#Letters from Nowhere

[thetravelingtyper]

Letters From Nowhere - 1 (CBF! Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x Reader)

Finally arriving home after almost a decade, you ride with your friend's mom to home. There you find some unexpected company...

Warnings: Some Feels, Fluff, Fluff, Fluff

Prologue, Part 2, Masterlist

Luster - gentle sheen or soft glow, especially that of a partly reflective surface.

The old airport still made you smile, even after all these years. You hadn’t stepped foot on the swirled tile in almost a decade. Your eyes focused through the crowds moving back and forth as you made it to your exit and entered the lobby. There next to a glass vase holding tulips was Elizabeth.

The years had been kind but the loss of her only child so early in their life aged her, the flow of time sat heavy on her forehead. Lines trace her green eyes, lashes meticulously curled, and eyeshadow light. The pink on her lips made you smile and she looked up from her phone. Her eyes scanned the few bystanders until they found you. There was a new light in her eyes then, and her following smile seemed to reach her eyes for the first time in ages. 

She called your name and beckoned you over, you followed, clutching the strap of your backpack and rolling your suitcase behind you. She gave you little time to prepare before engulfing you in a floral-scented hug. The cotton of her shirt was soft and you found yourself sinking into the warm embrace of your second mother.

You both just held each other before she parted and looked into your eyes.

“It's good to see you dear.”

Your voice came out tight, but some sense of relief lingered on the sidelines,

“Hello, Eliza.”

-

The following car ride along the coast was special. You talked about your career, the library, the children, and the program’s success as you settled into the leather of her old van. 

“You seem to have been busier since we last called. Any words from your parents?”

You look down at your lap then, 

“No, they left me a key for the house though.”

Eliza sighed,

“Just the same then. You are more than welcome to stay in your old guest room as always. I do have some company.”

She looks at you then, a curious look in her eye.

“What?”

“You haven't met a special someone have you?”

The question comes out of nowhere and you sputter, eyes flying up to hers.

“I haven't had the time.” 

More like there was never the right person, your inner voice chimes.

“Well, I think you should know John is staying with me.” 

Your heart stops, and you look out the window for a moment. Elizabeth observes you.

“I thought he was still serving?”

Her free hand moves to your knee.

“There was an incident, he is home now.”

You frown, turning back to her and she is quick to reassure you.

“He is fine dear, his old commanding officer is staying. He’s recovered a lot,”

She squeezes your knee,

“He’s never stopped asking about you. I didn’t tell him you were coming home, I wanted you to figure out what you wanted first.”

You set your hand on hers and squeeze.

“I am happy you are home.”

With her final murmur, she turns back to the road as the sea beacons your mind. 

Are you ready to face him again after all these years?

-

Elizabeth pulled into the driveway of your childhood home. The two-story cottage was shaded by an old maple and ivy scaling the brick siding. The front porch, once weathered, seemed new. Elizabeth notices your eyes settle on the wood and she chuckles.

“That was courtesy of Johnny and his friend. Your parents left the house in my care and the boys took it upon themselves to fix it a while ago.”

The statement makes you curious.

“I didn't tell them till just this week I was coming home through?”

She just gives you a secret smile. 

“Once he got home, he went to your parents first before they left on their trip. They were elated to see him after so long and he brought up keeping an eye on the house-”

In case you ever came home, was left unsaid. 

As you get out you turn your head across the street and are surprised to see a truck parked in Elizabeth’s driveway, as she gets out she follows your eyes. 

“That’s Simon's. Speaking of which-”

You notice then with surprise there is someone there, a man, unloading lumber from the back of the truck. He is engrossed in his work until he looks up and meets your eyes. He pauses, brown eyes focusing intently on you, a spark of recognition in them because he sets the wood down and brushes his hands off.

Elizabeth steps forward and gives a wave, expecting a nod in reply, she seems surprised when the man instead crosses the street to approach her. He walks with a long stride, holding himself well as he makes the hike up the hill of the driveway seem easy. He comes to a stop in front of Elizabeth, his frame dwarfing hers. You shift on your feet as he looks down at her.

“You didn’t leave a note.”

His accent is strong and his voice low seeping out from behind a black surgical mask. Elizabeth smiles at the man before patting his arm in a motherly fashion.

“This was supposed to be a secret trip, is John still out Simon?”

The man takes the moment to look at you, eyes evaluating, but you don't sense any hostility, more curiosity than anything else. His eyes then return to hers with a nod.

“Good, we may be having another guest soon.”

She then gestures to you and Simon just looks at you, he then notices your backpack at your feet.

“Need some help, Dove?’

His offer seems to surprise Elizabeth as her eyes widen, you can only offer a quiet “sure.”

Simon moves then, coming around to your side of the car and coming to stand in front of you. He was easily 6’ 4”, with wide shoulders, now that you could see him closer, lines of scars tracing his exposed skin. He wore a short-sleeved shirt with jeans and work boots, a large sleeve tattoo inking his arm. On the other was a curious symbol, some type of logo containing a skull and the acronym S.A.S. one which you recognized.

He looks down at your backpack and you nod, only then does he easily reach down and shoulder it. You open the door to reach for your suitcase but a toned arm reaches past you and pulls it out effortlessly. You look up to him to find him close to you, and as he pulls back to get the suitcase his eyes crinkle a little at the corners and you wonder if he smiled.

He then gestures to you and you nod a bit taken aback by the new acquaintance. Approaching the door you reach behind the devil's ivy to pull a brass key out. You make quick work of the locks and push the door open followed first by Simon then Elizabeth.

-

The smell of caramel and books greets you and you smile subconsciously, softening as you step into the warm embrace of home. You had grown fond of the smell of library books, and the small chatter of patrons and their children. Students who would work diligently, mindful of others as friends reconnect with each other. But nothing like that could compare to finally being home. There is a smell that brings you from your mind and you turn to look towards the kitchen, choosing to follow the smell despite the question of “What is it dear” from Elizabeth.

Inside you find freshly made cookies and something that pulls on your heart. There is a fresh bundle of hand-dried lavender next to a photo of you and Johnny. Elizabeth enters the kitchen and gasps at it.

“Who did this?” She looks around and your eyes catch a sketched portrait of your best friend, captured beautifully in a hand you could only know.

“Aye, I did.” 

A deep voice comes from the top of the stairs and you about jump as you hear soft steps before Johnny comes into view at the base of the stairs. He wears a paint-stained shirt and sweats. Your heart hammers in your chest as his eyes first regard Elizabeth before sweeping to Simon in a nod, and then finally the vastness of the ocean settles on you.

He is older, grown into his strength, but the bandages on his arm and peaking out from under his hair tell another story. You expect to see hatred in his eyes, a cold omission or some heated glare but his eyes only shine. You feel the world pause as he looks into your eyes, moving only a step closer. He exhales with a hum when he sees the tears prick your eyes, looking back to the portrait of your late friend then back to him.

You move forward without a thought and he quickly gathers you into strong arms, a stubbled chin resting on your head as a hum reverberates through his chest. You exhale while a long-forgotten weight melts from your heart. You mumble into his chest. He chuckles and pulls back to look at you, a boyish grin on his face.

“What was that Hen?”

“I’m sorry. I-”

He hushes you, dipping down to press his cheek to your forehead and tucking you into his neck.

“Not a word. You are here now, it doesn't matter anymore.”

His hands trace up and down your back in a comforting motion as yours grasp at his shoulders to hold him closer to you. There is the faint smell of shampoo in his hair and a spot of paint that makes you smile. You pull against him and he pulls back as you look up at him, the soft smile on your face pulling at his heart. His arms circle down to your lower back and he seems reluctant to let go.

You raise a brow at him as Elizabeth gives a huff of a laugh, he just smiles sheepishly but a more serious glint shines in his eyes. 

“Now son, how did you know we were coming?” Elizabeth asks pointedly, a fond smile now lighting up her lips. 

Seeing you two together somehow had (totally) not been one of her intentions, but seeing Johnny calm and settled made the mother in her happy.

Johnny looks up from you and to Elizabeth.

“Caught you writing when you thought I was asleep.”

She hums, eyes looking then to Simon who has since set your stuff down and was standing in the entryway of the kitchen like a sentinel. 

“You are not off the hook, mister. I know you had a part in this.”

The lieutenant just shrugs, eyes looking at her then to you.

“Just doin’ what I was told,” is his honest reply and Johnny grins.

“You two better not be giving her trouble.” You shift in Johnny's arms and he releases you, letting you shift to his side. All the while his hand traces down to the small of your back, remaining a source of silent reassurance from him in your mind.

“Us? Trouble? How about hearing that L.T.?” 

For the first time you hear Simon chuckle, he takes your stuff in hand and approaches.

“Wouldn’t even think of it,” his form moves closer to follow you, you take the lead and start to head up stairs. Johnny follows after, next is Simon. You look over the bannister as Elizabeth gets a call. She looks up to you,

“Come on over for dinner dear, I need to take this. Take care of her boys.”

Johnny is quick to follow with “of course.” 

With that she gives a wave and answers the phone, the sound of her light talking resonating until she heads out the front door. This leaves you three heading up the stairs into the hall. At the top of the stairs, ahead of you, is a short hall to your dads office, the room evident by the stuffed fish hanging on the door. To the right is a bridge leading to the game or common room. Here there is evidence of a recent game of pool. You look at Johnny and he just smiles.

“Your dad has beaten me too many times.”

You take a look around the room. Photos of sports games, swords and some pictures from your childhood hang mixed into the eclectic decor. What is new is the addition of a cabinet, inside a few amber bottles signal your dads alcohol collection. A bottle of bourbon sits next to two tumblers. Next to them is a space that has seemingly been cleared for art. 

You recognize the easel you made for Johnny when you were 16. The window is open and you can tell he’s been painting as a half finished still life sits patiently on the easel. You move into the room to examine it.

Mixed with the smell of paint is lavender, hung upside down to dry in a corner of the room. You hear Johnny enter behind you before you feel a presence at your back a firm chest then presses against your shoulders and an arm reaches past you to adjust some fresh lavender in a vase: the subject of the still life, lit in the warm rays of sunlight.

His other hand hangs next to yours and you feel his fingers brush yours. It's a test you think, a cusp at the edge of the ocean you find yourself dancing at. Your heart beats, some strange sense of fear twinges at you though, but before you can pull away your pinky takes his. It's shy but you feel his hand flex before his fingers curl around yours. His other hand comes to rest at your waist.

“Simon helped me set it up. Your parents gave me a spare key and asked me to watch the house since I was here.”

“It’s pretty Johnny.”

“I know, it reminds me of you.”

Your head turns him at that. You knew where he was coming from. When Rachel was alive you would help her grow lavender in her mom’s yard. You would then take the flowers, fresh from harvesting, and dry them to use for her paper making or baking. Their meaning of devotion is what drew Rachel to want to grow them. Elizabeth always encouraged you three to scamper around in her garden as children after Rachel’s dad passed away when she was young. Johnny became an older brother figure for the only child. 

After her death, and leaving for your masters, you continued to garden despite living in a city. You worked hard at your patch in a community garden, growing sunflowers for their seeds and petals. 

Johnny’s face turns to you, a calm over it. You can hear Simon set the bags down before entering the room behind you. 

“How long are you here for?”

It’s Simon that asks what's been on Johnny’s mind.

“As long as I need to be really, but I am not sure…” 

Your voice trails off in uncertainty as you feel Johnny squeeze your hand. Thankfully your work could be done online, cataloging, research, and reference questions. You move and Johnny releases you, allowing you to move forward to take in the room more.

The still-life is roughly shaped, with mixed color bending to provide the iridescence of the vase. Your eyes trail up to the line as the flowers of the lavender remain unfinished. The sunlight is warm in the room's chill and you take the quiet moment to reset yourself mentally.

You were finally home.

You take in a deep breath before stepping back from the painting and turning. Your eyes find Simon first as he takes in the room, you follow his eyes and find a stool set up in another corner of the the room where there is some small wood working tools. You grin when you see him wander over and pick up a whittled bear. 

So he has been around as well for Johnny. 

You find the quiet nature of the man to be enduring. You eyes then turn to Johnny, who has had his attention solely on you. Your heart quickens under his content observation. His eyes soften and he steps forward to you. His voice is a quiet murmur, something sweet and reserved for you, he calls your name. 

“I missed you.”

Your heart clenches as he raises a hand, ghosting the side of your face, his movements cautious, as if he was afraid to startle you, or make you run.

You look up at him,

Were you ready for this?

The loss of Rachel had broken your heart. Not to mention him not even telling you. After leaving you had seeked out therapy and with the help of some new friends and a loving work enviorment, you were able to heal. You could now understand why he didn’t tell you, but it still hurt nonetheless. 

Back in the moment, you can feel the warmth of his hand near your cheek, you finally bring yourself to press your face into it. Johnny lets out a shaky breath, seemingly unbelieving of the moment, you take the next step to put your hand over his. 

The smile that pulls onto his lips takes your breath away, his eyes seem then like aquamarine stones, the essence of the ocean and a fresh spring rain set like jewels. You want to look away then, a feeling of some undeserved shyness and doubt pulling at your chest, but Johnny tsks, his heart pounding before his eyes turn to your lips.

“No more running Hen, not again.”

Your eyes water then as a lingering though of depression stalks your mind.

“But-”

He hushes you by pulling you to his chest.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

The statement causes a crack in the wall guarding your heart.

Why did you let her go, why weren’t you with her, why did you run-

A hand in your hair shushes you as Johnny runs a hand through it. 

“She told me not to tell you because she didn’t want you to see her in the state she was in. I wanted to tell you but she said she wanted to be alone and I had to respect that.”

You mind races, you think you could understand it then, in the moment. Rachel wouldn’t have wanted you to worry, to see her grow weaker. In the end she had protected you, willing herself to be alone in order to save you from watching her suffer.

Johnny seems to sense it then because he leans down and presses his lips to your forehead, the soft action breaking the swirling storm in your head. You pull back to look up at him with wide eyes. 

“You are not alone, never again”

It's a stern promise and you bring your  hand up his arm, fingers gently sprawled out, taking in the warmth of his skin and the strength of his muscles. On his arm you find the same S.A.S. tattoo matching Simon’s. A bandage creeps out from under his shirt sleeves and you trace it, following the curve of his shoulder to his collarbone. Underneath his shirt you can see his service tags. His breath ticks when your hand moves up his neck.

“You know,” you start eyes turning down as your face hearts up admiting what follows, 

“I actually worte out letters, to you, to Rachel. My therapist recommended writing everything down.”

You feel him swallow and a hand moves around you, resting at your waist.

“I should have reached out.”

His voice comes out lower when you reach his cheek, the tips of your finger tracing the tips of the bandage around his head. Soft tufts of brown hair curl as you brush his hair back.

“You respected my decision. What happened Johnny?”

You hear Simon move. Johnny’s free hand takes your examining one.

“A mission went south and I was hit,” his eyes darken then and you feel a dread fill you, “it almost killed me. Put me in the hospital as they took the bullet out.”

He brings your palm to his lips and presses a kiss there, his grasp engulfing your hand and thumb circling on the back of your palm.

“Simon was able to drag me out in time. But all I could think about was you.”

Your eyes widen at that, he seems to take this as a sign,

“I let you leave, Hen, I left you alone. I couldn’t protect Rachel but she made me swear to protect you and I just let you go. I was a coward for not reaching out sooner. I kept up with your parents and when I got back they left me a key before leaving. When the anniversary was coming I started on the sketch, I helped Elizabeth with the garden. When she started going through Rachel’s things, I hoped it was time you would come home.”

You hand in his shifts, he lets go and you see his face fall but you grab his hand and intertwine your fingers. At that, his shoulders loosen.

“I’m not leaving like that, not again.” 

You squeeze his hand, heart racing when he smiles down at you,

“You better not, I’d hate to have to chase you down.”

You think you feel something in your heart shift, and a bubble of laughter tumbles out your mouth. There is a lustrous shine in your mind then, something you had thought you’d hidden away from the light after all this time, love. 

Fin! :D

[astergore]

something something stress desperation and murder

[starcurtain]

Genshin Impact 4.2 spoilers!

No really, I'm not over the absolute silliness of Furina's situation.

Imagine being Furina. You're faking being an archon. You have not an ounce of hydro power in your body. You cannot enact miracles, fight monsters, or even exhibit a single bit of godly energy. A Blubberbeast can bowl you over.

And then, out of absolutely nowhere, the sovereign dragon of water shows up on your doorstep and is like "Okay, I received your letter. I am here. I heard there is a job for me?"

I M A G I N E the blue screen this girl experienced.

"Letter? Ah, yes, right! The letter I most definitely sent! And the job I most definitely asked you to do! Er... I just want to confirm you fully understand my sacred request--what, exactly, do you think you've been invited here for?"

Did she know he was a dragon from the moment he showed up, or do you think she only found that out later??

Focalors: Don't worry babygirl, I am sending you help! 😘

Does she even know that archons and sovereigns are sworn enemies???

Do you think he got in line with everyone else to see her when he first showed up???

Furina: That's. A. Dragon.

Even more, like imagine the temporary relief. You're a young woman with no experience at playing an immortal being or ruling a country. You have no special memories or powers that will help you here, just a talent for acting.

Then a grown ass man with nearly flawless control of hydro and clearly otherworldly presence shows up, and you're like "Damn, I can work with this!"

...Only for him to end up being the most awkward person you've ever met, who struggles to carry on a conversation that isn't about water or judgment. He understands less about humans that you do. He cannot act to save his own life, and he doesn't remotely want to. He hasn't even noticed that you're not actually an archon. One day, he shows up for work with like 50 baby vishaps in tow and throws the entire country into interspecies chaos. The tabloids can't decide if you created this weirdo to be your familiar or if he's just a really hot oceanid. Nothing you say or do now will help make the situation any clearer.

Somehow, this circus goes on for 400 years, and your country only gets mildly blown up and drowned.

Furina is STRONGER THAN GOD, is all I'm saying.

Fontaine's entire plot is so sad and yet soooo funny.

[bookshelf-in-progress]

I know you've retold these before, but if you want to do one in the form of a flash fiction... My request would be The Goose Girl or Twelve Dancing Princesses.

I've pondered over a few possibilities for this prompt. This morning, I came up with an idea for a Twelve Dancing Princesses retelling that had me bolting out of bed to start writing. I don't know how to end the story, but I like the setup, so for the sake of sharing something, I thought I'd at least share what I have here.

*

The Unseen Soldier

Edmund slipped through the city streets, nimbly dodging around the people who couldn't see him. His pay jingled in his pocket--a gift from a generous shoemaker who'd been grateful for the invisible help--but no one heard. No one looked his way. No one ever did.

At the corner sat a ragged beggar child. Edmund was careful with his money now--he could never be sure of getting more--but he dropped the largest of his coins in her tin cup. She looked up--astonished at the miracle, confused when she couldn't see her benefactor--but didn't meet his gaze.

Edmund always noticed beggars now, after the one who'd cursed him. He'd been young and thoughtless then, newly released from the army with a pocket full of pay. A night in the tavern--celebrating the war's end--ate of most of it, and he stumbled into the streets at sunrise wondering how on earth he could make his money last.

He'd stumbled over the beggar woman, then pretended he didn't hear when she asked for a coin. He had none to spare; he had to look after himself.

Then she proved herself a fairy in disguise and pronounced his doom.

Because you have made yourself blind to the needs of others, this is your curse: to wander the world unseen until you give yourself entire to another.

An unbreakable curse, he'd found--a princess might marry a man sight unseen, but people of his own class liked to see their husbands before they wed.

So he wandered, scrounging where he could (never stealing--a fairy who cursed a man for ignoring a beggar would undoubtedly do much worse to a thief), sometimes doing odd jobs for men willing to arrange his hire and payment by letter. Doing unseen good where possible--at first in the hope that he might be observed by another fairy who'd reward him by lifting the curse, but then because he could--he could see the invisible problems, and give his help without shaming those who received it.

A hardscrabble, desperate life. Sometimes a satisfying one. But--more and more as the years went on--unbearably, unspeakably lonely.

The sun rose higher. The crowds increased. Edmund slipped into the doorway of an abandoned shop and considered waiting out the morning rush. Then he noticed that the entire crowd was drifting in one direction.

This was too much for an invisible man to resist. Edmund drifted at the rear of the crowd until the mass of people pooled around a fountain in the middle of a city square, where stood a royal messenger making a proclamation.

So declared the king: his daughters were wearing through their shoes every night, though the doors of their bedchamber were locked and bolted. The princes set upon the problem had all failed to solve the mystery. So the king decreed that any man who, in three nights' time, could solve the mystery of where the princesses went at night, could have his choice of one to wed.

The crowd gasped. Murmured. Chattered. Shared gossip and rumor. Wondered who'd be daft enough to take the challenge--princess or no, the men who'd tried to solve the mystery before had died.

But at the edge of the crowd, unseen by all, Edmund smiled.

He'd found the way to break his curse.

[visionariesofgodsonlymistake]

what if I flash my veiny ahh dih 🤑🤑🤑

Upon hearing something flutter inside the mailbox , Rainbow turned and looked at it before opening it and reaching inside to take out a very questionable letter .

Staring at the letter , he tore it up before throwing it in a conveniently placed fire before turning to directly stare at you , the viewer .

".if.you.were.to.display.your.morning.wood.in.front.of.me.i.would.get.an.axe.and.chop.off.the.branch.from.its.tree. "

Turning away from you , he sighed and decided to go back to petting animals .

[strange-wanderings]

Starting to wonder if Blendin's letter in journal 3 is even possible to solve if you don't already know how it works

[listen-to-the-inner-walrus]

I really hate when you read a book that has an interesting enough story but is structurally bad.

It keeps you thinking about it because fucking hell, I could have written this story better, but it wasn't my story to write. But goddamn it, this could have been so much better.

[cyanide-sippy-cup]

Friends are awesome. Like you are an entire humam being! And you chose me! And I chose you! I want to see a movie with you! I want to get ice cream with you and hear about your life and show you memes and laugh with you! Unfortunately there is the curse.

[thetravelingtyper]

Letters From Nowhere - 4 (CBF! Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x Reader x Simon 'Ghost' Riley)

As the day passes, you spend more time with the boys...

Part 3, Part 5, Masterlist

Chapter 4 - Umber

Umber - a natural pigment resembling but darker than ocher, normally dark yellowish-brown in color ( raw umber ) or dark brown when roasted ( burnt umber ).

The route back to the house is filled with discussions on the area and the men’s past service experience as Johnny keeps a solid hold on you throughout the wooded walk. As you walk you find yourself yawning, the trials of the day having seeped into your weary bones. Johnny looks down to you and pauses, making you and Simon stop in question before he is reaching under your knees and scooping you up with a squeak. 

“Johnny!” He continues walking, holding you with trained ease while you shift in his arms. 

“Quit movin’” He says it with a mock stern look on his face and continues his pace through the woods. You move to protest but instead you tuck your head into his chest and drift into a warm sleep. Johnny feels himself calm fully when you nod off in his arms, obviously feeling safe enough to do so. The men walk in silence until they pass the playground, Simon speaking softly then.

“You're happy, Johnny?”

It’s a statement as much as it is a question. Johnny turns to him and nods. He ponders, the weight of you sleeping in his arms is enough of an answer, but he looks to Simon, who walks a little off to the right. He takes the next step closer, allowing him to brush up against the older man as they walk. Simon's brow raises in surprise but his gaze softens and he brings an arm around his sergeant. 

“I am.” Johnny finally answers, cherishing his presence. 

When they make it back to the house the form of Riley comes trotting over, looking for you. She comes to Johnny's side whining softly.

“We gotta get her home.”

“Right, her bag is inside, I'll go get it.”

Simon departs, hurrying up the stairs and returning a few minutes later with your bag and the key to your home. They cross the street and enter your home at the rising of the moon. Johnny passes up the stairs followed by Simon and Riley. He finally enters your room and sets you gently into bed, still sound asleep, but as he pulls away you murmur his name softly. He smiles and looks at Simon as Riley curls onto the rug and lies down with large eyes watching Simon expectantly.

He just sighs and murmurs an ‘alright’ leaving Rileys tail thumping excitedly.

“You gonna head out?” Johnny turns to Simon, leading the man into the guest room so he can change.

Simon nods, “I'll need to be up to finish the garden.”

Johnny hums in affirmation, pulling off his shirt to change into something more comfortable. Simon’s eyes focus on the man’s healing scars. He sets your bag down and steps into Johnny’s space raising a hand to Johnny's hair and brushing it back to press a fond kiss to the scar there. 

“I'm glad you came, Simon.”

Simon leans back up, straightening up his tall form.

“Always.”

With that Johnny presses a kiss to the corner of Simon's scarred lip and the older man leaves for the night allowing Johnny to change into clothes for sleep. In the joining bathroom Johnny washes his face, a refresh for the night ahead. He then turns the light off and enters your room again, surprised to find you blinking awake.

“Johnny?” Your voice comes out tinted with sleep, slightly hushed with exhaustion.  

“I'm here love. Do you want to change?”

“Mmhm”

Johnny huffs a laugh when you just point to your dresser and he is quick to pull out a pair of pajamas, a tank top and shorts patterned with open books read by frogs. 

“Interesting choice-”

“Shut it johnny.” You pull yourself up and out of bed and begin to undress. A light flush lights up Johnny’s face and after handing you the clothes he turns to give you your privacy. He hears the rustle of clothes and chuckles when you toss what you were wearing to the side of the room, into a basket by the closet. Then you drop back into bed on your back and tuck yourself into the sheets. Johnny strokes Riley before heading around the bed and leaning down to kiss your forehead.

“Goodnight lass-” he is abruptly paused when you take his toned arm and tug him down into bed with a giggle. He topples forward but shifts himself so he lands on his side next to you with a oof.

You pull the comforter and spare blanket over the two of you and Johnny reaches and switches off the light. You roll over to face him and he reaches out and pulls you into his embrace, an arm coming around you and pulling you to his chest. You tuck your head against him and fall into a deep sleep.

-

Friday’s ray of sun comes through your blinds waking you slowly from the dredges of sleep. You move to tuck against Johnny but find the side of the bed warm but empty. You awake fully then to a bark from downstairs and pull yourself out of bed to investigate. Coming down the stairs you can hear Johnny humming in the kitchen, a soothing sound that makes your lips quirk up fondly. 

In the kitchen you find him freshly showered with fresh bandages on his exposed arms, having foregone a shirt in the comfort of home. His head tilts when he hears you and he turns from the stove and his eyes focus on you as Riley slips over herself to run to you. She skids to a stop and tumbles into you with a bark before she is licking frantically at your hands and you kneel down to hush her little whines.

“Calm down sweetheart I'm right here.” 

You pet her behind the ears and she pants, seemingly thrilled but calmed by the affection. You smile and look to Johnny to find him close to you, startling you at how silently he moved. He stands tall over you, his shoulders broader than you remember from when you were younger. You look up to him in question but some new emotion passes through his eyes.

The sight of you in pajamas, hair ruffled from sleep and seeking him settled a deep urge in the man. As your eyes search his trying to identify the emotion in them the ocean of his eyes surges and he feels a rush in his chest, a deep desire for you. 

When you raise a hand to him he takes it in his and pulls you to him before capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. Your eyes widen when his hand comes to the back of your neck and you lean into him as much as you can, eyes fluttering shut. He pulls himself from your lips, hovering close enough to feel the warmth of his breath. His eyes find yours and you feel a jolt of electricity zip up your spine, hands coming to brace against Johnny's chest. His breathing is unsteady and his hands feel right at your waists.

“What brought that on hmm?” You ask, raising a brow in a tease, but the way Johnny looks at you makes the words fizzle out. It's soft, and full of a new longing, some settled contentment that buzzes with what you dare not name.

“Johnny, what is it?”

You cup his face, searching his eyes, his heart laid bare.

“I love you.”

Your heart stops at the utterance. 

“Johnny-”

“I mean it, I've loved you ever since we were kids, I wasn’t lying that night. I’ll be here forever if you’ll have me.”

You gape at him,

“What about Simon? You love him too.”

You say what has been on your mind and Johnny nods, but something feels right. 

“I don't plan on leaving.”

Simon's voice sounds from the entrance of the room and Riley yips in surprise, caught off guard.

Johnny gives a breathy chuckle, unsurprised.

“Ye were always here.” He speaks with respectful adoration, bringing his hand up to your face and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Simon chuckles and after petting Riley he approaches and you peak out from Johnny’s tight grasp to look up at him. 

Simon wears a pair of work jeans and a compression shirt, having discarded his shoes at the door. His hair hangs in his eyes and he makes the move to sweep it back as Johnny loosens his grip on you to turn to the older man.

“You mean it Simon?” It's a timid question in the weight of the moment.

“Sure dove, I’ve liked you since I've heard of you. Johnny wasn’t exactly quiet about you.”

To that you huff a laugh as Johnny blushes, caught in the act.

“Aye, guilty as charged.” He raises his hands in surrender and you take the moment of freedom to step out of his grasp and towards Simon. The man looks down at you and you raise your arms to hook around his neck, he gives a smile and his arms come around you.

“I’ll hold you to it, Lieutenant.”

He raises a brow, He dips his down and nips at your lip playfully, pressing a kiss then to the corner of your lips, chuffing when you whine. 

“Easy Dove,” he moves to your ear, murmuring “save it for another time.” 

You huff with heat in your cheeks and push against his sturdy chest but it does nothing to him when he runs an open hand up your spine. Johnny watches pleased before turning back to breakfast. Your eyes turn to the food and Simon releases you but keeps a hand at the small of your back as you approach the stove. Johnny eventually finished breakfast, racing for a platter to spoon eggs on to but you just reach for a plate and spoon yourself some.

“Save the dishes.” 

Johnny nods, watching Simon linger close to you and he realizes something, he is pleased. He always aquated you with home and Simon with protection, it only made sense that Simon would take you under his wing as well. 

Simon takes a plate as well and watches Johnny out of the corner of his eye, unsurprised to see the wheels turning. The Scot had always been one to attach to people, from him, to his loyalty to Price and Garrick. But what really stood out was his closeness to you. You had always been there for Johnny, even when you were a world away. The presence of you was a constant in his mind and space, from the sketches to the letters on leave. Mind you they never were sent but they kept his heart and soul hoping you would fit right back into the piece of his soul missing. 

As you move to the table Simon is quicker, pulling out your chair and allowing you to settle before taking the seat to your left. Johnny gets his own food and follows, joined by an eager Riley. Johnny takes the seat to your right, resetting his plate down before telling Riley to lie down. She looks at him expectantly before Simon repeats the order and she huffs before tucking herself under the table at your feet. As she settles you begin to eat in an easy silence. Johnny is quick to finish, always having a healthy appetite to which you laugh.

“What’s the rush?”

“I want to get the still life done today, besides don’t you need to work?”

You nod, taking a spoonful of food and eating. 

“I will probably set up in Dad’s office, I can work remotely from there. Bucky sent over the paperwork I can approve. We are trying to figure out the scheduling.”

Johnny nods as Simon finishes his food. The man sits up and takes Johnny's plate to the sink and starts washing them. As you finish you lean back in your seat and stretch, pulling your arms over your head and yawning. You fish into your pockets and pull out your phone to find a missed call.

“Speak of the devil. That would be James.”

You hear Simon hum, a deep sound that reverberates through the room and your lips quirk up. As you turn to say something your phone rings again. You pick up Bucky’s call on the second ring. He greets you upon connecting.

“Mornin’ sweetheart. How did you sleep?”

“Hey buck, and just fine thank you.” You smile when you hear Johnny scoff as he gets up seeking something. Your eyes turn to follow as Buck begins detailing the meeting from yesterday. You listen in and watch as Johnny comes to Simon, a hand seeking the other man and Simon leans into Johnny's touch. You then see the real goal of the Scot, the leftover cookies from yesterday in a container. Simon realizes then and spinning the dish towel he lightly whips Johnny. 

Your giggle brings a smile to both of their faces. At the other end of the line the dark haired man pauses, an eyebrow quirking up.

“Something funny?” he asks, and you can hear the smile in his voice. 

“I have some friends over.”

Bucky raises a brow even higher at your enunciation. On your side Johnny makes a face and Simon turns to you in challenge, eyes catching in the sunrays and you catch the umber shine. But Bucky continues on with his descriptions, to which you hum, eyes searching and sitting up to grab a notepad on the counter. As you move Johnny shifts and you look to find his arms crossed and a stern look on his face. You roll your eyes and Simon passes you a pen and you begin to take notes. 

The conversation continues for another few minutes before you recap to Bucky the notes you took and he agrees. 

“Well you got everything sweetheart, I'll check in later and be in the office if you need me. I know you planned on working but remember you’re still on vacation.”

You nod,

“Thanks dad.”

Bucky grins and something slips because the next statement out of his mouth catches you off guard,

“Not the only thing you could call me Sweetheart.”

Your eyes widen and stutter in surprise but Bucky laughs,

“Just kidding, catch you later.” 

With that the man hangs up leaving you blinking at your phone and biting your lip. The flirting had caught you off guard and a like flush heated your cheeks. You sigh and rub your brow, setting your phone down and fidgeting with the pen as that was something new.

“Sergeant?” You jump when there is a Manchurian drawl next to your ear and a tattooed arm braces on the table next to you.

“Jesus.”

His head dips and then he’s right besides your head and a tingle runs down your spine. His lips quirk up,

“Not my name sweetheart.”

Your body feels electrified with him behind you, his warmth seeping and his form dwarfing yours. You turn your head to face him, taking in the smell of him and earth. 

“He’s just a friend, Simon.”

He hums and this time you feel it when he presses against you, his head dipping to your neck. His lips meet your neck when Johnny drops into the chair on your other side. Simon murmurs something into your neck when Johnny's hand comes to your exposed thigh and he runs a finger at the hem of your shorts. You move a hand to his and Simon presses a final kiss to your neck before lifting himself up, leaning back from you but lingering close by. The weight of the affection does not escape you, Simon is apparent about his presence, even as he moves to set your plate in the trash as you can feel the weight of his gaze on you even as he leans against the counter. 

Johnny however is not as evenly tempered as he sits, fingers skirting along your shorts, he is respectful but the touch is still very much his. He finally meets your eyes, an electricity in his that catches you off guard. His free hand comes to your jaw, thumb brushing over your lip in thought.

“We never did anything Johnny.”

You murmur it, heart weighing at his touch, he doesn’t look away from you though, the stubbornness making your heart warm. His eyes soon fixate on your lips, his palm spreading over your thigh, tightening his grip by a fraction. 

You take the incentive to cup his face, skin smooth from a clean shave and the smell of his cologne doing wonders to your senses.

“John-” He beats you to it, moving his head forward to capture your lips for the second time today. His hand moves to your neck as he lifts up out of his chair to kiss you deeper. You gasp into the kiss and his tongue swipes at your bottom lip, an invitation. He groans when you take it, hand clutching your thigh as his fingers dig in as he braces himself finally standing to lean over you.   

He finally parts a moment later, eyes finding yours, his eyes darkened. His lips hover over yours, seemingly entranced and when you focus on him he smirks, hand that was at your jaw coming to hold the armrest of the chair, claiming your space. His steady confidence leaves you flushed and he chuckles and he dips his head against yours.

“Staking a claim Sergeant?”

Simon’s voice is steel, commanding even as he watches from the counter and Johnny looks up.

“No need to claim what is mine.”

Simon chuckles,

“Ever sure of yourself.”

On the other hand you are a blushing mess and your hands find his bare chest and push him away in embarrassment, but it does little and Johnny does back up only to look down at you. He squeezes your thigh then releases to pull back fully, admiring the flush on your face and watching your eyes trail up his body to his eyes. His shine in the light of the kitchen and he just winks before stepping off your space.

You shake off your blush and a smile creeps onto your face, affection for him warming your heart. You get up and Riley follows, scooting out from under the table, her tail wagging.

“Time for work then?”

You move towards Johnny and he turns towards you so naturally, as you pass you peck him on the cheek before waving to Simon and heading upstairs to your room to change. Riley bolts up the stairs afraid of you and you hear Simon and Johnny talking before Simon heads back out to finish the garden beds. At the top of the stairs you finally hear Johnny coming up after you. 

You make it into your room and pull off your sleep shirt and dig around for a sweatshirt, pulling it on before finding and changing into a pair of sweats. You shift through your stuff and pull out your laptop and head back out into the hall. You can hear music playing from the other room and looking over the bannister you see Johnny painting, seemingly engrossed in his work.  

You make it into your dads office, finding the space relatively clean despite your dad’s numerous hobbies, setting your laptop down, you plug it in and take a seat in the leather office chair. As you open your laptop there is a whine at the door and Riley nudges her way into the office, trots over to you and squeezes under the desk to lay at your feet while you huff a laugh. You leave it with a pat on her head and begin to work.

-

The morning hours melt away with the rays of the rising sun and as you finish up emails there is a knock at the door and your eyes check the clock to find it already at noon. 

“Come in.”

There is a shuffle and the door opens and you turn to be met with a warm orange and brown that makes you gasp. In the doorway is Simon with a bunch of small annual sunflowers, their sunny orange marked with a warm brown center. You look up to him and find his face slightly pink from the cold. He looks around the office as you push back in the chair letting Riley spring out to greet her owner. As her tail wags as storm Simon finally speaks.

“Brought you something Love.”

Your lips quirk up fondly, 

“I can see that. Thank you Simon.”

You stand and close your laptop, moving to join Simon as he leads you out into the hall. Looking to see Johnny you don’t find him but hear the shower going down the hall. As you walk down the stairs you take the flowers from Simon and head into the kitchen to find a vase. But as you enter you are met with another surprise.

Spread across the table was a simple meal with 3 place settings. The smell of italian herbs and garlic bread made your stomach rumble. As you set the flowers in a vase with water Simon gently takes it and sets the flowers at the center of the table. A few moments of admiration later Johnny comes down the stairs, you can hear the grin on his face when he talks,

“Looking good Simon!”

Simon just shrugs and moves to collect a plate but looks to you directly waiting for your movement first.

“You first dove.” 

You look at the table and nod, taking the plate and Simon hands you the plate. You move forward and look at the spread on the table. In sunflower patterned dishes sat a delicious smelling meal consisting of fresh garlic bread and a form of pasta. You recognize the veggie noodles with an upturn of your lips-they were your favorite. The alfredo sauce looked homemade, a rich cream color. 

You take a serving of those and the salad and take a seat in the middle chair as Simon and Johnny follow suit. As they sit you hear a squeak that alerts you to Riley trotting off and hunting her own lunch in the form of a stuffed salmon. She returns to the entrance of the kitchen. Inhaling deeply with her tail wagging.

“Honey no you cant have any. You already had lunch.” Johnny coos at her. Taking one of the seats next to you. After making sure you two have food Simon follows then takes the other to eat next to you. 

As you all eat you discuss your work a little further, laying out your goals for the book club and the newer literacy programs. As you discuss the children's outreach programs you find a smile slipping onto your face.

“So we got the younger kids set up with reading buddies in the library and Buck was a favorite! It got to the point where we thought they would trample him during sign up. I have a few kids for my own program, they are a little older so we're going through the magic treehouse series.”

You have to pause before you get out of breath from excitement. 

“One of the kids, Jack, was really struggling with the longer read but he’s really gotten good.”

Both of the men nod and Johnny smiles into the next bite of his food, Simon watches fondly as you continue gushing about the progress of the other children in the program. 

As lunch continues the conversation evolves into something deeper as Simon recounts his father leaving after the divorce and how he stood up to take that place for his younger brother. 

You hum in approval when he mentions the role of stories in strengthening their relationship at such a young and crucial age. He sets his fork down, spending the moment to lean back and reminisce. 

“Mom worked hard after dad left, we would go to the library after school for the late afternoon programs until she got off work.”

You nod and he doesn’t go more into it and you sense a weight there, some burden that has weighed on him over the long years. You move a hand to his arm as he continues eating, Johnny watching intently, leaning in, curious. You lift your hand to his arm and he pauses, muscle tensing under the exploratory touch. Your fingers spread over his bicep and he looks down to you, his eyes coming to the present.

“Let me take you out tonight Dove.” He says it suddenly.

You eye him and Simon’s hand traces your arm connected to his. Umber eyes take you in like a work of art, an appreciative shine to his eyes. His hand makes it your face, food forgotten as he takes you in like the last breath of summer before fall. Times were changing, he realizes, eyes lifting to find Johnny watching before their eyes meet and Johnny nods. 

“I’d like that Simon.”

You finally speak and his eyes are back on you, a small sigh of relief passing his lips. He parts from you with a slow reach, thumbing your cheek before lifting his hand. You lift yours as well and turn back to your food and the moment passes with the finishing of the food. 

-

Johnny is insistent on doing the dishes when you try to shove him aside he just laughs, looking down to you with a signature grin. 

“Ye can try to move me all you want love, It isn’t going to work.”

You brush him off in mock frustration as Simon clears the table.

“Riley!”

The dog trots into the kitchen at your call, and you kneel down to offer her love and affection.

“These men are insufferable aren’t they girl?”

Her tail thumps against the spice cabinet in pleasure when you reach her neck and when you pause she jumps forward, eagerly kissing your face. As you rise back up to your feet you head to the back door and open it, allowing her to barrel out of the house and into the open yard with you close behind. 

Outside the sun had risen overhead and made its steady way west. Ahead of you, past Riley rolling in the grass is the old forest, the treeline a welcome change from the condensed city you lived in. You breathe deeply, happy to be home.

As Riley runs around you take a seat in one of the outside chairs, relaxing into the cushions, the next few minutes passing peacefully. But suddenly Riley stops, looking to the woods beyond the edge of the yard. Just as you sit up to check it out a sudden flash of red makes you yelp. You heard a commotion from inside and suddenly Simon was there, followed quickly by Johnny as you land back in the seat, caught off balance.

“What happened?” Johnny is there then, hands at your face and eyes scanning over you while Simon looks around. 

“Clear.” Simon's voice is calm before he is calling Riley who still looks out into the wood, she then turns her head to look directly at you wagging her tail and barking with a low woof.

It's then you hear a chirp and the three of you look up to the beam above you to find a cardinal. Fluffed up for the winter cold and chirping. You breathe a sigh of relief.

Cardinals, while normally timid, were not common around here, despite the closeness of the woods. You smile at the bird though, happy to see it. Riley finally returns from the virgil and whines, looking at the bird.

“Easy girl.”

You murmur watching the bird as its eyes survey the three of you. You reach a hand up, gesturing to the bird.

“It just startled m-” the sudden flight of the bird is surprising, but then there is a weight on your outstretched fingers as small feet find a perch. You blink in shock at the change of position.

“Well that's strange.”

Johnny mutters head tilting in consideration as you hold the weight of the bird easily. 

“They are normally very cautious,do your parents ever feed them?” Simon asks.

You think for a moment, the bird looking at you and chirping, ruffling its feathers in the cold happily before nesting into your hand. 

“Not that I've heard, Mom likes to avoid feed because the deer will eat it all.” 

“Ma used to say they mean someone is looking out for you.” Johnny voices the old though, and you nod. You all watch the bird a while longer before you lift your hand up and, with a final fragment of song, the bird flies off into the woods. 

“What do you make of that?” You say it more to yourself in thought but Johnny answers lowly.

“I think it's a good sign.” 

“Maybe so.”

Fin :D

[svtskneecaps]

literally it's 3am where i live and i'm on mobile but FUCK IT i haven't posted any actual writing in like a YEAR on this blog whose description include the words "I WRITE" and i can't tell if i'm even going anywhere with this so fuck it under the cut is the prospective absolute mess of the first chapter of the flipo family time loop fic. (for clarity, flipo family as in slime, mariana, and juanaflippa) this covers loop 0, aka the relevant parts of canon. words: 1630

parts of it i popped off with and other parts i hate; up to you to identify them. also the italics and other formatting got erased when i copy pasted and i'm re-adding all of it by hand so if i missed a spot, no i didn't. if i missed an accent on a letter in spanish that was a typo, if i missed a ¡ or ¿ that may have been on purpose.

oh and for obvious reasons, content warning for mentions and mild descriptions of child death and child murder. no blood, and most of it is a three word mention; i'd say the brief paragraph beginning "Tilín didn't scream" is most of the reason this warning exists.

Charlie Slimecicle stepped off the train.

He’d been hoping for a bright, sunny day to start their vacation, but was sorely disappointed. The portal had apparently taken them pretty far, since they’d gone from noon to night time. Talk about jetlag. They hadn’t even been on a plane.

“What happened to the other guys?” he wondered aloud as he stepped onto the platform.

“Yeah no clue,” Phil said, scanning the empty station. “Thought they’d meet us here.”

“Guys!” one of the Spanish speakers--Vegetta, he’d said, when they’d all met up at the first station--called, from a lectern at the wall. “There is a book!”

They crowded around as he read the instructions aloud--something about pressure plates, Slime wasn’t paying that close of attention. He was a little more preoccupied with making sure it only felt like his brain was dripping out of his ears. That would be kind of embarrassing.

Which was not to say that he wasn’t enjoying the constant onslaught of people talking over each other using words he may or may not understand. In fact, it was the opposite; he was frankly thriving in the absolute chaos that kicked back up around him as a timer appeared in the wrist communicators they’d been provided along with their tickets.

“Como se dice ‘we are going to die now’?” He giggled, chasing Phil and Fit to one end of the station.

“¡Vamos a morir!” shouted Spiderman, echoed seconds later by the black bear in the collared shirt.

Giddy over the high of attempting to use his high school foreign language for the first time maybe ever, Slime absolutely didn’t contribute much to solving the puzzle, and before long the sound of the timer ticking down was accompanied by a loud buzzing alarm.

“It’s been an honor!” he shrieked at the top of his lungs. “It’s been an honor!”

The bear ran past them again, shouting, “I’m going to die!” in English this time.

“Adiós amigos!” Slime yelled.

The countdown ended.

And then his communicator buzzed, and there was a video playing on the screen, showing a cartoonish yellow duck in front of a blurry beach stock photo. He skimmed it absently--some generic welcoming message and another side quest for them--distracted by Maximus audibly losing his shit laughing across the station.

“Come on, I’m trying to take a vacation, I gotta work now?” Fit complained. “This is ridiculous.”

Slime wanted to jump on that bit, but the message cut off with coordinates marred by static and the noise of the emergency weather alert system and he lost his train of thought completely.

“I got the English book!” Spreen called, holding it with two fingers like it had personally offended him.

“English leader,” Vegetta said, seeming to find that amusing.

“English leader.” Spreen laughed and flicked the book away. Slime stepped back but somehow it still nailed him in the chest.

“Guess I’m reading then,” he said cheerfully.

“In Spanish?” Maximus said.

“Um.”

Vegetta called something, backing across the plaza with the book open in his hands. Phil backed up to the wall.

“Here,” Phil instructed, “we’ll read it here.”

“Okay okay.” He flicked it open. “So we have to get water wheel planks--”

Their peace lasted a grand total of thirty seconds as voices suddenly began shouting, overlapping in chaotic chorus.

“What is that?” Fit demanded.

“Is that coming from the other side?” Phil stared up at the top of the wall.

“This is the thinnest thick wall I’ve ever seen,” Slime said, giddy laughter bubbling out of him again. “Is this thing made out of pencil shavings? If I sneeze on it, is there gonna be a hole?”

“Nevermind, we’ll read it over here.” Phil dragged them away again, but the Spanish speakers were dispersing into the trees.

“Forget the book,” Fit said, “follow them!”

(In the end it was explosives that took the wall down, which in hindsight was a precursor to how a not insignificant portion of time on the island was spent. The first day, however, it was just funny, much like everything else.)

(That was to say, the first first day.)

The communicator had indicated that today there was something special planned, so he made an extra effort to wake up.

“Morning Jaiden!” he called to his upstairs neighbor.

“Hi Charlie!” He could hear her farming through the wall. “Glad you woke up on time!”

“Well you know, you know, El Backflipo couldn’t miss it,” he joked, sifting through his backpack. “Got any spare food? I’ll trade you uno backflipo.”

“I have so much toast, come here and get some, free of charge.”

With a quick backflip and some toast to start the day, he popped open the map.

“There’s a lot of people down the wall,” he noted, their green dots so clustered they formed one. “Wanna check it out?”

“Yeah sure.” Jaiden tossed some seeds into a chest. “Do you know what this event’s gonna be?”

“I have no idea,” he admitted cheerfully.

She laughed. “Yeah, me neither. I guess there’s an egg involved, but that’s all I know.”

He dug around in his backpack for a paraglider, nodding along. “Yeah, yeah, un huevo, I get you.” Shuffling the landmine from Vegetta to one side, he yanked out his glider and threw himself out her window. “Let’s go!”

(nothing like getting struck by lightning to wake a guy up in the morning)

Slime fiddled with the communicator as he waited for the line of people to get through the ticket machine; he already had his own, a nice B for Backflipo. The new live translations still boggled his mind. He had to fight the urge to chant weird shit under his breath, just to see what the bubbles would say.

He paid a little extra attention when Mariana walked up to the machine. That guy seemed cool. They’d done that pequeño dormir together on day one, and he had a good sense of humor. Egg parenting would probably be funny.

He was thrilled to see the B for Backflipo on the ticket Mariana stepped away with, even if Mariana was decidedly less so. This was gonna be good.

(it was, and it wasn’t)

So, Mariana wasn’t exactly the coparent of dreams. Then again, Slime was pretty sure Mariana could say the same about him. In fact he was pretty sure Mariana had said the same, but in Spanish, when he wasn’t checking the translation.

It was great. They thought they’d killed a child immediately and then decided to fake their own child’s death to get away with it, and then confessed their sins to a bilingual angel and built a farm and then he buried himself beneath an improvised cross and went into a coma until his sins were forgiven, or something, except his sins weren’t forgiven in time to save his own child’s life.

And then Juanaflippa was dead. Dead at Mariana’s hand.

His bitch wife killed their daughter.

(Everything went faster, after that.)

Slime wanted to kill him.

Slime wanted to kill him for killing their fucking daughter, but of course, Mariana couldn’t even be bothered to be around to take care of her alive, never mind to pay for his crimes when she died by his hand!

(in a better world, his rage started and ended there. in a better world, the anger fizzled out with the lack of a target.

this was not that world)

There couldn’t be an Egg Event with no eggs.

If he killed them all, it would bring her back.

(in a worse world, he succeeded. in a worse world, the Egg Event ended there.

this was not that world)

They held a trial.

If he won, it would bring her back.

(in another world, he didn’t convince them. in another world, they left his daughter in Hell.

this was not that world)

Tilín was still before she hit the ground.

Tilín didn’t scream. Maybe they didn’t have time. It happened so fast. He was sure it happened fast. Almost too fast. But everything went so fast, now, even though Flippa was back. Yet, time slowed down for this, like a rubberneck driving past a highway accident, watching him desperately trying to shock their heart back into motion.

“YOU KILL MY BEST FRIENDS,” Flippa wrote. He begged her to understand. She wrote, “i can’t believe it.”

She wrote, “I HATE YOU.”

(in a better world, the error would have been caught in April instead of July.

this was not that world)

His daughter fell to his bitch wife’s sword. The same way. The next day.

They’d only just gotten her back. And Mariana killed her again.

He only left eggxile for the funeral. She wouldn’t stay dead, but he had to be there.

Time went even faster after that. He was Gegg, or maybe Gegg was him, or maybe Gegg was Gegg, or maybe. . . ?

He went back to eggxile.

He wasn’t leaving without them. Tilín. Juanaflippa. He would do whatever was necessary. He would pray to any higher power. Lil J still owed him a goddamn favor, but the guy wouldn’t pick up his calls. Maybe if he put more shit in the shrine; angels liked shiny shit, didn’t they? He went back to the mine, where the gasses swirled in his head. He built the shrine. He mined. He built the shrine.

He went back to the mine.

He went back to the mine.

He went back to the mine.

“This is where I sit, this is where my bitch wife sits, and this is where my daughter sits, if I had one!”

He’d said that before. No he hadn’t. Yes he had.

No, he just needed to clear his head.

Charlie Slimecicle went back to the mine.

Charlie Slimecicle stepped off the train.

[tothepointofinsanity]

BreadAVOTA PMMM crossover when.

I know this is your very subtle nudge to get me to draw Bon and Mami. 🤨. All Witches are Marginals btw.

[timeclipsed]

@powered-by-prower asked: A little robot would roll up to the fox, carrying a bomber jacket around his size. Attached is a note; No matter what you feel about me, I don't want you to freeze out here. Break the bot if it makes you feel better, but please, stay safe. ~ Tails

— ;; BUBBLING, SEETHING IRE SERVES ONLY to sicken his empty stomach further as he stares at the robot and its gift, Tails' seemingly thoughtful words written on the note mocking him. How dare he? Acting as if he were somehow his senior, his better? Pitying him with a "present"? Paling in comparison to the quality of his own bomber jacket at that. His had been handmade, gifted specially to him by Amy. This one had most likely been a hand-me-down, or simply bought at a cheap price.

Just the thought of Tails' face in that moment is enough to make him want to crawl into a hole and die. Bastard. Bastard. Bastard. What a do-gooder bastard he is, trying to use Chronos' pain to make himself look good.

Emitting a scream of unfiltered vehemence, a fist forms and begins an immediate path towards the little robot with destructive intent. Squeaky beeps from its voicebox halt him, however, giving the gentlest of gasps.

❝...It's... not your fault, though,❞ whispering to himself, shoulders fall, and he instead moves to pick up the tiny technological creature, cradling him in a two-handed hold, ❝...you don't deserve to be hurt. You didn't ask to be made. You're... just like me in that way, aren't you?❞

Slumping back down against the tree that he'd been tentatively calling his sleeping place for the while, he hugs the robot to his chest. For now the jacket would go discarded. ❝What a horrible, selfish monster he is. Sending you into the world against your will just to be brutalized. He has it so good... he doesn't deserve any of it. I-It's okay now, little guy. I won't let him hurt you. I'm here.❞

[p-sherman-42]

10/10/24

Dear N,

It feels pointless to even write these anymore. It's just that this is all I have left of you. And I don't know why I can't just let you go. It feels like you died, or something. It feels like you died and this whole campus is haunted by your ghost.

The unfortunate truth is that I think something inside of me is missing. The hole was there before I met you, but you filled it, for a while. And though you didn't really fit, I chipped away at the surrounding area to make you fit. And I held you there with tape and paste and bandages like hope and I held onto you so tightly--so desperately--and I think I may have squeezed you too tightly. I drove you away, didn't I? I was so busy for so long trying to turn you into a villain, into something I could hate, that I completely absolved myself of any responsibility. I smothered you, didn't I?

It was my own fault I didn't get to know you as well as I would've liked. I hardly asked you questions because I was afraid of making you feel like you were being interrogated, and I was so afraid of overstepping. I was selfish. I was immature. I was so preoccupied with the idea of you that I neglected the real you. I made everything about me, didn't I? And I attacked you with accusations and bitter, frigid indifference when you couldn't live up to my expectations, my preconceived notions of what love should be.

I'm sorry.

I'm sitting at my old pondering spot by the water. No headphones this time. No you. I'm listening to the traffic bustling over the bridge, the lethargic lapping of the water against the shoreline, the rattling of rocks under feet. There's two ducks bobbing together in the shallows. A male and a female. I'm watching the rowing team go by. I'm watching a man hurl a tree branch into the water for his dog (I think it's a collie) to fetch. I was listening to Mew on the walk down here, thinking about that story you told me about the concert you went to in the rain.

I miss you.

Maybe... when I graduate, I'll reach out. Maybe by then I'll be ready to be just friends. But not yet. I can't risk any distractions. It's stupid, to think that you'd even still want to talk to me at all after all of this. It's even more stupid to think that you'd be waiting for me, that you'd even remember me.

Maybe by then you will have forgotten all about me. I'm hoping I will have forgotten about you by then. I'm sorry, but it's better that way. For the both of us.

But if my feelings still have not changed by then, maybe I can give it a try. I just need to hold out until June.

I know it's selfish, but please wait for me... please.

I love you. I miss you. And I love you, and I fear that I will never stop loving you.

Yours, always and forever, M♡

P.S. Sorry that I signed you up for the Scientology email list... I couldn't help myself. It seemed like a good idea at the time. You have to admit it is pretty funny though

[visionariesofgodsonlymistake]

Sabre says sexual content ain't sit right with him, respectin' that decision is fine by me but I wanna hear it from the big man himself! What do ya think of it provided yer' comfortable with answering?

the letter deposited in the mailbox lay there unattended, and would've collected dust for quite a few days had it not flown out of the mailbox and hit Rainbow in their face for falling asleep in a chair in the form of a magical slap of retribution . Letting out a grunt of surprise and finally realizing what had happened , he grumbled slightly and wiped away a bit of drool that had been dribbling down the corner of his mouth before muttering in his odd voice-

' .no.need.to.slap.me. '

Finally , he picked up the paper and read through it before immediately sitting down at the makeshift table he had pulled up before pulling out his fancy quill from an inkwell and beginning to write a beautifully furnished paragraph for his sky person .

' Dear anonymous sky person , thank you for asking me the question !

I personally do not have much of an opinion on it like Sabre does , since feeling things regarding your current topic is a natural thing amongst steves . Most steves don't like to talk about it though as they feel it violates some religious policy , which isn't written or known but most of us follow it ! Personally , I suggest it's best you don't bring it up and resort to other topics which steves and sabre himself are comfortable with .

Once again , thank you for writing ! I hope this letter reaches you soon ^^

Sincerely ,

Rainbow steve . '

The letter was finished and slipped into a small floral envelope which Rainbow didn't bother writing the address on since he didn't know who asked this , it was an anon for God's sake . He did smile though , maybe his boredom will be gone ! Finally .

Depositing it back into the mailbox , he turned back to the makeshift table , wondering how many responses he'd have to write .

[ecle-c-tic]

Desperately need s3 of ofmd for more sick song reccomendations

[eloquentsisyphianturmoil]

can someone tell me what Tolkien had against the letter j