day Two, Recording End.

The silence of the office was deafening.

Monica was resting her head against Atamu’s chest, absolutely dwarfed by the Patriarch and grateful for it; he was surrounding her, physically and emotionally, his strongly beating heart an anchor for her relieving the fear she’d felt in that room. A full day had passed since the incident but she still didn’t know how to feel about it except scared, but Atamu was doing his best to keep her from feeling that way. His large hand was rubbing her back, his other arm draped across her body and his bicep alone was wider than her middle; she felt safe here, knew that he wouldn’t ever let anything happen to her and she basked in that feeling, letting it wash over her to drown out the prickling uneasiness and fear. Luvon was still standing guard over her, his orange eyes hard enough to break glass, but that oppressive anger was a comfort to Monica, too. She knew her Big Brother would never let anything happen to her, either, and she knew that was why he was in here. As an Alpha and a Soldier, Luvon took a heavy hand in the security of the Haus. He trained the wolves that stalked and protected the grounds and he was one of the direct reports that any of the Staff came to with any security issues. He actively reviewed security footage from the Haus and all it’s properties, especially any that concerned Monica, and that was why he was front and center, now. He wanted to know what was being done to ensure this never happened to Monica again.

“You were so very brave, sweetheart,” Thomas finally broke the silence, his tone reflective of the sunshine title he’d carried for a long time--warm. He was offering Monica a soft, proud smile. “It wanted your fear, your screams, and you didn’t give in to it.”

Helen didn’t say anything, that wasn’t her way, but the gaze she affixed to Monica let the younger woman know she felt exactly the same way.

“Thank you,” Monica offered quietly, before laughing a little. “I-I was scared, though.”

“Anyone would be,” Atamu met her attempt to deflect the praise in stride. “But you were very brave, little one.”

As Monica turned to nuzzle closer to Atamu, Helen looked up at Luvon. “Have any of your security teams found anything? How about the wolves?”

Luvon slowly shook his head. “So far, nothing.”

It was not the answer anyone wanted to hear.

“And it isn’t a poltergeist or demonic entity?” Thomas had already asked this and truthfully, he’d know if it was. But he was nothing if not the ever hopeful optimist.

“No. I’ve been reading the Haus for the past three days and have not detected anything demonic or spiritual at all. It isn’t a ghost and it isn’t a demon.” Helen’s sharply accented voice was matter-of-fact. “What Monica and the others encountered was a smokescreen. Something else projected that at them, for the purpose of inciting terror, but that wasn’t truly it.”

There was quite a gaping hole left on the table of options when one removes a ghost or demonic entity and it was felt by all in the room.

Thomas’s blond brows knotted in thought. “What else could possibly be doing this?”

“I’m afraid it might be too early to tell.” Helen’s long fingers folded in her lap. “Some hauntings, possessions, disturbances, can take days, weeks, or even months before the source is identified. Vigilance is still our strongest defense.”

“And in the meantime?” Atamu asked, fingers massaging lightly against the roots of Monica’s hair.

“In the meantime I will continue to consult with the others knowledgeable in such matters here in the Haus, monitor incidents as they happen--we had other minor disturbances yesterday but Monica’s far out-weighed any others--and Luvon will keep me informed on anything the security teams find.”

Luvon nodded, once.

“And what about the Halloween celebrations?” Thomas turned to face Helen more fully from his perch at the edge of her desk. “The costume party tonight, should we cancel it?”

That was a fair question. Helen glanced at Monica, wondering if she even felt like celebrating--not to mention, an entire Haus with people in costume was like a breeding ground for whatever this thing was, to pull another stunt like it had with the dummy mask. But...wasn’t that letting it win? It may not be a demon, but it clearly enjoyed fear and manipulation through terror.

If the Family bows out, gives in to fear, whatever this thing is could win.

Before Helen could voice any of this, the office door swung wide open and something far more disturbing than any dummy mask came sauntering in.

“Look, Pops, I dressed up as you for the party tonight!”

It was Cavon Dreadful, dressed head to toe like his Patriarchal Father. He had on a dreaded wig full of ringing dread charms, one of Atamu’s outfits, but the true genius of Cavon’s costume? The tribal patterned apron that Atamu was known to wear; it was quite obviously too big even for the Alpha, the bottom of the apron nearly touching Cavon’s boots, but the Wolf looked absurdly pleased with himself, a wide grin on his face as he spun around in the doorway. The apron had it’s pockets full of spatulas and tongs, even one of Atamu’s cleavers and the utensils all clanked together noisily as the Alpha spun around.

Everyone was left staring, but Monica was the first to truly react, erupting in a fit of adorable little giggles that widened Cavon’s grin. Atamu was next to crack, his thunderous laughter something of a notorious sound throughout the Haus, now.

Luvon shook his head but couldn’t help his grin--but if anyone asked, it was solely because Monica found it so funny. “You look fucking ridiculous.”

“Fuck you, Fam, I make this look good,” Cavon leaned back, doing a shoulder shimmy.

Thomas had his hands over his face, shoulders shaking in silent laughter, and Helen had her eyes closed, just shaking her head.

“Unbelievable. To answer your question, Thomas, yes I believe we should cancel tonight’s event but solely because Cavon’s costume is so terrible.”

“Y’all a bunch’a haters. Gramps loved my costume.”

Luvon snorted. “Well of course he did.”

Cavon gestured. “And babygirl obviously loves it!”

“Of course she does, too, idiot. Gramps and babygirl both love Dad.” Luvon shot back.

“HATERS.” Cavon pointed at everyone except Monica before looking smug. “I’mma win the contest tonight.”

“Contest?” Helen arched a brow. “I was unaware there was a costume contest.”

“Yeah, Wilson sent out a mass text ‘bout there bein’ some sorta contest.”

Helen took a sip from her wine glass in lieu of replying, but Cavon picked up what she didn’t say.

“You still got his number blocked?”

“There’s a chain of communication that can reach me if Mr. Wilson truly needs my assistance for something.”

Monica found herself laughing. “Does he really text you?”

“Sweet girl, that man will talk to an empty room. He was sending me so many text messages, that i was not responding to by the way, that it was either block him or send him to a different dimension where he cannot harass anyone anymore.”

“I once got stuck listening to him for three hours uninterrupted because I was too polite to tell him I had work to do.” Thomas chimed in, staring far-off into the distance as if reliving the nightmare.

Cavon threw his head back, laughing. “Yeah, that fuckin’ sounds right comin’ from you.”

“Yeah, they’re in here, c’mon!”

Heads turned toward the voice from the hallway, and Helen was beginning to think she might need to move her office to another dimension to get any real work accomplished.

“Y’all, guess who dressed up as the Von Triplets for the costume party tonight!”

It was Jax and Lucca, side by side, both clearly dressed in Cavon and Luvon’s clothes. Jax was decked out in Cavon’s biker gear and Lucca was wearing Luvon’s camo, with Jax having shaved his blond hair into Cavon’s trademarked mowhawked ponytail and Lucca wearing bright orange contacts. The younger pups were surprisingly spitting images of their Alpha Big Brothers...but hilariously different at the same time; Jax had Cavon’s grin and Lucca had Luvon’s deadpanned, almost bored expression.

And it definitely incited a fresh round of laughter, leaving Cavon staring slack-jawed and Luvon actually looking impressed.

“Wait, wait,” Atamu managed, holding up one large hand. “Who one of you is Savon, then?”

Jax turned as if just noticing their third was missing, and he was scowling out of the room.

“C’mon man, you gotta come in too or it don’t work an’ we won’t win the costume contest tonight!”

Three seconds later and in came Tod, dressed up just like Savon--right down to the fake horns and tail and the long, styled black wig. The Omega looked a little more sheepish than his younger brothers and it became very obvious, very fast, that he’d been roped into this idea.

Fresh rounds of laughter shake the very room, and it was as if yesterday’s events hadn’t even happened. The fear and unease were gone, replaced by Family love and laughter, as the Haus was known to be bursting with.

Atamu turned his head down, catching Monica’s attention with a proud smile. “What do you think, little one, do you think Wade and Usopp will be making use of the Peanut Butter and Jelly costumes? Because if not, Poppy wants to wear it with you.”

Monica didn’t even care if they didn’t win the costume contest; all that mattered to her was that she was going to spend the whole night dressed up with her Daddy!

Day Three, End.

#{collection} : spooktober 2019 #{theme} : for monica #{ i went with a james wan approach }#{ SCARY VERY BAD THINGS and then yay happy things ♥ }

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chiseler · 5 years

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Little Devils: 50 Years of Killer Kid Movies

Face it, children are just plain creepy—especially the really cute ones.

Historically—and I’m talking about going back thousands of years—we’ve always been scared to death of the children we’ve spawned. Before they’re born we worry they might be physically deformed or just a little off in the head somehow. And after they’re born and as they start to grow and think and talk, hoo boy, that’s when things really start getting scary, as you start to glean a little something about what’s going on behind those cold, staring eyes. I’m not a parent myself, but having been a kid once I fully understand the panic and fear that can grip parents as they come to better understand their kids. What if they’re no good at sports? What if they start hanging out with a bad crowd and using drugs? What if they get bullied by the other kids and take revenge by shooting up the school? Worse still, what if they decide to bludgeon us to death with a crowbar in our sleep one night? What if they turn out to be the bona fide offspring of Satan himself? What the hell do we do then? Sure, we all pretend to be shocked and dismayed when we hear news stories about some eight-year-old in Kansas or Oregon stabbing the little neighbor girl twenty times for no apparent reason, but let’s be honest—we all know what these pint-sized miscreants are capable of doing, and have simply come to expect it.

As with a few of those other fundamental adult fears, like asteroids, nuclear war, clowns and deadly plagues, over the years our fear of children has led to its own unheralded cinematic subgenre of Killer Kid movies.

While countless slasher films from Halloween onwards feature tykes with butcher knives who grow up to become adults with butcher knives, I’m focusing here on those films in which the snot-nosed killers remain snot-nosed throughout. While I could have included those rambunctious hobo youths from William Wellman’s Wild Boys of the Road (1933), those little back-to-nature wastrels from Lord of the Flies (1963) and the matricidal zombie girl with the trowel from George Romero’s Night of the Living Dead (1968), I, um, didn’t. So sue me.

Here’s a quick chronological list of a double handful of notable features about murderous children. It’s interesting to note that as the years pass, the films themselves seem to grow less clever, endearing, original and interesting. Just like kids!

The Bad Seed (1956)

I’ve long been a big fan of that Mervyn LeRoy. As a director, he always understood the darker side of human nature, and had a sly sense of humor about it. In 1931 he directed my two favorite (and two of the bleakest) Edward G. Robinson pictures, Five-Star Final and Two Seconds. Then eight years later he directed The Wizard of Oz. I always like to think (though I’m undoubtedly wrong about this) he intended his 1956 creeper The Bad Seed as a kind of bonk on the head to those audience members who hadn’t recognized the darkness that lay at the heart of The Wizard of Oz.

Okay, Nancy Kelly plays Christine, the nightmare-plagued mother of the world’s most perfect little girl. Not only is blonde, pigtailed and always immaculately dressed Rhoda (Patty McCormack) perfect, the ten-year old knows she’s perfect. As a perfect child, she also knows what she deserves out of life and those around her, and lord help anyone who doesn’t cough it up. As time goes on, Christine begins to suspect Rhoda may somehow be responsible for the tragic drowning of a classmate who’d recently won an award Rhoda felt she rightly deserved. And if she was responsible for that, maybe she was responsible for all those other weird deaths that have been happening all over town, too. And what the hell’s the deal with that recurring nightmare, anyway?

Although based on a stage play that was itself based on a novel, it was LeRoy’s film that would become the standard reference point and template for so many of the Killer Kid movies down the line, though few would come close to matching it.

Village of the Damned 1960

John Wyndham was a reasonably popular pulp writer in the 1930s. While his crime stories gained him the most attention at the time, these days he’s best remembered for his occasional forays into sci-fi and horror. Day of the Triffids, his end-of-the-world masterpiece about killer plants (a personal phobia) was a major hit when adapted for the big screen, but his cautionary evil kid tale Village of the Damned had a much longer reach after director Wolf Rilla got ahold of it.

Yes, we all know the story: one day everyone living in a small English village falls asleep at the same time for some unknown reason. When they awaken several hours later, all the women of child-bearing age (even the virgins!) find they’re pregnant. Weirder still, they all go into labor at exactly the same time.

Ten years later, all the kids born that day have turned out to be extremely intelligent, blond, beautiful, and emotionless. Snappy dressers though they may be, they’re also arrogant little snots who have no time for adults or other kids, and only hang out with one another all the time. They also seem to share a psychic connection, and there are hints they have some larger purpose in mind. Anyone who tries to interfere with them gets the creepy glowing eyes treatment shortly before unexpectedly committing suicide. George Sanders at the top of his game plays a rational sort who tries to get to the Bottom of what all the hell,

It remains a starkly eerie and atmospheric picture that to this day can still make you want to punch blond British pre-teens right in the face.

The film went on to spawn one lesser sequel (1964’s Children of the Damned), one superior sort-of sequel (Joseph Losey’s 1962 These Are the Damned), a 1995 remake directed by Jon Carpenter, and a Simpsons parody. My favorite bit of cultural impact, however, is that some of your more out-there paranoids have worked Village of the Damned into the Montauk Project conspiracy, claiming beautiful, blond alien/human hybrids were created in the secret government labs in the caves beneath Montauk, Long Island. These Montauk Children, as they’re called, were set out into the world as sleeper agents (though most settled in Denver for some reason), and to this day are awaiting their secret orders from above.

The Twilight Zone: “It’s a Good Life” (1961)

It was included as one of the segments in Twilight Zone: The Movie, but good as that was, there’s just no topping the original. And there’s no topping the original because back in the early Sixties Billy Mumy was the creepiest kid on the planet. Rod Serling clearly recognized this, which is why he kept casting him.

Little Anthony Freemont (Mumy) lives in a pleasant small town where everyone knows him and everyone’s really nice to him. I mean really, really, REALLY nice to him,. And they’re really nice because over time they’ve come to realize that even if he doesn’t opt to simply blink them out of existence if they don’t do what he says, he has the power to make incredibly awful things happen to them. Even thinking bad things about Anthony isn’t such a hot idea. Things aren’t any better in the Freemont household, where his terrified parents (John Larch and Cloris Leachman) have to walk on eggshells out of fear he might do something else to his siblings, or them. )“It’s a…very GOOD thing that you did that…”)

It remains one of the most delightfully wicked and true portraits of just how terrified adults are of kids, and just how sinister kids can be.

Interestingly, Mumy apparently also had this power in real life, later going on to have a big hit with the novelty song, “Fish Heads.”

The Other (1972)

Kids alone are creepy enough, but you get twins to boot, you know you’re in for some bad news. And you get twin boys in a rural town in the 1930s? Holy mackerel, you might as well just pack it in right there and go home. Nothing good is going to come of it.

I don’t know how many times I watched Robert Mulligan’s film (based on the Thomas Tryon novel) on TV in the early Seventies, but it was a lot. Enough that to this day I still remember every shot and every line of dialog., but it still gets under my skin as one of the most effective of the lot.

Real twins Martin and Chris Udvarnoky play Holland and Niles Perry. As with most twins, one is mostly nice and sweet and innocent, while the other, Holland in this case, is the dominant, wickedly mischievous one.. Also like most twins, Niles and Holland share a weird psychic link. But in their case, and under the guidance of their Russian grandmother Eda (Uta Hagen), they can use a special ring to take things one step further. They call it The Game. As in Being John Malkovich, they can actually enter the consciousness of anyone they choose, from a magician in a traveling carnival, to a passing crow, to a corpse.

It’s a Northern Gothic tale complete with dark family secrets, farm accidents, dead babies, emotionally shattered mothers and real freaks. And an evil twin. It unfolds very slowly and quietly, and even though we get the Big Revelation at the halfway point, it doesn’t matter because the story rolls on with a few more twists and surprises left. It’s not shocking or terribly bloody, but extremely unnerving. Featuring an early turn by John Ritter and a Jerry Goldsmith score.

Don’t Look Now (1973)

Nicholas Roeg’s brilliantly shattered, hallucinatory narrative with the shock ending might be a loose fit here, but it had such an influence on other sort of Killer Kid movies (like David Cronenberg’s The Brood) it deserves mention.

The great Donald Sutherland was rarely better than he was here as John, an architect whose young daughter recently drowned near the family home in England. He takes a job in Venice, thinking a few months away from home might be just the thing to help him and his wife cope. Shortly after they arrive, however, they encounter a blind psychic in a restaurant who tells them their daughter’s spirit is around, and seems happy. Being the slide Rule sort, John is less willing than his wife to accept this at face value. At least until he starts having recurring visions of what seems to be his daughter all over Venice. Dresses like her, anyway. He becomes a little obsessed with that little girl in the red cloak who may or may not be his daughter. Who cares if she might have something to do with that whole nasty string of brutal stabbings around the city?

The less said about it at this point, the better (and easier, to be honest). Almost 45 years on now, it still works, that ending still gets me, and there’s nothing else like it.

It’s Alive! (1974)

People might cite Rosemary’s Baby as the be-all and end-all of films about pre-natal anxiety, but think about it. Sure, she gave birth to the Antichrist, but she has a good support network right there in the building, and if she treats him right, she’s set for life. No, for my money Larry Cohen’s breakthrough monstrous infant hint trumps them all, beginning with one of the most unsettling ad campaigns of the Seventies.

Funny thing is, though it’s remembered as a film about a baby with fangs and claws who slaughters all the doctors in the delivery room before escaping to go on a killing spree around town, if you go look at it again now you realize that’s only a minor subplot. It’s also a conspiracy film about government scientists using unwitting citizens as guinea pigs. Above all else, though, it’s an indictment of the mass media, which has the power to destroy the lives and reputations of innocent people on a whim, in this case the Davis family. And damn but that John P. Ryan is great as the horrified and disbelieving father who finds himself and his wife being publicly blamed (as is So often the case) for giving birth to a kid who isn’t quite right.

Much smarter and more subtle than most would give it credit for, It’s Alive ! Is loaded with Frankenstein references, and went on to spawn two equally good (and very different) sequels. To this day I will not put my face or fingers anywhere near a baby’s mouth.

Devil Times Five (1974)

The early to mid Seventies were mighty good years for Leif Garret. Not only was his picture plastered all over every teeny-bopper magazine in the country month after month, he was also scoring supporting roles in huge drive-in hits like Macon County Line and Walking Tall. Let’s just say considering his squeaky-clean image, Devil Times Five (aka Peopletoys) was a departure.

Garret plays one of five kids traveling on a bus which crashes in the mountains during a snowstorm. With the driver dead and not knowing what else to do, the five youngsters take refuge in a nearby resort.

It eventually comes out the bus was actually delivering the kids to an institution for the criminally insane, as they’re all kookoo bananas and extremely violent. There were hints of this beforehand, as per the standard asylum movie cliche, each nutty kid has a telltale tic—this one thinks she’s a nun, the black kid thinks he’s in the military. etc. But it’s all just mild comic relief until they pick up the knives.

Well, before you can say “Mr. Green Jeans,” they begin slaughtering everyone at the resort in a variety of hilarious ways, and occasionally in slow motion.

Unlike other Killer Kid movies which try to explain away antisocial behavior by blaming it on assorted external forces (government scientists, radiation, aliens, Satan, or an eclipse), these kids are just plain old evil by nature, and that’s all there is to it.

It wasn’t a big hit, it didn’t do much to propel Garret into leading roles, but today it’s earned itself solid cult status as a pre-slasher grind house number. And what’s not to love about the ol’ “piranhas in the bathtub” gag?

The Omen (1976)

In the Seventies and Eighties, a number of once-huge stars—Ray Milland, Richard Widmark, Henry Fonda, Rory Calhoun, Ida Lupino, George C. Scott and, in this case Gregory Peck—found themselves making genre pictures simply because that was all that was available to them. Granted, The Omen was a few cuts above The Devil’s Rain and Tentacles, but still.

Okay, regardless what the producers and screenwriter David Seltzer may claim about the franchise’s origins, the original trilogy of Omen films was lifted wholesale from “The Devil’s Platform” episode of Kolchak: The Night Stalker.

Be that as it may, when you get a cast like this, a smart director like Richard Donner, a simply astonishing score by Jerry Goldsmith, some diabolical camera trickery and editing, wonderful practical effects (Lee Remick’s fall from the balcony kept me going for years), and a story about a smiling, (mostly cheerful 3-year-old Son of Satan wandering around England leaving a trail of beheadings, impaled priests, seriously pissed off baboons and hanged nannies in his wake, how can you go wrong? Even if the script itself is absurdly silly.

In an interesting postscript, like so many other child actors deeply associated with high-profile horror films of the era—think Danny Lloyd from The Shining—Harvey Stephens (who as Damien spoke, what, five words onscreen?) would not appear in another film for the next four decades. And even then he hasn’t been in much, though he did have a cameo as a reporter in the remake of, yes, The Omen a few years back.

Alice Sweet Alice (1976)

I dare you to show me one worthwhile horror film about Presbyterians. No, as far as religious sects go, Catholics have it all over everyone when it comes to horror. You got your robes, your chanting, your weird rituals, your transmutation, your Inquisition, your fetishism, your magic relics, your ghostly visions, oh, it just goes on and on. The Catholic Church is just one big horror show, top to bottom. As a result, Catholicism lay at the heart of countless horror films, and Alice, Sweet Alice is among the best.

The tagline read, “If you survive this night, nothing will ever scare you again,” which may or may not have been a reference to the fact this was Brooke Shields’ film debut. Shields plays 10-year—old Karen, the cute, quiet, polite and well-dressed younger sister of that moody, smart-mouthed and generally ornery Alice (Paula Sheppard), who likes to pull nasty pranks and doesn’t dress nearly as well as her sister. Everyone from the neighbors to their own parents to the local priest adores Karen and showers her with gifts, while they just wish Alice would go away. She clearly needs to see a shrink or something. So when Karen is brutally stabbed to death outside the church on the morning of her first communion and Alice is found with Karen’s veil in her pocket, well, there you go. And then when a whole bunch of other people around town somehow connected with Alice end up all stabbed to death as well, well, there you go again. I mean, she just looks like someone who could do something like that, right?

Alice, Sweet Alice is an American Giallo, so the less said about the story the better. For having such a tiny budget, the visuals are rich and gorgeous, filled with Catholic imagery and ritual throughout, featuring a cast of wholly unlikable characters you honestly don’t mind seeing stabbed to death (especially that Little Miss Perfect Karen). The one standout is Alphonso DeNoble as the crass, sleazy, filthy and morbidly obese landlord Mr. Alphonso. DeNoble has a terrifying charisma, which may have come from being a bouncer at a gay nightclub in Jersey in real life.

Yes, the film owes quite a bit, and blatantly so, to Roeg’s Don’t Look Now, but aimed at a more lowbrow mainstream audience. It’s a bloody, nasty little shocker still held dear by thousands of disaffected girls who survived Catholic school.

The Little Girl Who Lives Down the Lane (1976)

1976 was not only a busy year for Killer Kid films, it was also the busiest year of Jodie Foster’s career, during which she appeared in half a dozen films ranging from Taxi Driver to, well, this, a film she and other cast and crew members would bad mouth down the line. In retrospect, it’s not really as bad as all that.

A 13-year-old Foster plays 13-year-old Rynn Jacobs, a precocious girl who may or may not be living alone in a rented house in a secluded section of a small, affluent seaside town. Her rich, nosy and suspicious landlady keeps barging in uninvited to ask too many questions, the landlady’s perv of a son (Martin Sheen) keeps putting the moves on her, a local cop is endlessly curious but nice enough, and a gimpy teenage magician from the area knows the score. But Rynn is self-sufficient and smart beyond her years. Enough so anyway to dispatch with all those nosy yokels who’d try and pry into her business.

It’s less a horror film than an atmospheric mystery that ties up all the loose ends by the three-quarters mark. Based on a 1974 novel, the claustrophobic stagebound film is mostly forgotten today, but back in ’76 the poster creeped the hell out of me. Certainly more than the film did.

The Children (1980)

Although “creepy bloodthirsty children” seems to be a simple, straightforward notion just bursting with possible storylines, 1980 marked the point at which screenwriters and filmmakers everywhere seemed to run out of ideas, so simply began rehashing those earlier, better films. Case in point is this slight variation on Village of the Damned.

This time around, instead of mysterious alien impregnation, a school bus full of perfectly normal kids drives through a cloud of yellow radioactive fog released from a nearby nuclear power plant. The radiation, it seems, turns all the tykes into shambling, emotionless and murderous zombies. Instead of glowing eyes, the infected kids have black fingernails (which was easier on the fx budget), and instead of psychically driving adults to kill themselves, the mere touch of these evil zombie children can fry any adult to a crisp. With little else to do, the radioactive zombie kids lay siege to their small town as the adults try to figure out just how to handle this. I mean, it was already hard enough trying to get them to go to bed on time.

Oh, derivative as it is, the film does have it’s moments. In fact it includes one scene I must admit I’ve never seen repeated in any other Killer Kid film, in which a group of well-armed adults barricaded inside a house open fire on the army of evil radioactive curtain climbers massing in the front yard. And when the adults finally do figure out how to dispatch the little monsters, well, let’s just say it was unexpectedly gruesome.

The Godsend (1980)

Given the year had already provided a Village of the Damned knockoff, it was apparently time for a Bad Seed knockoff, and an obvious one at that.

A pleasant and kindly British couple, the Marlowes (Malcolm Stoddard and Cyd Hayman) decide to take in a young unmarried pregnant woman even though they already have six kids of their own, telling her she can stay with them until she has the baby. What nice people those Marlowes are! But wouldn’t you know it? As soon as the ungrateful wench spits out the baby she vanishes without a word, leaving them with a seventh mouth to feed.

Being pleasant people they don’t complain too much, and over time the child grows into a polite and lovely little girl named Bonnie (Wilhelmina Green).

Well, sure enough before you know it all the other Marlowe kids start dropping like flies, and the parents take their own sweet time connecting the dots. I mean, come now people! We all know what happens to the youngest kid in a large family.

Itself based on a less-than-original novel, director Gabrielle Beaumont’s low-budget film plays like a TV movie, and lacks pretty much everything that made The Bad Seed so effective.

Bloody Birthday (1981)

On June 9th, 1970, three women in a small California town give birth during a total solar eclipse (uh-oh!). The resulting three kids—Debbie (Elizabeth Hoy), Curtis (Billy Jacoby) and Steven (Andy Freeman)—understandably share a tight bond, and as their tenth birthday approaches in 1980, plans are underway for a big bash pretty much everyone in town is expected to attend.

In the week before the party, maybe just to trim that guest list down a bit, the trio of little scamps undertakes a killing spree. They bludgeon and strangle a couple of stereotypical slasher film teens making out in a graveyard, beat Debbie’s dad (the local sheriff) to death with a baseball bat, shoot a teacher, and attempt to lock a classmate in a refrigerator in a junkyard. No one suspects them, of course, because they’re freaking nine years old. Nowadays we know better. While you’d expect the big party to be the film’s climactic scene, it just comes and goes without much happening, and those darn kids keep killing.

Around the halfway point, a teenaged amateur astrologer offers up the closest thing we get to an explanation for such naughty behavior. During that eclipse, see, both the sun and moon were blocking Saturn. Since Saturn controls the emotions, these kids were born with no conscience. Okay, so you come to accept a lot on faith in these things. Ultimately, though there are hits of both Village of the Damned and Bad Seed here, the picture owes much more to Devil Times Five.

Director Ed Hunt had made a handful of genre cheapies prior to this, but today Bloody Birthday remains his most memorable film. The dialogue is often painful, the soundtrack is comprised of library music from TV movies, and it’s not nearly as gory as would become standard for slasher films, but his three little killers all exude a believable David Berkowitz vibe, and the film contains enough boobs to earn an R rating. In an irrelevant sidenote, it remains one of the very few entries here in which the kids use guns, and, I think, the only one in which they use a bow and arrow.

Sleepaway Camp (1983)

Writer/director Robert Hiltzik’s weirdie is a delightfully oddball number not only within the Killer Kid subgenre, but also among slasher films, which is doubly surprising considering when it was released.

Although the film at the outset has all the standard earmarks of a cookie-cutter post-friday the 13th slasher film (a bunch of youngsters at summer camp, and endless supply of sharp implements, a fast-rising body count), careful viewers will note a few unsettling details. First, apart from the counselors, most of the campers (and victims) are pre-adolescent, and all the males, young and old alike, wear shorts that are just a little too short and a little too snug. Hmm.

Anyway, Angela (Felissa Rose), has been sent to summer camp against her will with her older brother. She’s pretty and nice and shy, but has clearly been damaged in some way. She adamantly refuses to go swimming or play games ore shower wit the other kids, despite repeated (and usually understanding) pleas from the counselors. She prefers to be alone, and isn’t much interested in making new friends. I know the feeling. I was sent to summer camp once, and after a lummox named Trent got to go home because he got a fish hook in the eye, I considered bribing those kids with the fishing poles to do the same to me.

Anyway, if you haven’t seen it, the less said the better. Let’s just say it fits the category, but with a notorious twist, and remains near the top of the lists of many slasher film fanatics I know. I do wonder, though, given the age we’re living in, how this one would go over today. It also leaves me wondering what the deal is with that Robert Hiltzik.

Children of the Corn (1984)

Yes, it’s a stinker, but remains a memorable touchstone within the then exploding subgenre of Stephen King stinkers. I always find it funny that King continues to bitch about Kubrick’s adaptation of The Shining, but never has a word to say about this, or The Mangler, or Silver Bullet, or Maximum Overdrive or…

But that’s beside the point. Given the subject at hand, both the original short story and Fritz Kiersch’s film adaptation are interesting in that they represent a genre-blending crossover between Killer Kid movies and Religious Zealot horror.

AS much as there is to chuckle at here—my goodness what an awful bit of filmmaking, from the script to the performances to the camera set-ups and fx—dammit I keep going back to it. I do enjoy that flashback in the diner, as well as the fact the initial slaughter of the adults is never clearly explained. Not really, anyway. And I do dig the amateurish overacting on the part of John Franklin as the crazy young preacher Isaac and Courtney Gains as his True Believer henchman Malachai. And I’ll watch that R.G. Armstrong in anything. Mostly, though, I think I keep going back time and again just to hear the line “He wants you, too…Malachai!,” which has been a catchphrase of mine for years now.

Firestarter (1984)

Amid the mid-‘80s flood of Stephen King quickies, at least director Mark L. Lester had a few more chops than most. He also had a much larger budget, which allowed him to sign a cast that included George C. Scott, Art Carney, Louise Fletcher, Martin Sheen and Heather Locklear (!).

So a young couple who met in college while volunteering as research guinea pigs in a secret government drug test later get married and have a daughter. As these things happen (see Blue Sunshine or Jacob’s Ladder), those secret government drug tests have a way of hanging around awhile, with some mighty unexpected side effects. In this case, their new daughter Charlie (Drew Barrymore, who was in a few King adaptations) was born with pyrokinetic powers, meaning she can set anyone or anything she doesn’t like ablaze, the lucky brat.

Well, a few years later when the secret government agency that ran the secret government drug test catches wind of what little Charlie can do, they decide they’d like to have a little chat with her, and maybe her dad too (the briefly popular David Keith), who himself might have psychic powers. Or maybe they’d like to have something more than a chat.

Less a horror movie than conspiracy thriller and chase picture, Firestarter remains an oddity here, as it’s one of the few Killer Kid films in which we’re asked to root for the Killer Kid, actually hoping the wee pyro in question, even though she’s cute and blond, will set a few of those icky, mean adults on fire.

It’s hardly on a par with The Shining, Carrie, or The Dead Zone, but at least it’s better than Night Shift, Sometimes They Come Back, Children of the Corn IV, Cat’s Eye, Maximum Overdrive…

The Omen IV: The Awakening (1991)

As would become standard for plenty of other franchises that had seemingly run their course, some bright TV executives thought there was still some money to be made with that whole Omen thing. A decade after the last and supposedly final entry came out, why not give it the TV movie treatment? And while we’re at it, why not give it a fresh twist by doing a little gender switcheroo, right? So this time around, why not make Damien a girl? That’d throw viewers for a loop, wouldn’t it?

(An Omen IV novel had actually been released shortly after The Final Conflict came out, but it had nothing to do with this.)

The events of the previous three films have long been forgotten by the time we get underway here, I mean, don’t we see the Second Coming of Christ at the end of Final Conflict? Okay, so I guess Jesus had gone on vacation or something by the time two young smug and wealthy lawyers (Michael Woods and Faye Grant) adopt a new daughter without asking too many questions.

Their daughter Delia (Asia Vieira) grows into a pretty, dark-haired young girl who is extremely unpleasant. Oooon, but she’s a bratty little smartass who could use a spanking. I always thought the Antichrist was supposed to be charming and charismatic, but I’ll let it slide. In any case her New Age hippie nanny starts to suspect something far more sinister than smug parents might be at the heart of Delia’s bad attitude. When all her magic crystals turn black in the little girl’s presence, she starts making frantic calls to her other New Agey friends.

I’m going to stop there. Hilariously awful film, save for one scene, And that one scene alone is reason enough to forgive the film’s countless other unforgivable flaws.

The nanny drags Delia to a New Age fair in a park in hopes of getting a snapshot of her aura, and let’s just say things don’t go well for much of anyone. In simple slapstick terms, it’s on a par with Final Conflict’s montage of baby murders.

The Good Son (1993)

As he transitioned from the “dorky, buggy-eyed but still weirdly cute” kid in the Home Alone pictures into a “dorky, buggy-eyed and much less cute” adolescent, Macaulay Culkin decided to prove his range as an actor by playing against type in still another take on The Bad Seed.

Instead of telling the story through the mother’s eyes, in Joseph Ruben’s film we see things through the eyes of a nice, wholesome kid named Mark (a young Elijah Wood). After his mother dies, he’s sent to live with an aunt and uncle and two cousins. Not yet knowing he should avoid anyone named “Henry,” Mark and his cousin Henry (Culkin) become good friends. But after Henry is clearly delighted when one of his silly boyhood pranks triggers a deadly multi-car pileup, and after he shows off his homemade gun to Mark, and furthermore hints he once tried to kill his own brother, Mark starts to get the idea Henry might well be a psychopath with bigger diabolical schemes in mind.

Ruben’s picture is a slight cut above the likes of, say, The Godsend thanks to that change in perspective. Although Culkin makes for a believable psycho kid, it didn’t really do much to revamp his career and set him on that road to an Oscar. Thinking about it, though, Henry’s use of improvised and homemade weaponry wasn’t that big a step away from his Home Alone character, but with more fatalities and fewer cartoon sound effects..

Home Movie (2008)

The found footage/hand held video/POV horror film was pretty well dead and buried as a style by 2008, but that sure didn’t stop anyone. It was a cheap way to make a movie, after all. In this case, though, the story would have worked much better as a straight narrative, as the POV gimmick just gets in the way, leaving viewers (or maybe just me) repeatedly asking, “Why would anyone be filming this?”

Why, for instance, would an alcoholic Lutheran minister (Adrian Pasdar) choose to film an intimate argument with his psychiatrist wife (Cady McClain)? And why would a psychiatrist use the family video camera to record private patient notes, leaving them mixed in there with the Christmas and Easter home movies? Maybe writer/director Christopher Denham was trying to make a point about people so obsessed with living through screens that they can easily ignore the obvious and increasing threat posed by their clearly disturbed twin children, who mostly just lurk in the background as the parents focus on themselves. I doubt it though.

The creepy ten-year-olds Jack (Austin Williams) and Emily (Amber Joy Williams) were born on Halloween. While their parents try to desperately prove just how fun and cool and hip they are by setting up haunted houses in the basement and teaching their kids how to pick locks, Jack and Emily spend the first half of the film staring sullenly at the floor. Soon enough though, they begin killing goldfish, crushing toads in vices, crucifying the family cat, and attacking schoolmates, working their way up the evolutionary chain toward You Know Who.

Oh, I’m not giving a goddamn thing away here—the goddamn tagline gave it away! And even without the tagline if you couldn’t see exactly where this was headed with the first scene, maybe you need a nap or something.

To it’s credit, like Devil Times Five, Home Movie offers no explanation for why the kids are funny in the head. If you wanted to push it you could make something out of that Halloween birthday or the fact the family name is “Poe.” Myself, I just tend to accept that any kid unlucky enough to have a preacher or a shrink as a parent is fucked from the start.

Case 39 (2009)

Renee Zelwegger stars as a young sincere and overworked case worker at Children and Family Services. After the seemingly unbalanced parents of a shy, sweet and neglected girl on her case list try to cram the pre-adolescent into the oven (repeatedly!) one night, the parents are institutionalized and the social worker adopts the girl.

Okay, same as with Home Movie, if you can’t see where this one was headed ten minutes in, theres something wrong with you. Funny twist is, while I initially took it to be simply yet another Bad Seed knockoff (which it is) before deciding it was simply another Omen knockoff (which it is), by the half way point it finally became clear: what I was watching was in fact a knockoff of Omen IV: The Awakening. And that’s pretty bad. To make it all even sadder and more pointless, Case 39 is capped by a climax that makes absolutely no sense, if you think about it even for a little bit. Even the Omen IV had a better ending, and that’s saying something.

Considering all the above, the ultimate lesson to take away here is that, talk as we might about The Terrible Twos, it’s when the little monsters turn ten that you really need to watch out.

by Jim Knipfel

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petrichvrs · 5 years

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.･:*:･ﾟ’ twenty six year old cismale lucas garcia was made in brooklyn and attended st. jude’s. he still resides in new york, and are currently a journalist. they are five o'clock shadows, coffee stains, burger joints and sleepless nights. onlookers say they resemble sean teale.

hello legends ! i’m your local diy diorama fanatic ron & i live in the gmt -3 timezone. that kind of rhymed & i’m sorry. anyways, i’m 23 years old and my pronouns are she/her. some of my interests are: loving & treating animals w the respect they deserve, sharing wholesome memes, watching people making knives out of random ass materials on youtube & watching the office. i think that’s about it for me, so lemme dive into lucas.

growing up in brooklyn proved easier for lucas garcia than his mother had anticipated. being a second generation venezuelan-american, lucas’s parents tried their best to make the boy get in touch with his latino roots but the boy absolutely loved the bustling city from a young age.

a proud nets fan from the moment he learned how to walk, wednesdays and thursdays for lucas were sacred nights at barclays’ with his father. lucas breathed in the culture of the neighborhood, and made brooklyn his home, and the garcias lived a simple yet happy life in the cramped brownstone apartment they rented.

education was something the family valued very much, and it was crystal clear to the garcias that if they wanted their son to have a chance of competing with the privileged, trust fund bred elite of the city, they needed to bestow upon him the greatest education they could afford. lucas wasn’t behind his parents expectations either, being top of his class and a hardworking student. when high school rolled around, it wasn’t very difficult for him to secure a spot and a scholarship in manhattan’s prestigious st. jude’s.

right around lucas’s sophmore year, tragedy struck. lucas’s father suffered a scathing heart attack and died on the spot. the boy was set to meet him, and lucas blames himself til this day on his tardiness, believing that if he had been minutes earlier, he could’ve saved his father.

it was right around that time that lucas began to lose control of his life. the boy who had been personable and serene quickly turned into a thrill seeker and became unrecognizable both to his mother and his friends. lucas fell into a self-destructive spiral, using various drugs and seeking the bottom of the bottle every night in order to numb himself.

it didn’t help that his father had died and left the garcias in a tough financial situation, where even lucas’s scholarship in st. jude’s was in jeopardy. almost being expelled from the school once, lucas wasn’t the legacy that the school simply looked the other way when he did something that could drag the name of the school into the dirt. there would be consequences.

around lucas’s final year in st. jude’s, his mother met another man. two years after his father’s passing. they were married not long after, and with the novelty of now having a stepfather, a number of things would change in his life, to lucas’s chagrin. the first one, he would have to say goodbye to his beloved neighborhood.

living in the upper east side proved to be everything that lucas despised. the vain conversations and useless splurging that he was accostumed to in st. jude’s were now everywhere in his life. they replaced the brownstone apartment with luxurious lofts that were located straight across central park. instead of going to totonno’s for a slice of pizza, he was now confronted with fancy dinners at momofuku. but if you can’t beat the people you’ve made fun of your whole life, you become one of them.

his self-destruction journey continued on, erasing his previous personality completely, until when, at twenty four, an event changed his life. ( this goes into his secret, so i won’t disclose it unless ! if we plot smth that has relevance to it ). after a year of being away from the spotlight, lucas came back, journalism degree in hand and completely changed.

gone were the days of toxic behavior, and the old lucas garcia was back. a competent writer who is able to speak on polemic issues with astuteness and sensibility, it wasn’t long before lucas was noticed by the times. managing to snag a spot as a culture reporter, lucas’ ability to breathe in the city came in hand.

personality-wise, he’s very approachable. owner of dry humor and a cynical point of view, he’s smarter than people give him credit for. he doesn’t like to talk about his disappearance, but it changed him fundamentally. now, he has trouble sleeping, which explains why he’s so keen on slipping away in the middle of the night. before, lucas was unable to connect in a romantic way with anyone, but those days are far gone. it’s almost like time hasn’t passed, and the sensible, kind boy is back. but the closest to him wonder if it’s to stay.

tl;dr: good boy. v gentle pls be careful w his heart.

okay, so this has gotten incredibly long, so i’m gonna cut it while i still can. if you’d like to plot pls hmu or like this post. i would really like some wcs that are from lucas’s partying days and to flesh out how they deal with his new but old behavior. anyway. if you’ve read until here thank u i appreciate u.

#xointro #death tw #drugs tw #alcoholism tw #night terrors tw #VIII. LIBERTÉ EGALITÉ ANXIETÉ › ooc #this intro sucks but i love him ok dont @ me

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readyplayerhobi · 6 years

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Part Of Your World | 04

; Merman!Jimin x OC

; Genre: Little Mermaid!AU /Angst / Fluff

; Word Count: 9k

; Synopsis: Jimin has always longed for the wide-open skies of the Above Sea. After saving the life of a beautiful woman, he seeks to find her and live in his dream world. But young mermen should be careful what they wish for.

Previous Chapter ; Next Chapter

Silence.

Silence is the first thing that greets Jimin; the first thing that he realises is strange through the heavy fog of his mind that makes it hard to think. Opening his eyes is tiring, he feels groggy and his limbs feel as if they are full of rocks.

For a moment, he’s staring at the ceiling in confusion, wondering how sea foam is on the ceiling. It’s white and looks frothy and he wonders if he’s hallucinating, maybe he accidentally ate the wrong part of a puffer fish or something, until he realises suddenly that it’s very real when he spots the dangling thing in the centre that he knows he could not have imagined.

It hangs from the ceiling, strands of gold falling down before curving up elegantly. From the ends are droplets that sparkle in the light and at first he wants to call them sea glass but he recognises them suddenly as those human jewels they covet so much.

Once his mind gets around seeing this, he looks to the side and realises that the reason it’s so light is because there is a window. There are swathes of white fabric surrounding the glass and through it; all he can see is the light blue of the sky.

Crawling to the edge of what he realises is an incredibly soft bed, he takes a moment to pat and marvel at the suppleness, he pulls himself over the side and falls to the floor, the slippery fabric from the bed falling with him where it is wrapped around his body.

Pushing away the fabric in haste, he yanks his hands away in shock at the sight in front of him. Instead of the familiar black tail that he expected to see, he is greeted with two pale limbs, splayed where they had landed.

The memories of the pain suddenly hit him and he gasps brokenly, the sound silent, clutching at his chest as he remembers the agony the creation of these had caused him. His hands move to touch them and he finds that he is trembling violently, before his fingers touch the smooth skin.

Jimin isn’t entirely sure what he’s supposed to do with these and he stares at the tiny limbs on the end of what he recalls are feet. They look like deformed fingers and his stomach churns at the sight. With a little thought, he finds that he can wiggle them and the feeling is so foreign it makes him shudder in disgust.

He gingerly moves one leg to the side, before discovering he can do so with the other as well. Jimin is not sure how he is going to cope with this; he had spent his whole life with his lower body being just one limb, now he had to think of two.

For the next five minutes, he experiments with his legs, finding a strange novelty in how bizarre he looks. It’s only when he looks back up at the window that he remembers his original mission, he’s suddenly struck with the realisation that he has no idea how to walk.

He doesn’t even know how to move these legs to stand up. Thinking back, he tries to remember how every human he had seen had stood up before. Only to realise that none of them had seemed to do the same thing.

Some had rolled onto their knees; some had simply stood straight on their feet. Puffing out his cheeks, he blows air slowly as he works it out. Perhaps moving onto his knees would be easiest; he assumes that his centre of balance would be more equal in that position.

It sounded better than admitting to himself that he had no idea what he was doing.

Rolling onto his stomach, he pauses for a moment before pushing up on his arms. Nothing happens though except now he’s just holding himself up with his arms. He scowls down at his legs and tries to think how he’s supposed to move them to make them work. Humans make it look so easy!

It’s only when his arms start to tremble that he finally flops back onto the floor, glaring at the wall before taking a moment to admire it. He’s never seen walls with such strange patterns before, sea foam green with swirls of white that are deliberate, yet they look textured too.

A small voice in the back of his mind wonders how they did it, before he shakes his head with a start and focuses back on trying to stand. He moves onto his back again and manages to shuffle himself so that he is sitting with his back to the bed and simply stares at his legs again.

For the amount of pain he’d suffered to get these, he’d expected that it would be second nature to use them. At that thought, Jimin realises that he has no memory of how he got into this room, or even where this room is. The last thing he remembers is seeing the sea witches face, the ocean waves crashing around them as she held him aloft.

He hoped that he was somewhere safe, but what was safe Above Sea?

A look of concentration overtakes his face as he makes an effort to climb back onto the bed, primarily using his arms but discovering that if he pushes hard at his legs, they actually help him to get enough lift to roll back onto the plush bed.

For a second he simply pants as he stares at the strange ceiling again, wondering if he had always been this unfit or if being Above Sea required more strength than he’d thought. He’d been under the illusion that merfolk were stronger than humans, but maybe not?

It’s then that he remembers seeing humans stand from a sitting position on chairs, and if his memory is correct then it looked far easier. Manoeuvring his legs off the edge of the bed, he takes a moment to concentrate before pushing with both his hands and his legs.

He’s rewarded with almost toppling forwards as he loses his balance immediately. Arms swinging wildly, he’s slightly amazed by the fact that humans require this much balance just to simply stand. There’s a lot of shaking, but he finally stands straight, legs trembling under holding his weight and he thanks Poseidon that merfolk have strong cores from swimming.

His bright eyes are wide before a smile finally spreads across his face. He did it! He’s standing! Raising a fist in pleasure, he lets out a silent yell of happiness that he’d conquered standing before lowering it, feeling stupid. It was like getting excited that a merbaby was swimming.

Now to reach the window, it was simple. Just lift one foot, put it down then left the other. Jimin lifted his right foot in the air, wobbled intensely and put his foot down slightly forwards. And promptly collapsed as his legs gave out under him.

For a moment, he simply lays there before flailing his body around in a silent tantrum, screaming soundlessly. Being a human was hard.

Jimin doesn’t even want to know how long it took him to figure out how to walk, in fact he’s positive he’d like to have that memory removed from his mind forever. But after a lot of trials and effort, oh Poseidon a lot of effort, he’s finally made it to the window and he stands there with wide-open eyes, his jaw agape at the view.

He’s up high in the air, so high it makes his stomach turn and he wants to vomit suddenly. The room he is in is part of a giant stone building from what he can see, towers pointing up towards the sky and the white sheen to the building sparks the memory that this has to be the palace he had always admired.

But his attention is caught by the view of the ocean, far below him and stretching as far as the eye can see. Sunlight sparkles off the soft waves, silver speckles that break up the endless aqua blue. He can see that Poseidon must be calm today, for the waves are gentle and soft.

There a sudden pang of longing in his chest as he stares at his former home, his chest aching gently as he suddenly wonders what his brothers are doing right now. But a shake of his head brings him back to his senses.

He knows that there is no point in thinking that as his home is here now. The dirt and rock that makes the Above Sea must become his home and he must learn how to adapt to living like the humans. Most importantly, he must figure out how to get a human woman fall in love with him.

A sudden sound from the other side of the room causing him to jerk around, wobbling violently until he grips the wood below the window tensely. His body stiffens as he experiences his first meeting with a conscious human.

It’s a woman, and the fabric she is wearing looks drab compared to what he had seen on the women who had frequented the beach, in shades of brown and black. Her hair was also pulled tightly behind her head, in a tight ball that had him wondering how she’d done that with no visible ties.

He supposed she looked young, but in truth he had no concept of human age. Some merfolk speculated that most humans didn’t even live to their 60th year, a startling number considering the large majority of merfolk passed away in their fourth century, fifth if they were lucky and healthy.

So this human in front of him could be 10 or she could be 50, he didn’t understand enough to guess.

She moved forward with her head lowered, a tray in her hands filled with a bowl and some objects he didn’t recognise. It was only when she lifted her head to look at the now empty bed that a noise left her, a gasp of surprise as she spotted him standing by the window.

“Sir! You’re awake! Oh my, I must go get the doctor! Please excuse me!” She speaks quickly, bowing to him before shuffling back out of the room at speed. He’s slightly perplexed as to what has just happened and his eyebrows crease as he wonders what a doctor is.

It is only minutes later that the door opens again, this time presenting a human male. Jimin wishes he could describe what the man is wearing, but that would require knowledge of the fabrics, which he simply doesn’t have. He didn’t even know the names of what he was wearing, just that it itched and made his skin feel stifled.

Bright blonde hair is swept back from his forehead and he wears some strange thin metal around his eyes. Curiosity awakens in Jimin as he realises that there is glass in the circular metal. He wonders idly what its purpose could possibly be.

“Sir, the maid told me that you are finally awake. We have been waiting for you to awaken for three weeks now; we were afraid that you would never awaken. Whatever happened to you at sea must have been truly traumatic.” The man comes closer to Jimin, causing him to cringe away from him.

It’s only once the man manages to pull him back towards the bed, observing the way that Jimin leans heavily on him to walk stably that his words filter into Jimin’s head properly.

Three weeks? He had been asleep for three weeks? But the sea witch had told him that he would only have four months to win his true love’s kiss, he’d already lost almost a month being unconscious!

Panic fills his gut at this and he grips onto the bed tightly with fear, his breathing coming quick and fast. The human with him looks alarmed and presses a cold metal object to Jimin’s chest, causing him to jerk away with fright. The item follows and he’s left to sit frozen in fear, as the man appears to be listening to a tube pressed to his ear that connects to the metal.

“Sir, please calm yourself if you can. You’re safe now, I swear. Your heart is racing and this will not be helpful to you.” He murmurs, pulling away the object to lay it over his neck. The metal could hear his heart?

“You seem to be very weak still, I noticed that you were leaning on me and your legs appeared to be shaking walking here. Do you feel faint? We have been feeding and watering you through a tube though I feared it was not helping you given you did not wake.” Jimin stares at the man, his mind calculating quickly that this must be the doctor the woman went to get, and a doctor must be the healer of humans.

It made him think of Hoseok immediately and he knew that his brother would love to be able to hear heartbeats so easily.

He doesn’t realise that his silence is unusual until the doctor begins to frown at him, eyes flickering over Jimin’s body quickly.

“Can you hear me?” Jimin nods. “You can understand me, correct?” Again, Jimin nods. “So why have you not spoken? Can you tell me your name?” Jimin’s mouth opens to provide his name, only to remember the lack of voice. His hands come up immediately instead to sign out his name to the doctor.

Only the man stares blankly at Jimin’s hands. “Do you not know your name? And are your hands okay? You may experience some side effects from the long sleep and whatever injuries you may have sustained during your ship wreck.”

Jimin stares at him for a moment before looking at his hands. He tries once more to sign out his name only to receive no recognition. Ice seeps into his veins as he realises that the mer sign language is evidently not recognised by humans, and he hits his head a second later as the realisation seeps in. Of course it wouldn’t be!

Why would humans know mer-sign?

He doesn’t see the doctors wide eyes as his patient begins to harm himself, only realising he’s doing something wrong when the doctor grabs at his arms firmly. “Sir please, there’s no need to become frustrated. Just, take a deep breath and think deeply. We have no name for you currently, but we assume that you must be someone important as you were found with a veritable bounty on the beach.”

Jimin pauses at that, wondering what he meant. He had nothing on him; it was why he had to give up his voice. Had the sea witch provided him with riches? It would make sense he guessed, the quickest way into the palace would be to appear as someone important and rich.

He sends a silent thank you to the sea witch, realising that she had been far more generous than he could have ever expected from someone so feared.

Staring at the doctor, he feels frustrating rising up inside him, causing his brow to crease in irritation. The man sighs lightly and murmurs something under his breath before pointing at himself.

“My name is Doctor Jackson, what is your name?” He gestures towards Jimin and Jimin face falls as he glares at the man. He couldn’t speak, that didn’t mean that he was incompetent.

Mouthing out his name, he points towards his throat and makes what he presumes to be negative gestures, hoping it gets across that he cannot speak. Doctor Jackson’s eyes narrow in focus on his throat and Jimin recognises the look of inquisitiveness that takes over.

“One minute sir, I will be right back.” He leaves the room quickly and as soon as he’s gone Jimin lets out a silent groan, head falling back onto his shoulders. So far, living as a human had been nothing like he had expected.

Doctor Jackson reappears quickly with a rectangle of white in his hands along with a feather and what appears to be a small black pot. Jimin watches fascinated as he dips the feather into the pot and begins to write, producing clear black lines. It takes a moment for him to realise that somehow humans had managed to create the ink that squids produced and used it to write.

The letters were so fine and Jimin’s eyes are wide as he observes. Understandably, merfolk were unable to use liquid such as ink under the sea. Thinking about it, he wouldn’t even know how to explain how merfolk write or paint, the ink that was common to him would be foreign to humans.

“Okay, so you can’t speak but you seem to be intelligent to a degree.” Jimin glares at that. “So hopefully you can read. Spell out your name by pointing at it.” Excitement fills Jimin at the realisation that perhaps he can communicate after all; only for it to be dashed quickly upon realising the written language he is looking at is foreign.

Poseidon’s blood running through merfolk gifted them with the ability to understand any human language when spoken, but when the merfolk had been created thousands upon thousands of years ago there was no such thing as written language, so he was left to sigh dejectedly.

Raising a hand, he pointed to the letters and shrugged. The doctor’s eyebrows rose up in surprise. “You can’t read?” The shock in the man’s voice makes Jimin think that this is probably something that would be expected of someone who had washed up on shore with riches.

“Well…perhaps you simply have a head injury that is…preventing this somehow. I’m sure you’ll remember how soon.” He gives a tense smile and Jimin doesn’t need to be an expert in humans to recognise that as a look that lacked sincerity. “For now, we’ll call you John.”

The doctor proceeds to do what Jimin assumes is a full examination, looking into his eyes, pressing along certain points of his body and asking if there is any pain, timing his heart beat. He even takes Jimin’s temperature with a fascinating little stick, which makes him realise then that his skin is incredibly warm to the touch compared to his normal temperature.

He’s left alone once the examination finishes and Jimin isn’t entirely sure what he is supposed to do now. It’s only when the maid returns that he realises he was supposed to use the fabric that had been left for him. She moves into the room quickly, sheets that are reminiscent of the ones on the bed in her arms.

Upon seeing him sat there, she starts and frowns at him. “Sir, you need to get dressed. It’s lunchtime and there is food being served in the dining room, the doctor has informed His Highness of your health and he would like to see you.”

He picks up the fabric, noting that there is more than one and stares at it. The colour is white, reminding him of the soft clouds that dance lazily across the sky above the sea on a pleasant day. Jimin presumes the second piece of fabric is for his legs given the length of it and he muses that it’s almost as if someone had managed to spin sand into fabric.

The maid watches him stare at them in confusion and frowns slightly, recalling overhearing the doctor say that there are likely problems with his memory. Maybe this handsome man cannot remember how to dress himself?

“Err, sir. Would you…like me to help you dress?” Jimin stares at her for a moment before nodding shyly. He figures that there is no point in being prideful, otherwise he was likely to spend the remainder of his short life stuck in this room.

He does watch her intently though as she helps him navigate into what he learns is called a ‘shirt’ and ‘trousers’. It’s only once he’s wearing them that he discovers the shirt has ruffles on the front and where it ends at his hands, reminding him of certain types of fish.

The maid finishes putting his feet into what she calls ‘boots’, the fabric a stiff and shiny black that feels like it has sucked to his lower limbs. He doesn’t like it and the entire combination of clothing makes him feel like he’s suffocating, no matter how soft it feels.

Standing back up, taking a moment to feel proud of doing it with barely a wobble, he looks back at the maid and gives her a bright smile before bowing in thanks. He doesn’t see the wide eyes she gives him, nor the hand that shakes on her chest at seeing a smile that turns him from simply handsome into quite possibly the most beautiful man she’d ever seen.

Jimin is pretty positive that the maid thinks he has the mind of a child. He’d be more annoyed about that, but he recognised that he was acting with childlike wonder in this palace. Every few steps he had to stop to admire something on the walls or in the corridor, looking in awe at the huge paintings on the wall.

The detail was startling, it was almost as if these humans could walk out of the frames and onto the floor. And the furniture gleamed, strong and firm under his touch with no hint of rot like he often found with the furniture in ship wrecks Under Sea.

If he was being honest, he felt a little overwhelmed with everything and as they carried on throughout the palace he got a strong urge to flee back to the room he had woken in. Everything felt so…open and full of air, there was no sense of security and he found himself pining slightly for the rhythmic sound of the ocean that he had become so used to.

A flurry of movement ahead takes his attention, letting him see two women exiting a room ahead, gentle giggles floating down the hall to him. Their clothing looks far freer than his, which he takes a moment to resent. One wore fabric of soft pink mixed with white while the other wore the essence of the sea with light green and blue, standing out sharply from the wooden floorboards and off white walls.

For a moment he watches them curiously, their behaviour reminding him of the way the mermaids back home would group up and giggle at the mermen. The corner of his lips rise as he realises that perhaps there were some similarities between both species.

But then the girl who wears the sea on her body turns so that he can see her face and his heart jumps into his throat. It’s her; it’s his human woman. Standing in place, he watches her walk away and finds himself unable to move suddenly with fear.

Soft tendrils of hair spill down her back, unbidden despite the white ribbons that wind through the mass, attempting to bring order. Her face has broken into a sweet smile that fills his stomach with plankton, causing him to let out a puff of air as he opens and closes his hands with nerves.

Jimin is suddenly reminded of the night he saved her, and how he admired that beautiful face up close in the bright light of the moon. It seems like a lifetime ago and yet here she is, in front of him and filled with so much life. Pride fills his chest until the maid, tapping his arm lightly, breaks him from his reverie.

“Sir? Sir you should move, His Highness is waiting for you.” She murmurs quietly and Jimin allows her to lead him forward. His excitement and wonder at the world suddenly seems to pale compared to the nerves he feels at meeting her formally for the first time.

The large room he enters is filled with so many objects he’s never seen before that for a moment it feels like his brain short circuits. From the ceiling hangs a metal and jewel contraption that makes his look like a clown fish next to a great white. There looks to be hundreds of tiny jewels dripping from it and he wonders how the ceiling can hold its weight given nothing is made from strong natural rock.

Floor to ceiling windows make up the wall to his left and a few of them have been opened, soft almost transparent white fabric blowing gently in the breeze that comes in. He realises that the salty smell is the ocean and he rubs his chest gently as he sees the expanse of blue past the balcony that extends out.

Looking back, he notes a long table in the centre of the room with high backed wooden chairs spaced evenly along the sides. His human woman is sat near the end furthest from him, close to a man who takes the end position and radiates power. His hair is grey, leading Jimin to believe that this is a human nearing the end of his life given the wrinkles on his face.

It’s only then that his eyes move over to the wall on the other side and he stares in shock at an exact reflection of the room. He’d heard from other merfolk that humans had something called mirrors that reflected whatever image they saw and seeing it now was a shock.

It’s only then that he realises the human man staring back is himself. Without even thinking, he finds himself striding forward to observe his human form. Jimin had never seen what he looked before and he leans in close to study his reflection.

His black hair shines brightly in the daylight, drier than he’d ever seen it and surprisingly light and soft. Running a hand through it, he finds that the strands are much easier to handle dry than wet and he wonders idly what his brothers would look like with dry hair too.

Dark eyes that he recognised in each of his brothers, though he’s surprised to realise that he doesn’t particularly resemble any of them. In fact he looks nothing like Taehyung, his own twin. Soft and plump lips, a strong jawline and a hint of softness to his cheeks remind him more of Jungkook instead.

But it’s his legs that soon take his attention, the limbs longer than he expected and so foreign looking to him that he takes a moment to pat them one at a time to remind himself they are real. Jimin is not entirely sure what to make of them still, though he will admit that he’s fonder of them now that he has figured out how to walk.

It’s only when his eyes glance over to the table reflected that he realises the room has gone silent and everyone is staring at him. Pausing, he turns round slowly and flushes at the realisation that he had forgotten everyone else in the room during his spell of curiosity.

Normally he wouldn’t be bothered, but this is a room full of humans he had never met before and he was pretty sure this was not normal human behaviour. It was even more humiliating to see the look of bewilderment painted on his human woman’s face.

The maid from before comes over silently and takes his arm, leading him to a free seat and gesturing for him to sit. It would appear she had taken him under her fin, and he was both thankful and embarrassed about it.

A minute of silence passes before a man coughs and Jimin sees that it is Doctor Jackson. “It’s like I said earlier Your Majesty, I fear that he has suffered some brain trauma during the shipwreck. He acts…oddly sometimes but he seems to be intelligent and understood me.”

The man he talks to, the grey haired man, eyes Jimin with calculation, scanning along him to the degree that he can’t help but shuffle with discomfort. “You say he is a mute?” His tone is curious and it infuriates Jimin to be talked about so casually while he is sat right there. Surely even humans consider this behaviour to be rude?

“Yes, it is the strangest thing. He cannot appear to make a sound, not even when coughing or groaning, which he should most definitely be capable of doing, as I believe that is just expelling air rapidly. I would not expect him to be able to inform you of where he is from either, as I stated he cannot read, which in turn means he cannot write.” Jimin doesn’t think he’s ever been so embarrassed in his life, his cheeks hotter than he’s ever felt them before.

The woman to the right of the older man gives Jimin a closer look, her eyes focusing on his face. “He must be of good standing, his face is striking and there is simply no way that anything other than good breeding could have produced that. Not to mention he looks strong and healthy.” She muses and Jimin feels like a dolphin being eyed for sale, maybe she’d start examining his teeth soon.

“Mother! Stop talking about him like he’s a horse, he’s sat right there.” His eyes catch on his human woman as she speaks up in his defence and his heart begins to race. She looks over at him and he sees for the first time that her eyes are bright and clear, full of intelligence and so much life it makes his chest hurt.

There’s a snort of laughter from the girl next to her whereas another human male sat opposite Jimin sneers at him, his face ugly with negative emotions. “So he’s pretty, so what? Apparently he’s too dumb to be able to read or write. A pretty face can only get you so far in life.” Jimin is not sure what he’s done to warrant such nastiness and he immediately decides that he doesn’t like this man.

“Yugyeom, please. It is quite unbecoming for a well-bred young man like you to be so uncouth to this unfortunate survivor. I apologise for my words earlier Princess, we are simply curious as to where you came from. You made quite an appearance and the items that washed up with you, and on you, raised more than a few eyebrows.” The regal woman, who he has gathered is the Queen, states with a serene smile and Jimin feels slightly better.

He nods with a polite smile, unsure what they expect him to do. What he has gleaned from this conversation however is that his human woman is of royalty, just like he is. Perhaps it was destiny that brought her ship down where he had decided to swim.

It’s only as his gaze tracks onto the table that he realises the rich bounty of food that has been left out and he finds his eyes widening once more. He doesn’t even recognise the vast majority of what is in front of him and he once more feels overwhelmed with what he is seeing.

What he assumes to be some form of plants layer the bottom of plates with veritable mountains of food stacked on top. Red spheres, orange sticks, golden food in shapes he doesn’t understand that appear to break apart to reveal fluffy white insides when someone pulls it apart.

There is also what he assumes to be meat; only it is not meat like he has ever seen before. This meat looks tough and unyielding, brown and white and he presumes that these have been cooked. He had heard of this human activity but he hadn’t realised how strange it was until he was staring at it. It made his stomach churn at the thought and he wasn’t sure if he’d like it.

It’s only as he begins to reach for a piece of brown meat that he realises he’s not acting like a human again. Servants have come forward and are placing items of food onto plates based on what people point at. His maid is standing next to him and he assumes she’s waiting for him to make his choices.

He slowly points out things that look as if they could be potentially interesting before spying what is obviously a fish. His face lights up in a grin at the sight of familiar food and he is entirely unaware of the soft gasps from the woman around the table as they stare at his face.

His helper serves his plate up and Jimin watches carefully to see how humans eat. If he can try to make less of a fool out of himself then that would be most definitely preferred. Those who are not drinking hot liquid appear to be using spiky metal sticks combined with knives.

He copies them subtly, stabbing the brown meat with the spiky stick and cutting with the knife. Jimin knows knives, even merfolk use knives and he feels comfortable with this.

Placing the meat into his mouth, he moves it around experimentally and discovers that it actually tastes delicious. Rich and with far more spice than he expected, he can’t help but quickly eat the rest with gusto.

In his excitement at eating human food, he discovers that he does not like the red spheres, tomatoes he overhears someone call them, but the orange sticks, carrots, are amenable. The white meat, chicken, is also appetising, though significantly blander than the brown, beef.

It’s while eating that Jimin discovers his throat feels funny, almost dry and he finds himself licking his lips more often and swallowing. He’s not sure why, until he watches his maid fill a glass in front of him with water and he suddenly remembers that humans have to drink liquids.

Picking the glass up, he takes a drink and closes his eyes with the relief that runs through his body at the cool liquid running down his throat. He would have never suspected that drinking would feel this pleasurable.

The only thing left on his plate now is the fish, which he had purposefully left last. Mainly because he had wanted to try the human food first but also because they had apparently cooked this too.

Spearing it with the fork, he’d overheard that too, he pushed it into his mouth happily only to spit it out immediately. His hand flew to his throat as a tiny bit had flown back in his surprise and he began to choke silently, his body convulsing.

A hand hit his back sharply, a loud slap sounding out in the quiet room and the fish flew out of his throat. Gasping noiselessly, he stared down at the fish with confusion. Jimin would like to say that it was because it had tasted horrible, which it truly had, but it had also been because it had burned his mouth intensely.

In fact his mouth felt numb now and he eyed the fish. It wasn’t a poisonous fish so he did not understand his reaction to it. He tried another piece only for the same to happen, causing laughter amongst a few of the humans.

“I guess you don’t like fish John? That’s sad, we have some wonderful fish stock here with the sea.” The elder man, the King he had discovered throughout the lunch, chuckled lightly, his face breaking out into a friendly smile.

Jimin gave a weak smile before looking back down at his plate, unease swimming in his gut. The King could not be more wrong, for a merman who could not eat fish would die very quickly. So why had this fish burned his tongue and throat?

To say that lunch had been awkward that day would be an understatement and Jimin had been more than thankful to retreat back to his room. It had been exactly two days since his first human interactions, and while he found Above Sea to be fascinating and full of wonders, it was also becoming a little stressful that he could not communicate.

Everyone seemed to think he was stupid, and he was positive his innocent interactions with the world were not helping. He’d been dizzy with glee when he’d spotted the metal contraption he had back at home, the one he had never been able to figure out a purpose.

He’d tapped Doctor Jackson’s arm, or Jackson rather as he asked to be called, and pointed at the strange object with a questioning look on his face. Jackson had looked between the two with confusion before simply stating “Do you want the corkscrew?” and handing it to him.

It was only after it became painfully apparent that Jimin didn’t know what to do with it that Jackson demonstrated the purpose, pulling the cork out of a bottle of wine with a flourish. Jimin had looked at it with happiness before falling into contemplation, entirely unaware that Jackson had observed this with interest, noting that his patient was far more intelligent than some of the court would like to think.

The King had since requested that someone bring Jimin down to the beach where he had washed up onshore, to see if perhaps there was something there that might trigger his memory. It sounded stupid to Jimin, as he was aware that his memory was fine, he just couldn’t communicate with them but you don’t say no to a King.

Or in Jimin’s case you don’t say no at all.

Even if he’d had a voice though, he would not have voiced dissent to this decision. He knew it was silly but he found himself missing the sea, despite his excitement at living on the land. It was only to be expected; he reasoned with himself, he had spent 20 years of his life there after all.

Jackson had told him that he’d escort him to the beach at noon, which Jimin had worked out over the last two days was when the sun was its highest. The whole concept of time on land was very strange to him; the fact that they had a specific way of calculating the exact time made them a very prompt species.

It was not unheard of Under Sea to miss appointments if one hadn’t been paying attention to the tides.

Jimin was pretty pleased to have mostly got used to clothing, though it still made him feel like he had a second skin. He would fully admit to shedding the clothing as soon as he retired to his room for the night, enjoying the freeing feeling again of being in his natural state, though he understood the need for them. Humans got cold incredibly easy.

He’d chosen to wear a shirt of deep red today, the colour marvellous and bright. It was hard to see red in the depths of the ocean, he wasn’t sure why but what was vivid along the surface soon became a deep, dark black the further into the depths he swam.

His tan trousers were baggy, providing a strange airy feeling and the maid, whom he had learn was called Elisa, gave him shiny black shoes that simply slipped on. She had called him casual, but handsome, which had caused a flush to spread along his cheeks.

A light knock on the door distracted him from his thoughts as he stared out the window, and he moved across and opened the door with a wide, happy smile. He had decided that he liked Jackson, and found the man fascinating along with his strange human methods.

Only he was not greeted with Doctor Jackson. Instead he was greeted with a vision of beauty that even Aphrodite herself would be unable to match in the form of the Princess. Dressed in a pretty yellow dress, she gave him a polite smile; her own cheeks tinged ever so slightly in a pink that spoke of sunsets before giving him a slight bow of her head.

“I apologise for intruding upon your scheduled walk with Doctor Jackson but I requested if I could accompany you to the beach. I have a particular interest in your story.” She finished, biting her luscious lip between pristine white teeth. Jimin stared at her for a few seconds before nodding shyly, black hair falling into his eyes before he pushed it away quickly.

Following her into the hallway, he found that she was accompanied by the young woman he had seen the other day with her, Joy, and two guards in full uniform. They made him feel uneasy but the Princess didn’t seem to notice their presence, perhaps she was so used to them. Odd as in Thelassia he didn’t remember ever seeing guards follow him or his brothers.

He kept a few paces behind her as they made their way through the palace hallways, and he was very pleased that he did not see anything unusual or he would have surely made a fool in front of her.

Soon they were outside and Jimin took a breath of fresh air for the first time in what felt like forever and he inhaled deeply, closing his eyes as his lips curved into a smile as the heat of the sun kissed his face.

A soft giggle took his attention and he glanced over to the Princess, admiring the way her dress almost glowed in the rays of the sun at its highest. Her delicate hand was pressed to her mouth, though he could see from her raised cheeks that she was smiling behind it.

“You look as if you haven’t seen the sun in a while. Though I guess you haven’t, you have been cooped up in there for almost a month.” She smiled pleasantly and Jimin felt his heart skip a beat.

His mouth opens to answer only the lack of noise causes him to internally sigh in frustration. He settles for a shrug, lifting his hands up before giving her a gentle smile. She smiles back before following Joy through the courtyard towards a little gate in the side of a wall.

He takes a moment to admire it all, eyes big with awe at the sheer scale of everything. The open air makes everything seem so much bigger than when he is underwater, making him truly feel tiny and small. Stone that has been bleached white from centuries of exposure extend towards the sky, the turrets topped with dark grey and pointed as if they sought to spear the clouds as they passed.

The courtyard itself was bustling with life, servants carrying food or clothing to be cleaned and soldiers moving to train or take up their duties. A man in the corner was hammering what looked to be metal only it was glowing bright white and red, steaming with heat. Sharp clangs rang out each time the object he used hit the metal, sparks flying every time. Jimin could see a circle with glowing rocks inside the open wood structure, the air above it hazy with the temperature.

Next to the building that this man occupied was a row of wooden boxes, each containing an animal that he had seen in passing as they walked along the beach with riders atop. He had seen nothing like them before and his eyes widened in shock as a black one with white markings along its face lifted its head and let out an incredibly loud noise.

“That’s Amaranthine, my horse. She’s rather impatient with me but she loves me, I swear.” The fact that his Princess was talking to him filtered into his mind, but the majority of him latched onto the morsel of information.

A horse. They had seahorses in the ocean only they were far, far smaller than these magnificent beasts. And they couldn’t be ridden either.

“Come along John, the beach is this way.” Soft skin touching his hand startles him, causing him to jerk away quickly as he eyes the Princess’ hand. She had already turned away and moved through the gate, the path past this point no longer covered in smooth stone but simple dirt.

She had touched him, Jimin thought to himself with awe, looking at his hand as he followed her.

It’s only then that he realises they are walking along the cliffside path that he had always seen her venture down when he had watched her from the ocean. Looking to his left, he stops suddenly at the incredible sight of his home. From this height, the ocean appears to be endless and the blue so rich it appears almost black in places.

He’d never realised that it would look so beautiful from the land and he turns away with an uncertain feeling. Eyes moving forward to the Princess, dressed in sunshine in front of him, and he berates himself internally. This is what he had wanted, he had wanted to be here on land and he wanted a chance to be with her.

That does not stop his eyes flickering to the ocean with every other step.

Upon reaching the sandy beach, the Princess lets out a laugh of happiness and spins in circles with her arms spread wide. Joy giggles and follows suit, dresses of sunlight and seafoam standing out vividly from the sand.

“I apologise John, I simply love the beach. It’s such a place of happiness don’t you think? I come here whenever I have bad thoughts as I feel like I can deposit all my negative feelings onto the sand and the sea will wash them away when the tide comes in.” She gives a gentle smile and Jimin can’t help but smile back at her beautiful thought process. He liked that, the sea as a purifying process.

The Princess sits daintily on the sand; carefully arranging her dress around her while Joy bows and moves away, providing privacy. Jimin is surprised to find his hands are slightly wet and he’s not entirely sure why, but he feels it might have something to do with his racing heart.

She gestures to him and he folds his legs as carefully as possible, though he still lands with a slump, which gets him a laugh. He hasn’t quite figured out his legs properly still when getting up or getting onto the floor.

It’s silent for a few moments; the only sound between them the gentle crashing of the ocean against the shore and the calling of seagulls in the air. If he closes his eyes, he can almost image that he is back in the cool depths of the sea, floating along the surface.

“Do you know how to write?” She queries softly, her voice barely heard above the music of the ocean. Looking at her in surprise, he realises that she is the first person to ask and he nods his assent. Her perfect mouth forms an ‘O’ as she points at the sand.

“Write your name then!” Excitement fills her tone and his eyes widen with realisation. He can write in his language, though it wouldn’t do any good. But maybe people would stop thinking he was dumb.

He reaches forward and begins to trace his finger through the soft sand, the tan grains parting underneath his fingertip easily. Once finished, his name is written proudly on the beach and he looks at her with a proud look. She stares at the letters with fascination.

“I’ve never seen a language that looks like this before. It’s almost…it’s almost like drawings but fluid.” She looks at him wistfully, her mouth twisting slightly. “Oh I wish you could speak your name John, I’ve no doubt it’s beautiful and strong.”

He’s not sure if he’s not supposed to blush at that, but he does anyway. If this is how she feels about his name before she even knows it, he’s suddenly desperate to sound out the syllables for her.

“I asked to escort you instead of Doctor Jackson for a reason by the way. We’ve never met before but I feel like we have the oddest connection.” She stares back out at the ocean, her gaze becoming contemplative.

“A few months ago, well over half a year ago, I was returning to Terriana from Excalibarus across the sea. The ship I was travelling on had an accident; someone accidently set fire to the gunpowder stores and blew out the side. It sank fast and those who did not die in the explosion died in the cold ocean, it was night when it happened.” She pauses, her hand to her throat and he knows she is remembering.

“I remember that there was a second explosion and it threw me into the sea. God, the sea was so cold that I fell unconscious immediately. I thought that was it, I was dead and no one would ever find me.”

“But then I wake up and see the sun above me, hear the ocean and I can feel something hard beneath me. I don’t know how, and nor does anyone else, but somehow I ended up washed ashore here, just down the beach. Everyone is convinced that I was remembering wrong and that we were closer to shore than I thought, but I know we weren’t. It sounds the strangest thing, but I swear I saw someone when I first opened my eyes, only I couldn’t have because they fled into the sea”

Jimin stares with wide eyes at the blue water, unwilling to look at her to potentially give away his feelings. He’s actually glad he can’t speak for once, as surely he would have made a sound of surprise that would have brought her attention. She had seen him that morning?

He’s suddenly intensely glad that his brothers cannot hear this, as he just knows they would box his ears in frustration. At least she didn’t see his face; otherwise she would have recognised him and pointed it out immediately.

“My point here, is that we have something in similar. I know you can’t speak but…I just want you to know that I am here and I understand. I know it is not proper for a man and a woman to be together, even for talk, which is why I have brought Joy but I just needed you to know. It’s not everyday you have two shipwreck survivors. I just feel sorry that you washed ashore where no one knows you.” A rueful smile spreads along her face and Jimin stares at her.

There is silence before he nods slightly, smiling at her and trying to convey his appreciation at the gesture of friendship. A part of him is marvelling that he has only been awake for days yet he has already gained her friendship. Confidence fills him and he tells himself that he can do this, he’s not sure how but he’s positive he can show her that he can be the man for her.

They sit there for a while longer, the Princess filling the quiet air with mindless chatter and he figures that she must be one of those people who can’t stand idle silence. He doesn’t mind though, her voice is soothing and he finds himself learning a lot about her.

It’s only when the sun lowers itself to blind him that she rises elegantly, Joy rushing over to greet her and wipe down her dress to remove any errant sand grains.

“It will be dinner soon John, would you like to accompany us back?” He goes to agree until his eyes drag back to the ocean and he finds himself shaking his head. A soft smile softens the rejection before he points at the ocean. She looks over and a secretive look comes across her own face.

“I understand. Please try not to be late, the kitchen staff will be annoyed if they have to cook you food later.” With a quick bow, she gives him her goodbyes and soon sets off back to the castle.

He wishes he could say that he watched her leave; only the ocean, a siren song that he wasn’t aware he’d been listening to, has entranced his eyes. Jimin knows he shouldn’t care, but as he stands up and walks towards the gentle waves, he reasons that he will spend the rest of his life viewing the ocean. He should not resent it; it was not the oceans fault that he had been unhappy after all.

Toeing his shoes off to prevent them from getting ruined, the salt in the ocean could ruin many human things; he tosses them further up the beach. Turning back, he takes a fortifying breath and moves forward, the cool water lapping low at his feet.

Things are fine for a few moments and Jimin finds his throat tight suddenly with emotion that wells up in his chest at the feel of the sea. Licking his lips, he keeps his eyes closed to try and stop any tears.

But then he feels something change, almost as if there was a presence near him. He opens his eyes and looks around quickly but there is nothing there. What had been gentle and calming now though, feels malevolent and angry.

Jimin doesn’t notice the water raging ahead of him suddenly, not until the crashing waves catch his attention but it’s too late. The waves hit him like a solid wall and his breath is knocked out of him as the water pushes him backwards.

It’s only then that he realises that the water is burning him, his skin feeling like he’s dived head first into an underwater volcano. He started to scream, throat working despite no noise sounding and he writhes on the sand as the water retreats and it was only minutes later when his skin had dried that the pain went away, leaving tiny pinpricks of irritation behind.

Sitting up, he breathes heavily as he stares at what had once been his home, his love and his world. What had been so soothing and welcoming only moments ago was now writhing with anger and violence. Jimin got the distinct impression that he was being warned.

Inching forward, he cautiously reaches out a hand to where the sea pushed onto the shore and his feelings are proven correct when an errant wave lashes out at him. The droplets that land on him hiss as it steams and his skin blotches an ugly red underneath it, causing him to cradle his hand to his chest.

He simply knows if he tries again, it will be worse for him. It’s at this moment that he recalls being unable to eat fish the other day, the taste burning his mouth and feeling like what he imagined acid to feel like. The sensation was so incredibly similar to touching the sea just now that he knew it was connected.

As his mind makes the connection, he suddenly remembers the words that the sea witch had spoken to him before the spell had completed and given him legs. The pain had been so incredible that he’d forgotten all about the extra intricacies involved, except his four-month limit, until now.

“The sea is yielding and benevolent, but it is also powerful and a force to be reckoned with…I’m sorry Jimin, the ocean does not let her creatures go quietly.”

His stomach falls as he realises that her warning had contained more than he’d realised. He had been granted his wish and was able to live on land with his legs, however Jimin was no longer welcome to anything the ocean had to offer, whether it was the water itself or the bounty it held within.

He had rejected the ocean and her gifts when he had chosen the land over his home and family. And so the ocean had rejected him in turn, body and soul.

A/N: I’ve been told by my mum that if I let Jimin die she’ll be incredibly unhappy with me lol. I hope you all enjoy it! I’d love to hear your thoughts/theories if you have any :)

#jimin fanfic #bts fanfic #jimin fluff #jimin angst #bts fluff #bts angst #jimin au #bts au #mermaid jimin #mermaid bts #merman jimin #jimin story #bts story #jimin fic #bts fic

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orangeoctopi7 · 6 years

Text

Stanswap AU Part 28

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16

Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20

Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24

Part 25 Part 26 Part 27

Fanfiction.net

And a couple of comics that inspired some things in this chapter.

Chapter 28: A Day on the Town

In the day or so since the government guys had left, things had settled down into what Dipper supposed would be the new normal, now that Stanley was here. Ford mostly stayed down in the portal lab, only coming up occasionally for food. That had actually become the norm over the past month or so. Stan was just exploring the house, although he seemed antsy. He didn’t seem ready to make himself at home just yet, like he was expecting he’d need to bolt any minute now.

Everyone could sense the tension in the house, even Mabel. Dipper had seen her plotting upstairs, with a flowchart and illustrations and everything. And she called him obsessed with planning; this was going to be even worse than what she’d done with Robbie, he could tell. Unfortunately, the boy thought, this was something not even Mabel could fix.

Speaking of Mabel, she came jumping down the stairs with a smile on her face and a notebook in her hand. On that notebook was a list of tv shows and movies, and at the very top, underlined twice, was Ducktective. She screeched to a halt in front of her brother.

“Hey bro, guess what? I figured out what Grunkle Stan needs!” She handed the notebook to Dipper, “I was just thinking how freaked out I’d be if I came back home after spending 30 years in space or wherever and everything was way different, I wouldn’t be able to concentrate on repairing broken family relationships either! So I asked myself, ‘what’s the best way to teach Stan about how the world has changed?’ And at first I was like, ‘The internet!’ but then I remembered that most old people have a hard time with the internet even if they weren’t gone for 30 years, so then I was like ‘TV!’

“So I made a list of all the TV shows that would teach Stan about the present, and I think Ducktective is the best show for the job. The London setting is old-fashioned enough for him to be comfortable with while still using digital-age language and technology. Also, with the themes of family and friendship that run through the whole show, it might subconsciously persuade Stan to make up with Ford! Also also, the season two finale is tonight and they’re marathoning the whole series today so that’ll make it easy to watch and Grenda’s coming over to watch it with us.”

“Uh… ok.” Dipper said simply as his brain processed the word-dump Mabel had just babbled at him. When he actually thought about it, he realized it was a pretty good idea. Stan obviously didn’t want anything to do with Ford right now, but maybe if they took the old conman’s mind off things for a while his emotions would settle down. And watching a show all about unlikely friendships and family couldn’t hurt. “That’s a pretty good idea. Nice job, Mabel!”

They found Stan rummaging around in the kitchen again, which was no surprise, really. Since he’d arrived, he’d spent about 70% of his time in there. A room full of food seemed to be a bit of a novelty for him.

“Hey kids.” Stan greeted them without even taking his head out of the fridge. “Is this peach soda a new fad, or is it some sorta local thing?”

“You mean Pitt Cola?” Dipper asked. “It’s a local thing.”

“Huh. ‘S good.” He guzzled a can of the stuff. The young twins noticed a small pile of empty and crushed cans next to the garbage. “Any other good local foods I should try?”

“Oooh! We should take you to Greasy’s Diner!” Mabel suggested.

Their discussion was interrupted by the arrival of Ford, which was so surprising that they all actually gasped. It wasn’t meal time; they hadn’t been expecting him to emerge from the lab for another few hours.

“Oh, good, you’re all here.” The old scientist said, a cheerful tone failing to mask his nervous posture, like he was psyching himself up to speak in front of a large crowd.

“Are you having an early lunch?” Dipper asked, confused.

“No, I… I was hoping… I was thinking…” He stammered, “it’s about time we got back to our weekly game of Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons.”

“Does this mean you found a way to keep the rift contained?” Dipper asked hopefully.

Ford flinched. “Well, no, not… not yet. I think I’ve made all the progress I can at the moment though. I… I thought it might be good for me to take a break.”

Mabel gasped again. She’d had to nag her Grunkle about taking a break constantly over the summer, and now he was deciding to take a break on his own!? This made her so happy, she didn’t even care that it got in the way of her earlier plan.

The younger twins seemed ecstatic to hear Ford’s proposal, but Stan still hadn’t pulled his head out of the fridge. He was pretending to ignore his brother, until Ford called on him directly.

“Stan, I… I was hoping we could all play together. You know, as a family.”

Stan was quiet for a long time. For a while it looked like he was going to go right on ignoring Ford, until he finally turned away from the fridge, slowly and deliberately. “You want me to play Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons?”

“Yes.” Ford replied, trying very hard to sound confident.

“That ‘game’ that’s more math and statistics than actual gameplay?” Stan continued dryly.

“Er, yes.” The old scientist confirmed, surprised that Stan knew of it. “Have you played before?” He was pretty sure the game had been invented after Stanley’d left home, and he had a hard time imagining his brother playing it on his own.

“Yeah, I was forced to play by some actual Nerd-Lords in Dimension 26*^.” Stan said bitterly. “And I’d rather eat one of those flap-drassin’ 38-sided dice than play it again.”

“O-oh.” Ford stammered. He was momentarily crestfallen, but pulled himself back together quickly. “Well, we don’t have to play that, I’ve got plenty more games in--”

“Nope.” Stan cut him of.

“Bu-wh… you don’t even know what I was going to suggest!” Ford protested.

“Yeah, but I know I don’t wanna play with you, jitata.” Stan glowered as he stomped out of the room.

Ford glared after his brother for a moment before heaving a frustrated sigh and leaving out the opposite door.

“Dipper, go after him!” Mabel pushed her brother towards the door Ford had left through.

“What?”

“This is the first voluntary break he’s taken in over a month! He needs this!” Mabel pleaded. “You go play DDMD with him or whatever it takes to keep him out of the lab for a while, I’ll take care of Grunkle Stan.”

“Narfin Ford, wantin’ to play his narfin games…” Stan grumbled under his breath. He didn’t want to play with his brother. Nope. Not one bit.

He paced around the living room, trying to think of what he could do to blow off some steam. It was weird. He’d been longing for home all these years, but now that he was here, he didn’t know what to do with himself. He hadn’t stayed in one place for more than a month in well over forty years. Of course, he reminded himself forcefully, he wasn’t planning on staying in Ford’s house for more than a few weeks anyway. But after that… the idea that he wasn’t going to leave this world was almost completely foreign to him now.

He should be learning more about this world, about what had changed, about what hadn’t… but he didn’t really know where to start. That and the fear that he wouldn’t like what he saw kept him from leaving the house and exploring the town. Or really do much of anything other than mope restlessly from room to room.

“Hey Grunkle Stan!” Mabel popped up from behind the couch, startling him out of his funk. He instinctively swung his staff at her. Luckily he realized who it was just in time.

“Yeesh kid, don't sneak up on me like that!” he barked. “That's a good way to get whacked upside the head!”

“It's ok.” She waved it off like a near concussion was nothing. “Hey, do you wanna watch the Ducktective marathon with me?” She didn't wait for an answer and immediately pulled him onto the couch.

“Uh, what?” Stan asked blankly.

“It's my favorite TV show!” She said, as if that explained everything. “I can tell you've been major-leauge stressed since you got here. You should sit down and relax for a while.” She sat down on his lap to close the deal.

“Look, uh, Muriel…”

“It's Mabel.” She corrected him cheerfully.

“Sure. Mabel.” Stan repeated, trying to remember her name for later. “I haven't really felt safe sittin’ down and relaxin’ in a long time.”

“But you are safe now.” Mabel assured him.

Stan chuckled wryly. “Yeah, but try telling my brain that.”

He sat there for a beat, waiting for her to get up and let him go. She just stared back up at him.

“You're not gonna move, are ya?” He groaned.

“Nope!” She grinned back.

Stan knew he could easily just stand up and send the girl toppling to the floor, but there was a glint of determination in her eye that told him it would be better not to try.

“Alright, so what's this 'Ducktrucker’ show about?”

Stan was surprised how quickly he was taken in by a cartoon about a duck that solves mysteries, but really, weirder things had caught his attention before. He felt like he'd just started when the doorbell rang, and Mabel got up to invite her friend Grenda in. The big guy from the other day, Soos, also joined them for the premiere of the season finale.

The incredible thing was that Stan was actually enjoying this! He was actually loosening up and joining the conversation with these kids, talking about theories of what would happen, favorite characters and how they’d developed over the course of the show, and jokes that had made him laugh sincerely for the first time in years. Maybe Mabel had known what she was doing, getting him to sit down and relax for a bit.

The finale itself was pretty fun, but listening to everyone's reactions afterwards was even better.

“He had a twin brother all along? That's the big reveal we've all been waiting for?” Mabel asked incredulously.

“What a rip-off!” Grenda yelled.

“The fandom came up with that theory over a year ago.” Soos said.

“Eh, I dunno if I buy it.” Stan said. “Speaking as an actual evil twin here, I wouldn't shoot my brother, I'd just go around disguised as him and make trouble. Y'know, just to mess with him.”

Mabel scoffed and punched Stan in the shoulder playfully. “Pfft, you're not an evil twin!”

Stan put on his best evil grin. “You sure about that, sweet-heart?” The others all laughed.

“Still, it was nice to watch the finale without any distractions or games or family getting in the way.” Soos said. “Can you imagine if like, some paranormal thingum showed up right before the show started?”

Everyone laughed again, relieved that, for once, it had just been a normal, adventure-free day.

Ford came up from the lab the next morning, not even attempting to stifle an enormous yawn. He was exhausted. After an admittedly much needed break playing DDMD with Dipper yesterday, he'd spent the whole night working. Now at long last, the portal was dismantled. After all these years, he could finally sleep without the dread of knowing that monstrosity of a machine was waiting below to swallow the world whole.

No, now he just had to worry about the rift. Which was really just as bad, if not worse. After all these years of working on it, the portal was a danger that Ford knew well. The rift was something he knew very little about. Could it be contained permanently, or would he constantly be working to keep the rift out of Bill’s clutches for the rest of his life?

Oh well, another morning had come, and the world had yet to end. He'd better grab some breakfast, or Mabel would be on his case. Ford wondered idly who he’d find in the kitchen this morning. Stanley emptying to fridge, giving him a contemptuous glare before ignoring him entirely? The kids, planning some sort of workaholic intervention?

It was Stan, idly sipping a cup of coffee and wearing a painfully bright red and gold Hawaiian shirt.

“Stanley, where did you get that?!” Ford asked. Surely he didn't get such an outfit beyond the portal.

“Found it.” Stan replied coolly.

“Just because you're hanging around the house all day doesn't mean you can dress like a street light.”

“I'm not hanging around the house, I'm going into town with Mabel. Think I'll tell her I found this in your closet, too.”

“You're going out?!”

“Yeah, can't stay cooped up in this shack all the time.”

“O-of course not… I just… got the impression you didn't feel ready for such a big step yet.”

“And what makes you think you're an expert on what I feel suddenly!?” Stan snapped.

Ford recoiled, like his brother’s words had physically stung him. “Sorry. I’m actually happy to hear you’re going to get a bit of fresh air, meet some new people.

“What do you care?” Stan grunted sullenly.

“Why is it so hard for you to believe I actually care about you!?” Ford asked in exasperation.

“Aw, gee, could it be the fact that you left me stranded for thirty krutacking years!?”

“Well, I wouldn’t have exactly been saving you if I brought you home just in time for the end of the world!”

“Or maybe it’s the fact that as soon as I got back you recreated one of the worst days of my life and told me to take the kids and go!”

Stanford felt his temper flare. “I will do whatever it takes to protect this family! That may not always match up with what you want, Stanley! Don’t go guilting me for trying to protect you and the kids!”

Stan didn’t seem to have a retort for that. He just left in a huff. Ford found some grim satisfaction in getting the last word, but it was a very hollow victory. The old researcher spent all day cooped up in his lab, wishing he could talk to his brother, and then the moment Ford actually worked up the courage to talk to Stan, it quickly devolved into a shouting match.

“What is wrong with me?” He sighed forlornly, and smacked his head against the kitchen table.

Stan had wanted to leave rather quickly that morning, but Mabel wasn’t bothered. She liked to get an early start on the day. They began their walk into town talking about Stan’s bold fashion choices. Apparently he’d rummaged through Ford’s old clothes and found the brightest, loudest, most over-the-top apparel he could. Mabel assured her Grunkle that it was very chic and fashion-forward. The conversation drifted to Mabel’s love of sweaters and where she got her design ideas from. The young girl found that Stan was a very good listener, always chiming in at the right moment with his own joke or opinion. Their humor and personalities meshed together well.

Once they got into town, Mabel started the grand tour of Gravity Falls, Oregon, hitting all the places where she and Dipper had adventures over the summer.

“Here’s the arcade! Dipper brought one of the games to life with a magic cheat-code!” Mabel said as they entered the darkened building.

“Uh Mabel, I’m pretty sure we had these when I left.” Stans squinted, waiting for his eyes to adjust.

“Yeah, but that was back in the 80’s, when arcades were struggling to maintain relevance in the face of the increasing popularity of home consoles. These days arcades have found a niche market that brings together both oldschool nerdcore gamers and casual nostalgic gamers, both classic standing cabinets and cutting-edge AR.” A voice said to their right.

“Soos!” Mabel exclaimed when she turned and saw her friend holding a plastic toy guitar.

“‘Sup dudes.” Soos greeted them. “I’m here playing Power Chords of Death, how ‘bout you?”

“I’m showing Grunkle Stan around Gravity Falls, so he can see what it’s like living in 2012!” Mabel told him.

“Sweet! You wanna play a modern-day videogame?” Soos asked Stan.

Stan gave him a surprised look. “Really?”

“Yeah, why not?”

“Well I’ve only got one arm, for starters.” Stan said dryly.

“No problem, dude.” Soos assured him. “We got a left-handed controller over here. All you really have to do with your other hand is hit the strummer in time with the beat, so if I just…” He got down on his hands and knees and started messing with the wiring, “...switch this bit from that doohickey… and move this here… oop, almost electrocuted myself! ...There!” he stood back up. “I rigged it so now you can use the foot-pedal from the drum instead of the strummer!”

Stan hadn’t actually been interested in playing (he’d never really cared for video games that weren’t gambling-related) but now that the guy had gone through all this trouble, he felt obligated to play. He was pleasantly surprised anyone would go to such lengths just to include him. He didn't want to seem ungrateful.

“Alright, let’s give it a shot.”

“Oooh, Grunkle Stan, you should play Danger-Lane to Highway Town!” Mabel suggested. “It’s the only song on this game I know all the words to!”

“What? I’ve never even heard of that song!”

“That’s cuz it’s from a movie that came out in ‘86. It’s ok if you don’t know the song, you just have to hit the same colored button as the one on the screen when it reaches the picture of the guitar at the bottom.” Soos explained. “This is a co-op game, so I’ll be playing the notes on the right side of the screen. This game has a thing where if your partner chokes, you can save them.”

“Uh… good?” Choke? What was he talking about? What was there to choke on?

The music started up, and Stan saw the colored buttons start scrolling down the screen. He pressed the corresponding button on the neck of the guitar as it reached the bottom, but nothing seemed to happen.

“You gotta tap your foot in time with the music!” Soos reminded him.

Stan started tapping the pedal Soos had rigged up for him, then looked back at the screen and watched the colored buttons scroll by again. This time, as he pressed the buttons, the toy guitar he was holding started to play music! The same music that was coming out of Soos’s guitar and the game console! Well, almost the same. Stan’s sounded a little distorted, and cut out whenever he missed a button. But he got better as the song went on. All those years of honing his hand-eye coordination with that paddle-ball were finally paying off! Mabel joined in singing once they reached the lyrics.

As they played, arcade-goers began to gather around and watch. It started with just a few, but news that an old, one-armed guy with a scraggly beard and crazy clothes was playing Power Chords of Death spread quickly.

“Whoa, he’s actually not terrible!”

“Look at him go!”

“His adequacy is amazing!”

“I am impressed because he is both old and disabled. But mostly because he’s old.”

“Soos, did you rewire one of my games again!?”

“This is gonna get so many views online.”

They had quite the crowd going by the time the manager threw them out.

They continued on with their tour to the library and the museum and the pool and the local newspaper. In each place Mabel told a story, sometimes assisted by Soos. Stories like putting together an epic sock-puppet show that was crashed by Bill, or the 8 ½ president lost to time, or her first kiss with a merman, or meeting a creepy reporter. In each place Mabel went out of her way to introduce Stan to everyone. And while she was doing this, Stan noticed a few things.

Everyone knew Mabel. A lot of people knew Soos, but they had yet to come across a single person who didn’t know Mabel. And she greeted each and every person like they were an old friend, even if as they walked away Mabel occasionally said something like “That’s Toby Determined. He’s messed up.” or “That’s Bud Gleeful! His son tried to kill us!”

“You kids come here every summer?” Stan asked.

“Nope! This summer is our first time coming here to Gravity Falls!” Mabel replied.

It was incredible how quickly Mabel had endeared herself (or at least introduced herself) to the whole town. Sure, Gravity Falls wasn’t exactly an overpopulated urban center, but it wasn’t the sticks either. They had a mall and a mini golf place, which didn’t really scream rural. The way she seemed to know everyone was an impressive feat.

The other thing Stan noticed was really driven home when they reached the police station.

“This is where me and Dipper broke Grunkle Ford out of jail from the government guys! You remember them! That was the day you got here!” Mabel pointed to the jail excitedly.

“Oh yeah, that was the day I had to throw down those agent dudes!” Soos remembered.

“Wait wait wait, lemme get this straight. You an’ your brother busted Ford outta there while it was crawlin’ with feds single-handed?” Stan asked incredulously.

“Well, we did get some help from Tyler and all the other guys at the bar to keep them from following us while we escaped,” the girl clarified, “But other than that, yeah!”

The look on Stan’s face was not just one of shock, but of a growing dread. This was lost on Mabel.

“One more stop to go!” She led them to Greasy's Diner. That lifted Stan’s spirits immediately. Mabel pointed out some local delicacies on the menu: Lumberflapjacks, beavertail steaks, roadkill ravioli, and of course, the waitress’ special: coffee omelette. Stan ordered the special out of morbid curiosity.

“Hmmm…” He chewed the rubbery omelette thoughtfully, “s’not terrible, once you get past the burnt coffee taste. Woulda killed for one of these when I was lost in the Hailfire Peaks on Raretania 2.”

“If you like it, you should go tell Lazy Susan yourself!” Mabel suggested. “Maybe if you two start talking you’ll get to know each other better! You could even ask her for her number!”

“What, the classy lady over by the cabinet? She seems way out of my league…” Stan trailed off, “Waaaaait a sec, you didn’t bring me here just to try and set me up with some stranger, did you?”

“What? No.” Mabel denied, “I just knew since you like weird local food so much you’d love the diner. And when I saw Susan I remembered she had a crush on Grunkle Ford earlier this summer, but he didn’t reciprocate. So I thought, since you guys look just alike, she might like you too.”

Stan nearly choked on what was left of his omelette.

“Are you ok?” Mabel asked in alarm, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything! I should have just left it alone! Dipper’s right, I do get too involved in other people’s romance!”

Stan thumped his chest with his remaining hand a couple of times and finally swallowed the food down the right tube. “Ha-hack, s’fine, just… just the first time I’ve ever heard of somebody havin’ a crush on Ford. Caught me off-guard.”

Mabel sighed with relief. “Good. So you’ll go talk to her?”

“Nope.” Stan grunted.

“Aw, come on Grunkle Stan!” the girl complained. “I’ve introduced you to half the town, and so far the only person you’ve hit it off with is Soos!”

“Don’t take it personally kid, I don’t plan on gettin’ emotionally attached to anyone in this town. ‘Cept you kids, course.” The old con man said.

“Grunkle Stan, maybe if you just give some of these people a chance, you’d want to stay here in Gravity Falls.”

“Mabel, this whole town is quelfed!” Stan exclaimed.

“What do you mean?” Mabel asked in confusion.

Her uncle sighed wearily, and took it from the top. “My brother may not think so, but I do realize what a big risk it was to open the portal and bring me back. I know what kind of consequences we’re dealin’ with here. I know Ford’s workin’ on sealin’ that rift, but Bill’s comin’. It’s not a matter of if, it’s a matter of when. And when he does… well, I’m not so worried about you an’ your brother, from what you’ve told me, it sounds like you two are survivors. You’ll find a way to make it together.

“But these townspeople? They barely know up from down! They don’t realize they got monsters running around in the woods, they line up around the block just to get a look at a party thrown by shazbots who won’t even let them in when a ghost is threatenin’ them, and they couldn’t keep my stupid brother locked up for more than a few hours! I thought my only hope was gonna be to fight Bill when I got the chance, but now… now it looks like we’re gonna have to settle for survive.”

“We can still fight Bill!” Mabel insisted. “We’ve beat him before!”

“Yeah, but he keeps on comin’ back. I’ve been lookin’ for a way to beat Bill for good the last twelve years.” Stan paused a moment, debating whether or not he should tell this story. “You remember that story I told you ‘bout the time I invited Bill an’ my brother into my dream at the same time, and I found out Ford’s portal was operational, but he wasn’t gonna open it? Well, after that, things got weird. Well, weirder. I’d let Bill into my mind, and he wasn’t about to let me forget it. He couldn’t take control of me like a lot of other idiots who’d made a deal with him, but he was in my head day and night, messin’ with me, makin’ me see things. I was already in bad shape, I couldn’t take care of my stump properly by myself, I was still on the run from the royals I’d stolen the star rubies from, and Bill messin’ with my head on top of that wasn’t makin’ things any easier. I would’ve been a goner if it hadn’t been for her.”

“Her?” Mabel asked.

“Some giant space chick called Jheselbraum.” While Stan’s words weren’t exactly reverent, his voice certainly was. His tone softened considerably, and he lowered his gaze as if momentarily lost in a memory. “She’s the nicest person I’ve ever met, if not the nicest person in the multiverse. She swooped in an’ took me to her super-secret lair in the mountains, fixed me up, set me straight about Bill and what the jerk wanted with me an’ my brother, never expectin’ a single thing in return. She even gave me a way to keep Bill outta my head, even if it meant I wouldn’t be able to talk with Ford in my dreams anymore. Honestly, that seemed more like an extra perk at the time.” He leaned over the table towards Mabel and parted the hair at the back of his head, revealing an irregular patch of white. “Put a frellin’ metal plate in my head. See where the hair’s gone weird? That’s from the scar. I started growin’ my hair out to cover it up.

“Anyway, where was I… oh yeah. Once Jheselbraum explained what Bill’s deal was to me, I figured out he was the reason my brother wouldn’t open the portal. It was pretty obvious I’d have to get rid of that monster if I wanted to get home. No Bill, no reason Ford shouldn’t open the portal. So Jheselbraum set me up with a robo-arm, gave me a few pointers on Bill, and sent me on my way.

“Right before I left, she told me I’d see my family again. It took so long, I started wonderin’ if she was messin’ with me the whole time, but… here I am. Never should’ve doubted her.”

“So wait, if you spent all that time looking for a way to beat Bill, you must’ve found some stuff that can help us, right?” Mabel asked hopefully.

The old con man sighed. “It’s hard to learn anything about someone like Bill. Anyone who ever did know anything about him is either on his side, driven insane, or dead. For all those years of searchin’, it seemed like all I ever found was dead ends… until…” He looked around surreptitiously. “Hey, is that cute waitress watchin’ us?”

“No.”

“Anybody else?”

“I don’t think so.”

“That’ll have to do. There a bathroom in this place?”

“Yeah, follow me!” Mabel led her uncle to the restroom. He gave another fruitive glance to make sure no one and nothing was watching, grabbed Mabel by the wrist, and darted through the door.

“Hey! This is the boy’s bathroom! I can’t be in here!” Mabel protested.

“Hey, keep it down!” Stan shushed her as he carefully inspected the bathroom graffiti. He found one that was vaguely triangle-shaped and slapped a square of wet toilet paper over it.

“And I thought Grunkle Ford was paranoid…” Mabel muttered under her breath.

“Ok.” The old man nodded, satisfied that there was no way they were being watched. He twisted the round end of his staff, revealing a hidden compartment. “Feast your eyes on this!”

The end of the staff glowed blue, until Mabel looked directly at it. Then, there was just a plain old chunk of rock. “Uh, this is just a pebble.”

“Not exactly. It’s like some sorta quantum thingy. Like Schrodinger’s Cat or whatever.” Stan explained. Mabel looked at him blankly.

“Uh, when you look at it, it’s normal. When you look away, it’s radioactive and junk..” He tried again.

“Oooooookaaaaaay.” Mabel said slowly. That made slightly more sense.

“So not too long ago, maybe second-to-last dimension I was in before I got back here, I ran into a parallel universe version of Ford, where he somehow managed to fix the portal so it wouldn’t work for Bill with some help from his friend/assistant guy. But Bill still had control of Ford. It was my brother’s dream come true, but he couldn’t even be on the same floor as the portal without that jerk monster taking hold of him. Obviously, they were pretty invested in gettin’ rid of Bill too. So assistant guy and I use the good portal to go lookin’ for some theoretical elements or whatever that could ‘disrupt Bill’s extradimenstional form’ or somethin’ like that. Honestly, a lot of what they were sayin’ went over my head. What I got out of it was we were gonna make a gun to blow up Bill.

“Anyway, me an’ the assistant guy went to some super-bizarro-paradox world where we found this.” He gestured with his stump to the plain looking rock sitting in the hidden compartment of his staff. “We were in the middle of arguing over what to call it when his parallel/bizarro version showed up an’ he had to split. The jerk left me behind! Luckily I already had my own resources for dimension-hopping by then, but still! I’d wanted to talk to them about what they’d done to fix the portal and pass it on to my Ford somehow, but I never got the chance. So I had a piece of quantum junk that might be the key to beatin’ Bill, and no idea what to do with it.

“But in the end, none of it mattered. I showed up here maybe a week later. Turns out I didn’t have to fight Bill to get home. I’ll just have to fight him if I want it to stay home. And so far, I’m not likin’ the looks of my allies.” He said gravely as he closed the compartment in his staff.

“Hmm…” Mabel was deep in thought. “This assistant guy… did he have a really big nose, talk like a crazy robot-obsessed Colonel Sanders, and play the banjo?”

“Uh, yes to the first two, not sure about the last one.”

“That must have been parallel McGucket! Maybe he and Grunkle Ford can figure out what their parallel versions were gonna do with it!” Mabel suggested.

Stan grumbled. “I was afraid you were gonna say somethin’ like that.”

Mabel took his hand gently. “Grunkle Stan, I know you’re really mad at your brother right now, but you both wanna stop Bill and protect your family, right?”

“...Yeah.” Stan huffed.

“And the best way to do that is to work together, right?”

“Alright, I get it! That doesn’t mean I gotta like it. Now come on, let’s get outta here.” He climbed on top of the toilet and opened the window.

“Why are you trying to climb out the window?” Mabel asked.

“I don’t have any money to pay for lunch, do you?”

It was nice and cool in the shade of the forest as they walked home that afternoon.

“Thanks for today, kiddo. I feel a lot better gettin’ that all off my chest.” Stan thanked the young girl skipping beside him. “Sorry to dump all that on you, though.”

“Pch, that’s what family’s for, dum-dum!” Mabel pushed him playfully.

“Eh…” the old man shrugged. “Oh, hey, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t repeat any of that to Ford or your brother. It’s kinda… personal.”

Mabel made an exaggerated face of thinking it over. “Ok, but only if you promise you’ll tell them yourself!”

“Yeah, sure, I promise. Whatever.”

Stanley had to be going soft. He actually felt bad for lying to her like that.

#Gravity Falls #Fanfiction #Stanswap AU #Reverse Portal AU #Stanley Pines #Mabel Pines #My Writing

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