#so i needed to practice. so. um. picked the weirdest way to fucking practice that

[gophergal]

hello

im sorry

[feferipeixes]

Child I Will Hurt You

One of the weirdest things to Alcor about being a father was how automatically Toby trusted him.

Which really freaked him out because he didn’t feel he should be trusted to raise a child. After all, he was practically still a child himself.

(See the most updated version on AO3!)

===

The thing that scared Alcor the most about raising Toby was how fully the boy trusted him.

He’d experienced and marveled at that kind of trust before. When Mabel found him after that fateful day in 2012 and threw herself at him, sobbing with relief that he wasn’t gone after all, he felt it. When Stan took him and Mabel into his home a few years later, patted him on the back and said “It’s no problem, kid”, he felt it. When he warned Mabel that he shouldn’t be trusted with the triplets’ true names and Mabel shouted him right out of his self-flagellation, he felt it.

The first day he brought Toby home after finding him alone and shivering on the street, he felt something very different.

Panic.

Panic over who the child in front of him truly was underneath that thin layer of flesh. Panic over what would happen if he didn’t stop whatever Bill was planning. Panic as he remembered Weirdmageddon over and over again in complete, horrific detail.

“Listen kid,” he said, floating a few feet off the ground so he could better tower over the child, “no funny business, okay? You hear me in there, Bill?”

Toby only cocked his head, scraggly and unwashed golden locks tumbling away from his face to reveal his scarred eye. He still wore the half-scared half-curious look he’d had when he’d first caught the demon’s attention, but there was something else bubbling up. Something that tasted suspiciously like trust.

It really freaked Alcor out because he didn’t feel he should be trusted to raise a child. Trust was something you gave to adults who knew what they were doing, after all, and he was practically still a child himself.

Alcor grimaced, and lowered onto his knees so he could look the boy directly in the eyes. “I mean it. I’m watching you. I’ll know if anything bad happens.”

To his surprise, Toby smiled at that. “You can make the bad things stop?”

“Yes,” Alcor replied, his voice cracking like it hadn’t in centuries because he was already messing this up, he was sure of it. “N-no getting into trouble. Not on my watch.”

The boy’s face lit up, trust shining brilliant from both eyes, and before Alcor could tell what was happening, Toby had reached up and hugged him around the neck.

And the demon remembered

Bill’s little pipe cleaner hands iron-clad around his neck,

Squeezing the life out of him,

Blue fire rushing all over his body,

Over and into his soul,

Screaming until there was no more breath left in him,

And the little boy’s smile radiated such trust and hope that Alcor was left completely speechless.

“Thank you,” Toby squeaked, and Alcor felt it.

---

“Oh stars, I can’t do this, I can’t do this!” Alcor was in his human disguise, head in hands, elbows resting on the counter, rambling like the world was ending. “I’m way in over my head. Raising a child? Me? I mean I looked after Mabel’s triplets but this is so different…”

“...Sir?” The cashier’s hand hovered over Alcor’s head, unsure whether it was appropriate or comforting to actually pat him. “Are you alright?”

“No!” he fumed, lashing out and knocking over some of his groceries. “I have a six year old at home and he trusts me to look after him and keep him safe! How could this possibly have happened?”

“Uh…” The cashier peered behind the man to the customers in line, most of whom looked some degree of disgruntled or confused. She gave them a little wave to indicate that they should probably move to a different register, and then turned back to the man who appeared to be hyperventilating now. “Do you have a partner? Anyone who’s helping you?”

“Of course not, I’m alone, I’ve got no friends,” he moaned. “There’s no one who I trust enough to foist Toby off to. The poor boy has such bad karma -- he needs me to protect him from that or he’ll get eaten alive!”

“Well… it sounds like you’ve got the right instincts at least. You want to keep him safe.”

“That’s just it! I don’t!” Alcor picked his head up and the cashier saw streaks of a strange yellow liquid running down his face. “Everything I’m doing for him is just stuff I picked up from watching my sister raise her kids! I don’t have any kind of adulting instincts -- none at all! I transcended when I was fucking twelve and that’s where I’ll be stuck until the end of time. I’m just a pointless child! I’ve got too much power and no actual ability to help anyone!”

The cashier sighed and -- after the man nodded to say it was alright -- put her hand on his shoulder. “Listen, man, all of that stuff sounds normal.” (Except for the parts that made no sense to her at all but she opted to ignore them.) “No one knows how to raise a kid, and no one ever feels like they’ve grown up. You learn it as you go. Trust me, my kids ran me ragged and I had no idea what I was doing. But they turned out alright. So will yours.”

Alcor’s voice began to wobble, and he pressed gloved hands to his temples. “But he won’t! I’m developmentally frozen. I’m not capable of learning anything! Seriously, what kind of adult buys this much candy?”

She glanced at his cart, which indeed was half filled with Giddy Cowboys and Sneakers bars. “That is a lot,” she admitted. “I would not advise giving your kid that much candy.”

“What? No.” Alcor stopped sniffling and pulled a face like he’d just smelled poo. “That’s for me. I’m buying all these vegetables and milk and chicken for Toby. He’s a growing kid, he needs to eat healthy, get all those food groups in, you know. I’m not stupid. But I am childish for liking candy so much that I’d eat this much of it in a week! I mean, seriously! Oh stars, I’m hopeless!”

The cashier lifted an eyebrow and removed her hand. “You eat all of this… in a week?”

“I know, I know, I’m ridiculous!”

“That’s not what I meant,” the cashier cut in, before he could start gibbering again. “I’m just worried about your teeth. Your… teeth…” She trailed off as the man suddenly yawned, exposing two rows of jagged knives that could sink into her flesh in an instant. “Your, um, your- your-”

Alcor pulled a mirror out of seemingly nowhere and started picking at his teeth. “What, do I have something in them?”

The cashier’s eyes widened even more as the man’s gloves came off. “My… what pointy claws you have…”

“Thank- wait.” Alcor froze, one long blackened nail still pressed into his gum. “Wait a minute. Pointy. Sharp. Cutting and slicing and ripping open oh stars!”

“Um- um- um-” the cashier tried to say, but with every word she felt like she was shrinking until she’d be swallowed up by her clothes. “Slicing?”

Alcor shook his head furiously, and this time his fist was positively trembling when it came down onto the counter. “I haven’t child proofed the knife drawer in the kitchen!”

He flipped his hat off of his head and pulled out a wad of cash, which he then thrust into the cashier’s hands just as her lights went out. Before anyone else could react, he vanished into thin air, taking his groceries and the shopping cart with him.

“I can’t believe I didn’t think of this before,” Alcor grumbled as he zeroed in on the offending drawer. He pulled it open and there they were -- obscene, dangerous implements that he was a wicked and cruel caretaker to have potentially exposed his child to. He couldn’t stop imagining what might’ve happened if Toby had tried to pull open the drawer and it had fallen on him -- couldn’t stop thinking about his little boy sticking his adorable hand in and receiving cuts and lacerations and awful, awful sobbing filling the house…

With a snap, child locks were in place. Alcor tested them out by trying to pull the drawer open -- and it took a few tries before even he was able to. Sighing with relief, he leaned against the counter and slid down to the floor. His feet bumped up against the shopping cart sitting in the middle of the kitchen, overflowing with Reece’s Mugs and Chortle Taffy and Quasarbursts.

He couldn’t do this. He was too irresponsible.

Alcor dug a hand into the cart and pulled out a candy bar. He sank his teeth into it, enjoyed the rush of sweetness that was almost as good as flesh and bone. Slowly he began to unclench his muscles -- even though his form was imaginary, the cramps shooting throughout his body still hurt. He slid down the counter a little further, almost letting his head touch the floor -- and then he noticed it.

The stairs.

Bolting upright, Alcor let the candy bar fall from his hand. The stairs. How hadn’t he thought about that before? What if Toby fell down and tumbled into the banister and lost his other eye? What if what if what if?

Not a minute later, the demon was wrestling with child safety gates, somehow struggling even with all of his considerable power just to get them to attach to the wall. At one point he tipped his jaw back and used his tongue to line the edges with spit, which then solidified like glue. The stairs had to be safe. He couldn’t risk Toby getting hurt.

And with that thought came even more thoughts that sent Alcor racing through the house. What if Toby slipped in the bathtub? What if Toby climbed on top of the fridge and couldn’t get down? What if Bill slammed his arm in a drawer again and again and again and again until it was full of forks and then he poured soda into his eyes and laughed like a maniac while Dipper drowned in the vast emptiness of the Mindscape???

Alcor stiffened. He set down the intricate contraption he’d been building to keep Toby safe from wild animals in the backyard. And he looked into the mirror.

What was he doing?

This was Bill’s soul he was fretting over. It was always him, on the inside, and he’d known it from the very first day he’d seen the boy. He knew what was lurking beneath the surface, what kind of monster slept in that innocent form waiting until one day he could reach out and traumatize his father once more. Reach out and steal his beating heart, and laugh, and live, and die, and laugh, and live, and die, in a way he’d never be able to again.

A chill passed through Alcor’s body. Something had to be wrong with him, because he knew what Toby was and he’d spent the entire week worrying about the boy. Why did he care so much?

Quietly, he crept down the hall, and peered into the bedroom on the right. There he was -- the beast himself -- sleeping soundly in a bed decorated with race cars and rocket ships. A few more steps, and Alcor could see how small he looked, how even in his sleep he seemed so broken. And the demonic instincts that had rushed through Alcor since the day he’d gone up in flames were quelled, because every fiber of his being told him he needed to protect this child.

He rested a hand on the boy’s forehead, and watched him dream about running around in a field of grass, playing catch with his new father.

---

Thus started a new routine. A demon, trying day-to-day to take care of a small child. Playing grown up even though he felt so utterly unprepared for what he was doing. But Alcor’s life didn’t stop when he became a parent.

Neither did any of his other regular obligations.

“Oh, you’re asking for it now!” Alcor roared, jumping to his feet. “I’m gonna run you through with my sword! Die die die die!”

The dungeon master -- Damien -- peered over his half-rimmed glasses at the demon and smirked. “Not gonna work, I’m afraid. The slime beast’s armor is too thick to be pierced by a sword such as your own.”

Alcor gaped with disbelief. “Whaaat? I call foul play! You let Anushka do it!”

“Anushka’s sword has a fire enchantment on it. Slime armor is weak to heat.”

“Also, I said die five times,” Anushka added with a shit-eating grin on her face, jabbing Alcor in the side with her elbow. “Die die die die die!”

Alcor snorted and dropped back into his chair. “Well, you got me there.” He looked at the other players, disappointment rolling over into amusement. “Can I change my move or am I locked in?”

Damien shrugged. “Go for it. I don’t think you’ll be able to beat it this turn though, and you’ve only got one hit point remaining.”

Nat leaned over and whispered in his ear. “Yo, I’ve got an idea. You should defend this turn and try to survive the slime’s attack, and then on my turn I can fire enchant your sword.”

“Huh. Maybe…” He patted his head to get the spittle out of his ear, and surveyed the map of the dungeon they were in. Then he sat bolt upright in his seat, a large exclamation mark appearing over his head. “Damien. How many sword actions do I get this turn?”

Damien rolled a die. “Two.”

“Yessss. Okay. First, I lunge at the slime again! But with the blunt end of my sword so it gets knocked back.”

Damien rolled another die. “Yep. That works. Are you gonna use your free movement to approach it again?”

Alcor shook his head. “Nope. I’m gonna throw my sword -”

“Your sword doesn’t have enough piercing damage to make a difference from that distance, I’m afraid.”

The room’s dim lighting glinted off of razor sharp teeth. “- at the cable holding up the chandelier.”

Anushka and Nat dropped their pencils, and looked straight up, momentarily forgetting that they were not actually in the dungeon they were traversing. “You what?”

Damien rolled a die again, and sucked in a sharp breath. “Alright. The chandelier falls onto the slime beast before it can react. It quickly catches on fire, leaving it too weak to attack. Congrats!”

Beaming, Alcor scribbled some numbers on his character sheet. “Heck yeah. No slime beast is strong enough to get one past the Dreambender.”

“You’re so creative, Al,” Nat said. “Seriously, wow. I never would’ve thought of that.”

He wove off the compliment. “Naw, I’m just basically a large child. Being silly and immature is what they’re good at.”

Looking up over his dungeon master partition, Damien furrowed his brow. “Why do you say you’re immature -”

There was a ringing in Alcor’s head -- a tug on a bond -- and he held up his hand. “Wait, hold that thought. Speaking of children, my kid’s calling me. I’m gonna have to leave early this week.” He stood up, and did a dramatic bow. “I’ll see ya all next week! Don’t lose my summoning circle!”

Toby -- lying flat on the floor of the Mystery Shack -- perked up at the sight of his adoptive father walking through the door. Tyrone looked about as human as they come -- a man in his mid-thirties with soft brown eyes, no wings, and feet that always touched the ground. He opened his arms and Toby came running to hug him.

Right away there was that trust again, that total trust that Alcor still couldn’t believe he deserved. How could someone like him -- someone who’d just spent two hours playing a tabletop role playing game and laughing about memes -- be trusted to take care of a child?

Gingerly, he took Toby into his arms and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “How are you doing?”

“I’m boooooooored!” Toby whined. “Can we play a game? I wanna play pretend!”

Chuckling, Alcor put Toby down and then sat beside him on the floor. “Sure thing, kid. You know, I’m pretty good at playing games like that. I was playing one with my friends earlier today.”

Toby’s jaw dropped. “Whoaaaaa! You have friends?”

A vein bulged in Alcor’s forehead. “Of course I- never mind. What’s the game, kid? What are we pretending?”

Toby jumped up and started pacing in a circle. “I wanna make up a story! It’s gonna be great! I’ll be the hero and you’ll be the bad guy -- an evil king who wants to kill all of the good people in the land! Is… is that okay?”

There was a mirror mounted on the wall behind where Toby had been sitting. Without the boy in his way, Alcor found his gaze fixed on it. He could see Toby gesturing as he walked and he could see the nostalgic decorations hanging on the wall of the Shack. But there was no Tyrone to speak of.

It took a moment for him to realize that Toby was talking to him. “What? Oh yeah. Of course, kid. I’ll be the bad guy.” He took a deep breath, discarding the voice in his head that furiously objected to him being the villain to Bill’s hero. “What’s my motivation?”

Toby cocked his head. “Moti- what?”

“What’s my backstory? Why am I evil?”

The boy continued to stare at him with a blank look on his face. “You’re evil cause you’re the bad guy and bad guys are evil!”

“That’s kinda boring- never mind.” Alcor grimaced and looked back at the mirror. “So you’re the hero, eh? How are you going to defeat me? What’s the hero good at?”

“Everything!!!!” Toby squealed, and his reflection grabbed onto something invisible. “The hero is the good guy so I should always win and I’ll have all of the magic and the biggest swords ever!”

Alcor shifted so that Toby was hanging onto his shoulders rather than around his middle. “Everything? But if the hero always wins, what’s the point?”

“The good guy always has to win!” the boy chirped, squeezing tight around Alcor’s neck. “Always!”

Oh my stars this is so boring, Alcor thought. How fricking uninventive is Bill’s soul? Children are supposed to be good at being silly and creative. I guess all Bill’s soul can think about is being powerful again.

A figure stepped into the room on the other side of the mirror. It was short -- looked to be about 12 years old -- and had clawed hands, bat wings sprouting from its hips, and a fancy suit that looked out of place for someone so young. Alcor’s jaw dropped as he watched the figure pick up Toby’s reflection, pat him on the back, and then stare directly out of the mirror at the demon.

“This is a game for children,” the figure said in a low growl.

“What?” Alcor yelped.

Toby giggled at the interruption. “I said that all the evil people should die because they’re mean! No one should ever do a bad thing!“

“This is what children are like. They see in black-and-white because they know nothing about how the world works.” Cold, black eyes bored into Alcor’s skull. “Have you forgotten what that’s like?”

“B-but I’m silly,” Alcor stammered, sweat starting to drip down his face. “I’m irresponsible. I love playing games and coming up with interesting stories. Those are childish things for someone as old as me to be doing.”

“Dad?” Toby asked. “What are you saying? I can’t hear you.”

The figure sneered, baring two sets of sharp teeth uncomfortably close to Toby’s head. “Whoever told you that must’ve really hated the idea of growing up.” Toby stirred, and it spent a moment cradling him so he’d calm down. Then those eyes -- now bright and full of gold -- flicked back at the demon. “Who said it? Was it you?”

Alcor gasped and fell over. Toby shrieked as he suddenly found himself tumbling to the ground, and the sound broke Alcor right out of his trance. Quick as a whistle, he pirouetted and caught the boy in his arms, pulling him close to his chest in a tight hug.

“Oh no, oh Toby, are you alright?” he fretted. “Did you get hurt?”

“I’m okay!” Toby squeaked, his face pressed against Alcor’s collarbone. Alcor loosened up on his hug, and took in Toby’s smile. “That was fun! You always catch me! That’s how I know you’re really a good guy.”

“I’m a good guy?” Alcor gulped, and glanced back at the mirror. This time he saw himself, in his present human disguise, holding Toby close, and looking so, so utterly responsible. It freaked him out.

“...Dad?” Toby asked, brow crumpled. “Daaaaad what are you thinking?”

“I think…” Alcor sighed, and gave his son a little kiss on the forehead. “I think it’s time you got some friends your own age.”

---

From that day on, things were a little different.

Alcor bought a house in the physical plane, because a memory of a shack in the Mindscape was no place to raise a child.

“Dad?”

He doctored forms and documents so it not only looked like a certain Tyrone Pines actually existed, but also that he and his adopted son Tobias Pines were legal residents of a sleepy town in the middle of Washington. This let Toby attend school with kids his own age.

“What is it, Toby?”

He went to the library on the weekly to check out parenting books, having long exhausted the meager supply of advice his omniscience had to offer -- as it turned out, parenting was very much a learn-as-you-go experience with few absolute truths to guide you.

“What’s a demon?”

Alcor froze, his hand halfway in the process of turning a page in his book. He started to turn his head around to look at the boy, and remembered just in time to turn his body around with it.

“Where did you hear that?” Alcor asked carefully.

Toby kept his head down, opting to study his father’s shoes instead of his face. “I, um...”

There it was again, that emotion bubbling up inside of Alcor, that instinctual distrust he couldn’t help but feel for the soul who had once taken everything from him. It was all he could do not to jump up and yell “Aha! Caught you red-handed, Bill! I knew you were in there all along!”

He got out of his chair and knelt in front of the child, using a finger to gently raise the boy’s head so they could see eye-to-eye. “You can tell me,” he said softly. “It’s okay.”

Alcor saw Toby reach into that pure, automatic trust he had for the monster who was raising him. The boy gulped, and squared his shoulders.

“Um... Devon’s dad said it to Devon.”

Alcor blinked. “Is that so? Devon, the kid in your class who asked you to play baseball with him?”

Toby nodded. “H-he was asking me again, and I know you said I wasn’t allowed to, but he started showing me anyway. He got his bat and swinged it and it looked really cool. Then his dad yelled at him and said ‘Devon, you little demon, cut that out right now!’“

Alcor could only stare, mouth agape, in response. Toby started to tremble as he continued speaking. “Then Devon’s dad took the baseball bat and Devon got really sad and I didn’t know what it means but it looked bad and I don’t want to be a little demon and I’m really really sorry I said I wanted to play baseball I don’t want to be a demon I don’t I don’t -”

He cut off with a squeak as his father took him into his arms and hugged him tight.

Alcor was a being with access to more power and magic than almost anything else in the universe. He could level mountains, he could turn cities inside out, he could institute universal basic income on the moon with a snap of his fingers.

But when he held Toby in his arms, when he saw the awestruck look on the boy’s face when he played the violin for him, when he listened to Toby babble excitedly about whatever he’d learned in school that day, Alcor felt powerful.

All of his magic crumbled beneath the obscene power granted to him by way of this child’s trust in him. He had the power to protect this child, to support and encourage him to grow up to be the best person he could be. He could also betray Toby’s trust so, so easily.

He could punish his son for no reason if he needed an emotional pick-me-up. He could disregard the boy’s concerns and laugh in his face. He could even raise his voice just a little too much, caught in a moment of frustration, and leave Toby wincing in distress -- an ephemeral moment in Alcor’s life but an upsetting and formative moment in Toby’s which could forever mar their relationship.

That would be childish. That would be immature of him.

Alcor had killed reams of cultists, had bestowed disturbing curses on people who’d only sort of deserved it, had terraformed the western coast of the United States in a fit of rage. He’d done a lot of horrible things with his magic, but.

This power, this power he had to shape Toby’s life.

This power horrified him.

“You’re not a demon,” Alcor said, (and it felt so unfair to be saying that to him of all people -- so cruel and dirty that he wanted to scream until his hair fell out. But he didn’t.)

“Don’t cry,” (even though no one had held him when he cried that day in 2012, because he’d simply slipped through their fingers, and he wanted to repay that favor. But he didn’t.)

“Daddy’s here,” he whispered, before kissing Toby’s tears away. “You’re not in trouble.”

The words came so naturally, as if he knew exactly what he was doing. As if he had the experience to understand what was upsetting his son, and the power to make it better. As if he had the maturity to push past his own conflicted feelings, because he was an adult, and this was a little child.

He set Toby down, and kneeled to meet his eyes. In that moment, he felt tall. Sort of grown up.

Toby sniffled. “You’d never yell at me? Even if I do something wrong?”

Alcor thought once again back to the day he’d seen Bill Cipher on the side of the road. Thought about the furious, vengeful part of him that enjoyed the boy’s suffering because that’s what he deserved. Remarked on how the universe had served him up his greatest enemy in the most vulnerable form possible, giving him the opportunity to take Toby’s trust and do unspeakable things to him.

“Sure thing, kiddo,” he said, ruffling the boy’s hair. “I promise.”

Remembered how he’d instead chosen love.

---

It was a dark and stormy night that found Alcor wandering the streets of a mostly-abandoned city.

He’d been summoned -- it always started with a summons -- and he’d been angry. It didn’t even matter what had made him angry, because there were so many things these days that people absolutely would not stop doing no matter how much he screamed and threatened and threw flaming balls of plasma into their twisted places of worship. They never learned. And neither did he.

Alcor couldn’t stand how many people had to die because of him. How many people were killed in his name. How many lives he’d taken with his own hands because he couldn’t seem to stop, like an immature brat who throws tantrums when things don’t go his way. He wondered if he could ever change, or if he was just stuck this way.

It was deep in these thoughts that the demon heard a little noise. A squeak, barely audible over the rain. He dismissed it at first, because his grand thoughts were more important than the world around him, and right after a bad summons was the perfect time for self-hatred. It felt good -- it was one of the only things that still did. He considered burning the entire city to the ground. Maybe that’d feel even better.

Something told him that it wouldn’t.

He heard the squeak again, his eyes darting over to a heap of trash bags between two buildings, and that’s when he saw him. A little boy with golden hair, no older than six. He was dressed in rags. He looked like he hadn’t seen a scrap of food in days. The left side of his face had been eaten away by flame, leaving it patchy and discolored.

Alcor had seen right through Bill’s disguise, of course. There wasn’t a meatsuit pitiable enough to blot out the sins his soul had committed. Perhaps that was why he had been abandoned on the side of the street to begin with -- karma was finally catching up with him. Alcor wanted to laugh, but he couldn’t. Something strange was going on inside of him. Some sort of instinct buried within him -- not one tipped with blood and claws, but one that creaked and groaned under centuries of exertion.

It was this feeling that prompted him to gather up the child in his arms. He felt how fast the boy’s heart was beating; saw in his past how much he’d been hurt without an adult to protect him. He knew that feeling well.

“It’s okay,” he murmured as Toby began to fuss. “Things will be better now. I’ll protect you. I might only be a child myself, but I promise I’ll protect you.”

One year later, one year of introspection, growth, and unbroken promises later, he had to admit he’d been wrong.

(AO3 link)

[bluejaytaco]

What up? it DND wit Jay!

(We return to the realm where we are standing in front of a giant gold gate. There's a dwarf standing in front of it with a clip board in their hand, just flipping through.)

Alabaster: (walks up) H-Hail and well met, my friend.

Dwarf: Names?

Alabaster: Oh! Um, I'm fine.

Dwarf, flipping through his clipboard: Fine.... Fine.... Nope, not seeing any "fine" here.

Art: (Walks up)....What about Ebony?

Dwarf, flipping through: Uh, yeah. We got an "ebony".... He's an orc. And considering none of you are Orcs, I doubt any of you are Ebony.

Art: Uh, that's racist.

Theodora:... Quite a detailed guest list...

Koejin: (Walks up and points at a random name) That's me.

Dwarf, looks down at the name: Your Grenadine Ceriph? High priestess in Calor? (Context: Calor is a Tiefling city. Koejin is human... well... was)

Koejin: Yeah, that's me.

Dwarf, getting sick of us: Look, I don't have tie for you people messing... (looks up at Koejin and goes silent).... You're not supposed to be here. This isn't your realm.

Koejin: Uhhh... Well, I have business with the man in charge.

Dwarf: I'm gonna have to call Pelor.

The entire group: (various ways of saying, "You do that" From "yes, please do" to "yeah, get that fucking bitch here! I wanna speak to the manager!")

Dwarf, mumbling into a sending stone before looking back at us: Is one of you named Theodora?

Theodora: Uhh.... Yeah.

Dwarf: You guys can go in. That's all I needed because now I know your names. But thanks for lying to me!

(The gates open and we all walk through. It's less blinding, but only slightly less on the other side of the gate. We see people walking around and just enjoying their afterlife. In the far off distance, there is a silhouette of a giant castle. We can also see the opening to a large garden where Pelor is standing with his arms crossed. Some of us see Alabaster's daughter, Eris, stomping on the flowers.)

Pelor, voice booming towards us: Everyone, front and center!

(All of us go with different levels of reluctance. Hennessy leads the way while Art and Jaquine kinda trail back.)

Pelor: So, what is it you need from me? (He's still standing over us while Eris continues to stamp through the flowers.)

(For a moment, we're all silent.)

Theodora: We want to speak to Thia.

Pelor: Thia is not in a place to speak. She is in my castle now, practicing her abilities for the Cleanse.

Hennessy: Is she okay? You don't have her locked up somewhere, hurt, right?

Pelor: Hennessy, my dear boy. Would you lock up a tiger in a small cage? No, you would respect the animal. Thia is in a place of comfort and has free reign.

Hennessy: She's got free reign? So she can go smoke in every room of the castle?! Even your room?!

Pelor: uhh....yes...

Hennessy: Ohh that just won't do. That smell of recreational drugs gets into the fibers and it can be a bitch to get out.

Pelor, suddenly giving off the impression he would like to hurry this along so he could go clean: It doesn't matter. She is my key to cleansing the world and making it all light. And I can save you all, if you kneel before me and accept me as your true god.

(No one kneels but Hennessy does raise an eyebrow at the "kneel" comment.)

Koejin: So how do you promise our safety.

Pelor: Well, you are excluded from this. Your friends, however, are protected because my followers will all survive.

Art: Don't you need the dark to have the light?

Pelor:... You would think that. Ticket Master would have you think that. And you, specifically, reek of him.

Art: Uh, rude?

Pelor: You know what he wants, don't you? He wants me dead so he can be the god of light. His best friend being the god of darkness would mean the two of them would take over everything. The two of them would rule all.

(Art was trying really hard to not say how he didn't see this as a bad thing, considering his bias. But somehow, as everyone was arguing against the cleanse, it was returned to the subject of Art and Ticket Master.)

Pelor: I think we've had quite enough of this talk.

Art: Yeah, let's stop talking about Ticket Master and the guy who may or may not have had sex with him.

(Pelor reacted in disgust which just turned into Art shouting "Sex with Ticket Master!" at the god of light. The tiefling was really aiming to make the god throw up.)

Koejin, joining in: There were definitely tentacles involved!

Art: Lots of tentacles! Sooooo many tentacles!!!

Pelor: Enough! All of you! (grabs Eris by the hair) If none of you will take this seriously, there is no longer a reason to speak with you.

Eris, punching at the hand: Let go! (turns to Alabaster) Daddy! I don't wanna go!

(They walk through a wall made of marble that Hennessy tries to reach through to grab for Eris. He just barely pulls his hand back before the wall solidifies again and he loses his hand.)

Vincent, rushing up to Hennessy: What did you think you were doing?!

Hennessy: The girl didn't want to go with the man! And when the girl doesn't wanna go, you don't let her go!

Vincent: You're gonna make such a great dad!

(behind the garden and before the castle there was a massive labyrinth. We walked up to see two different entrances. Koejin ends up smelling something familiar but can't really pick where it's coming from.)

Art: Hmmm (turns to Red) think you can turn into a dragon and fly up? maybe we can see where to go.

Red, not all that enthused by the idea: Uhh, yeah, I guess. Step back.

(Everyone stands back to give her enough room to transform. She flies up to the edge of the maze, but once her talons hit the edge, they shoot up another hundred feet and knock her back down.)

Red, turns back into her base form and glares at everyone: Well, that didn't help!

Art: (shrugging) well, my plans aren't ever without fault.

(Hennessy casts detect magic and, aside from nearly having his brain explode from all the god magic around, he discovers on direction is dark magic while the other is light.

We end up going towards the dark side because we figure that's where Thia might be hiding.)

(First stop is a room with a sword in a stone. Hennessy can sense that the magic is dark, but it isn't the source.)

Koejin: (climbs up and pulls the sword from the stone and holds it up in the air. She then hears the sounds of us screaming in agony.)

What we see: Koejin pulling the sword out and standing with it like she's posing.

Art: Uhhh.... what is happening?

Theodora: Koejin? You okay?

Koejin vision! Art: (melting away and falling apart) You killed us!!!!

Koejin vision! Theodora: (Also melting) You let us dieeeee!!!!

Koejin, turning to see all this: No! No, I saved Art's life so many times! (Turns to Theodora) I'm sorry! I'm sorry!

Art: Koejin.... we're fine!

Koejin: (runs up to start trying to put Art's face back together. To everyone else, she'd just smooshing his face while still holding the sword.)

Theodora: (dispels the magic from the sword and a little imp pops free)

Koejin: (can now see that everyone's okay and it still just kinda groping Art's face.)

Art:....uh, Koejin?

Koejin: Yeah.... sorry. You were melting just now.

(We talk to the little imp briefly to find that he is a prisoner in the maze. He asks if he's free to go but as soon as he does, he's struck by lightning.)

(We continue down the path for a little bit before Koejin figures out that we're going the wrong way because she can no longer smell the "smelly smell that smells." In that time, Hennessy incinerated some talking furniture which the DM disappointedly let us know that we wouldn't be seeing the IKEA Lich. I have a feeling the IKEA Lich might pop up in a future one shot.

But also, we got this exchange.)

Theodora: (casts a spell in attempt to sober Koejin.)

Koejin: (starts screaming as her skin starts to burn) Stop!

Theodora: (stops immediately) I... I was just trying to help..

Koejin: I'm the God of intemperance, Theodora! You can't just sober me up!

Theodora: What?!

(This starts into a fight about how this isn't the weirdest thing we've been through while she continues to talk about how she wasn't expecting to hear her daughter was a god.)

Red: If I may, I can see where Theodora is coming from here. Be it the weirdest thing or not, finding out your child is involved in some affair with the gods can be surprising. (Shoots a look at Art) Like your son being intimately involved with a tentacle monster god.

Art:.... you weren't supposed to know about that....

Red: You were shouting about it just before while I was standing there.

Art:... right..... forgot you were there....

Red: Either way; something for us to talk about later, Sweetie.

Art rolling his eyes, sarcastically: But Mother, I love him.

((Koejin's Player: And I have to remember to write proper notes about what everyone knows and doesn't know.

DM: Eh, it's all out now))

(We head from the dark part to the light part and find ourselves walking down a hall for hours. It gets to the point where Mrs. Red starts to complain.)

Red: Ugh... when is this fucking thing going to end? Doesn't anyone have a way to move this along faster?

Art: It's going to feel like longer if you keep bitching.

Red: I don't even wanna be here!

Theodora: None of us want to be here!

Art, agreeing: Yeah, and yet, here we are! So, how about you shut your mouth for a bit while we figure out how to get home and make sure there's even a "home" to go back to!

Red:.... Actually, Art. Considering that, I think this might be a good time for you and I to talk....

(Art is pulled off to the side by Mrs. Red, Reita following. Theodora tries to usher everyone a respectful distance away to try and ensure privacy. She does her best, but pretty much everyone is still eavesdropping.)

Red: I know I haven't been the best mother... In fact, I might be the worst... But know that I will try to make this all better and I'm just looking for your forgiveness.

Art:.... you might remember us as a nice, happy little family, but let me tell you what I remember.

Koejin: You tell her, Art!

Art, ignoring her and pretending he doesn't know people are listening: ....you slicing off Reita's face, blowing up Thia's bar, threatening the lives of my friends, destroying the lives of countless different people; I could go on! You barely get to claim the title "mother!"

Red: I did what I thought was best!

Art: You entrusted your children to the God of Death and Deceit!

Red: I didn't do that! (long pause)....I did do that.

Art: Yeah, you did. So, this is how things are gonna go. We're going to go through here and make sure there's a world to get back to, we're going to go to Calor and you are going to fix this. Then we can talk about forgiveness.

Red: ....That's another thing I wanted to talk to you about. I would love... to return to our people. I know I'm a tiefling, but I still feel the rage... of a red dragon. Someone would need to take care of our people.

Art:.... the people that treated me like a pariah....

Vincent, butting in: Like Hell I'm gonna let that happen! (storms over to them and looks at Art) Look Art, I'm willing to admit you are not evil. But do you really think you can run Calor? As soon as everything gets hard you run away! Hell, you abandoned your own sister-

Reita, with a surprising amount of clarity: He didn't... abandon me. He thought I was dead.

(The remaining three tieflings turn and look at her.)

Reita: And you're not exactly one to talk; you created weapons for a tyrant and turned a blind eye to the problems in Calor. We've all done things we regret, but we learn and grow from them. How can you stand there and judge him from running from a bad situation when he was a kid? Hypocrite (shoves a slug into her mouth)

Art, smiling and a little misty-eyed: I'm so proud of you! (hugs Reita)

Reita: Uhhh, yeah. Sure.... (doesn't push him away, though)

Red:.... You're not supposed to be talking like that... how are you doing that?

Art, pulling away: Yeah, that was going to be the next part. You feeling okay?

Reita, shrugging: I feel good.... Like, really good.

Red: (grabs Reita and rips open the back of her cloak to see the stone in her spine is not glowing) This.... this isn't working. It should be working.

Art:....We should keep moving. Put a pin in this for now.

(We keep moving ahead with different twists and turns leading into random encounters. One of which is a growing garden gnome that we put Wreybar on top of so she could see over the walls. She tries to say what she sees, but speaks in a way only Wreybar understands.)

Theodora: Okay, but now how are we gonna get her down?

Red: I could probably fly up an-

Wreybar, jumping: Catch me!

Hennessy: (rushes to cast feather fall on her.)

(She floats down and lands nicely on the ground as we hear Thia's booming voice "Giant garden gnome? Goodbye giant garden gnome!" And the gnome just vanishes.)

(Wreybar starts talking in her gibberish and Koejin asks for a translator. Reita steps in and kneels down to her, nodding along by what she's saying.)

Reita: Wreybar says there's a latter coming out of a hole on the other side. It's right next to the castle. How do you guys not get that, she was speaking clearly.

Theodora: Maybe to you. Not all of us can speak Wreybar.

(We ended up getting into a few more shannanigans. At one point, Art attempted to use mislead in attempt to move through faster only to have Reita get impatient and run ahead. Art and Reita had a quick little spat about that along the lines of "by the time we find her, she'll have destroyed everything already!" "We can't find her at all if we're dead! No running ahead!" There was also a bit with Hennessy and Koejin teleporting out of the maze where they met a murder horse and a weird inky blob creature.

At that point the latter was the literally the next turn. But possibly the worst moment.)

DM: You guys come to a dead end. The smell is still coming from over it.

Koejin: Shit....

(We all check the wall to find no traps. But then... Alabaster touches it and a had grabs hold of him. It pulls itself out with his resistance and Alabaster is looking at a marble version of... himself.)

Alabaster: O-oh! Hail and well met... uh, me!

M! Alabaster: Oh! Hail and Well Met! How are you, my fine friend?

Alabaster: I'm quite well, thank you! How... who are you?

M! Alabaster: Oh, I am what remains of you. The you left behind when you left the Pelor faith!

Alabaster: Oh, I see.

M!Alabaster: Have you killed your daughter?

Alabaster: oh, no. That is.... no longer apart of the plan.

M! Alabaster: (grabs hold of Alabaster) I will do it then. I will kill your daughter. She is born of darkness, thus she must die!

(Everyone around him tenses up, but he somehow knows if he looks away, the creature will fade from his sight and go to kill Eris. He can only stare at it to hold it in place.)

Alabaster: (puts his hand to the copy's mouth and uses Create or Destroy Water)

M!Alabaster: (starts to crack and burst under the pressure. The amount of water forced inside kills the creature.)

((Create or destroy water has been a running gag in the campaign. It's been used a few times, but nothing really dark. Not like this.))

Alabaster:....(Still holding his marble copy with a stunned look.)

Art:....(walks up and pats him on the arm) You did what you had to do... Eris is safe now.

Theodora, nodding: Think of it as... you made the right choice.

Alabaster: (nods to both of them and closes the creatures eyes)

Koejin:.... we should destroy it. Just in case.

(They then proceed to break the thing into dust and we continued on our way.)

( We found the latter that brought us up to the castle. As we walk around to the entrance, Pelor stands by the door with his arms crossed.)

Pelor:.... what are you trying to accomplish here? Do you really think you can stop any of this?

Theodora: We're here to talk to Thia. Where's Thia?

Pelor, sighing: Look, last chance before I wipe you out of existence; kneel before me or leave my land and accept your fates.

Red, arms crossed(as is usual for her): Yeah, I'm not one for bowing to people. People bow to me.

Pelor: This goes for all for all of you?

(All of us agree. There will be no bowing.)

Pelor:....then so be it.

(Before he can move in to fight us, he is turned inside out and sucked into a little stone. Thia then drifts down, takes the stone, and crushes it.)

Art: ....hi, Thia....

Thia, glaring: Shut up, Art.

Art, nodding: Hmmm, mhm.

Thia: (turns to Theodora) Go home, Theodora.

(for a moment, her powers work on Theodora, but all of us stop her. This turns into a conversation about why the wipe is unnecessary. Koejin leads the conversation, then turned and asked for someone more "charisma based" to lead.

Art couldn't speak. Probably for the best. He and Thia have never really gotten along.)

Theodora: If you wipe out all existence, we won't be learning from our mistakes. Everything will end up being repeated! The war will be repeated!

Thia: Not if I don't allow free will.

Theodora: And then what is life? that's not a world; that's a simulation.

Thia:... better that than allowing a kid to grow up in the woods all alone.

Theodora:.... Thia, we can make this world better. Create a place where something like that doesn't happen. But this.... this isn't the way.

Thia:....Do all of you agree? Should I.... give up my power?

(This was a major turning point in the story. Because this is where the end boss was decided. And we told Thia to give up her power.)

Thia, nodding: Alright... let's go back home. No reason to strand ourselves here. (she opens a portal)

(We walk through to find ourselves in the tavern Thia owns. She wills away her power, but it's no big ta-do.)

Koejin: Did it work?

Thia:.... I don't know.... Art, give me some money.

Art:..... no....

Koejin: It worked!

(We all celebrate before we all notice the portal hasn't closed. When we turn and look, we see Pelor's face.... on Ticket Master's body. He throws it away like a mask and grins at us.)

Ticket Master: Guess who's the new God of Light? (smiles and waves as the portal closes)

(Outside, we hear loud banging. When we run out, we can see darkness and light bouncing off of each other before they begin to swirl and spread. They head for us.)

Theodora: (hears the voice of Bahamut and an open blue portal) Everyone! We have to go!

(Everyone dives into the portal. Art takes a moment before diving in with the group.)

(There will be one last session and we can all really feel it now. I'm kinda sad that Ticket Master is now the BBEG, but we all saw that coming. There's just a lot to figure out here.)

[sirowsky]

The Flowers Always Know

Description: When a mad scientist uses you as an experiment while you’re on holiday, the Heroics only just manage to save you. And in your recovery you become very close to the leader of the group. (Slow burn)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Language.

Link to Masterlist

Comment: Another day of side-effects where my head really hasn’t been in the game. But a little fun stuff to pass the time has managed to crop up. 

So sorry for the tease ending... I blame the headaches.

Chapter 27

  The Chef, Greg, had personally brought you extra leftovers during the five weeks you were living in the cell, training and learning about your abilities. He knew about your abnormal energy-consumption, and had become concerned when you never ordered more than a double portion of food, no matter how exhausted you were.   So, he’d come to give you the leftovers one evening, and you’d explained that it felt like you’d be stealing from others that might need it, if you ordered six or even eight portions.   After that, he’d begun saving all the leftovers every day, and bringing you that for the extra portions you otherwise wouldn’t have ordered.

  “I may have to make Greg my Best Man.”

  “He’d probably decline. He’s nice, but he does have standards.”

  “Ouch…”

  “He doesn’t know you, Cujo.”

  “Okay, seriously, what is up with that?”

  “It’s just an accurate description.”

  “I am not a fucking dog.”

  “Yes, you are. It’s just that, ordinarily, you’re a puppy. You just have that lovable puppy-face, with the eyes and the grin that can melt the coldest of hearts. And then, you bare your teeth and growl, and you look fucking terrifying.”

  “I do?”

  “Um – yes. Unequivocally – yes. It’s amazing.”

  “Wait… you like my Cujo-quality?”

  “I like that you have that side, when you need it. I like that it comes out almost exclusively to protect the things you love. And I have to admit that I like the fact that even the remotest possibility that William actually had tried something, elicited that kind of a response from you.”

  “I was a little shocked at how strongly I reacted to that. Just the thought… I would’ve killed him, if he had. Not because you… belong to me. But because you were weak and unable to stop anyone that might have tried. Thank god William’s even more of a puppy than I am.”

  “Will is more of a Greyhound.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah, you know – sleek, effective, streamlined.”

  “Okay, let’s just drop the whole dog-topic already.”

  “And, just for the record – of course I belong to you. Ass-hat.”

  He practically beamed at you.

  “Ditto. Mama bear.”

  You’d been talking while walking back from lunch, and when you got back to your office, Anita was there. Just standing in the middle of the room, with her signature scowl in full effect.

  “Hi, mom. Wow, you’re actually in the office, it must be serious.”

  “Fifty noise-complaints in the last hour – is serious.”

  You both stopped smiling, and threw a nervous glance at one another, but she just huffed and turned to you.

  “Have you had yourself checked out by medical, yet?”

  “No… why would I…?”

  “Because human beings don’t possess the biological imperative to breed, to the point where their libidos take control of their bodies.”

  You had actually checked both your offices for cameras and microphones a good while back, and found nothing. And there weren’t any fucking flowers in your office!

  “How the hell do you know that? Seriously… How?”

  She just rolled her eyes.

  “Get your ass down to medical. Now.”

  “No.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Whatever it is, I feel fine now, which means they probably wouldn’t be able to detect anything abnormal, so I’m gonna finish my work for the day, and then I’ll go to medical.”

  You walked over to your desk as you spoke, and as you sat down, you remembered something.

  “And by the way, where you in charge of selecting my substitute while I was gone?”

  “Yes. Petra wasn’t ideal.”

  “You don’t say. If I’m ever gone for an extended period of time again, no one sets foot in my fucking office. Got it?”

  “Did you just try and give me an order, loco?”

  “I’m not trying anything. I’m telling you. No one.”

  She threw you a kinda skewed smile and then turned around to leave. But as she crossed the threshold she stopped and looked back at you with pure steel in her eyes.

  “4pm. If you’re not at medical by then, I’ll drag you there by your ear.”

  “Try it. Please.”

  She left and you sighed and looked at Marcus, who had sat down on the couch again, one arm draped over the backrest while he’d watched you take on Máma.

  “Are you absolutely sure you feel fine? Because I’m all kinds of hot and bothered right now.”

  “50 noise-complaints, Marcus. That’s half the damned building.”

  “And like I said: fuck ‘em.”

  “Please go away so I can think.”

  “Only if you promise to call me the moment you feel any amount of craving. I’m serious.”

  “You think I want to feel like that again? Of course I’ll call, and you’d better pick up. I don’t care if HQ’s on fire.”

  “You have my word, famb.”

  “You know, your list of nicknames is getting a bit ridiculously long.”

  “Oh, I haven’t even started on the real one’s yet.”

  “Real ones?”

  “Prometida, esposa, amada, mi corazón…”

  “Okay, okay, have as many as you like, jeez.”

  “Which one’s your favourite?”

  “You already know.”

  He got up from the sofa and came over to kiss you before he left. His lips lingered long after the kiss ended.

  “Hermosa…”

  He was intoxicating. You put a hand up on his chest and pushed him away gently.

  “Get out of here, gorgeous. Mama’s got work to do.”

  “Oh, that’s mean. You know how I love it when you talk all husky like that.”

  “I’ll call you if I need you.”

  He walked away looking disappointed, but also kind of expectant, like he was looking forward to getting you back later. You smiled and shook your head after the door closed behind him.

  You did get a lot of work done after that, and even if you were still miles behind from catching up to where you’d been 7 weeks ago, it still felt good to have gotten back on track. Especially on what had been possibly the weirdest day of your life. Which was saying something.   Your libido stayed calm and behaved for the rest of the workday, but you did see Anita’s point in getting yourself checked over, and so you were planning on going to the med-bay.   But at 3:30 you were working on your computer, looking up rare metals for an upcoming build, and you sort of stumbled over a site for wedding-rings.   You were just gonna take a quick peak, scrolling through the various options, and getting progressively more worked up as you saw the price-tags.   You were just about to leave the page and go back to work, when an ad in the corner popped up.

  Wedding-dresses.

  Fuck.

  You clicked.

  “If you thought I was kidding about the ear, you were sorely mistaken.”

  You startled at the sound of her voice, and a puff of energy escaped you, sending papers flying everywhere.

  “Thanks a lot, Anita. Why don’t you give me a heart-attack while you’re at it?”

  “Don’t be so dramatic. It’s not my fault you were so engrossed in that screen you didn’t notice me. What were you looking at, anyway?”

  Had half an hour already passed? You just clicked on that ad a second ago… And why was she looking at you like that?

  “Just research.”

  “Mhm. Let’s go.”

  “Alright, just let me get these papers off the floor.”

  As expected, since the event seemed to have passed, the medical exam didn’t reveal anything, and Anita seemed unnecessarily peeved about that.

  “What are you so upset about? What exactly did you think they’d find?”

  “Nothing. Never mind.”

  “Never mind, my ass. You all but dragged me to this exam, and now you’re disappointed. So, spill. What’s the deal?”

  “I just hoped that maybe… you increased enthusiasm was…”

  “Was…?”

  “Alright, most women experience increased sensitivity when they’re pregnant. I just wanted to be sure.”

  You sort of half froze midway through pulling your pants back on, and your hands involuntarily went to your abdomen.

  “Oh… I never even considered…”

  “I’m sorry, niña. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “No, I’m not upset. God, I don’t even know what I am.”

  You finished dressing and sat down on a chair, letting your head fall into your hands.

  “Eight months ago, I was just a designer, going on a fucking vacation. Now, I don’t even know what the hell I am anymore, much less what to do. Every time I think I’m starting to get a handle on things, something else happens and I’m lost again.”

  She tapped your leg with her cane, ushering you to look at her.

  “What you are, is my son’s fiancé. My granddaughter’s adoptive mother. You’re smart, highly capable and stubborn, kind and caring, but abrasive when the situation requires it. You’re everything you need to be. And that’s all you ever really need to know about yourself.”

  You drew a deep breath.

  “Do you think he made the right choice? With me?”

  “Yes. Yes, I do.”

  “Thank you.”

  You called Marcus to let him know how the exam had gone, and he was just about to pick up Missy, so since you had your own car you told him you’d race him home.   But you decided to stop by Amanda’s house on the way. You wanted to talk to both of them, but her place was closer.

  When you walked in at home, Missy was in the living room playing a video-game with Noodles, A Capella and Wild Card. It had been a while since she’d had any friends over, and you smiled when you saw how much fun she was having.

  “Hey, Alma! Wanna see me crush these guys for the second time?”

  “Any day of the week, angel, but I gotta talk to your dad right now.”

  “Okay, suit yourself!”

  You laughed and walked into the kitchen to find him opening pizza-boxes and distributing slices onto plates.

  “Hey, sweetheart, sorry, this wasn’t planned, they just spontaneously asked if they could come over as I was picking her up.”

  “Honey, why are you explaining yourself?”

  “I don’t know… it’s just, with the weird day you’ve had and how you seemed a little down after the exam, I thought that maybe you weren’t quite in the mood for a house full of teenagers.”

  “No matter how I feel, Missy’s entitled to enjoy herself with her friends. I would never wanna deprive her of that.”

  “No, I know. I just worry about you.”

  “Yeah, I do too, sometimes. But that’s usually when I remember I have you, and it all feels better.”

  He smiled and asked you to help him carry out the food to the living room, and once you’d done that, you sat down at the dinner table to eat yourselves.

  “So… I may have googled wedding-dresses today.”

  He beamed.

  “Really? Did you manage to narrow down any preferences? Don’t give me any specifics, by the way.”

  “I did, I think. Or, at least, I found a lot of stuff I didn’t like, so I guess that helps. I don’t know, I feel like I need to see them, touch them, to actually get a sense of what I like.”

  He beamed even more.

  “I really like the sound of this. I’m sure Amaire would come with you if you asked.”

  “Yeah, I kind of already asked them to, this weekend.”

  He was fucking radiating joy at that point. He got up and took your hand, leading you to the bedroom and closing the door behind you.   Then he reached into his pocket and fished something out. His smile turned just a hint of insecure, as he held up the ring he’d chosen for you.   It was gold-plated steel, with a single row of small diamonds sunk into the centre of the band all the way around. A sturdy and solid piece that wouldn’t break or lose its shape.   While you admired it, he started trying to explain his choice.

  “I know you’re not much of a jewellery-girl, so I figured we’d skip the whole engagement ring plus wedding-band. You can wear it right away if you want and then just take it off before the ceremony, or you can wait and put it on then, either way is fine with me. That is, if you like it? If you don’t, we’ll take it back and you can pick something else. It just felt right as soon as I saw it. You’re not the frail silver band type of person, and I know you’d only get annoyed with a big rock getting in the way and getting caught in stuff. You work with your hands and so I figured something sturdy but elegant. I have a matching one just without the diamonds. Please say something before I pass out from oxygen-depravation…”

  “I love it.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. Really.”

  You both beamed.

  “Can I put it on you?”

  “You better.”

  He slipped it on your finger and it fit perfectly. And for the first time it really sunk in that you were gonna marry this man. The love of your life.   It felt like a really long time until the kids went home and Missy went to bed, with her headphones on.

  “I totally forgot, we need to go bed-shopping, honey.”

  “I don’t know, a mattress on the floor might be preferable until we know the extent of your ‘heat-situation’.”

  “Mm. Good point. Although, breaking in a new bed is always fun.”

  “Hermosa.”

  “What?”

  “Stop talking and get undressed. I’ve been waiting for this all night.”

Authors’ Note: I love criticism, don’t be shy to let me know if there’s anything you like/don’t like/have questions about.

@blueeyesatnight​​ @farfromjustordinary​ @allmyspideys​ @hrk-fic-recs​ @strawberryperegrine @lucrezia-thoughts​ @computeringturtle @sarahjkl82-blog

[justanoutlawfic]

“It’s not that easy.” Snowqueen

Takes place in a canon divergent cursed Storybrooke. Mildly dubious consent with one “awake” character, the other is cursed. 

On AO3/FF

Is it fair, or is it fate?

No one knows

The stars choose their lovers

Save my soul

It hurts just the same, ooh

And I can't tear myself away-The Other Side by Ruelle

Regina stands in the doorway of the living room, watching Snow-no-Mary Margaret rock her daughter-their daughter-in her arms. There’s a soft glowing smile written across her wife’s face as she looks down at Emma. It’s one Regina finds herself getting every time she’s looked down at the babe for nearly a year. Those soft green eyes that she inherited from her mother, the gummy grin that will one day perfectly match her father’s. That last thought always drains the smile from Regina’s face as she thinks of the man that lays in the coma ward of Storybrooke General.

 For 8 months, 3 weeks and 2 days, Regina had no memory of the Enchanted Forest. And then her daughter learned to give kisses, pressing a slobbery wet one to her cheek while Regina played peek-a-boo. A headache of memories absorbed her body, erasing the mayor she had forced to become.

Zelena did this on purpose. She’s not sure how her sister or Rumpelstiltskin discovered Regina’s crush on Snow. Regina’s not entirely sure how it began herself. After Snow forgave her while she mascaraed as Wilma, they became a family again. Snow returned to the castle and they ruled together, forming a beautiful friendship. But Snow was no longer a child. She was a woman, with filled out curves and luscious red lips. Regina knew she shouldn’t stare when Snow undressed in front of her. She tried to avert her gaze whenever Snow wore a lower cut dress or tunic. They were family, friends. And then Snow had met David, anyway, married him and became pregnant with his child. At most, Regina was the maiden sister-in-law. The one who fought hard to protect them and their child.

 The day Emma was born, she had been in the room. David attempted to take her to the wardrobe but was quickly taken down. Regina and Snow found the baby in Zelena’s arms, ready to use her for the ultimate evil. At the last moment, Regina got her away, holding onto both her and Snow as the green smoke crashed in around them.

 Now, Regina’s married to Snow-no, Mary Margaret. Her cursed memories tell stories of using an anonymous sperm donor to get Mary Margaret pregnant. The reality is Regina was never a part of the equation. Snow never loved her. It was always him.

 Regina’s battled it for 2 months. Snow is cursed to love her. She hasn’t consented to this relationship. If she had a choice, she’d pick David. Just like she did every other time. Regina isn’t sure how to break the curse. Blue once said it would fall onto Emma, but Regina isn’t sure if she believes her.

 What she does know, is she can’t do this anymore. She cannot live a lie. Snow has been through too much. She doesn’t deserve to be forced to be married to Regina.

 Regina’s hand goes over the silver wedding band around her left ring finger, letting out a shaky breath. She clears her throat and Mary Margaret’s gorgeous green eyes meet hers.

 “Hey, Emma’s just about asleep. Then we can watch whatever junk is on TV.”

Regina swallows. “I um, we need to talk actually.”

Snow frowns. “Sounds serious.” She stands up and settles the baby into her swing.

“It is. I…” Regina shuts her eyes. She needs to do this. It’s not fair to anyone. Regina looks to the former Evil Queen that still lives within her, of the ruthless mayor from her cursed persona. She opens her eyes, losing the softness from her voice. “I’m leaving.”

“Do you have a business trip?”

“No, I mean I’m leaving.”

It takes a moment for recognition to fill Snow’s eyes. “What?”

“This isn’t working,” Regina lies. “It hasn’t for a very long time.”

“Are you serious?!?” For a moment, Regina doesn’t see Mary Margaret, Snow is jumping out of her. “Exactly what part of this doesn’t work? Our family? Our daughter? Me?”

“Sn…Mary Margaret,” Regina quickly catches herself. “I love you, both of you.”

 She glances over at Emma, who’s finally fallen asleep. Her lips are slightly parted, little noises escaping. A tug takes over Regina’s heart. She has fallen in love with this child. She’s been there for every moment. First smile, first time rolling over, first crawl. Even her first word. Mama. Directed to Regina. Emma was babbling, but cursed Regina knew it was because that’s what she was: Emma’s mama.

 Snow interrupts her thoughts. “Then why are you leaving?”

“It’s not that easy. Love isn’t always enough.”

“Then what is it, Regina? What am I not giving you?”

“It’s not you, it’s….” Regina stops herself from saying that cliché, but Snow is already rolling her eyes.

“Don’t,” she holds out a finger. “Don’t you dare use that line on me. This isn’t a one-night stand. This is a marriage, a 5-year marriage at that! We have a child! And you’re just going to leave, not even explain the why?”

 But how does one explain any of it? A curse, magic, husbands in comas?

 Snow clears her throat. “Is there someone else?”

Well, not in that way. “No, I would never cheat on you.”

“Then what?” Snow throws her hands in the air. “What is worth throwing away everything we have, everything we’ve built together.” Regina remains silent. “Tell me, Regina!”

“I…I can’t. I’m sorry. You’re just going to have to believe me that this is for the best.”

 Regina turns her back on Snow White, heading for the door where she’s already put some suitcases. She wills the tears to stay out of her eyes. What she told Snow was right, this is for the best. One day, the curse will break for everyone and the only way to protect this family they’ve created is for Regina to take herself out of the picture.

 She bends down to grab the Louis Vuitton luggage when a warm hand is placed on her shoulder. Regina turns to find Snow standing there, eyes watery. Snow takes Regina’s calloused, cold hands into her own.

 “There’s something you’re not telling me,” Snow whispers. “And I’m not going to let you leave until you tell me what it is.”

Regina stares down at her. “You’d never believe me.”

“Try me.”

Regina throws her head back, some of her dark locks falling over her face. She’s already walking away, might as well go for broke. “We’re not really married.”

Snow tilts her head. “What? Of course we are, I have our marriage certificate…”

“It’s fake. All of this.” Regina pulls away to gesture around their home. “All of this is fake, a curse.”

“A curse? Sounds like a fairytale.”

“That’s what we were. A story!”

“Regina, you’re not making any sense.”

Regina sighs. “Once upon a time, you weren’t Mary Margaret, you were Snow White.” Snow looks at her like she’s crazy. “And you were married to a man…”

“Prince Charming?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, say that’s true. I’m a princess, a straight princess,” Snow scoffs. “Then who are you in the story?”

Regina bites her lip. “The Evil Queen.”

Snow’s mouth drops open. “I’ve been dumped plenty in my life, but this is the weirdest fucking excuse!” she exclaims.

“It’s not an excuse,” Regina practically whines. “It’s the truth!”

“No, I think you’ve eaten one of Ruby’s pot brownies, because you sound like a crazy person!”

“I’m not lying to you, Snow. In this other reality, you love the prince. You married him. You never, ever loved me.”

“That’s insane. In what universe would I not love you?”

 Regina stares at her for a moment. They’ve kissed several times in the past 10 months, a few since Regina woke up. Snow’s remained asleep, stuck under the persona of Mary Margaret. They don’t share true love, if they did, this curse would probably be broken by now.

 Still, Regina must try.

“Snow, my love,” she whispers, caressing her jaw with her fingers. “Come back to me.”

 Regina closes her eyes and kisses her. The room around them shakes, causing Regina to hold onto her wife’s cardigan. When she opens her eyes, she looks into Snow’s. The naivete, the docility, it’s gone. Mary Margaret has vanished. Snow stands in her place.

 “Regina,” Snow whispers.

A single tear falls down Regina’s face. “Snow.”

 Much to her surprise, Snow takes her hands into hers and kisses her once again. Regina deepens it, the taste of Mary Margaret’s raspberry lip gloss overtaking her. Once they pull away, it’s Snow’s turn to put a hand on her cheek.

“I always loved you,” she whispered.

Regina looks at her in disbelief. “But David…”

“I love him too. We both loved you. We wanted you. We tried to start the conversation so many times…” She trails off, shaking her head. “It doesn’t matter right now. All that does is that we find him. We figure out what Zelena did to us…and then we’ll focus on us. All three of us.” Regina slowly nods, trying to take it all in. “Just promise you won’t go.”

“I promise.” A few more tears fall down Regina’s cheeks. “I’m not going anywhere.”

[tiny-ghost-boi]

12 Gags/ Blindfolds/ Handcuffs/ Praise Aizawa

Warnings: sex, bondage, fourth wall breaks, ball gag, lots and lots and lots and looots of dirty talk

Reader’s Body Type: OH MY GOD IT’S ALWAYS GOING TO BE NEUTRAL 

NSFW Under the Cut

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A sex store. How did you find yourself in a sex store with your two weirdest friends? Simple you-

“What about this one, Y/n?” Your eyes looked away from the wall to glance at Hizashi Yamada, who was holding up a large buttplug. Your face reddened and you turned back to the wall.

As I was saying, your-

“I think this one is perfect!” your eyes were forced away from the blank wall to look at Nemuri, holding up a fancy-looking vibe with a remote. You groaned and banged your head against the wall.

Anyways, your bi-

“But-”

“SHUT UP NEMURI! HIZASHI! I DO NOT WANT TO BE HERE!” you snapped (maybe it was the author, he was getting tired of being inturrupted). Your birthday was a few days away and your friends thought that you and your husband Shouta Aizawa needed to have sex that day. You didnn’t at all understand their interest in your sex life, but they had dragged you to a sex store to pick something new to try.

“Just, look around, okay? Pick something yourself. We’ll even wait outside!” Nemuri suggested kindly. You nodded, still embarrassed. The two of them walked away and you slowly turned around, eyes scanning the shelves of toys. You bit your lip nervously as you walked the aisles, contemplating asking a store clerk for help picking something out.

Your eyes caught something fluffy and pink and you stopped walking to look at it. A pair of handcuffs sat on the clearance shelf. Shouta usually used his capture weapon so you never had to buy them, but they caused something to spark in your heart, so you snatched them off the shelf, deciding to stay at the clearance shelf to see what else you’d find.

Your eyes soon landed on a blue ball gag, it wasn’t anything special, but you’d never used anything like it during sex. You grabbed it and quickly made your way to the counter to pay for the items.

You left the store and were almost immediatly cornered by your friends, badgering you to see what you’d bought. 

“I’m not telling you!” you exclaimed. “Just call an Uber so I can head home... my birthday’s tomorrow and I do not want to feel tired in the morning.” your friends exchanged a glance, before nodding as Hizashi pulled out his phone to call an Uber. Meanwhile, Nemuri continued to nag at you. Annoying best friends, amiright? You gotta love em.

You got home before Shouta, as usual, you set the bag with the toys on the counter alongside a note that said: For the night of my birthday~ That way, Shouta wouldn’t open it early. You then got ready for bed, climbing into the soft blankets and closing your eyes.

You woke up alone. That... was not normal. You sat up, seeing an impression in the sheets next to you, which meant that yes, Shouta came home and slept, but he woke up before you and went off for work. You’d spend your birthday without him. Disapointed, you got up and pulled on one of Shouta’s shirts, walking out of the bedroom and stopping in your tracks. There was a large plate stacked with pancakes, three bottles of whipped cream and a few sprinkle shakers nearby. Shouta was sitting at the table, a smile on his face.

Happy birthday, Kitten~ did you sleep well?”

Needless to say you absolutely melted on the spot.

The whole day was filled with romantics, he took you to see your favorite movie at a drive-in (the two of you just made out in the car the whole time), he took you to your favorites resturaunt for a fancy dinner, then he took you home. The whole time he was so sweet, so protective, so admiring, he treated you like a god, a deity, something to be worshipped. You felt like the only person in the world, that he had eyes only for you, you felt so absolutely in love.

You opened the door to your home as you walked back, still in a fancy outfit with Shouta close behind you, practically breathing down your neck. He’d wrapped his arms around your waist so walking had bene reduced to waddling so your legs didn’t bump into each other.

Your face was hotter than plasma, you just couldn’t believe how lucky you were that Shouta loved you, that he wanted to be with you. You had a sloppy smile on your face the whole day, and your jaw was beggining to hurt from all the smiling.

You shut the door behind you, turning to press a kiss to Shouta’s lips, and he grabbed your face, making out with you sloppily, eagerly choking you with his tongue and walking you to the table. He pressed you against it as you started to unbutton his shirt, pulling it off of him to feel up his abs. You pulled away from the soul-stealing kiss from the corrupted dementor and looked your boyfriend up and down.

You moaned at just the sight of him shirtless, hair down, sweaty and panting just from the kiss. You had no words, just sinking to your knees to undo his pants, but before you had the chance to suck him off, he put a hand on your head, looking down at you with lust-filled eyes.

“Kitty, I think you forgot something~” he purred, smirking down at you.

“Um...” you struggled to remember what he was talking about. “Please may I suck your cock, Daddy?” you begged. 

“You know you don’t have to beg on your birthday, Darling~ and it’s that bag you brought home yesterday. I wanna see what’s in it~” your face heated up, remembering the sex toys you’d bought.

You stood, watching him grab the bag before he picked you up and threw you over his shoulder, taking you to the bedroom. He tossed you on the bed and upended the bag’s contents onto the sheets. His grin grew when he saw what you’d bought.

“Knew you were kinky, didn’t know you were that kinky~” your face heated up, and your buried your head in your hands.

“I just want to try it...” you whispered. Shouta crawled up to you, taking your hands in his and handcuffing you to the headboard. He then put the gag on you.

“Show me a #1 on your fingers, that’ll mean ‘continue.’” You lifted a single finger. “Good, #2 means ‘slow down,’ and #3 means ‘stop.’“ you nodded, glad he was giving you a safeword when you couldn’t speak. So... a safe-signal?

He ran his hands down your body, removing your clothes. He then removed his own. He wiggled down, pressing kisses along your body. He took pleasure in the way you squirmed, embarrassed and aroused. He licked up your sex, eyes borring into your soul.

“Mmmph~” you whined pathetically as he inserted his fingers into your hole, sucking on your sex at the same time. His eyes never left yours as you bucked up against his mouth and fingers.

“You’re so adorable...” he muttered against your skin. “So sexy, Kitten~ I love seeing you like this~” You whined, eyes glossed over with lust.

“I’m sure you want me to fuck you, but you can’t tell me what you want~” you whined, trying to tell him what you wanted. 

“Plss thck mm~” you moaned. Shouta hummed, lifting himself up and lining up with your entrance, slowly pushing in. 

“You feel so good~” he sighed in pleasure. “Such a good kitty for me~” 

You moaned into the gag as Shouta fucked you relentlessly. His thrusts differed greatly with his voice. He was so rough, yet so kind, and it brought you to an orgasm faster than you could with anyone else.

“Mmph~ mmm~”

“Shhh~ don’t waste your breath~” he whispered, sucking on your neck. “I love you~” You tried to say his name, tried to touch him, but the toys you’d bought were preventing that.

“Do you want me to cum inside you?” he murmured. “You want my cum, Kitty~?”

you bucked your hips into his quick thrusts, nodding esctatically. 

“Mmmmmph~”

Shouta pressed kisses to your neck as he spoke.

“Fuck~ K-kitty~” he groaned, hips stuttering against yours and cumming deep inside you.  He removed the gag and finally let you speak.

“T-thank you D-daddy~” you whispered. He reached up and took off the handcuffs. He then reached over to his discarded pants as you sat up at ran your fingers through his silky dark hair. You saw him pull a small box from his pants’ pocket, and your heart rate sped up rapidly. 

“Shouta?” you whispered, watching him slowly open it. A dazzling ring sat in the center of the box and you slapped your hand over your mouth, tears brimming in your eyes. 

“Listen, we’ve been dating fo-” he didn’t even have the chance to finish his sentence before you tackled him down, smothering him with kisses and shouting your answer.

“YES! Ohmygod Shouta, yes! Yes a thousand times, every day yes yes yes!”

“Babe, let me finish!” he laughed, inturrupted again by your lips. 

[miraclesnail]

1000 Ways and I Can Name You One

A thousand ways to tell the Stoll brothers apart and I can name you one. Travis and Connor centric oneshots featuring characters from PJO/HOO.

Chapter 32: Michael - Food 

Plus the whole 9.7k fic under the read more but with funky formatting 

Michael — Food

Michael (14) — Travis (13) — Connor (13)

Early June 2007

Pre Sea of Monsters

[8:07 AM]

The whole drive to Camp, Lee has been saying the weirdest things. 

‘This camp is special.’

‘This camp is for children of Greek gods and goddesses.’

‘This camp helps the said children harness the godly gifts inherited from said gods and goddesses.’

‘This camp is top secret and no matter what, you cannot tell your mother about Camp Half Blood. Not a word. Not a complaint. Not even a compliment. Michael? Are you listening? Ar—are you laughing?! Michael, I’m not joking around. This is not a joke.’

Did Michael take Lee seriously? Not at all. Not even to humor him. What does Lee take him for? An idiot? Like, he doesn’t really have many friends at school (none actually) but even he knows when someone is trying to pull a prank on him. Lee typically goes for jump scares, but it’s good to see him broaden his horizon and try new things. 

Yeah. 

Michael wholeheartedly believes Lee is 100% kidding around. 

It’s kind of a shock when he walks through the camp and sees flowers being grown in someone’s palms, men with hooves and horns trotting around, a goddamn girl rising from the lake like some kind of b-grade horror movie but minus the sunken eyes and gray skin and tattered white dress. 

It’s a big shock. Kinda earth-shattering actually. Very disorientating. It’s taking all his mental capability to process the fact that the Greek gods are real , that the Greek myths are real , that his atheist beliefs are all wrong and holy fuck?? God is real . 

It’s probably why when that SOB Shermie or Sherlock or whatever his name is picked a fight, he welcomed the easy distraction and picked one right back. 

In hindsight, he should have maybe exhibited more self-control. 

“He shoved me.”

The utter stare of incredulity has Michael quickly rephrasing his initial statement, fiddling with a loose string on his t-shirt. 

“He shoved me first. ”

“And so you decided to turn it into a slugfest?” Lee says, arms crossing as they stand on Cabin 11’s porch. 

“To be fair, to be fair,” Michael says, scrambling for excuses as his eyes dart from cabin to cabin, “to be really fair, that Sherm-guy started it.”

Lee didn’t buy it, not that Michael expected him too. 

“You promised me, Michael,” Lee says, disappointed, and Michael looks away with guilt. 

He did promise Lee. Right before they left the apartment complex, Lee explicitly said, “Promise me, Michael, that you’ll be on your best behavior?” And he said he will. 

“Mike, I don’t want any phone calls from the head honcho again, okay?” his mom said, exasperated. He said there wouldn’t be any.

“Mikey, please tell us all the fights you’ll get into!” his four little siblings — Leo, Raphie, Carly, and Sam — screamed together with cheeky, smug, knowing grins as he got into the car with Lee. He said ‘in your dreams.’ 

Not even one full hour and he failed two out of three. Possibly all three if Travis and Connor decide to hand his ass to the director. 

“I’m really sorry, Lee,” Michael says, head lowering, “I promise for real this time. I won’t get into any more fights. I swear.” 

Like clockwork, the frown and crossed arms drop for a bright smile and a hair ruffling, like he actually believed Michael can do it. Lee’s weird like that. He believes in people and their lies despite what their actions are saying, believes in him even with the 14 years of experience that Michael cannot follow through on that promise. 

It’s that same idealistic, stupid belief that has Lee clinging to the hope his birth mom will one day want to actually be a mom. 

Michael slinks back into the cabin as quietly as he can. Miranda catches his eye and waves him over, patting the empty spot next to her. Michael hesitates (still remembers the way she tosses a boy a whole head taller than her like nothing) but thought better of it. 

The promise, he thinks. Remember your promise. 

He sees Sherman sitting on Miranda’s other side. As he slides down to sit cross-legged, he’s mentally preparing himself for a jeer. But Sherman is just staring at Miranda, wide-eyed and star-struck and totally ignoring him which is perfectly fine with Michael. 

Miranda angles her body towards him, a slight smile on her face as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “I just want to warn you that you’re in Connor’s bad book right now.”

“Should I be worried?” Michael says, glancing at the brothers talking on one of the upper bunk beds.

To which Miranda smiles sweetly. “You should keep your head down. I heard he gets a bit prank-crazy with people he doesn’t like.”

A sharp whistle brings his attention upfront. 

“Okay, so hey, everybody! Exciting first day, I know. Welcome to Camp Half Blood,” one of the pair says with a big grin, standing on top of the upper bunk bed. The other sits at the edge, feet swinging over. “We’re already late for breakfast so I’ll make this super-duper quick. My name is Travis Stoll. I am one of your head counselors. This is Connor, my little brother.” 

Connor waves, his smile matching Travis’s.

“I’m also your counselor. Any problems you guys have whether it be life problems, camp problems, prank problems, you can come to us. Lucky for you guys, you have two of us. Most cabins just have one,” Connor says. 

“Where’s Luke?” someone in the back yells. 

“Luke is gone now. If you see him, either in person or in a dream, tell us right away. Please come talk to me after this meeting if you want more details,” Connor answers, still cheerful but Michael kinda feels like his words are too curt. There’s definitely bad blood between this Luke person and them.

“Moving on,” Travis follows after, “the beds are all taken. Any more fighting over them will result in the instigator getting a timeout. For everybody else, sleeping bags are available and we will make room. Your stuff can be placed in the closet or tucked in your sleeping bag. I know this cabin’s patron is the god of thievery, but please show respect and decency towards your fellow cabinmates and don’t steal from each other. Steal from other cabins instead. Apollo’s kids are the easiest to steal from. So are Aphrodite’s if you want to practice before moving onto the big leagues. Athena’s and Hephaestus’s cabins are where the real challenge is.”

“What about the claiming rate? Someone said the gods would claim us more now,” a girl asks, standing from her sitting position with a bounce, hope in her eyes. 

“Uh, um...” Travis falters, looking down at Connor for guidance. It’s hard to notice but Connor bites his cheeks and just barely shakes his head.

“Claiming, yeah. I’m not too sure about that. I’ll talk with Chi — Tantalus about that. Tantalus is the activity director now in case you all don’t know,” Travis answers. 

There’s a chorus of groans. 

Someone grumbles, “It’s been years.”

“What happened to Chiron?” another asks.

“Temporarily relieved of duty due to, uh, an investigation of his effectiveness on the job. Which, if you ask me, Chiron has been doing a fantastic job of and we should all write a very strongly worded letter to Zeus to get him back on his job.”

A boy in front of Michael shoots his hand up. 

“I heard Luke went all ‘Anakin Skywalker’ on us and joined Kr—”

Connor blows an air horn and interrupts the boy before he could finish. Travis’s smile is strained as he says, “Okay, first rule on Camp Half Blood for the foreseeable future! No mentioning any of the bad guys by name. Names have power. Instead we will refer to him by initials. The evil titan guy will be called K.T. K for his first letter and T because he controls time.” 

“Can we change it to K.K. Slider?” the same boy says.

Beside him, a girl socks the boy in the arm. “No! How dare you sully K.K.’s name like this?”

But Travis is already jumping down his bed, landing with grace. “K.K. Slider it is. That’s all for the morning announcements. Now everybody gets in a straight line. We’re going to the pavilion for breakfast and it is the best thing ever. You can literally get whatever you want. All you need is the power of imagination. Well, imagination and common sense. Don't imagine something you won’t eat. It’s not a contest to create the grossest food.” 

Connor follows down after his brother with a grin and shrugs. “But if it was, I would win.”

Growing up, Michael is what everybody called a ‘problem child.’ Absolutely zero friends not helped by him picking and starting fights for the ‘smallest’ reasons. No remarkable talent except for his athleticism. Mediocre to poor grades due to inability to focus (and it doesn’t help that he’s dyslexic and that his teachers all hate him and that he has a homing device for all the school’s bullies). 

The teachers blamed his mother for his attitude and academic abilities. But they don’t know shit. His mother helps him with his homework after coming back from work. His mother searches for ways to help him manage his ADHD and dyslexia. His mother is raising five kids all by herself with zero help from his deadbeat dad. Going to their extracurricular activities, funding their education, making time to have game and movie nights. His mother is literally Superman for finding time to do all that across five children. No. Make that six. Mom always attends Lee’s band performances and includes him with all their activities and outings and supports him the way Lee’s own mom should be doing. 

Michael’s pretty sure his mom isn't the problem.

Besides his four younger siblings are literal angels. Clearly, the problem is him. Not his mother. 

That’s why going into high school he had every intention of becoming a better son, a better brother, and a better student. Set a better reputation for his family, you know?

Unfortunately, this whole mess with him being half-god kinda put a pause on his plans. 

And put every weird thing Lee ever did into perspective. 

That one time Lee slapped his brand new Nokia cellphone out of his hands and ended his cell’s short life by stomping the hell out of it? Those dozens of times Lee lectured him about not using technology with his stupid excuse of ‘it rots your brain, Michael. Don’t touch it,’ despite Lee himself using a phone and a laptop on a daily basis?? Those hundreds of times Lee excused himself from dinner, movies, and the middle of game nights to ‘use the bathroom’ and coming back with a thin layer of gold dust??? Those weird dreams he gets of standing on top of a broken, tethering bridge and falling thousands of meters to his death in a ravine and Lee saying, ‘it’s just a dream. Don’t worry about it’ with a high-pitched, forced laugh that says he should be worrying????

Now he sees what it was all about. Obviously a metaphor for the earth-shattering revelation of his heritage. 

He’s half- god . A demigod. Some part of him came from an immortal being.

It makes him see his dad in a whole new light. 

Like, Michael always knows his dad is an asshole, leaving his mom and whatnot. 

But now? Knowing his dad is a literal god in the Greek myths he read back in 6th grade? Those freaky assholes with their crazy sex adventures and ego-driven tantrums?

At least the fantasy asshole dad he had in mind didn’t commit mass genocide or is an egotistical, narcissistic jerk or had sex with their siblings, parents, animals, and who knows what else freaky shit the gods like to stick their dick in to. 

And the most bizarre thing is that he’s expected to honor them by throwing the best parts of his meal into the fire. 

Well, he’s not gonna.

“Throw your food into the fire, Mike,” one of his counselors says beside him as he tosses a bag of M&M into the flames. 

“Why should I?”

“So the gods don’t get angry,” says the other counselor, throwing half of his strawberries — Michael stares at the plate. It’s just strawberries. Nothing else. That’s not healthy — into the fire before turning to help the others. 

“They’re gonna threaten us if we don’t worship them? Sounds like a pretty unhealthy parent-child relationship,” Michael says. 

The one that tossed the M&Ms shrugs. “Just toss something in. It can be anything. Even something you ha— don’t care about. That’s what I do. I don’t think Hermes minds.” 

But what Michael hears is that this Hermes fella doesn’t give a shit. 

A small boy with round glasses wedges in between them, frowning, and tosses in a sausage link. “Don’t listen to Connor. You’re never going to be claimed if you listen to him.” 

Connor shrugs again. “Hermes hasn’t disowned me yet.”

“That’s because Hermes is busy with other things. The other gods don’t have a child plotting to usurp—” the kid starts to say but at Connor’s harsh nudging and loud cough and not so subtle nod towards the others in the pavilion and (kind of scary) glare, he shuts up. A second passes before the boy says to him, “Everybody likes to feel appreciated, Michael. Even gods. It’s good to remind them we’re here for them. Now more than ever.”

Michael frowns at the exchange. Child? Usurp? Usurp who? The gods? Yeah. Like that is even possible. 

“What were you trying to say—”

“So I see you got over your embarrassing loss,” Connor interrupts with this infuriating smug grin. “Man, I would have hidden my face for like a year after the way I kicked your ass.” 

And just like that, Michael forgets everything but that day back in March when he met the brothers. It’s an obvious bait and Michael just lunges for it like the dumb fish he is. 

“No, I kicked your ass. Kicked it all the way down the stairs,” Michael huffs at Connor’s heel as they walk to the table. Connor slides into the first open spot he sees and Michael sits down across from him, elbow to elbow to his cabinmates. They need a bigger picnic table. 

“Ass?” Besides Connor, Miranda’s head swivels to face them, her smile innocent but Michael knows better now. Behind that sweet smile is a demon. “Who kicked whose ass? ” 

“We met Michael back in March when we hopped in Lee’s car and we’re not using that language, Mikey,” Travis says, sitting down beside Connor slurping a mouthful of cereal. 

“So? Who won?” Miranda asks, leaning over to slide scrambled eggs onto Travis’s plate and picking off 75% of Travis’s many, many strawberries from his plate. 

Travis stares at the egg with disdain. “Connor won, of course. And I don’t want that. Take it back.” 

“Will said you need something more than just strawberries in the morning. Doctor’s orders. Disobey and you’ll feel his wrath,” Miranda says. 

For half-a-second, Michael thinks Travis is going to fight but he turns back in his seat and just grabs his fork. 

“There’s nothing wrong with just strawberries for breakfast,” Travis grumbles, stabbing his fork into the scrambled eggs. “Right? Nothing wrong with strawberries.”

“I think that depends on the quantity but don’t worry, Travis. I totally got you,” Connor says, pulling out a basket of strawberries and ducking from Miranda’s sudden lunge for it. With ease, Connor holds Miranda back while Travis indulges in his unhealthy obsession with a satisfied, blissed smile. 

Michael thinks of the half Travis threw into the fire and before he knows it, he’s saying, “You really love strawberries, don’t you?” 

Travis nods, mouth full. “Favorite food in the world.”

“Then you must like your—” 

But Travis’s eyes shoot to a girl entering the pavilion, heading straight towards the table with the plant-speaking kid, and Michael knows his words are falling on deaf ears. Travis nudges Connor and whispers into his ear, a shit-eating grin sprouting on Connor’s face as he looks over his shoulder. 

Miranda catches their grins and stands, yelling, “Katie, wait!”

But Katie sits down and Michael hears what is probably the world’s loudest, strongest whoopee cushion rip through the pavilion. Travis and Connor laugh as Katie stands back up, cushion in hand and face flushed tomato red.

“Welcome back, Miss Tattletale!” Travis yells. 

“That was months ago, you pieces of — of — fertilizers! Give me a break!” Katie roars. The ground rumbles as a tree sprouts beside the table, hooking Travis and Connor up by the back of their shirts. They’re way too calm as they’re dangling several feet in the air. In unison, both brothers pull out squirt guns and aim them at Katie. 

And it is definitely not water judging by the smell. 

[9 AM, Sword Fighting]

Lee said he was a demigod. That monsters are real. And that they sometimes must fight off the monsters that come to eat them. 

Michael never really thought about what it entailed. What they’re supposed to fight the monsters with. 

Dimly, he’s aware of his counselors talking. Something about introduction to swordsmanship and the bare basics plus safety today, then tomorrow they will be training with Ares? Apollo? ‘Some god with the letter A’ cabin and learning a few techniques. He isn’t really paying attention to them as he stares at the blade in his hands. 

It’s real. It’s a real, metal blade. And by the looks of it, everyone has one. Even the little 9-year-old. What the fuck? That’s how old the twins, Sam and Carly, are and holy shit. The thought of them with a real sword? The thought of them having to use it to battle some mythical monster? It's enough to make him vomit. 

“Michael? Michael, hey.” Someone is snapping their fingers in front of his eyes and he knocks the hand away, glaring at … at … well, it’s either Travis or Connor, staring at him blankly, but he can’t tell who’s who yet. They should have worn nametags. 

“What?”

“Have you ever used a sword before?”

Michael kinda felt it should have been obvious, but he shakes his head. 

“Okay, well imagine you’re holding a kitchen knife and you’re cutting some veggies for a veggie soup but instead of a broccoli, it’s a monster and instead of small dainty cuts, you’re making big, wide, full power slashes. So nothing like what I told you to imagine. Forget I said that. You want to grip it like this with both hands—” Connor (or Travis?) demonstrates and Michael mimics the action, “—for the most control. You can try one-handed but the strikes tend to be flimsy at best unless you’re gifted like Clarisse or Percy. You want to kill the monsters as fast and in one go as you can while still being safe. Here’s—” he is walked over to a hand-made, hand-stuffed dummy with straws sticking out its seams. A happy face on a yellow sticky note stuck to where it’s head is. “—a practice dummy for you. Give it a few swings and get a feel for the weapon. I’ll be right back with more pointers after helping everyone. You good to be by yourself a bit?”

Then Travis (Connor?) is leaving after Michael hesitates to say ‘no, I’m not good’, taking off with a thumbs up and a crooked grin.

Michael almost called him back, but they’re a big cabin.  Only a quarter of them have been gotten too, the other three-fourths goofing around while waiting their turn. Michael has never been to a summer camp before, nevermind one as strange as this, but he guesses they’re on a tight schedule. 

So he looks down, readjusts his grip, and swings, missing spectacularly, losing his balance, and nearly taking his eye out. 

[10:00 AM, Archery]

Michael didn’t need much help here.

The bow feels right in his hands. His body knows what to do, his arms pull back the bow like it has done this a million times and his first shot lands dead center in the bullseye. 

The next five shots are the same.

“Woah,” his counselor mutters, face scrunched in thought before it lightens up, blue eyes shining with a gleam. “You’re a natural. Hey, you wanna be the archery tutor? I’ve never seen anyone aim so well and had such perfect form. Not even Annabeth.”

Michael lowers the bow and tries to figure out how he did what he just did despite never once using a bow before in his life. 

[11:00 AM, Greek Mythology]

Michael knew Lee was a decent teacher, tutoring him in both English and Math, so it’s no surprise he’s decent at teaching Greek mythology too. All the campers are in the amphitheater with hand made wooden desks courtesy of the girl from breakfast. Lee is in the center with an overhead projector just having the time of his life explaining what each of the 12 Olympians plus Hades represents with a mind map. 

He tries to pay attention. He really did. He gets through listening to Zeus, Poseidon, Hades, and part of Demeter’s history before his attention is pulled away by Travis and Connor. They’re far away from the group, beside the cabins,  hunched over a … birdbath? It looks like they’re arguing to the birdbath, but Michael squints and with his perfect vision sees that there is a person. On the surface of the birdbath. A girl with blonde hair. There’s a girl in the water of the birdbath. 

There’s a girl. In the water. Of a birdbath. 

Maybe he shouldn’t be so surprised. Food pops into existence with a thought. A girl can grow fullass trees without blinking an eye. Miranda can toss a boy almost twice her weight over her shoulder.

So what if the camp has a Moaning Myrtle?

Before he knows it, Lee is done, Michael misses the other 8 Olympian’s tales, and everybody is packing up their notes to head back to their respective cabins.

They’re ending early to have enough time for a tour of the camp. Which is kind of telling where their priorities are when they hold training first over the tour. 

It’s kind of even more telling what the camp’s view of safety is when there’s a climbing wall that spews lava and when asked about why there’s lava, Travis and Connor say cheerfully in unison,  ‘it’s more exciting that way.’

“Hey, Travis,” a kid starts, tugging on one of the brother’s sleeves. 

“I’m Connor, but yeah?” Connor corrects, turning to face the camper.

“Um, I heard from someone in the Ares Cabin that because of us, we’re in war with Kro—K.K. Is that true?”

Connor smiles and shakes his head. “No. We didn’t do anything.”

He didn’t refute the war part though. 

And as if Connor hears his thoughts, he addresses the cabin, “You don’t have to fight if you don’t want to. But monsters are still a thing so you still have to go to the morning training. No way out of those. Sorry.”

[12:30, Lunch]

Michael is starting to think Travis is some kind of strawberry fanatic and that’s putting it lightly. 

There’s another concerning amount of strawberries on his plate coupled with a grilled cheese sandwich and a salad, yes, but that’s way too many strawberries for one day.

“No such thing,” Travis says, scraping half of his ungodly amount into the fire. 

“I think there is a limit though.” Connor shrugs, tossing a bag of M&M right after.

Michael follows them to the table, even more cramped now. Five new campers, unclaimed, arrived late because of road traffic. He tucks himself into the first opening he sees, shoulder to shoulder and elbow to elbow. Many inches too close in his opinion. 

“Travis,” Michael starts, thinking back to breakfast, “You’re claimed, right? You know who your godly parent is?”

“Yup, Hermes. God of Pranksters,” Travis says, stabbing his fork into a lettuce and turning to wave it at Lee’s table which is much more roomier. Lee catches the action and nudges a boy beside him with an elbow, snickering. The boy turns and rolls his eyes at Travis. 

“You like your dad, right?” Michael asks. 

A quarter of the cabin immediately stops talking and not really subtly turns to them. He’s pretty sure he’s breaking some sort of taboo. Not that it bothers Michael all that much. 

“Yeah, of course I do. He’s pretty cool,” Travis responds, rolling a cherry tomato around with a fork and not looking him in the eye. 

“Why?” It feels like everyone in the cabin is staring at them now, but even then Michael can’t stop.

“‘Why?’” Travis repeats, twirling the fork. Michael can’t help but notice Connor gripping his fork tighter and he has a vivid image of the boy stabbing it into him. Connor seems like the type. “He’s my dad. I think I’m supposed to like him.”

“But he never talked with you though, right? He has never been there for you. How could you possibly like him?”

Travis shrugs. “He’s a god. He’s probably busy.”

Michael frowns. His mom is busy too. Granted, busy with normal things like a job but she still finds the time to tuck his siblings to bed. Still finds the time to cook breakfast and dinner for them. Still finds the time to make movie nights. Still tell them every day, without fail, that she loves them. Is still there for him and his siblings. 

“So it doesn’t bother you? The way your relationship is with him right now?” Michael pushes. 

Travis fidgets with his strawberries, muttering something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like French. 

“What was—” Michael starts to say, but Connor glares, hard. Michael thinks he can see the promise of pain and suffering Connor will inflict upon him. Guess he’d just written his name in Connor’s bad book in Sharpie. 

“Look, Michael, it’s the social norm around here to not talk about our godly parents. Especially in ways that demean them.”

Social norm? Like he cares about something as trivial as that. 

“I just want—”

“Drop it, Michael. Travis’s relationship with our dad is none of your business,” Connor snaps. 

Travis is quiet, a hand resting on a cheek as he stabs into a strawberry, red juices spattering over lettuce and grilled cheese. 

“I want his approval. He’s my dad. What kid doesn’t want their parent’s approval?” 

Lee pulls him aside as lunch wraps up, leading them a bit away from the others.

“Michael, can you chill with the public grilling for a bit?”

“I just don’t get the worship around here for them though,” he argues. 

Lee falters, thinking about his words. “Michael, for some of us, our godly parent is the only one that cares.”

“Wait, are you saying your dad talks to you here?” Michael says. He doesn’t really know what the whole deal is going on with Lee and his mom, but he knows enough to know that Ms. Fletcher deserves the worst mom of the century award. 

Lee frowns a bit and shakes his head. “We talked once when I was claimed but other than that, no. Not really. And none of my half-siblings said anything to me about him either. But he’s already doing so much more than the other gods.”

“Really? Like what?” 

And Lee answers without hesitating, “He claims us as his.”

Michael recalls the talk before breakfast and the questions. About claiming. About waiting. About giving up. The bitterness in their voices. The longing. The yearning. And a sinking feeling grows in the pit of his stomach. 

“How long did it take for you to be claimed?” he asks. 

“I was claimed the second I stepped onto Camp. Apollo tends to be rather fast when it comes to claiming his children. The longest he ever went without claiming is one week. Demeter claims fast during the fall and winter months when Persephone is away. Hephaestus takes on average a month or so to claim.”

“And the slowest god at claiming?” 

Lee’s eyes narrow in thought. “Let’s see… Ares, Athena, Aphrodite, and Hermes seem to be the slowest.”

“How slow?”

“Slow as in… months, years.”

“Why?”

Lee looks away in discomfort. “Who knows? We shouldn’t speculate though. That’s just asking for a curse.”

He catches up to his cabin gathering for the next event and when he asks around about the claiming rate, he gets a mixture of answers. 

“Because we’re not their favorites,” Miranda says cheerfully, while arm-wrestling (and clearly winning) with a flushed Sherman. 

“Because we have to prove ourselves first,” the kid with the glasses states, eyes fixed on his shoes.

“Because they forgot we existed,” others say. 

“Because they want something from us.”

“Because they don’t want the responsibilities of a parent.”

“Because they don’t care.”

“Because they don’t think we’re worth it.”

“It’s because they suck ass,” one of the older campers says with dead serious eyes as Travis chokes on his strawberry, tossing the rest of the fruits into the fire, plate and all. 

“Shh! Celise, you’re gonna get cursed! Everybody, no bad-mouthing the gods or you’ll be turned into a snail and as cute as snails are, I like you all as humans.” 

The camper shrugs and whispers, it’s true . 

Trust me, they whisper next as they’re pulled aside by Travis’s frantic tugging.

They don’t care.

All of this is truly making him appreciate the gods more. 

Connor whistles for everybody’s attention, standing on top of a rock with a piece of paper. 

“It’s free choice from now until 3:30. Each counselor is hosting a different event. Travis and I are doing canoeing. Silena will be hosting horseback — that needs to be changed to pegasi — riding. Malcolm, you will take over for Annabeth since she isn’t here yet for the intro to Origami. Katie will be watching over the wall climbing. Lee, intro to guitar and lyres. Beckendorf, intro to welding. Pollux will be taking over Clarisse’s place at the arena for additional sword and archery lessons. And Castor will be teaching DIY soda. Here’s a map for each of you where everything is. Any questions? Yes, you, in the back. Hao, right?”

Michael takes the map, finds Lee’s name, finds the corresponding location, and then crumples the flimsy paper in his hands. 

But before he can walk away, Miranda is there in front of him and tugging him by the arm with a beaming smile. 

“Follow me for a sec? I want to show you something. It will be quick, I promise.” 

 [1:30 PM, Free Choice]

“Everybody gets a celestial weapon,” Miranda explains as they walk to the armory, “It KOs the monster and turns them into gold dust if it nicks them in the flesh just enough.”

Gold dust… like the gold dust Lee comes back sometimes covered in? 

She leads him to an unassuming building beside one of the cabins, opening the door and revealing shelves stocked full of weapons. Miranda strides to the back without a double-take. Like it’s normal for a summer camp with children to have a stockpile meant for war. 

“Do you have a preference?”

“I… uh…”

“Want some help? Based on what I saw in training, I think you’re better suited with something long-range. You looked uncomfortable with a sword. Aha! What about this?“

Then Miranda pulls out a rifle from one of the boxes. 

Michael stares at it for a full second, wondering if he’s imagining it, wondering if Miranda is kidding, wondering if this whole day is just one big funny dream. But, no, Miranda remains standing there with a big ol’ grin and rifle in hand and waiting for them to say something.

“No.”

“What? Why not?”

“First of all, it’s a gun. Second of all, I share a room with two of my siblings who get into my shit all the time. Third, my mom would literally kill me if she sees me holding a rifle. And fourth, it’s a fucking gun .”

”It’s okay. This is a magic rifle. If you engage the safety and remove the magazine clip, it turns into a telescope.” Miranda demonstrates it for him and would you look at that. It actually became a telescope. “See? No problem. Mom won’t find out and plus! It actually works as a telescope! You can go stargazing with this thing and also kick any monster-butt.”

“What happens if it goes off and a bullet hits someone?”

“That’s okay too. The bullets are made of celestial metal. It can’t harm mortals.”

“But it’s a gun. And I don’t have a license.”

Miranda shrugs. “You can’t kill a mortal though. I don’t think you need a license if you seriously can’t hurt anyone. But if you don’t want a gun, then we can get you a bow. Apollo’s cabin is full of them. Come on.”

And as Michael follows Miranda out, he mutters under his breath, “Why are you all like this?”

Miranda laughs, spinning around her heels to face him. 

“And you’re like a completely normal kid. If you didn’t pass the barrier, I would have thought Lee brought someone fully human.” 

[2:20 PM, Free Choice]

“What is that?”

Lee does only a cursory glance at where Michael is pointing before going back to tuning his guitar engraved with his name and last initial on the Big House’s porch. “It’s Thalia’s Pine. Someone poisoned it unfortunately. A couple years ago a girl sacrificed herself to save her friends. Her father turned her dying body into a magic tree that protects all of camp. We’re trying to fix it, but it’s kinda slow-going right now.”

“That’s cool. That’s cool, but I’m talking about that .” 

And Lee really looks at where Michael is pointing at. A … well, he doesn’t want to say robotic because there’s no way a robot can move that fluidly, but fine. A metallic bull the size of an elephant is charging towards them, running full speed but going nowhere. It’s like an invisible wall is holding it back. Just a bit aways are five people in a line in full bronze armor and a variety of weapons with two more people running towards them. A girl with a gruff voice is ordering to get into position. 

“Is this some sort of play?” Michael asks, waiting for Lee’s answers but when there’s none, he turns to face him. “Lee?” 

Lee is pale. His guitar falls out of his hands as he stands. 

Michael tenses, alarmed. “Lee?” 

“Shit,” Lee curses for the first time ever. “Fuck.”

Now Michael is really worried. “What’s wrong? What’s going on?” 

Lee whirs to face him and Michael doesn’t like the fear, the panic he sees in Lee’s usually calm eyes. 

“Michael, Beckendorf is in the forge. Get him first. Tell him there is a Colchis Bull at Half Blood Hill. Then go get Travis and Connor next — Hey? Michael, are you there?”

A second bull crashes into the invisible wall and they break through. They’re breathing fire. People are being set on fire. People are having their armor melted off. People are being burned. People are being trampled on. People are— 

“Michael!” Lee shakes him hard by the shoulder. “Don’t look at it. Just go run and get Beckendorf.”

Then he’s forcibly turned around and pushed away to the sound of terrified screams and dying cries.  

[3:00 PM, Free Choice]

So that’s a monster. 

And he’s expected to fight one of them? 

The guy who took out the first bull —Percy he thinks is the name — Percy did it with a little help with a flame-resistant man and Percy is about the same age as him. And Clarisse took out the second bull all by herself. So it’s definitely possible. With training and maybe a bow instead of a sword, Michael can do it. 

He can do it. 

…

Just because it’s possible, doesn’t mean it’s right. Doesn‘t mean it’s normal and fuck. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

How can anyone not see how messed up this whole thing is? Monsters exist and they eat twerps like him? They’ll hunt him for as long as he lives? He’s always going to have to watch his back? He’s always going to have a weapon on him? This is what his day will be like every day? This is normal?  This is what being a demigod means? 

From the porch of the Big House, Michael watches Travis and Connor, amongst a few others with just as many beads on their necklaces, triaging the injured. Passing around nectar bottles and ambrosia brownies, helping them stand, checking their wounds all with an air of professionalism.

They were trained for this. They prepared for this. 

Michael doesn’t like that little fact. 

And speaking of little facts he doesn’t like, one just sits down next to him. When he’s not standing around like a dumbass, he goes to get more nectar bottles from the infirmary where a team of two people is running around tending to the patients. One is Lee. The other, and the clear leader, is the boy in blue scrubs and yellow flip flops. The kid barked orders left and right, telling people where to go, where to place the patients, how to treat the minor wounds until he can get there, basically keeping everything orderly and efficient, all with this air of confidence and calmness. It would have been very reassuring if the kid himself wasn’t this little, baby-faced 11-year-old.

And said 11-year-old is now sitting down beside him, downing a bottle of water then downing half a bottle of red Gatorade. 

Michael is starting to see why Lee doesn’t want his mom to know where Camp Half Blood is. If she ever visited and saw how the camp is being run primarily by pre-teens and teens… well… she’ll probably lose it. 

“Hey,” the kid says.

“Hey,” Michael replies, cautiously. 

Then, silence.

The most awkward silence he has ever experienced as they just sit side by side. 

The kid takes another sip from the Gatorade. 

“You’re Michael, right? You’re Lee’s upstairs friend?”

Michael bristles at the words. “How did you—“

“When the cabins burned down, we stayed at Lee’s apartment for a couple days,” the kid explains, staring at Travis and Connor milling about the battlegrounds. He fidgets with a bandaid on the back of his hand. “This is going to sound really weird, but I thought I heard his voice and your last names match so it might not be my imagination. But do you have a younger brother named Raphael?”

“Yeah, I do. How do you know that?” Michael says, trying and failing to tone back the defensiveness in his voice. God please don’t let Raphie be a demigod like him. 

The kid breaks into a big smile and it really makes him look like the child he is. “We used to be in a class together with Mrs. Rem. How is he by the way? Is he still watching Ninja Turtles? What did he think of the newest episode?”

Distantly, from a dinner chat a long time ago, Raphael mentioned a ‘Will’ who left class because of a stomach ache and was never seen again. He remembered Raphael being really worried. He remembered Raphael even saying that ‘Will doesn’t ever get sick’ and he remembered dismissively saying, “Don’t worry. The kid’s probably fine.” 

There’s no way the kid next to him is that Will. It has to be a coincidence. It got to be. Forget how this kid knows Raphael is a fan of Ninja Turtles. It’s a popular show right now. Somewhere, in this 6.6 billion populated planet, there’s got to be a Will and a Raphael who both go to the same school with a 5th-grade teacher named Mrs. Rem and both watch Ninja Turtles and both love Raphael the sai-welding turtle.

“You went to Hodgkins Elementary School?”

“Yeah.” 

There’s still a chance this is all a coincidence. 

“Your favorite turtle is Raph?”

“Well, it’s Leo now but I used to like Raph.”

Still a coincidence.

“And your name’s Will?”

“It is.”

Just one big coincidence. 

“And you left the classroom—” Michael wracks his brain — when, when did Raphael talked about the kid? — “Because of a stomach ache back in October?” 

For a minute, Will is silent. A minute filled with nothing but the whistle of the wind and commanding yells of campers. Will chuckles, low, as the plastic bottle crinkles in his hands. But when Will speaks, his voice is carefully blank, devoid of emotion. “Not exactly, no. I saw something strange at school that nobody could see and I called my mom, er, my aunt. But she raised me so I considered her my mom. She said to get out, even if I have to lie. So I did. A stomach ache was the easiest to fake. She picked me up from school. I think she was going to take me to camp. But on the drive here… a cyclops showed up and totaled the car. We ran. She told me to go ahead and get help. And I did. Without looking back. I found Lee and he took care of the cyclops but mom… ” 

The kid’s voice is still blank. Emotionless. 

“She died because of me.”

A bitter smile. 

“Because I was too weak. Because I was too scared.”

The bottle bursts in his hand, the red dripping off his hand and staining his scrubs. 

“No one is ever going to die because of me. Not again. Not ever.”

The kid leaves, running back inside when someone screams bloody murder and another voice yells, “Solace!” 

(“Will’s last name was on our vocab lists,” Raphael had said a long time ago. “Solace. It means comfort. That’s so cool. No way can I forget that.”)

Michael continues to sit there, watching the battlefield empty out one camper at a time until everyone injured has been attended to. 

(“She died. Because of me. Weak. Scared.”)

Weak. He understands. Too scared. He understands that too. He experienced all that today with the bulls. 

If it had been at home with his family, at school with his classmates, even at the park with random strangers, what would have happened? He would have fought, right? Adrenaline would have kicked in and he would do something. Or would he have frozen? Just like he did today? Just stood there, watching his family be stomped and kicked and lit on fire until someone kicked him into gear? (“Run, Michael. Don’t look back.”)

No. 

No. Fuck no. Three months. He has three months of this summer camp / orphanage / ‘let’s-all-become-child-soldiers-together!’ hellhole.  He has three months to kick this stupid deer in the headlights reaction. 

(“She died because of me.”)

He’s not going to let anyone die.

[5:00 PM, Free Time]

He finds them in the cabin, one slumped on the bed with an arm over his eyes and the other sitting at the foot with a sketch of the cabin in one hand and a pencil in the other. 

They’re talking about something secret because as soon as Michael slams the cabin door open, their conversation stops. He catches the last sentence though. Are the nightmares getting worse? And god, if these two are okay with everything that just happened today, just handled it all with a face that says this is nothing, then Michael doesn’t want to know what kind of nightmares are troubling them. 

“What’s up?” Connor or Travis, the one on his back, asks, trying and failing to get upright. The arm moves and tired eyes peek at him from underneath. 

“Is it Lee? Does he need us again?” the other asks, tossing the drawing under the bed. 

“You said, whatever problems we have, we can come to you two,” Michael starts. 

They nod together in sync. 

“Then I want you guys to train me until I drop dead. Now until the end of summer.”

[6:00 PM, Dinner]

He barely has his food on the plate when a bright light shines over his head. Flashy. Illuminating. Almost eye-blinding. Michael looks up, squints, and sees the sun with 21 arrows surrounding it, representing the sun’s rays. 

Distantly, he’s aware of a bored voice proclaiming him as a child of Apollo. But all he’s really focused on is his cabin’s, ex-cabin now he guesses, reactions. He can see all their faces down the line. Most are happy. They smile and cheer for him, patting on him on the back and congratulating him. But he can see it, beneath their grins, beneath the genuine elation, is frustration, jealousy, longing. 

(“It's been years.”)

Travis, with his pile of strawberries, bumps him in the shoulder with his own. “Hey, congratulations. Apollo cabin is a lot roomier than ours so you get to actually sleep on a bed.”

Connor nods, tossing an M&M bag into the flames. “Too bad you’re gonna miss the experience of being crammed like sardines on the floor. It’s actually pretty cozy.”

Michael frowns as he conjures up a PB and J sandwich exactly how Mom would make it, cuts it into halves, and toss it in . “Are you guys still going—”

“We’ll still help you,” Travis interrupts, but his smile is impish, borderline devilish.  “But—”

“It comes with a price now.” Connor follows with a just as sordid grin. “Two conditions. One, you have to help us with archery. We’re not bad but we’re not good either and could use a bit more work. Annabeth and I have this sparring contest every week to see who is more proficient in what weapon. She beats me every single time when it comes to archery, but that’s ending this year. And two, you have to be our inside man.”

“Inside man?” Michael asks, already kind of knowing what that means.

“Let us into your cabin. Help us set up pranks in your cabin. Tell us everything we want to know about your cabin. You know. That sort of thing,” Travis says flippantly. 

And before Michael can reject, accept, do literally anything, Travis turns around and walks to the table with this unbearably cheerful hum. “Will is going to regret ever messing with my diet.”

Connor falls in step with a fond smile. “But seriously, Will has a point. You need to balance your meals a bit more.”

For such nice people , Michael thinks as he’s corralled towards the Apollo table by an ecstatic Lee , they can be such dicks. 

[7:00 PM, Volleyball]

“Hey, Lee, when did the monsters start coming for me?” Michael asks as he twirls the volleyball in his hands once, twice and tosses it to Lee. In the background, Michael can hear the yells and cheers of the far more serious, far more competitive match going on. Apparently, there’s a tournament between the cabins and the winner gets bragging rights and no cabin inspection next month. 

Lee isn’t participating. “Our cabin is always clean and orderly,” he had said with pride, though that didn’t stop his half-siblings ( my half-siblings) from making a team and participating. 

“Eh? The monsters? Uh, l-last year,” Lee says, fumbling the ball just like he’s fumbling the lie. 

So it’s been more than a year. 

Michael bites his cheeks as he bends his knees and extends his arms to bounce the ball back.

“And you’ve been taking care of them all this time?” 

“Well, not all of them,” Lee admits, catching the ball with both hands. “A lot of them went away on their own.”

Liar , sings his guts. He’s lying . 

Because Lee is way too nice. Way too selfless. Way too noble to tell the truth that would most definitely hurt. 

“Why? Why didn’t you take me to camp earlier? When the monster started coming? Why now?” he bites out, just barely holding back the snarl. You could have saved yourself years of pain, years of trouble. 

“Because…” Lee looks over to the courts, to where Travis and Connor are arguing with Annabeth (the moaning myrtle girl, Michael realizes). Something about which team Percy should be on. 

(“Your dad is the god of Athletes. Your cabin already have an advantage.”)

(“Okay, but consider this, only Travis and I are claimed. Everyone else on the team could be anyone’s child. And your team is completely made up of god-tier and gifted strategists.”)

(“Your #4 is literally speaking ten languages. He’s got to be a son of Hermes.”)

(“That is a stereotype. Abraham could just be remarkably smart.”)

Lee’s eyes go back to him. “Because I wanted you to have a normal life, to know that there’s more to life than just this. Besides, I’ve been watching you for years. You learn how to do something like it’s nothing after a few minutes. It’s kind of ridiculous and I am lowkey jealous. But if you feel like you’re not ready, I can always—”

“Shut up, idiot. You’re not dropping out of school for me,” Michael grumbles, Lee’s stupid chuckle not at all comforting. 

“I heard you guys are in a war,” Michael says, “Are you fighting in it?”

Lee serves the ball over, high and easy to hit. “Yeah. It feels wrong not to.”

And Michael spikes it back as hard as he can. “But you’re going to college in a few months.”

Lee shrugs, easily leaning forward and kicking it back high into the air for another easy hit. “Julliard is close enough to camp.” 

Michael catches it, tucking it under an arm. “That’s not what I meant. What’s the point of going to college if you might lose an arm or leg fighting in this stupid war? You should just focus on school.”

Lee laughs of all things. “That’s nothing. Will fixed worse.”

Michael bristles at Lee's casualness. “Well, if you’re gonna fight, then I am going too.”

Lee laughs again, tenser this time. “You think your mom is gonna let you?”

“She lets you!”

“Because she doesn’t know what I’m doing. And I’m not the one living with her. Besides, do you even know what we are fighting for?”

“Of course, I do! The enemy is K—” Crap. He never got the full name or title of the bad guy. And somehow he feels like saying Cabin 11’s made up name isn’t going to make Lee take him any more seriously. “I’ll learn more about it. Besides, you’re a great guy. I’m sure you’re fighting for the good guys.”

“Michael, your faith in me is nice but getting involved without knowing the full story is dumb. You’re not fighting.”

“Yes, I am.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I —”

Lee’s face hardened the way it does when he’s mad or worried or dead serious. Like that one time Leo microwaved a spoon. Like when Raphael tried to jump down a flight of stairs for a dare. Like when Carly and Sam ran onto the streets without looking. And crap. Michael is 14, practically an adult. He shouldn’t be cowing under Lee’s hard stare anymore. But he is and he’s (slightly, only just slightly) scared. 

“No, you’re not,” Lee says, “Because I don’t want you to fight when you have so little experience. Because your mom will literally kill me if something, anything happens to you. Because something bad will happen to you if you do join this fight. So no. You’re not going to fight. You’re not going to participate. You’re only here to train and enjoy camp life.”

“Fine. Fine. I won’t,” Michael grumbles, ducking his head. “Sheesh, you make it sound like if I join, the camp is done for.”

The hard stare melts back into that familiar, soft, (almost) carefree aura with a shrug and small smile. “I just have a feeling. It’s good to trust your instincts.”

And my instincts are telling me right now that you need to quit. But Michael is pretty sure Lee won’t appreciate it and moves the conversation to the climbing wall and why it’s on fire. 

[9:00 PM, Campfire Song]

“Mom,” Michael says, the phone pressed against his ears. He looks out the window, watching the vibrant flame of the bonfire climb high into the starry skies and the circles of cheerful campers surrounding it. 

“Michael, I was wondering when you would call. How’s camp? Do you like it?” 

“Camp is…Camp is great. Lots of activity. Really unique. I—” I like it dies on his tongue. He doesn’t like it. He might have if there was a bit less training. Luckily his mother didn’t catch that pause.  

“That’s great! Made any new — Carly Yew, are those markers I see in your hands? You better not draw on the walls. Get some paper, baby, okay? Made any new friends?”

“A few.”

“You should invite them over! We can have a nice little movie night together.” 

Michael frowns as he recalls someone, somewhere, saying not to gather in more than threes outside the barrier. It attracts the monsters apparently and Michael isn’t about to test that. “They can't. They’re busy. They’re like—um—they’re head counselors, you see, and have a lot of duties.” Like practically running the camp but he doesn’t think Mom would appreciate knowing that. 

“Well, it’s nice to see you make friends even if they’re a bit older.”

Are Travis and Connor older than him? Possibly. They exude confidence that no normal teen has. Or maybe they have just been here for a long time. And that is all kinds of sad. 

His mom asks him about his day, what he did, if he has something he really likes, and for the next hour, Michael goes into a heavily censored, G-rated, parent-safe tale of his first day at Camp Half Blood. It could have been worse. On his way to the Big House to use the phone, he overheard an older boy telling a couple newbies how a kid fought a Minotaur on his first day here and a girl having to sacrifice herself for her friends. 

Wow, it would suck to be them. 

[11:00 PM]

He meets dad in his dreams. 

Michael doesn’t know why, but he thought Apollo to be a refined god. A serious god. A graceful god. 

Instead he sees a teenager sporting pilot shades and leaning on a flaming red sports car in the dingy parking lot of Camp Half Blood with the early morning sun just breaking the horizon. 

“Dad?” Michael says, (who else could it be?) but still not really sure. “Uh, Apollo?”

And the teen waves, flashing a smile that nearly blinds him. “Michael! It’s so good to finally meet you.”

Before Michael could react, the teen — Apollo — dad — pulls him into a crushing hug that knocks all the air out of his lungs.

Apollo is strangely… warm. But not overbearingly warm. Warm like first snuggling into bed under the covers. Plus he smells like laurel leaves, sweet and bright. And Michael has a vivid flashback of his mom — younger, much much younger —  in the hospital bed smiling at a man in his mid-twenties with a bundle of sheets in his arm.

Michael blinks as Apollo pulls away, holding him at arm's length and looking him up and down with a musing stare. 

“You resemble your mom more than me,” Apollo says with a nod, “Most of my children tend to take after my looks, but you’re different, Mike. I have to say, I like it! I can’t stay long. Godly matters I have to attend to, you know? Here, I got you a gift for making it so far in life. Tell Audrey I miss her and think sweetly about the time we spent together.” 

Apollo is pressing a guitar into his hands with his name engraved in the body and stepping back to get into his car. It’s exactly the same as the guitar Lee has except for the engraving. So not unique by any means. But it is a gift. And mom would kill him for rejecting a gift. It’s rude she says, but Michael doesn’t care about Apollo enough yet to give a fuck. Besides if Lee’s experience is anything to go by, this is probably the last time he’ll ever talk to his dad. He needs to make this moment count for something. 

“Wait.”

Apollo pauses just as the engine roars to life, purring sweetly and the window rolled down. 

“I want to ask for something else.”

Apollo blinks and Michael can see the inkling of annoyance in the young face, but Apollo nods and says without a lick of irritation in his voice, “Sure, shoot.” 

“I want you to spend more time with Lee.” Then Michael has a realization. “You know who Lee is, right? The oldest one in the cabin? About to go to Julliard? Want to become a teacher?”

Now Apollo is definitely irked, a telltale wrinkle in his brow. Michael can now add ‘gods’ to the list of people he can make pissed off. “Of course I know Lee, my little music enthusiast child. How could I not? But I’m a God, Michael. There’s only so much free time I have.”

“Then just a few minutes a week, or even a month. So he knows you care.”

Again a slight scowl, but it lingers for a few seconds more. 

“I do care but okay. Okay, I will.” Apollo shifts the car into drive still a little annoyed. Michael thought that was it. Any minute now he’s going to wake up and start the day, but Apollo sighs, leans back in the leather seat, and hangs an elbow out the window. “Michael, you’re so much like your mother. Caring. Gutsy. Compassionate. It’s crazy how much you resemble her. You’re going to do great things. You’re—” The annoyance drops and for a brief second, Apollo looks grief-stricken. And once again, Michael dreams of falling, of a bridge, of a boat wafting through a chasm of fire. But Apollo smiles that blinding smile, fond, and shakes his head. 

“Don’t worry so much about your family. They’re going to be fine. You’re going to be fine.”

Michael wakes up just as the car drives off, his gut itching. 

Apollo is lying to you.

[hello-im-not-a-possum]

104 for Jack, Sammy and Wally?

104. That’s a fact, Jack.

(I’m gonna do something with my ‘the ink itself frees everybody because Joey didn’t feed it’ Au* as I’ve made memes about it but haven’t written (or posted what I have) anything about it. *Title still a wip)

There were many, many, pros to getting freed from the studio, or rather, the studio's loop in most people's cases. Almost too many for anyone who had the misfortune of once living in it to count. But there were also a fair amount of cons. One of those cons being that it was kinda difficult to sneak ink monsters and living cartoon characters into society without raising suspicions. Thankfully for the group, by the time they got back to civilization it was dark and cold enough for coats, giant hats, and long scarves to be normal wear when out and about, making it easy to hide most of the odder ink monsters. But it was obvious that lingering in heavily packed and bustling cities like New York wasn't the greatest long-term investment.

Another big con was that Sammy went missing shortly after the studio went down once and for all. And as it had happened every time that the mad maestro was taken out of the picture 'for good' in the studio, the lost village was once again in a chaotic uproar that were refusing to listen to Henry, Tom and Allison. This time, with their heightened sentience, these angry ink creatures were mostly vocally angry, there were still some lost ones who got physical with the gang, (but they were rare as most of them feared Tom, Allison, Susie, and Norman enough to not try anything.) and ones who were both.

"Ah, for the love of... not these guys again."

"Liar! Liars all of you!"

"I'm gonna rip you to pieces!"

"Fuck off!"

"You killed him! Again and again you killed him! Every single time... You came to OUR village, you defiled OUR church, you had killed OUR prophet, followed it up by killing all of us as well... And now that he won't come back you expect us to grovel at your feet and obey your every whim?!"

"Behind you, Dumbass!"

"Leave us alone! Don't you think you've done enough?!"

"Start praying!"

"What makes you think you're any different from that lying puppeteer?!"

"You can run from your sins, but you can't hide from them!"

"Get them, get them, get them, get them!"

"Kill them!"

"You Bastards!"

"Just like Joey... Just like Joey... Just like Joey... Just like Joey... Just like Joey... Just like Joey... Just like Joey... Just like Joey..."

"Enough, you sons of bitches!"

"Not again..."

"Go Away!"

"You've led him astray for too long false shepherd, now that you've powerless, you can't expect us to follow you too..."

If it was difficult to herd thousands of ink creatures in general, it was even harder to herd them when they were fraught with worry and despair over their missing prophet as well as furious and terrified of the ones they blamed for his disappearance. Who had unfortunately for Henry, had been himself, Tom, Allison, Susie, and Inky, who was very bitter about learning that pretty much everyone in ‘his’ cult were actually only loyal to the missing musician.

The task of trying to get the lost ones and searchers to not start a giant riot that would cause a global eldritch ink outbreak had fallen to Jack and Wally. As the group had agreed that as they were the ones that Sammy was closest to before the studio fell, they’d be the ones who’d the village would listen to out of everyone who had been on Henry's side.

While it was a good idea on paper, in practice, the reality was that a swollen searcher with a hat and sentience and a talking tape recorder simply didn't make good replacements for the Prophet, let alone convince anyone that they were. However, they were mercifully a lot more civil with the pair than they were with Henry's other friends. Well, at least they were for the most part.

"I'm sorry, but I just can't take you two seriously. As leaders, I mean."

"No thanks, but good luck finding someone who will take you up on that."

"The Prophet was a complete loon, and an idiot for trusting the false shepherd in the first place... But he was a loon who had held us together when no one else would."

"Please just leave."

"You weren't there for us then, how can we trust you to be there for us now?"

"We understand that they fear we'll infect the world, but please tell them that they should at least give us time to grieve. We won't be leaving this place anytime soon to our knowledge."

"...He was more than just our prophet to us you know."

"Count yourself lucky none of us have killed you on the spot yet and just crawl back to your precious 'Creator' already."

"I doubt either of you two together have half the willpower he had."

"...Go Away."

"I want to trust you two... but I don't like that you're trying to replace him. Especially so soon."

After a long day of rejections and getting doors either slammed in their faces or having people awkwardly creaking the door closed in their faces, Jack crawled back to his hotel room, collapsed on the bed and chucked Wally onto the pillow of the other bed. Both glad the day was over and dreading the next one.

"Ugh, what a town..." Jack sighed as he was almost about to melt into bed, he quickly reformed with a sense of chilled dread in his tone "...I don't think that Conner or the Ink Demon will be too happy to hear that they don't plan on leaving."

Static played out of Wally's speakers before the tape recorder man finally got his thoughts together. "...Fuck."

"Fuck indeed." Jack nodded. "Fuck, indeed..."

"What are we gonna do?!"

"Calmly explain to the group that the town needs time to process everything going on before they try getting a new leader. ...And hope that the Ink Demon doesn't try to make the situation worse."

"Uh huh... Easieah said than done. How do we pull THAT off?"

"Good point, um..."

As the two mulled over how to break the news to the group, the phone on the nightstand began to ring. Startling both of them out of their thoughts.

"Should I pick it up?"

"Well I ain't got no arms."

"Oh! right..."

The searcher fumbled with the phone for a bit, almost worried that he accidentally hung up on the mystery caller. But instead, a familiar voice came through the speaker.

"Hello, Is this Wally and Jack?"

"Sammy! Thank goodness ya called! You've gotta entiah cult dat misses ya! We've trying gettin' them outta the studio, but they won't budge! They'll only listen to you!"

The speaker paused for a moment, almost as if expecting that response and unsure of how to proceed.

"...Well that's awkward because I only called to ask if you two wanted anything from Europe."

"What?!"

"As long as you're asking and if it's not too far out of your way, there's this Spanish nougat called Turrón. I've always kinda wanted to try it."

"Got it. Wally, what about you?"

"Ya gotta be pullin' my leg! You're going to Europe?! Now of all times?!"

"That's a fact Jack."

"I'm not Jack he's ova there!"

"Wally, it means that I'm not discussing this any further. And in this case, I couldn't even if I wanted to."

"I...!"

Wally thought this through. He knew Sammy and he knew that if he tried to push any more than he already was, he'd only shove him away, possibly when he'd be in danger too. But if he didn't, he'd lose the precious opportunity to get information on where the musician went. But if he did, he'd do unrepairable damage to his relationship with the man who had done everything in his power to keep him and his family off of the streets in his time of need. But if he didn't, Thomas would be mad at him if he told him about talking to Sammy.

He made up his mind.

"...Fine. Get me... da weirdest thing ya can find an' buy in a foreign gas station."

"Got it."

"And Stay safe, ya hear me! I don't wanna hear ova da news dat ya got yerself killed ova somethin' stupid okay?"

"Okay, you two stay safe as well. Bye guys."

"Bye."

[yastaghr]

What We Do For Family 4

Did someone say suffering? No? Well, have some suffering anyway!

(Also, when this reaches 5 chapters I will be posting the first chapter of my KillerCreamMare fic Nightmare’s Gang of Wranglers!)

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22254547/chapters/57060598

When Reaper returned from the Save Screen it was to a familiar, if terrifying, sight. Life, the flowery Toriel of his world, was sitting calmly on the other side of her stone table. Her arms were crossed over the front of her long, flowing dress. But it was the expression on her face that was scaring him. She looked only mildly annoyed, but that was huge. Life never got annoyed at anything. She had a nearly infinite level of patience. She had even when she was alive, too. So for her to show this much annoyance meant someone was in serious trouble. Reaper had a feeling that it was him.

He floated out of the portal to the Save Screen and sat down at the stone table. It was stone so that neither him nor Life could affect it. It made for a great meeting place. At least, it did when she was in a good mood. Right now it was the last place that he wanted to be.

“Reaper,” Life said, her voice filled with ire, “why didn’t you tell me that Goth has a crush?”

O...kay, that was definitely not what he thought she’d say. “um, life, he’s eight. there’s no way he has a crush yet.”

Life blinked at him as he blinked at her, both of them clearly surprised about the situation. Then she giggled. “Reaper, monsters can have crushes as young as five. They might not be romantic or sexual crushes, but they’re still valid. Goth is definitely old enough to have his first crush. I don’t know what kind it is yet, and clearly neither does he, but he has some kind of a crush on his friend, Palette. He talks about him almost constantly and emulates his interests. He has a crush.”

Reaper was still at the blinking stage. Then he shook his head. “no. no way. he’s been talking about palette like that for over a year! there’s no way that’s a crush.”

“And exactly how long were you in love with Geno before you even confessed to him? I seem to recall it was something like five years. Yes, five years, seven months, and thirteen days. You kept count,” Life was smiling and absolutely destroyed him.

Denial was a powerful thing, though, and Reaper had a lot of practice with it. “yeah, no, he doesn’t have a crush, and we’re leav… where is he, anyway? don’t tell me you let ink watch him. i swear that that monster shouldn’t be allowed around kids. he’s a menace! did you know that he rap-”

“Reaper, I don’t want to hear about it. Again. Goth is safe and sound,” When that clearly didn’t satisfy him, Life elaborated, “Grim came and picked him up for a playdate. Apparently Mercy found a new game for them to play together and he couldn’t wait to try it out. There was something about parts of cheese? Or was it ships in an ocean… No, that was the last one. Oh, yes! How could I forget! He said it was named after me!”

Reaper chuckled. Mercy, the little Frisk of his world who flirted with absolutely everything, was always bringing something back from the Surface for his brother, their guardian, to play with. They loved dragging Goth into it, too. They were a little bit older than him, but that didn’t stop them. It was good that he had friends to take his mind off of Geno…

Oh, yeah. “life… can you try to find geno again? i know you can’t actually find him, but… he wasn’t in the save screen. i’m running out of places to look.”

Life eyed him pityingly. “Are you sure, Reaper? I don’t want you to find out-”

“life, please. i… i need to know he’s okay. i… i just need to, okay? i’m not sure how much longer i can keep this up,” Reaper said. He wasn’t sure what the emotion in his voice was. Generally it was sad, and from there… there was some despair, hope, frustration, exhaustion, and fear. All of that was mixed together in some kind of sadness.

She sighed, eyed him one last time, and looked down. Her hands fiddled with the empty air above the table, but Reaper knew she was looking through all the souls in her care to find the single one she was interested in. He did the same thing when he was working, checking through the different hourglasses (and other insanities of the glassblowers art. The weirder the shape was, the more fucked up the timeline could be and the less likely it was that Reaper and Grim would ever be needed in that world). He knew from Mercy that no one other than his brother and him could see the hourglasses, just like no one but Life could see whatever she thought of souls as.

Finally, Life seemed to locate Geno’s soul. She stared at it. Reaper didn’t like her expression. She seemed upset, and Life being upset couldn’t be good.

“Reaper…” He stiffened. Now she sounded like him, that weird sadness mixture evident in her voice, “I can barely feel him. He’s so distant… I don’t think any of us gods are going to be able to go where he is. There’s some kind of a barrier, and it’s magic is much stronger than even mine. And…” she gulped, “That same magic has altered his soul. He’s different. I’ve never seen a soul like his. Someone has affected him on a fundamental level. He’s in a huge amount of pain, and… I’m not even sure if he will remember you or Goth. I… Reaper?”

He was sure that he hadn’t heard her right. There was no way that Geno was somewhere he couldn’t go. He was Death. He could go anywhere; it was proverbial. And there was no way that magic stronger than Life had touched him. That just wasn’t possible. He… he… he couldn’t be in pain. He just couldn’t. And he had to remember them. He was Reaper’s soulmate, and Goth’s mother. How could he forget them? They were… they…

Reaper wasn’t quite sure what opened the floodgates. Why didn’t really matter. All that mattered was Geno, and Geno was not okay. Reaper might never see him again, and that… that was suddenly all too real. He tried desperately to cling to his memories. He could see… he couldn’t. He couldn’t remember what Geno looked like! He scrambled to pull out the photo of them all on that summer day. He stared at it. His hands caressed the curve of his soulmate’s chin. Then the first blue tear fell. Another followed. Then another. Then another. Then there weren’t individuals, but a flood of them. He… he might never see Geno again. Goth might never see his mother again. Geno might never know that Goth had a crush on Palette. Geno might never get to see his son grow up.

“Reaper. Listen to me.” He looked across the table at the god he was sitting with. She fixed her eyes on his sockets and radiated hope. “We’ll find him. We’re not the only ones looking for him. You said it yourself. Fresh is looking, and this place stinks of the same unnatural magic that feeds him. Ink is looking, and he exists outside the universes themselves. He can’t stay where he is forever, and when he does leave, we’ll find him. Even if he doesn’t remember us, we’ll find him. We’ll teach him who he is again. No matter what happens to him you will see him again. I promise you that.”

Reaper gulped. “you promise?”

Life nodded. “I promise. Now, please go back to crying. You haven’t let yourself cry nearly enough. Goth told me he hasn’t seen you cry once. That’s not good.”

Reaper let out a soggy chuckle. “that doesn’t mean i’m not crying, life. i’m just not crying in front of him. i don’t want him to have to worry about me as well as worrying about geno. he’s only eight. he doesn’t need that kind of weight on his shoulders.”

“If you think that not crying in front of him means he won’t worry you’re much stupider than I thought. Goth is worried sick about you. You tell him that crying is okay and important and natural, but then he never sees you do it. He asked me to heal your tear-makers, Reaper. He thought there was something wrong with you,” Life said pointedly.

“ouch,” Reaper winced, “i don’t want that. i’ll try to cry in front of him, and i’ll explain that i didn’t want to worry him and i’m all fine.”

“See that you do,” Life said primly. “Now, cry.”

“yes ma’am,” Reaper saluted. Then he let himself cry in front of another person for the first time since Geno had gone missing.

=====

The white space saw both a new inhabitant and an old one. The figure was wearing a black trench coat. The hems were edged with yellow piping, and the cuffs of the sleeves were blue. The bottom of his jacket shaded from black to blue. Under that he wore a ribbed red sweater and a pair of uneven black pants. The hems of the pants had roughly sewn blue cuffs. One was shorter than the other by several inches, but neither was longer than mid shins on him. Black flip flops graced his feet. But that was just his clothes. His bones were the weirdest part. The base of them was solid black, but some of them, namely his leg bones and his proximal and intermediate phalanges, were red. His distal phalanges were yellow, as were his teeth. His skull was black, but it had blue streaks like tears running down from the eye sockets. The sockets themselves were two different sizes, and the eye lights inside them were likewise. Red sockets held yellow and grey eye lights. His nasal aperture was red, too. And scattered around him like flies on carrion were floating glitches and error messages.

Despite all that, it was still Geno sitting there. At least, he still thought of himself as Geno. At least, he would if he could get over the shaking, panicking state he had slipped into. He was huddled up in the center of empty white nothingness, his knees to his chest and his hands trembling in front of him. Voices were screaming at him, their messages a mixed bunch of helpful, kind, and… not. But Geno was too shaken to listen to them.

“They’re not going to be able to recognize me,” Geno said in a glitched out voice. When he heard it, he sobbed, “I even sound different. My voice is all glitchy, and it’s so much lower than it was. What are they going to think when I get out? Are they even going to believe it’s me? I’ve been gone for so long, I-”

<IT IS TIME FOR YOU TO GO BACK. YOU HAVE A JOB TO DO. GO DO IT.>

The voice was overwhelming. It felt like he was trapped in a giant bell that was ringing inside of a giant dome. It hurt his ears, but at the same time it couldn’t hurt his ears because a) he had no ears, b) the sound was in his head and, c) it didn’t actually hurt. It felt like it should, but it didn’t.

“What job?” Geno said lowly. His voice sounded almost like a growl and he hated it.

<KEEPING THE BALANCE. THERE IS CREATION, SO THERE MUST BE DESTRUCTION. YOU MUST DESTROY UNIVERSES.>

Geno recoiled. “What? No! I’m not-”

<YOU WILL. THE MULTIVERSE IS ONLY SO BIG. EITHER YOU WILL DESTROY THEM, OR THEY WILL CRASH INTO EACH OTHER AND DIE A SLOW, AGONIZING DEATH ON THEIR OWN. IT IS INEVITABLE. DO YOU WANT THAT FOR THEM?>

Geno dug his heels in. He had out-stubborned Death. He could out-stubborn an Eldritch voice or two. “I’m not going to destroy universes. Can’t they be evacuated? We can-”

<IF YOU DO NOT DO THIS, I WILL HAVE NO CHOICE BUT TO INVOLVE YOUR LITTLE ONE AND YOUR MATE.>

Geno froze. “No. No, you can’t do that! They’re hurt enough as it is, you can’t do this to them! Reaper already has a job, and Goth’s only eight! He needs Reaper to take care of him, you can’t… you can’t do this to them. Don’t hurt them, please!”

<THEN YOU WILL DESTROY UNIVERSES FOR ME, ERROR.>

“That’s… that’s not my name,” Geno said lamely. He felt so overwhelmed and absolutely rock bottom horrible. Was he really going to kill people and destroy people’s homes? But he couldn’t bear it if little Goth had to go through this torture. He didn’t deserve it. Neither did Reaper. He would do anything to keep them safe. Apparently that included this.

<IT IS NOW. OR DO YOU WANT YOUR MATE TO KNOW THAT YOU ARE MAKING HIS JOB HARDER?>

Geno winced. Reaper hated his job. It was hard enough as it is. He really didn’t want to explain to him why he had to make it harder. Reaper would insist on taking on this unbearable pain himself, not because it would make his job easier, but because he wouldn’t want Geno to have to bear this alone. Geno didn’t want that. He also didn’t want to see Goth’s face when he found out about this. Goth was a sweetheart. It had hurt enough when they had explained what Reaper and Grim did. It would be even harder to explain this.

“Fine,” Geno… no, Error said, “I’ll do your job, and I’ll take your name. But if you so much as touch my child you will regret it more than anything else you have ever done.”

The voice laughed, and Error knew that laugh would haunt his soul forever. It was ruthless, callous, and absolutely insane. <OH, ERROR, YOU ARE SO NAIVE. I AM FATE. THERE IS ABSOLUTELY NOTHING YOU CAN DO TO HURT ME. I HAVE SENT PLAGUES. I HAVE STARTED WARS. I HAVE INSPIRED GENOCIDES, INCLUDING YOURS. I REGRET NOTHING.>

Error shuddered. He knew Fate by the horrors she left behind, and the idea of her rummaging around in his soul was terrifying. He felt hopeless for the first time in a long time. Even his huge supply of determination couldn’t fight against the being that had created the multiverse. Ink spoke about her all the time. Apparently he was her favorite. She whispered to him in the night, inspiring him to create an endless supply of universes. Was… was that why he had to destroy? Because Ink was constantly creating? Because Fate was too fond of him to put limits on what he could do? Why? It was so unfair! He’d been happy with his mate and his son. Now he had been torn away from them, isolated, tortured, and changed. It wasn’t fair!

Fate, seemingly unaware of his inner monologue, said, <NOW, I WILL ONLY SHOW YOU HOW TO OPEN A PORTAL ONCE. AFTER THIS YOU WILL DO IT ON YOUR OWN. IF YOU DO NOT I WILL PUNISH YOU, AND IF I AM NOT SATISFIED FOR TOO LONG I WILL INVOLVE YOUR FAMILY. NOW, PAY ATTENTION. TO OPEN A PORTAL YOU NEED TO...>

[ecto-american]

Period Pains

The things @ghostgothgeek inspires me to write

On AO3

Warnings: Talk of periods

The fluorescent humming of the lightbulbs and soft music seemed to be the only background noise of the local store. Danny's eyes scanned the shelves hard, growing confused as he struggled.

Maximum absorbance? Ultra thin? Flex foam? What? What the fuck do any of these even mean?

He scratched his chin, giving a curious hum as he tried to remember the brand name Sam told him. Danny reached into his pocket to pull out his phone to try and compare the picture of the tampon box he took when Sam first made the request. He heard a store cart wheel past the aisle before abruptly stopping.

"Danny Phantom?" a confused feminine voice called out. Danny froze before remembering. Oh yeah. He really didn't wanna be seen buying these as Fenton, or even being in the tampon aisle.

"Hello, citizen," he tried to greet cheerfully, but it came out weak and timid as the reality of his decision fully hit him. He glanced to see a confused middle aged shopper staring at him with wide eyes, pushing a cart full of items. She quickly hurried past, and Danny returned his attention to the shelf.

What the fuck, none of the boxes matched. He stared, dumbfounded. Was he at the wrong store?

He nervously walked down the aisle towards the wall, and his face lit up with relief before flinching. There was more. Holy hell there were so many options! How did girls know what kind to use? Sports? Security? Click compact? What?

He held his phone up and compared the boxes to the picture. Oh thank Pariah Dark, one finally matched. He eagerly snatched the box up, tucking it under his arm. He paused. What if Sam needed two? Wait, how many were in a box? He glanced and read the box, recognizing some of the new buzzwords that he had learned about feminine hygiene products. Holy shit 36!? ...Wait was that even enough?

Danny could feel eyes boring into him, and he turned to see a couple staring at him in absolute disbelief. He felt his cheeks burn a dark green.

"It's-it's not mine," he stammered out. "It's for my girlfriend."

"You have a girlfriend?" the guy asked curiously. Danny nodded, and he glanced at the shelves. Sam didn't bleed enough to warrant a second box, right? Well she did run out. But did that mean she was almost done? "Dude! You're Danny Phantom!" Danny winced.

"Yeah, yeah, I know who I am," he muttered.

"Can I have your autograph?" the girl blurted out. Danny forced a smile.

"Got a pen?" he asked.

The girl immediately began to dig through her purse and produced a small handful of pens, as well as what looked like a study guide for some class. She offered both to Danny. He picked a purple sharpie.

"Um, hold this real quick."

He traded her the tampons for the paper, and he used a shelf to quickly sign. The girl's face brightened, and she happily took the paper back.

"Thank you so much!" she chirped, and she showed it to her boyfriend while putting the pens away. Danny took this as his chance to quickly walk away.

He stuck close to the wall, keeping the tampons between him and the wall to avoid anybody seeing. He prayed that he wouldn't run into his parents, or worse, Valerie. Both would immediately be guns blazing, assuming he was out to...steal tampons. For some reason.

"Is that Danny fucking Phantom?" a surprised voice called out. Danny walked faster, and he slipped into an aisle.

Sam didn't ask him for it, but Danny had a sister. He knew the deal. Not the whole deal, but enough to know that he would be the world's best boyfriend if he picked up a little something extra for his beloved. After some careful searching, he found what he was looking for. The vegan chocolate Sam loved the most. He smiled in relief as he picked up a bar of it.

"Danny Phantom!" a child's voice gasped. Danny turned to see two boys, no older than seven, staring at him in absolute disbelief. He felt himself relax a bit, giving a friendly smile and wave. Kids were so much easier to interact with than judging adults or lovestruck teenagers.

"Hey," Danny greeted. One boy was shyly tugging on the hem of his shirt, which Danny noticed had his logo on it.

"Hi," he replied shyly. Danny glanced up to see a woman turn into the aisle with a shopping cart. She looked surprised and paused when she saw him before quickly wheeling up.

"Danny Phantom?" she seemed so confused. Danny nodded in confirmation. She smiled a bit. "Jason loves you. Jason, did you say hi, honey?"

She reached out to put her hand on her son's head, the one in the Danny Phantom shirt. He just stared at his feet. Danny knelt to his height.

"Hey, Jason," he greeted him again. He held out his hand, allowing it to glow lightly. Some ice began form. Jason and the other kid began to stare at it in absolute awe as the glowing powers soon finally faded and left in its place a small ice sculpture of the Danny Phantom logo. Danny offered it to Jason, who happily took it.

"I want one!" the other kid blurted out.

"I gotcha, dude," Danny promised him, and he repeated the process. This time the kids were nearly bouncing in place at being able to see such an event up close. The other got a logo as well.

"Thank you!" the other kid practically shouted as he snatched it up eagerly.

"Thank you!" Jason quickly spoke up.

"Of course, just make sure you stay clear of ghosts. A lot of them aren't very nice, and I don't want to see you get hurt," Danny explained. They nodded, and both began to shove them up to their mom to show her, both chattering a mile a minute.

"Yes I see, they're very nice, be careful with it," their mom began to try and calm them down, but to no avail. "Boys, go pick out your candy." The words were like magic, and the two began to run up and down the aisle trying to find what they wanted. The mom sighed lightly. "Thank you," she told Danny, and she cocked her head curiously. "No offense, but why are you here?" Danny flinched at the unintentional reminder. He held up his items for purchase.

"Girlfriend," was all he said. The mom nodded understandingly.

"Getting chocolate's a good move," she told him. "Smart man."

"Thanks. Have a good night," he told her, giving a small wave before quickly exiting the aisle.

It's almost over. It's almost over. Danny exhaled deeply as he headed towards the self check out. He was so close. He just had to make the purchase, and then he could immediately fly out, invisible all the way back to Sam's.

Oh no. Oh no.

His heart sank as he saw the dreaded rope of doom stretched across the self check out area. Closed. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He stared at the line. It wasn't too bad, but given his items of purchases, he'd rather go through the accident again. Danny exhaled deeply. It was for Sam. He could do this. Boyfriends bought their girlfriends tampons all the time. Hell, his dad would constantly chuck what his mom and Jazz needed into the cart with zero fucks. Why couldn't he be more like that? Danny felt ashamed of himself. He and Sam were nearly twenty. They'd been together for almost a year, and he can't just go and get tampons for her in his own human form like an actual good boyfriend? Well, way too late to back out of this now.

The ghost went to stand in line. The man in front of him, an older man with a mustache and thick glasses, glanced behind to see who came, and he immediately did a double take before staring. Danny gave a shy wave. The man frowned, narrowing his eyes at him. Danny began staring off to his left, but he could still feel the man staring at him.

"What the fuck is a ghost doing here?" the man finally spoke. Danny's eyes locked back onto the man's.

"I'm buying tampons and some chocolate for my girlfriend." It came out a bit more raspy and weak than he wanted it to, and he coughed a bit at the end to clear his throat. The man stared hard at him.

"Ghosts need tampons?" he sounded skeptical, and he took a step forward as the cashier finished checking out the person before him.

"She's human," Danny explained. The man's face darkened as he scowled. He raised a finger up to Danny.

"I think it's absolutely disgusting that you would take advantage of a human like that, and you should be ashamed of yourself," he told him. "I hope the Guys in White destroy you one day."

Danny just swallowed nervously. How do you even respond to something like that? He just bit his lip and stared off to the side again. The man, to his relief, turned to the front and refused to say another word to him. Although he did shoot him a nasty glare as the cashier gave him his receipt.

He wordlessly put his stuff on the conveyor belt, and the bored cashier began to ring him up.

"Is that all for you today?" she asked. Danny cleared his throat.

"Uh, yeah," he murmured. The cashier hummed in acknowledgement as she read out the total, and Danny handed her the cash. Something hit him, and Danny blinked. "You know, you're the first person to not say something about me doing this." The cashier gave a breathless chuckle as she handed him his change.

"You're far from the weirdest thing I've seen this shift alone," she told him. "But ignore the other dude. He's just being a pissbaby because he doesn't have a girlfriend to go buy tampons for." Danny snorted in amusement. "Tell the Mrs. Phantom I said hello."

"Will do," Danny replied. He grabbed the plastic bag of tampons and chocolate, tossing the receipt inside. He didn't bother walking out the door, but instead seized the chance to turn invisible and fly far, far away.

123456789

"You're such a dingus!" Sam's voice scowled through the bathroom door. Danny sighed from where he laid on the bed.

"I'm sorry, it's just, embarrassing," he tried to justify his weird decision. A few moments later, Sam came out of the bathroom. She looked miserable, and Danny offered up the candy bar he got her. She accepted it, immediately tearing off the wrapper.

"No. I mean, yeah. That was stupid. But you got the wrong box," she told him. Danny's eyes widened in horror.

"So do I-"

"Yeah, you need to go back." Sam took a bite of the chocolate bar.

"...Fuck."

[artificialqueens]

immaculate (or, sharon's lesbian awakening) - Citrus

Summary: Sharon’s been with the same guy since she was seventeen and has never had an orgasm. Her best friend Willam takes it upon herself to find a pretty lesbian to fix that. (inspired by a tweet that can be seen on @aqcitrus)

A/N: look i know i promised jalaska soon but i wrote this in two days after being stuck in writer’s block for almost five months, so i’m posting it. i hope y'all like it!!  remember that comments and asks (my blog is aqcitrus) mean everything to me! <3 Citrus

-

“Idiot! Learn how to cook a fucking egg!”

Willam’s shouting at the TV sent Sharon into a fit of giggles, clutching her best friend’s arm for support as she laughed. They were pleasantly buzzed off of cheap beer and two-buck Chuck, having ordered takeout for a night in. There was still food left even after they’d shared a joint in the afternoon, and they were slowly making their way through the boxes of rice and vegetable stir-fry in their laps. Whatever show they were watching was mostly just background noise, something for them to laugh at while they ate and talked and enjoyed each other’s company.

Sharon had recently been dumped by her boyfriend of five years, someone she’d been with since her senior year of high school. She was devastated to find him cheating on her, and it had come out in the open that he’d been cheating on her for almost the entirety of their relationship; Sharon was livid, and she knew just who to call. Willam had always been there for her, since they’d met in middle school as friendless outcasts, and she was her best friend in the entire world. Her plan of distracting Sharon with weed, alcohol, and lots of trashy takeout was clearly working at the moment.

“It’s not his fault!” Sharon laughed, trying not to choke on her food. “I’d be doing the same under a time limit like this!”

“Yeah, you’re no good under pressure,” Willam agreed. “Remember your first time?”

Sharon shoved her, pretending to be affronted. “It wasn’t that bad! I was just nervous because it was new.”

“Well now it’s not,” her best friend teased, “Now you’re a slut like me.”

“I am not!” Sharon protested, “Not at the moment, anyway. And it’s not like sex is that great, anyway.”

Willam’s jaw dropped. “Not that great?” she echoed, taken aback. Sharon gave her an odd look.

“Yeah? It’s not, like, life-changing or anything. Pretty boring, actually.”

Willam lowered the volume of the television, turning her whole body on the sofa so she could face Sharon. “Are you seriously telling me that the guy you’ve been dating since you were fourteen doesn’t fuck you right? Good sex isn’t boring.”

Sharon shrugged. “I mean, we didn’t have bad sex,” she said, “It was really passionate, he was so sexy. It just didn’t feel that great, y’know? The emotional aspect was great, not the physical aspect.”

“I’m gonna kick his ass,” Willam muttered. “Sharon, you fucking idiot, the physical aspect is the whole point of sex! Didn’t he make you feel like you were gonna explode, like your whole body was on fire?”

Sharon rolled her eyes. “That’s just how people exaggerate it.” Willam’s jaw dropped.

“Sharon,” she said seriously, “Have you ever had an orgasm? Like, even by yourself?”

“Of course I have,” Sharon defended, crossing her arms. Willam leaned back from her with a challenging expression, arms also folded.

“Oh yeah? What’s it feel like for you then?” When Sharon was silent, unable to come up with a response, Willam gasped. “Holy fuck, you’ve never had one!”

“I-” Sharon started, but paused when Willam whipped out her phone and started tapping frantically. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Texting a friend,” Willam answered vaguely. Sharon shifted on the sofa, moving practically into her lap. Willam scowled, moving her phone out of reach before Sharon could look at it.

“Willam! Tell me what you’re doing!”

Willam put her phone away with a grin. “She’ll be here in half an hour.”

“She? Who the fuck did you text?” Sharon demanded. Willam laughed.

“Listen, I have this friend, I think you’ll get along with her really well. I just texted her to come over so she can show you what good sex is really like.”

Sharon’s jaw hit the floor. “You texted some random girl you know to come over and fuck me? Are you insane?”

“A little,” Willam shrugged, “But yeah, I figured you’d be more comfortable if she came here. Don’t worry, she’ll come prepared and everything.”

“This is the weirdest good deed you’ve ever tried to do, Bill,” Sharon sighed, trying to quell her anxiety as she tidied up the living area. “I have no idea why I’m not stopping you.”

“Because you know I’m right,” Willam suggested, and Sharon really couldn’t argue. Sex with her ex was never really that pleasurable, and after hearing Willam describe good sex, she was more than intrigued. “He was the only person you’ve ever been with, right? Go outside your comfort zone, Shar!”

“I’m not… I’ve never really thought about being with a girl,” Sharon admitted. She couldn’t say for certain that she was straight, but Willam was right. She’d only dated one guy in her entire life, and he’d been the first boy to show any interest in her, so she’d jumped at the chance for love. After they’d graduated, when they were actually able to live together, things changed. In school, they’d been compatible, and were perfectly happy seeing each other in short bursts. Seeing him all the time, every single day, opened her eyes to the fact that they weren’t really very good for each other. Still, he’d always said he’d loved her, and he wasn’t a bad guy or anything, so she stayed.

Willam brought her out of her own thoughts with a comforting hand on her shoulder. “You’re gonna like her, I promise. Remember, I know you pretty fucking well. I saw how you weren’t really into him, I remember how you said that you were afraid to leave him in case you never found anyone else who would have you.” She kissed Sharon’s cheek. “I know it’s hard, baby, but sometimes the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else, right?”

“That’s what they say,” a teary-eyed Sharon laughed. “I can’t believe you did this. I can’t fucking believe you’re setting me up with some lesbian I’ve never met before!”

Willam held out the trash can for Sharon to dump the takeout boxes into, and gathered her things quickly after checking her phone. “You’ll like her, I told you. I gotta go before she gets here, but text me later. Tell me everything.”

“You’re fucking insane,” Sharon told her as she held the door open for Willam to leave. “You really are.”

“I know!” Willam called as she walked down the hallway. She flashed a huge grin at Sharon before disappearing out of sight, leaving Sharon to rush to get ready.

Twenty minutes later, Sharon had made herself look as nice as she could, putting on a little makeup and fixing her hair. She’d changed into cute underwear and a tight black dress; she didn’t have time to shave, but her ex had always preferred her to be waxed, so she only had the slightest regrowth anyway. When she heard the knock on her door, she jumped up to open it.

Standing in her doorway was the most gorgeous girl she’d ever seen; tall, blonde, and slender, with long legs and full lips, wearing workout clothes that barely concealed anything at all. There was a gym bag slung over her shoulder and her makeup was minimal, her hair thrown up into a ponytail; she’d probably just finished a workout. She flashed Sharon a smile.

“Hi, Sharon? I’m Alaska, Willam’s friend.”

“Um, hi,” Sharon smiled nervously. “Come on in. Do you want water or wine or something?”

“I’m okay, but thank you,” Alaska smiled, taking off her shoes. Even without them, she towered over Sharon, and Sharon was intimidated beyond belief. Setting down her gym bag, Alaska put a hand on her hip. “So, Bill told me you have a little… problem.”

Sharon winced. “How much detail did she go into?”

Alaska laughed, and Sharon’s heart fluttered at the sound. “She just said you’ve been stuck with the same guy for like five years and he’s terrible at sex.”

“He was pretty terrible,” she admitted, both to Alaska and to herself. “I’ve, uh, never had an orgasm.”

Alaska bit her plump lower lip, her dark eyes wide with surprise. “Oh, you poor thing,” she cooed, stepping closer to run a hand up and down Sharon’s arm. “I’ll get you there, baby, if you want that.” She flushed a little, and Sharon nodded.

“I do. I’ve never been with anyone else, but… sex was about him, mostly.”

Alaska rolled her eyes as she crouched to pick up her bag. “Isn’t that just like a guy? I fucking hate men, I’m so glad I’m a lesbian.” Sharon laughed at that, and Alaska shared her giggles. “Do you wanna show me your bedroom? We can get to know each other a little better.”

“Yeah, of course. Right this way.”

Once they were in Sharon’s bedroom, Alaska sat down on her bed, patting the sheets beside her. Sharon had never been so nervous in her own bedroom, but somehow, this girl made her feel safe. She sat, and Alaska smiled at her.

“I know you’re probably nervous,” she said, “But I’m here for you, Sharon. I’m gonna do my best to make you feel incredible, so I want you to communicate with me when things feel good, and especially when they don’t. Is that okay with you?”

Sharon bit her lip. “Yeah, of course.”

Alaska beamed at her, placing a hand on her thigh. “Great. Communication is the most important thing in sex, or in anything, actually. Just be clear with me and tell me what you need.”

“Right,” Sharon agreed, looking at the floor. Alaska did make her feel safer, but she was still a little daunted by the situation in front of her. Seeming to sense her hesitation, Alaska tilted her chin up, forcing eye contact.

“Can I kiss you, Sharon?” Sharon nodded, not quite able to find her voice as she leaned in close to meet Alaska’s lips. She immediately melted into the kiss, feeling her whole body heat up as Alaska deepened the kiss and licked into her mouth. Unable to control herself, Sharon let out a low whine, shifting closer as she sought more from Alaska. The blonde laughed against her lips, breaking the kiss to pull her shirt over her head, her sports bra following after.

Sharon’s eyes swept over Alaska’s bare chest, awed by how different their bodies were. She’d never seen a topless girl right in front of her, and something inside her was aching to explore the unfamiliarity of Alaska’s petite breasts. Alaska smiled and took Sharon’s hand in her own.

“Don’t be so shy, baby,” she said, “You can touch me.” She guided Sharon’s hand to her breast, kissing her again and letting out a little sigh when Sharon gave the sensitive flesh a squeeze. “Just like that,” she breathed against Sharon’s lips, gripping her thigh a little harder, her hand moving upward under Sharon’s dress.

Sharon was more turned on than she’d ever been in her life, and she spread her legs almost without thinking as Alaska’s hand crept higher. The tight dress looked fantastic on her but it was currently constricting her movements so much that she couldn’t lean closer to Alaska the way she wanted to.

“Can you help me out of this?” she asked quietly, pulling away from their steamy makeout to offer Alaska an awkward smile. The blonde laughed and nodded, reaching around Sharon’s body to unzip the dress and help push it down and off Sharon’s body.

“God,” she whined, and Sharon was worried that something was wrong until she saw the way that Alaska was staring at her tits. “Can I touch?” she asked, looking up to make eye contact, and she looked so earnest that Sharon nodded almost without thinking. Alaska’s hands flew up to cup her breasts, biting her lip as she stared at Sharon with the most intense bedroom eyes she’d ever seen. “You’re so fucking hot,” she breathed. “Fuck, Willam knows my type.”

Sharon giggled at that. “What’s your type, then? I wanna know.” Alaska smiled and pushed her down onto the bed on her back, being exceptionally gentle with her as she did so.

“Willam knows I like a girl with curves,” she answered, hands skimming over Sharon’s waist. “I’m not gonna say anything more than that, but fuck,” she whined, “Your body is just… so perfect. God, I could eat you up. I might just have to,” she added with a wink. Sharon squeezed her thighs together, feeling the heat pooling between them as Alaska gently stroked her bare skin. She pulled back to peel off her leggings, but quickly resumed her position above Sharon and began to kiss down her neck and chest.

“I can take this off, if- if you want,” Sharon stammered, fingering the straps of her bra. Alaska nodded and sat back on her heels to watch Sharon peel the black lace away, a soft gasp escaping her as Sharon revealed her bare breasts. She leaned down, kissing Sharon’s neck again and palming her tits; when Alaska’s mouth moved to one of her breasts she gasped loudly, cursing under her breath at the feeling of Alaska’s tongue on her nipple. She was so gentle and intentional as she sucked and massaged and licked, in a way that Sharon’s ex never had. He was always appreciative of her big boobs, but he preferred to grope and squeeze them; this was something entirely different, and the way Alaska was worshipping her chest made her stomach tighten.

“Feel free to stop me if it’s too much,” Alaska said as she pulled off Sharon’s nipple with a soft pop. “I could literally do this all fucking day.”

“No, it’s- it’s good,” Sharon assured her breathily, “It’s really good.”

Alaska flashed her a teasing grin, fingers pressing against Sharon’s panties. “You’re already so wet…” Sharon bit her lip, squirming at Alaska’s teasing and nodding eagerly when Alaska’s fingers hooked in the waistband of her panties.

“Please.”

Dragging Sharon’s panties down her legs, she gently pushed her thighs apart and licked her lips at the sight of Sharon’s wet pussy, wanting nothing more than to drive her wild. This girl was incredible, and it was such a shock to know that she barely had any sexual experience beyond being used as a pocket pussy by her sleazy ex (Willam’s words, not hers).

“You’re so pretty,” Alaska purred, parting Sharon’s lips with two fingers and watching how she spread. “Fuck, so pretty.”

Sharon flushed. “You’re just saying that,” she mumbled, and Alaska shook her head.

“I wouldn’t lie to a pretty little thing like you,” she promised her in a low voice, dragging her fingers between Sharon’s folds and rubbing her clit. Sharon’s hips twitched at the soft touch and she moaned, overwhelmed. “You like that, baby? You like it when I talk to you like this?” Sharon nodded, blushing harder, and Alaska stole a kiss from her. “Good girl. Can I eat you out, cutie? I’m dying to find out if you taste as sweet as you look.”

“Yeah,” Sharon answered weakly, whimpering when Alaska’s tongue pressed against her pussy, lapping at her folds and tasting her wetness. She gripped the sheets in white-knuckled fists, back arching off the bed as Alaska’s moans vibrated through her body. When she dared to look down at the blonde she found herself meeting dark eyes that stared up at her with teasing defiance, almost as if Alaska was daring her to say something about it. When she sucked on Sharon’s clit, Sharon couldn’t help but emit a high-pitched, whiny moan while her legs shook. Her ex-boyfriend had given her oral before, but it had never been anything like this; truly, Sharon had been starting to think that her clit just wasn’t as sensitive as it was supposed to be. All of that thinking was being thrown out the window now though, as Alaska’s tongue fluttered over the sensitive bud and Sharon threw her head back in ecstasy.

Sharon’s hand found its way into Alaska’s hair, gripping tighter than she probably should have as the blonde brought her closer to the edge with every lick. Pressure was building between Sharon’s trembling thighs, coiling hot and deep in her stomach, and her moans became choked and whiny; Alaska could clearly tell she was close, because she redoubled her efforts.

“Alaska, fuck, I- I’m- I’m gonna- A-Alaska, fuck, Alaskaaaa!”

Her hips bucked against Alaska’s mouth, and she felt the blonde’s hands gripping her hips and pushing them down, grounding her as she came, hard. The initial burst of pleasure traveling through her body eventually fizzled out into a delicious buzz, and Sharon opened her eyes to see Alaska leaning back, watching her. When they made eye contact, Alaska smirked and bent down to lick Sharon one or two more times, cleaning her up before straddling her hips.

“How do you feel?”

Sharon sighed, physically feeling the tension leave her body. “Incredible. Fuck, Alaska, that was… Amazing.”

“I’m glad it was good for you,” she smiled. “It was good for me too.”

“Can I… is there anything I can do for you?” Sharon asked shyly, not entirely confident in her ability to please a woman, but determined to try. Alaska shook her head with a smile.

“I think what I have in mind next will benefit us both,” she answered. Sharon’s eyes widened.

“Next? That wasn’t it?” Alaska snorted in laughter, failing miserably to conceal her amusement despite Sharon’s honest confusion.

“You really haven’t met that many lesbians, have you? We’re good at pleasing our women, Sharon. You’re gonna get as much as you can handle tonight.” Not bothering to let Sharon respond, Alaska hopped off the bed and knelt by her gym bag, unzipping it and rooting through it until she found what she was looking for. Pulling out a strap-on harness and a couple of different-sized dildos, she looked up at Sharon with a dangerous grin. “You wanna try?”

“I… yeah,” Sharon agreed, almost speechless at the array of toys Alaska had brought with her.

“You pick, baby. I suggest starting small and working our way up. We can always go bigger.” She winked, and Sharon felt herself pulse with want. Looking at the various sizes and shapes she’d been presented with, she selected a pink, stylistic toy, about the same size that her ex had been. Taking him had never been a challenge, so she thought it would be best to start with what she was familiar with.

“This one…?”

“Don’t sound so hesitant, Sharon,” Alaska teased, “Tell me exactly what you want. Do you want me to fuck your pussy with that one or not?” Sharon pulsed again at the slight dirty talk, nodding as she picked up the toy, feeling its unfamiliar weight in her hand. She held it out for Alaska to take, watching the blonde slip out of her thong and press her fingers against herself. “Hold on, baby, I just gotta… Mmm…” Sharon watched in arousal as Alaska slid two fingers into her pussy, pumping them slowly before adding a third.

“Are you sure I can’t do something for you?” Sharon blurted out, a little embarrassed that Alaska was taking matters into her own hands– literally. Alaska shook her head with another laugh, pulling her fingers away and sucking them clean before picking up the harness. She held it up to show Sharon that it had a thick, curved dildo attached to one side, and before Sharon could say anything, she stepped into the harness and pushed the toy inside herself.

“Mmm, fuck, it’s been a while since I used this one,” she smiled, circling her hips against thin air as she tightened the straps. She took the dildo Sharon had chosen from her hands, attaching it to the empty space at her crotch, and Sharon just about died at the sight of her. Sure, she’d seen a dick before, but somehow it was a billion times sexier on a woman, a woman who’d already made her come once with just her mouth.

“You look… wow.”

“I know,” Alaska smiled. “How do you want me? Missionary? Doggie? Cowgirl? I’ll give you whatever you want, baby, I promise you that much.”

Sharon had done a lot of doggie and missionary in her time with her ex; she supposed he preferred the positions that would give him the most control and the most pleasure, so she blushingly told Alaska that she wanted to ride her. The blonde’s eyes lit up as she nodded, and Sharon made room for her to lay down on her back on the bed before straddling her thighs.

“God, you’re gonna look so cute on my dick,” she mumbled, stroking Sharon’s hip. Sharon was about to position herself over the toy when Alaska pushed her back by the hips, shaking her head. “Waitwaitwait,” Alaska rushed out, sitting up halfway to snatch up a bottle of lube that she’d placed on the bed earlier. She drizzled it over her bright pink artificial dick, stroking it almost like it was real, and Sharon couldn’t wait any fucking longer. She had to have her, and she had to have her now. With Alaska’s help, she lined herself up with the dildo and began to sink down, surprised as hell when she took the entire slippery length in a single go like it was nothing.

“You sure you haven’t done this before?” Alaska teased, raising an eyebrow. Sharon shook her head.

“I’m just as surprised as you are. This is about the same size I’m used to…”

“The dick was that bad, huh?” Alaska interrupted with a cheeky grin. “You poor thing, let’s get you something a little bigger. I wanna fuck you right.”

With a little awkward shifting from both parties, they separated and Alaska replaced the first toy with a larger model, a realistic purple cock that Sharon was practically drooling over when she attached it to the harness. This time, when Sharon sank down on the lubed-up toy, she had to be a little slower. Her lips parted in silent pleasure as she lowered herself onto Alaska’s cock, feeling the slick silicone filling her up like nothing she’d ever felt before.

“Fuck, you’re so big,” she whined, “Feels so good.”

Alaska bit her lip, clearly very turned on by the sight of Sharon sitting on her dick, and gave her thigh a little squeeze. “Yeah, baby, feels good for me too.” Sharon nearly questioned it, but then she remembered the toy currently sheathed inside Alaska, and flushed pink. It had taken her until now to realize that when Alaska fucked her with this strapon, she’d be fucking herself on the toy as well, and that thought made her drip. “Can I fuck you, baby?”

“Please,” Sharon moaned, gasping when Alaska’s hands flew to her hips and guided her to move up and down on her cock, slow and gentle at first. “Oh my god…”

Alaska stopped, looking up at Sharon with wide eyes. “You okay?” she asked, her voice thick with concern. Sharon blushed and nodded.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just… a lot.”

“Should we not have switched toys?” Alaska worried, attempting to shift Sharon off. Sharon shook her head, slamming her hips back down in defiance; the unforeseen consequence of this was that both of the toys were thrust into them, and they both let out guttural moans.

“I like this one,” Sharon assured her weakly. “It’s good, it’s just… I’m not used to sex being so good.”

Alaska shook her head sadly, rubbing Sharon’s hip to comfort her. She pulled Sharon up on the toy, helping her start to fuck herself on it, and Sharon didn’t hold back her moans as she rode Alaska. Wanting to shower this gorgeous girl in affection, Alaska flipped their positions while the toy was still inside them both, lifting Sharon’s legs over her shoulder to fuck her deeper. Sharon came embarrassingly quickly, with only a few thrusts of Alaska’s hips, but the blonde didn’t stop there. She kept going.

By the time that Alaska let Sharon tap out she’d lost count of her orgasms, sweaty and shaking against her sheets, her thighs sticky with lube and cum and saliva. Alaska had fucked her hard and fast, then soft and slow, eaten her out again and pressed her fingers into Sharon until she saw stars. She’d managed to cram more pleasure into a single night than Sharon had experienced in her entire life, and Sharon was reeling from it all. As Alaska wiped her toys clean and replaced them in her bag, she moved to gather her clothes from the floor, and Sharon propped herself up on her elbows to watch.

“You’re not leaving, are you?” Alaska looked up at her in surprise.

“I didn’t think you’d want me to stay.”

Sharon frowned. “Why not? Of course I want you to stay.”

Alaska set her clothes down on top of her bag, crossing her arms over her torso. “You’re not worried about it being kinda… weird?”

“Why would it be weird?” Sharon asked, genuinely confused. Alaska sighed.

“Willam said you were straight. I figured you just wanted a night of exploration, to loosen up after your breakup.”

Sharon bit her lip, overwhelmed. “I don’t think I’m straight anymore,” she joked weakly, and was pleased when Alaska’s frown gave way to a smile. “I didn’t really have a plan for tonight. It was all Willam’s idea, not mine, so I went into it with pretty much zero expectations. I know we’re strangers, and this is probably just a one-time thing, so… I just kinda wanted to make it last.” She hated being so vulnerable in front of someone she barely knew, but she wanted to be honest with Alaska. Something inside her told her that doing so was really important, and she usually listened to her gut. Alaska, to her credit, crossed the room with a smile to get into Sharon’s bed and spoon her.

“You know that if I stay here, I’ll probably end up fingering you again, right?” Sharon laughed, turning in her arms to snuggle into her chest.

“I’m hoping so.”

-

Willam felt absolutely no guilt about leaving Sharon to await Alaska’s arrival; she knew her best friend would be in capable hands. Truly, she’d been thinking about setting up her two best friends for a while, but Sharon had been clinging to the futile hope of patching things up with her scumbag ex for far too fucking long. Willam was so glad that they’d finally parted ways, and she knew that Alaska would be able to make Sharon feel better. Much, much better.

She didn’t hear anything from Sharon all night, which was a great sign in this case. In fact, she didn’t get a text from Sharon until the morning after. Actually, it was a string of texts, and what a string of texts they were.

Shar: willam.. holy fuck

Shar: i Didn’t know sex could feel so good, does lesbian sex always feel that great??? i never liked it when he ate me out .. i literally thought my clit was broken or something but HOLY SHIT she gave me head like three times and it was incredible !

Shar: and her strap game was… immaculate. she’s got crazy stamina tho, wouldn’t let me tap out until i came like nine times..

Shar: bitch i’m still cumming on myself.. lesbians are so nasty, willam, you’re all nasty fucking whores !!

Shar: would it be thirsty for me to ask her to fuck me again tonight ?? or should i play it cool with her… fuck im twitching i need it again

Shar: i woke up this morning to get ready for work and the first thing i thought was “let’s make today a good day” BITCH WHAT!! you know i hate my fucking job !! she’s just .. incredible….

Willam was in the middle of a laughing fit at the messages when another text came in from Sharon, and she cackled to herself at the thought of Sharon’s world being turned upside down by a single night with Alaska.

Shar: wait wait wait okay .. i texted her and all i said was “hey” and she replied “you need it again already huh?” she’s so cocky willam !! it’s so fucking hot. WHERE did you find her !

Shar: like first of all … yes, i do. so i’ll be over at 11.. also does she like sushi? i wanna take her out for a real date

Willam: LMAOOOO I’M DYING OVER HERE

Willam: I KNEW THIS WOULD HAPPEN. I FUCKING TOLD YOU SO

Shar: …you did. i’m kinda smitten with her, fuck.

Willam: she’s single ;)

Shar: yeah i hoped so.. she keeps calling me “baby” it’s making me melt ..

Shar: so does she fucking like sushi or not willam i don’t have all day !!

Willam: i woulda thought you knew how she felt about fish after last night… yeah she does

-

“Hey, Alaska?”

“You didn’t answer my question, baby. You need it again?”

Sharon blushed, thankful that Alaska couldn’t see her expression over the phone. “I mean… You were great and all, but…”

“Oh.” Alaska’s voice went flat. “Don’t worry, I get it.”

“What?”

“I said I get it,” Alaska repeated. “You’re straight, I’m not, it’s cool, okay? Don’t worry about it.”

Sharon was incredulous.

“What? No! I was calling to ask you out to dinner!” The other end of the line went silent for a moment, and when Alaska spoke again she could hear the smile in her voice.

“Oh. Like…”

“Like a date,” Sharon finished for her. “A casual one. Willam said you like sushi, and there’s this really cute place I go to… I’ll text you the details? If you’re down for that. You don’t have to.”

“God, I wish I was there so I could kiss you and make you shut the fuck up,” Alaska chuckled. “You run your mouth when you’re nervous, you know that? It’s really cute. Anyway, yeah, I’ll be there. Text me and I’ll clear my schedule.”

Sharon laughed. “What, just for me?”

When Alaska replied, it was more genuine than anything Sharon’s sleazy ex-boyfriend had ever said to her.

“For you, anything.”

[trickkombowerskru]

The Bowers Gang When They Fall In Love With Their  Best Friends

Request:Anonymous: Did u ever do a hc best friends to lovers thing for the bowers gang? If not could you maybe please with a cherry on top!!! Thank you!!!!

A/N:I am so sorry this took so long

Warnings:None

Henry

You had been best friends with Henry as long as you could remember 

It began all the way back in kindergarten

He didn't have anything for lunch 

So you gave him half your sandwich and some of your cookies

Thus your bond was created

As you two grew up together people wouldn't question it since they knew you two were a pair

But they would wonder about you two

They couldn't get why you a sweet little girl who wore sundresses and braids or pigtails was doing with the rough and tough resident school bully who wore old worn out looking clothes 

But despite people's judgement you two just kept doing your thing

Always looking out for each other

Hell your place practically became a second home

Well really first since his place wasn't much of a home to begin with

But you let him stay and sleepover whenever things were rough

Comforting him when his parents divorced

And patching him up when Butch took his anger out on him

Telling him you would get the hell out of Derry one day together

Just you and him

And maybe the guys if the wind blew that way

Him teaching you how to fight so you could hold your own

And telling each other everything

Well expect for the fact you mutually pined for each other like idiots

Belch was the holder of that information for the both of you

Trying to give each of you advice 

Without spilling you liked each other 

Because he wanted you two to confess on your own time

Key word being trying

Patrick caught on 

And got so sick of you two flirting that he just blurted it one day

"God dammit you two are annoying the shit out of me with this lovey dovey holding out crap. You both wanna fuck so can you just kiss and get it over with so I don't have to deal with this sappy pine fest anymore. FUCK."

You and Henry look at each other and blush 

"That true? Do ya got a thing for me?" 

You nod

You gaze into each others eyes before finally kissing him

After all these years it felt surreal

Belch and Vic cheered and Patrick wolf whistled to fuck with you

"Very touching. Now can we get the fuck out of here?" he pipes up

You both smack him

And when you get in the Trans Am Henry stops you from climbing into the back

Pulling you into his lap

You talk about when your feelings developed and how they first started

His arms on your waist securing you

Yours around his neck 

Occasionally kissing his cheek

And having made plans for you first date to occur on the weekend

Patrick

You and Patrick sure have the weirdest friendship history

You have known him basically all your life

Having your parents be friends in church

So naturally you had to interact a lot

And at first you two didn't get along at all

Until the faithful Easter of 1980

Both of you just 6 years old

Your parents had brought you to the kids section of the church

Him all dressed in his little tux

You in your sweet little pink and white Easter dress

You two were arguing when you just shoved him

He got up and shoved you back

A small slap here and there

And some pushing

Before you knew it you two were laughing as you got into a mini brawl

Your parents pull you off each other and scold both of you

Until they realized you two were finally getting along

They tell you to play nice without hitting each other

And eventually you do

You tend to play like you're a queen and he's a king

Making Patrick in his little fucked up head know that you're real

Sleepovers

Even after your parents try to stop you he still snuck over and vice versa

Sharing a bed

Sneaking out of church when you could to get high

Thinking his pencil case is fucking gross

Also knowing about Avery

Possibly being there when he did it

Well not in the room but the living room at least and not knowing what was happening

Tbfh you know EVERYTHING about Patrick and vice versa

Like each others deepest darkest secrets

Well dark on Patrick's part at least

Him knowing you like him

Even if you don't tell him

Patrick telling you that you'll always be by his side

And sticking to that

I mean hell not only were you his Goddess

But you were also his only friend for a while up until the boys

Not like he needed anyone else

But still

You were with him before puberty hit him like a truck

Back when he was just that weird creepy chubby kid

Which quickly went away when his growth spurt plus the bits of exercise did wonders for him 

Evening out his weight and making him the 6 foot lanky ass tree he currently was

Of course your feelings for Patrick did develop before that but that transformation definitely added to it a whole lot more

Finally getting together when he asks you why you never had a boyfriend

Not that he cared since he wanted it that way and his presence scared most guys off anyway

"I-I don't know Pat, I've just never met anyone else"

Realizing your fuck up you turn red as

"Anyone else? So you like a guy?"

"Um yeah you could say that."

"Do I know him?"

"Can we change the subject?"

"Awww come on Princess I won't tell him."

"Seriously Patrick let's just movie on."

"But why-"

"It's you, you asshole! I have a thing for you!"

You expect to get rejected

But he just smashes his lips on yours

He kisses you hard

"Took you long enough"

"Oh fuck you"

You smack his shoulder

And he puts his arm around you pulling you into his lap

Not even taking you out

But just taking you home 😏

Vic

You and Vic had been friends since 1st grade

When this bitch stole your crayons and wouldn't give them back

Vic felt bad and shared his with you

Needless to say since he had the 64 pack with the sharpener that the girl felt stupid afterwards for taking yours

And while you two sat there and colored you hit it off

And now here you were in high school

Vic still by your side

Venting to each other

Being the first one he comes out as bi to

Dying your hair together

Well more like helping him bleach his

And him talking you into different colored streaks from time to time

Getting high and talking about random shit together

Hanging with the gang more than you would like

Getting into all kinds of trouble

Through all of the craziness over the years you developed a crush on each other

Silently pining

Until you're at a smaller party than usual

Well more like a big get together

There is like 20 of you

You, Vic, and the boys included

And someone decided since it was a 50/50 split of guys and girls that you should play 7 minutes in Heaven

You reluctantly agreed although you've never been kissed before

Cue you being redder than a damn strawberry when you had to go in there with Vic

It starts off awkward

Knowing that neither of you have been kissed

Before you decide to just go for it

I mean who better for your first kiss then your best friend of a crush right?

He is shocked but kisses back

When you leave the room you get hoots and hollers since your lipstick smeared on to him

You reach over and grab his hand

Ignoring the comments from the guys

Belch

You and Belch have been best friends since diapers

Your mothers had been best friends their entire lives

So naturally they wanted their kids to be best friends

And best friends you were

You and Reggie were practically joined at the hip

Doing everything and anything together

Comforting him when his dad leaves

Celebrating with him when he gets his license and going on a long drive in Amy

Him protecting you from the gang when they hit on you or in Patrick's case handsy

You two both have feelings for each other although you push them away

Because you don't know if he feels the same

But rest assured he does you have that boy wrapped around your finger

And you find that out in a less than ideal moment

Basically you were out with your boyfriend when Reggie was expecting you over 

When you get over there he is relieved since it was a few hours later than you told him you would be

And when he finds out where you were he gets a little pissed

"Oh so were out with Adam."

"Yeah. Why?"

"I was just worried you know people goin' missin' and all."

"You're right. I'm sorry for worrying you. I should've called saying I would be later."

"I just don't get it."

"What?"

"Why you're with him. He's cheated on you how many times? He doesn't deserve anymore of your tears at this point. All the douche does is break you into smaller pieces every time and I gotta pick em' up. I know you're extra trustin' but why do you wanna be with a guy who does nothin' but hurt you?"

"I...."

"I mean hell what does he even really know about you anyways? Does he know that your absolute favorite thing in the world is a long drive? Does he know that you sleep with your teddy bear after seein' a scary movie? Does he know durin' rainy days all you wanna do is stay huddled up in your blankets? Or what how nothin' makes you happier than a slice of your mama's peach pie? Fuck I mean does he even know what your favorite color is?"

"Well I mean...why do you care?"

"Why do I care? Maybe because I'm your best friend? Or maybe it's because all I want is for you to be happy? Or hell maybe because I'm so damn in love with you and you don't even fucking know it?"

Then he realizes what he said

"You love me?"

"Shit I'm sorry. I probably made everything awkward now."

You say nothing

"I just....I think you deserve the world even it if it ain't with me I want you to be with someone who treats you like the damn Princess you are."

You step closer and kiss him

"I love you back."

"Ya do?"

"Yeah. I have for a while now."

"You have?"

"Yeah. I was just scared you didn't feel the same way."

"Well I definitely do."

You smile and take his hand as he leads you to the couch

And you two snuggle up under a blanket and watch movies while lazily kissing every now and then

[marigoldbaker]

imperfections (61/?)

read it on ao3!

only took us two fucking years to get to this point ig (and even THAT is too big of a spoiler for this chapter.)

Jenny woke up feeling sore and stiff, and it took her a moment to realize why. Blinking in the sunlight, she curled further into Rupert’s arms, tracing quiet circles on his chest as she looked around the hospital room. Buffy and Faith were curled up together on one of the uncomfortable-looking chairs, Xander was snoring in a nest of jackets and blankets on the floor, Joyce was asleep in the other chair, and Willow was lying on the bed, snuggled into Jenny’s side, mumbling something about gummy worms and sparkle dust.

Rupert made a soft noise, his hand brushing against her hair, and Jenny realized that he was awake too. She looked up at him, about to say something soft and loving, but seeing him—the bandages around his neck, the dark circles around his eyes—brought out her delayed realization that she might never have seen him in the morning light again. She felt her face crumple, and swallowed, trying to regain control; she didn’t want to wake the kids up with her crying.

Rupert reached out and kissed her, a sturdy, reassuring press of his mouth against hers. As clearly as if he had spoken, she heard him: I love you.

Faith woke up and noticed two things: that she was snuggled so close to Buffy that she could feel B’s soft breath on her shoulder, and that Giles and Jen were kissing in the way that meant they both kind of needed to be comforted. As carefully and quietly as she could without jostling Buffy, she got up, tiptoeing out of the room and down the hall.

She wasn’t super sure where she was going until she saw the vending machines near the end of the hallway. Digging in her pocket, she found a handful of crumpled bills from that time Jen had given her milkshake money. She didn’t think Jen would mind her using it to buy everyone snacks, even if they weren’t super healthy.

“Hey.”

Faith jumped, turning. Buffy was standing there, still wearing that weird, ridiculous combo of her mom’s jacket, pajama bottoms, a hot pink bra, and the most adorable bunny slippers in the world. “Oh,” she said, blushing. I like you, B had said last night. I liked Angel. Past tense. “Hi. Uh. I’m getting everyone snacks, you want—”

Buffy gave her this tiny, shy smile. “Okay,” she said, following Faith over to the vending machines. Then, “So, um, are, are we dating now, or—?”

Faith blinked, only barely managing to not drop the milkshake money. “What?”

“I mean, I kinda just told everyone about how much I liked you—”

“You said you weren’t ready, right?” said Faith, turning to give Buffy a small, encouraging smile. “Just ‘cause everyone knows we have the hots for each other doesn’t mean you’ve gotta jump headfirst into a big romantic thing. Look, you’re important to me, B, and I don’t wanna start a relationship till you feel—”

Buffy kissed her.

Faith dropped the milkshake money, her knees giving way as she fell against the vending machine. She raised shaking hands to cup Buffy’s face, returning the kiss with clumsy tenderness. All things considered, it wasn’t a very long kiss, but it felt like it could have gone on for years and Faith would have still be disappointed when Buffy pulled back.

Buffy’s eyes were bright and a little wet. “So you didn’t turn into a vampire,” she said with a wobbly laugh. “That’s cool.”

“Man, Angel set the bar real low,” said Faith with a weak laugh. “I’m not gonna even have to get you a birthday present, huh?”

Buffy sniffled, then grinned. “You’re not getting off that easy,” she began.

“Lookin’ forward to your help, then,” said Faith significantly.

Buffy burst into violent giggles, winding her arms around Faith’s neck and hugging her tightly. Halfway through, the giggles turned into tears, which Faith had kinda figured might happen. You don’t just shake off walking into a room and seeing your Watcher dead, even if it turns out he’s okay. “Hey,” she whispered. “Hey, Buffy, it’s cool. You wanna go back and check in on Giles?”

“I really want to be ready!” Buffy sniffled. “You’re, like, an actual normal person and I like you so much and I wanna be just magically okay enough to date you!”

“Hate to point it out,” said Faith, stroking Buffy’s hair and feeling vaguely surprised that she was actually comforting someone, “but starting something up right after your Watcher almost gets murdered is kinda the kiss of death for a new relationship.”

“I kno-ow,” Buffy sighed, raising her head to look at Buffy. Her eyelashes were all wet, her eyes all soft.

Faith gave in. Leaning in, she kissed Buffy again, softer and slower than their nervous first kiss. Buffy kissed her back, a fact that sent warm fuzzies through Faith from head to toe. The fuzzies got warmer when Buffy snuggled into her with a sweet little sigh, like Faith was someone she was safe around. No one had ever kissed Faith like that.

There was a clatter and a yelp from the hallway. Hastily, Faith and Buffy broke apart, turning to face a furiously blushing Jen.

To Faith’s complete surprise, Buffy gave Jen an extremely smug grin. “Turnabout’s fair play, Ms. Calendar,” she said. “How many times have I walked in on you and Giles playing tonsil hockey in the weirdest of places?"

“Oh my god,” said Jen, burying her face in her hands, and headed back into the hospital room.

Faith and Buffy exchanged a look, and then both of them started giggling.

Jenny entered the room with her face flaming red, stepping over Xander and squeezing in between Willow and Giles without a word. After she had settled herself firmly back in Giles’s arms, she looked up, then said, “From now on, we kiss strictly in the bedroom.”

Giles raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

“God,” said Jenny. Her smile wobbled. “I keep on forgetting you can’t talk back.” She sniffled. “Now’s where I make some joke about how I would have just loved this two years ago, right?”

Giles had only seen her looking at him with such exhausted guilt after Angelus, and he didn’t like seeing it now. Gently, he reached out, stroking her cheek and wishing that he could smother her with endearments.

Jenny exhaled, resting her forehead against his. “We got so lucky,” she whispered. “I don’t know how you’re alive, Rupert, but I’m so glad you are.”

Giles kissed her nose. A small flutter of a smile crossed Jenny’s face.

Willow stirred, then yawned, throwing an arm across Jenny’s stomach as she woke up. Blinking sleepily up at both of them, she mumbled, “Jenny are we gonna go home?”

“Probably as soon as everyone’s ready,” Jenny agreed. “I think Xander and Joyce are still napping.”

“Where’s Buffy and Faith?”

Abruptly, Giles realized why Jenny had been blushing, as well as the nature of her statement. Reminding himself that he didn’t want to further damage his throat, he bit his lip, making a strangled noise in his efforts not to laugh. “Stop,” said Jenny. This didn’t help Giles’s predicament. “Stop,” she said again, grinning reluctantly.

“Oh,” said Willow significantly. “Are they still—”

Buffy and Faith chose that moment to enter, laden with vending machine snacks. “We are here way too often,” said Buffy, handing Willow a packet of M&Ms. “I should not know what everyone’s favorite snack from that thing is.”

“Buffy, I like girls too,” Willow blurted out.

Buffy blinked. “Oh!” she said, and then giggled, looking a little relieved. “So you’re cool with me and Faith?”

Giles gave Jenny a wide-eyed look. She gave him a shh look back, which rather strongly indicated that Willow had told her this the night before.

“Yeah, I,” Willow rubbed at her eyes, giving Buffy a nervous smile, “I just was a little…thrown, ‘cause when you told us about you and Faith, it made me realize some stuff about, uh. Me. So. I’m kind of a whole lesbian.”

“As opposed to a half lesbian?” said Faith, but shut her mouth at Jenny’s quelling look.

Buffy frowned a little. “But you’re—”

“Dating Oz,” said Willow, her smile fading. “Yeah.”

“And you—”

“Think he’s super amazing and one of the best people I’ve met,” said Willow a little miserably. “Just maybe not in the way I should.”

“There’s no should or shouldn’t about it, baby,” said Jenny immediately, turning away from Giles to squeeze Willow’s shoulder. “And if Rupert had his voice, he would be saying, uh—” She cleared her throat, then said in a surprisingly spot-on British accent, “You’re a lovable, loving girl, Willow, and you thinking of Oz as only a friend doesn’t make you any less of a person, or make your affection for him any less valuable.”

Giles pressed a hand to his temple, exasperated and amused all in one.

“But was I right, thought?” Jenny persisted.

Picking up the pad from the nightstand, Giles wrote, Frustratingly, yes.

“Score one for Calendar,” Jenny announced, snuggling back into Giles’s arms.

Willow’s tentative smile had returned. “Okay,” she said unsteadily. “I’ll—I’ll tell him—today?”

“Tomorrow,” said Buffy decisively. “Today was totally crazy. I think we all need to go home and watch bad TV and nap somewhere that isn’t a hospital bed or a hot Slayer’s lap.” She coughed, blushing, as Faith beamed. “Uh—”

“Practice safe sex, kids,” said Jenny helpfully. Willow giggled.

They all piled into Joyce’s car and she drove them home. As Jenny was watching Xander and Faith head up the stairs, she felt a hand on her shoulder, and saw Joyce looking at her sympathetically. “Do you remember much of last night?” she asked.

Jenny didn’t. The entire night had been something of a blur until she’d reached Rupert in that hospital room. “Um—” she began, flushing.

“I just wanted to let you know that I’ll always be there as a shoulder to cry on,” said Joyce gently. “You and your Rupert lead dangerous lives, and if anything ever—”

The memories hit Jenny unexpectedly. She’d killed a master vampire, hauled her bleeding boyfriend out of the boardinghouse, sobbed unceasingly into Joyce’s shoulder, and— “I stabbed Travers?” she said very loudly, eyes wide.

“It was the best,” said Buffy as she got out of the car, beaming at Jenny in a way she never had before. “And then you tried to kill him and Willow had to, like, physically haul you back, and the look on his face—”

Jenny buried her face in her hands.

“Oh, no, don’t be embarrassed!” said Joyce, distressed. Jenny raised her head to stare at her, and Joyce said, a hard glint in her eyes, “That man would have had my daughter killed to serve his ridiculous cause, and he’d have taken you and Rupert down with her. We were all a little too overwrought to pull it off, but every single one of us wanted to do a lot worse than stab him.”

“Yeah, Jenny, you kicked ass!” Xander added from the porch.

Jenny recognized the use of her first name with some surprise. And it hadn’t been the first time, either—Willow had started calling her Jenny too. Something had changed between all of them the night before, she realized. Something incredibly important, though she wasn’t yet sure how to articulate what it was.

“As long as you know you’ve got me,” said Joyce, squeezing Jenny’s shoulder. “And that goes for Rupert, too.”

Jenny hugged Joyce again. “Thank you,” she said softly. “So much.”

“Jen, come on,” said Faith impatiently. “You’re the one with the house keys!”

Jenny turned, hurrying up the stairs, and was gratified to see Buffy and Joyce follow. “Okay,” she said to the group. “Rupert’s voice is out of commission, which means I get to boss everybody around.” As Rupert opened his mouth, she silenced him with a quick, graceless kiss, pulling back before he could deepen it. “I know, right? I love you too, sweetheart.” Turning back to the children, she said, “Everyone is going to change into pajamas while I drive out to rent a movie to watch, and then we are going to kick back, relax, and do nothing related to world-saving for the entire damn day. Got it?”

“Yes Jenny!” sang out Willow, looking absolutely delighted.

That kissing thing will only work for a few months, you know, read Rupert’s pad.

“That’s more than enough time to take charge of this entire household,” said Jenny, giving him an open-mouthed smile. “Wanna marry me, England? Was that a yes? Oh, look, now I’ve manipulated my way into your finances, too—what?”

All the children, and Joyce, were staring at her with wide eyes. Wordlessly, Willow gestured to Rupert’s pad.

Yes.

[mistahsojourner]

Halloween: I Was That Guy That Didn’t Wear a Costume

I get invited to a Halloween party by a fella I used to work with about 4 years back. We were call center slaves once and sorta young. We survived the brutal, terrifying drudgery of that white collar McDonald’s. I can’t speak for him. I emerged as the man writing this. I got wiser, weaker and my eye got keener. Reader, this is me bearing witness. This is the mundane drama that gets us where we need to go, I suppose. 

It had been a brutal week of pretending I knew what the fuck I was doing at my day job. I had my suspicions I was probably gonna get found out that week. I made it through. 

Let me make one thing perfectly and abundantly clear to you sir or madam or whoever it is that’s reading this. I don’t get out much. I sorta know how real life works from TV but I don’t spend a lot of time out there. I spend a lot of time alone with my stupid thoughts that melt the steel beams of my life every once in awhile. I’ve been in this period of trying to get “right” again recently. I know I’m gonna be too anxious and inept to drive out there so I don’t. I summon a poor soul with the Uber app on my Samsung personal surveillance device to get me out there into the land of pick-up trucks and country music and maybe god damn Trump supporters. 

Yeah. This shindig or whatever the fuck was way the hell out there. The Uber drivers I get when I use this terrible, dystopian service are usually these motor-mouthed go-getters who probably do a lot of Adderall or they tend to be these earnest, polite immigrants just trying to make it in this fucked up, racist, brutal country. I get this gentleman from Eritrea who barely says a word the entire ride. I should note that before I got in the car about 15 minutes before, I had ingested some cannabis infused chocolate. If I’m not mistaken, that put about 10 milligrams of THC into my system. I then pick up on something. 

The driver of this Toyota Prius criss-crossing it’s way through this autumn night is getting worried, he’s getting flustered. He is getting lost. Oh shit. See, I haven’t been in the exact same spot this guy was in but I know what it’s like to feel utterly alone in the night. I know what it’s like to feel sweat collecting on the back of your neck. I know what it is to feel like your body is itching with fear and dread. He starts apologizing to me. Something happens to me. I know what I gotta do. 

“Brother, don’t worry about it,” I say. “Do not worry. Aight. Just go straight and follow the road for a few miles. You don’t gotta turn for a bit.” 

THIS IS FUCKING CRAZY TO ME BECAUSE I’M NOT USED TO BEING THIS CALM CAT THE UNIVERSE PUTS IN PEOPLE’S PATH BUT THAT’S WHAT I’M GONNA DO FOR THIS GUY. 

He thanks me and thanks me and thanks me. 

“Alright. You gotta turn right in a few hundred feet. There we go. See that road sign? Just turn there when it’s safe. Don’t even worry about it, man. Why do you think I ain’t drivin’ myself? I’d get lost out here even worse. This ain’t my hood, man.”

He calmed down. I’m not sure when I started to feel the cannabis. I’m not sure if me being so fucking kind is the cannabis or if that’s just me. It’s just me. Being alive has hurt me in the weirdest ways and as a result, I’m basically a wannabe Mr. Rogers who is angrier and curses a lot. 

I get to the party. I guess it had a circus theme. There was this circus tent. My friend is in a cover band. 

I walk in. I have a brief conversation about the health impact of vaping and I deftly steer the conversation away from whether Trump is really all that bad. The weed was starting to kick in. I was high but I sure as fuck ain’t stupid. I ingested the second piece of cannabis infused chocolate that I had in my coat pocket. I’m starting to feel it. I know I am. 

I’m in uncharted territory. When I’m high, I’m usually alone. Yep. I am the weirdo that gets high and will just let the chips fall where they may. Sometimes I cry. Sometimes I write. Sometimes I just waste time. So, there I was getting higher and higher around a bunch of strangers. 

Some of the things I say that night, 

“Holy shit. Is this what an episode of Miami Vice is like?” 

“See. I feel like I should tell you. What you’re seeing right now is a cat who don’t get out much.” 

“We don’t need secret police. We build the dossiers on ourselves. It’s crazy, man.” 

“I’m too old for this shit.” 

“FREEBIRD!” 

“THATCHER WAS A CUNT AND I’M GLAD SHE’S DEAD!” in a dubious working class English accent. 

At some point I get offered beer. I don’t ever drink. In fact, I will admit that I had never been drunk before. I start drinking and drinking and drinking. I end up stoned as fuck and somewhat drunk on um light beer. I can feel my inhibitions lower. I’m definitely keenly aware of it. I shout things at the top of my lungs. I even dance and don’t really give much of a fuck how it looks. 

The lowered inhibitions start to concern me. I lean in close to my friend. I say in his ear, “When you get a minute, I need to talk to you.” He nods. See, I ain’t used to alcohol. It’s the weirdest thing. I’m very accustomed to being very high on marijuana and I’ve lived to tell about a few intense trips on psilocybin mushrooms. Alcohol just isn’t something I have a lot of practice with. In fact, being out ain’t something I have a ton of practice with. 

I become intensely concerned about what I might do while under the influence. I worry I might become Brett Kavanaugh. I’m terrified I might flip out and kill someone. I nod to my friend’s friend. He’s dressed like The Driver from Drive and has this weird kinda charisma. I see something in him. I see a kindness. I see a light in that man. I ask him if he’ll step outside with me. In fact, I’m pretty sure I say something like, “Forgive me if this is weird but will you step outside with me for a second?” He doesn’t even question it. We step outside and I lay it all out. 

“Like I said. I don’t get out much. I don’t get fucked up with other people around so this is a new experience. Do you ever worry about what you might do under the influence and does that scare you?” 

I actually start crying. I don’t even recall what he says now. I just recall that he listened to me. He told me it was okay. I remember telling him that something told me I could come to him with that. I told him that even as a complete stranger, I could sense the goodness in him. I told him he was a good man. 

Yeah. So, I got to be the shepherd and the shepherded that night. 

I spend some time just chilling outside in the dark. I get to talking more to the dude who was dressed as The Driver. As I write this, I am sober but everything is slow. I feel sluggish. In retrospect, I say too much. I guess that it might be kind of a bad idea to get all cross-faded like that. That’s a young man’s game and I ain’t so young any more. I say too much. I guess that’s what happens when you don’t get out much and you’re drunk and high, you start sharing the thoughts that terrorize when you’re alone in a dark room. 

I spill about my upbringing. My overprotective mother that wouldn’t let me out of her sight and wouldn’t let me grow up. I talk about how I BS my way through like half my day job. Driver tells me how badass that is. I feel the need to keep mentioning I don’t get out much. He tells me, “You’re an astronaut, dude. Exploring new worlds.” I say, “I know what you’re saying but that’s a little too dramatic.” 

I spill about the heroic mushroom trip. I talk about how dreamlike everything was. I talk about how I had only messed with shrooms a time or two before but the last time, I suddenly found myself drowning in a psychedelic ocean. I tell him about coming to grips with how weird and terrifying that could get. I look over at him with a straight face, I say, 

“This is the part where you tell me about Jesus.” 

I was kidding. He says, 

“Do you wanna pray with me?” 

“What? Are you fucking with me?” 

“No man.” 

I size him up. “You’re being sincere.” 

“Yeah man.”

“I did not see that coming. I don’t know how to respond.” 

“You think mushrooms are amazing. Wait til you commune with the creator of the universe.” 

God damn it. This is a hell of a plot twist. 

“Do you want to pray with me?” 

“No offense but I don’t feel led to do that.” 

“That’s cool, man. I’ll pray for you though.” 

“Aight. I just wanna say though, if you are only talking to me to get a convert, you can fuck all the way off. That’s not comic exaggeration. That is not me playing a character. Fuck all the way off if that’s what you’re doing.” 

“I’m not doing that, man. Don’t worry.” 

“Okay. I’m just gonna be chill. It’s outta my system.” 

I had more intense, way too intimate conversations that night. I don’t feel the need to recount any more of them. 

I get home somehow. I don’t sleep much. I only sleep about four hours or so. I have a lazy Saturday. I don’t feel quite normal all day. I feel tired and need to take a nap at some point. 

My soul changed. A little. Maybe. 

[sillybitchhours]

Freak Show || kid!penny fic || Part 1/?

A young boy by the name of Penny was abandoned at a circus by his parents when he was just a toddler. Years pass and they put him in the freak show as Pennyworth the Dancing Clown. It’s Georgie’s birthday and the only thing he asked for is a trip to the circus. Bill and the losers agree to take Georgie, unaware of the new friend Georgie would find.

A young boy, skin as pale as porcelain, lay uncomfortably in a pile of hay, awoken from his restless sleep when the caravan hit a bump. He sat up, crawling on his hands and knees to peak out of a small crack in the wooden door. It was a cool autumn night, too dark to tell where they were headed. The boy sighed and hung his head as tears began to well up in his eyes. Before a sob could escape his lips he was knocked forwards, using his hands to break the fall. The boy looked up at the culprit and broke into a grin. “Simon!” He exclaimed with a giggle, reaching up to pet the two-headed goat. “Meh-eh!” Simon cried, to which the boy hushed. “Quiet, you’ll wake your brother!” He warned softly, referring to the limp head he named Billy. Simon just huffed. The boy shook his head with a soft chuckle, hugging the animal’s torso. “I’m glad I’m not alone anymore…” He murmured, nuzzling into the goat’s coarse hair. It whined and laid down in the hay. The boy rested his head on its belly, warming up from the shared body heat. The rocking of the caravan quickly put them both to sleep. Neither was awake to see the passing sign that read– “Welcome to Derry.”

“Man, fuck the circus!” A boy loudly exclaimed.

“Richie!” The other three shouted in unison.

“L-Language,” One warned, covering the youngest’s ears. “G-Georgie’s here.”

Richie huffs, rolling his eyes.

“Oh! So sorry, Buh- Buh- B-B-Billy boy!” Richie mocked, earning a sharp blow to the arm by the shortest boy. “Ow!”

“Can it, trashmouth.”

“Oh, you know I love it when you call me pet names, Eds!” Richie laughed, pinching Eddie’s cheeks, though they were quickly smacked away with a growl.

“Would you two get a room already?” Another added, not looking up from his birdwatching guide.

“Why? So you can join in on all the fun, Stanley?” Richie retorted, to which everyone groaned.

“You wish, Tozier.” Stan replied. The three teenagers bickered amongst themselves until the youngest boy began to shout.

“There it is! There it is! Look, Billy! There it is!” Georgie wailed, jumping up and down. In front of them was a huge banner that read, “Welcome to the Royal Big Top Circus!” It was embellished with two elephants on either side balancing on its hind legs, and a grinning clown in the center.

“Aw, screw that, they’ve got clowns.”  Richie said, turning on a heel to leave but was yanked back by the collar by Stanley.

“Oh no you don’t!” Stan said, shoving Richie forwards. “We promised Bill. You’re not backing out because of some stupid clown.”

“C-Come on, T-Tozier.” Bill stammered. “This is th-the only thing G-Georgie asked f-for his birth-birthday.” Richie gave an exaggerated moan, huffing deeply.

“Alright, alright, fine!” He gave in, raising a finger before he warned. “But I’m only doing this for Georgie. Got it?” The rest of the guys gave a nod, all except for Stan who simply shook his head. Bill smiled warmly as he watched his friend sneak up behind Georgie and scoop him up, squealing in delight. Georgie erupted into a fit of giggles as he was spun around. “Oi! What say we get some freshly popped corn kernels, eh?” Richie spoke in a thick English accent. Georgie nodded, taking Richie’s hand and dragged him the whole way there.

“Hey bucktooth!” A man called out, banging on the metal bars of the caravan. “Wake up, we’re in Derry!” The young boy sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “You know, this here town used to be a beaver trappin’ camp. Maybe we oughta leave you behind so you can find your family!” The man laughed, not caring that the young boy was frowning. He threw an apple at the boy, hitting him in the head. “Get in costume, freak show starts in ten.” The boy sighed, picking up the apple from the bed of hay, examining it for any bruises. The goat anomaly jumped up, both heads crying out. With a sad smile, he offered each head a bite of the apple before eating what was left over. He gave both heads a pat, Simon first then Billy, before padding over to a big wooden crate that read “Pennyworth” in big, bold red letters. He dug through it, throwing all kinds of items left and right. Penny pulled out a mirror and took a long look at himself.

“Worthless…” He whispered with a deep frown as he began to paint on a cherry red smile.

“Come one, come all! See the weirdest show of all!” A man in a top hat and fancy moustache shouted into a megaphone. “See the famous bearded lady! A two headed goat! And watch a bucktoothed clown dance for a penny! That’s right, folks! Dances for a penny and one penny only! Step right up, folks! Welcome to the freak show!”

“The two-headed goat sounds cool,” Richie said, taking a lick of his vanilla cone.

“It’s probably fake,” Eddie replied, making a “gimme” gesture with this hand, silently asking Richie for the ice cream.

“Freak shows are cruel,” Stanley informed them, closing his birdwatching book for the first time all day. “They treat humans and animals like they’re some sort of sick joke. They starve them, beat them up - bottom line, I’m not going.”

“Aw, come on, Stan!” Richie cried. “I heard they have a chicken with no head that just runs around till it dies.”

“Jesus, Richie! Why would I want to see that!?” Before Richie could answer, they heard a familiar voice.

“I said dance, you fuckin’ freak!”

They turned their heads towards the voice, eyes going wide. It was Henry Bowers. “Welp!” Stanley clapped his hands together. “Looks like we should get going while we still have the chance!”

“W-Wait–” Bill held up a hand, watching what they were yelling at. Henry was throwing something into a cage, the rest of the boys laughing and shouting more slurs. “W-We need to stop th-them.”

“No, Bill! Just leave things be for once. It’s Georgie’s birthday, we’re supposed to be having fun!” Stan argued, gesturing over to the birthday boy, who was about ten feet away in the petting zoo. Bill sighed. “I guess you’re right.” There was a brief silence amongst the friends. It was broken when the youngest boy came running up to them.

“Billy! Billy!” Georgie exclaimed. “They have cotton candy! Can we get some!? Please?” Bill laughed, messing up his little brother’s hair lovingly. “S-Sure th-thing, Georgie. L-Let’s go.”

“Please stop! Please!” Penny pleaded with the teenagers. “You’re hurting me!”

“Not until you dance, faggot!” Henry mocked, throwing another rock at the clown, hitting him in the kneecap. Penny cried out in pain, holding onto his knee to ease the hard blow. Another boy took out a lighter with one hand, shaking a can of hairspray in the other.

“Better start soon, freak, before I burn ya to a crisp!” Patrick threatened, using the aerosol can as a makeshift flamethrower. Penny flinched in fear, backing up as far as he could from the flame. The teens kept shaking the bars and shouting at him. Penny finally began to dancing, kicking his legs out to either side, but his jig didn’t impress the boys.

“Come on boys, this freak isn’t worth it.” Henry decided, spitting in the cage.

“We’ll be back tomorrow, freak. Don’t think we’re letting you off the hook.” Patrick warned with an evil grin. “Hey, maybe we could steal your dad’s gun!”

“Are you kidding me? I’ll take it right in front of his face!” Henry laughed, high-fiving the other boys.

Penny broke down, sinking into a ball on the pile of hay. He let himself sob, his makeup melting off his face as he cried. He didn’t care if he got in trouble from the ringleader. Right now, Penny’s only fear was that of his life. He tucked his face into his knees, smearing makeup all over his costume. Suddenly a gentle voice startled him.

“Are you okay?”

“GEORGIE!” The boys continued to call out. “Wh-What the hell, R-Richie!? Y-You were supposed t-to be wa-watching him!” Bill shouted, jabbing his finger into his friend’s chest.

“Back off, Bill!” Richie shoved the boy back, throwing him off balance. “I only looked away for a second!”

“That still m-makes it your f-fault, ja-jackass!”

“He’s YOUR brother! Maybe YOU should’ve been watching him!” With that, Bill cocked an arm back to punch him, but was held back by Stan. Eddie did the same to Richie.

“Guys, guys! Pull yourselves together!” Eddie shouted as Richie shrugged him off. Bill paced to cool off. Richie was the first to break the silence.

“He was there one second and gone the next…” Richie explained, looking down as he scuffed his heel against the grass. “I handed him the cotton candy, and I went to put my change in my pocket and he was just… Fuck, I’m sorry Bill…”

“It-It’s okay, Richie.” Bill sighed, still pacing. “L-Let’s just focus o-on finding G-Georgie.” They all agreed and began to make a game plan.

Penny looked up to see a young boy, about his age, holding colorfully spun cotton candy. He sniffled, wiping his red nose on his sleeve.

“Why are you crying?” Georgie asked with sympathetic eyes.

“I- um….” Penny wasn’t ever asked questions like this before. He wasn’t sure what to say.

“What’s your name?” Georgie asked, head cocked to the side.

“Pennyworth…” The clown answered quietly, looking around cautiously.

“What a silly name!” Georgie laughed, taking a bite of his cotton candy.

Penny frowned at that, but politely continued the conversation. “What’s your name?”

“Georgie!” He spoke with a proud grin. “Why do they call you Pennyworth?”

“Because I’m only worth a penny…” He answered, flashing a sad smile. “I’m practically worthless….”

Georgie frowned. “Well, that isn’t very nice!” He paused, thinking of something better to call him. “How about Pennywise?” He exclaimed. “Because wise means smart! I learned that word from my older brother.”

Penny smiled at his new name. “I like that a lot better. Thank you, Georgie.” Pennywise smiled at the boy.

“You’re welcome!” The young boy grinned. “Why were you crying, Pennywise?” He pushed, concerned for his new friend.

“People are mean to me sometimes…” Pennywise explained with a shrug. He inched forwards, grabbing hold of the metal bars and pressed his forehead against them.

“How come?” Georgie asked innocently.

“They don’t like the way I look.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m different than them.”

“Why?”

“Because I just am!” Pennywise shouted, causing Georgie to flinch. Penny frowned. “I’m sorry, Georgie. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s okay, Pennywise!” Georgie said simply. “It’s my birthday today, so nothing can make me sad!” He explained to his new friend so he didn’t have to worry. Penny laughed at this, cheering up a little.

“Happy birthday, Georgie!” Pennywise chirped, holding up his pointer finger before scampering over to his chest. He dug around for a minute until he found what he was looking for. “What’s your favorite animal, Georgie?” The young clown asked, stretching a long red latex balloon. Georgie thought for a moment before answering.

“A monkey!” He exclaimed with a grin.

“A good choice!” Penny praised, blowing up a red balloon. The latex squeaked as he twisted and knotted the balloon with gloved hands. He blew up a yellow balloon and turned around for the finishing touches. When he decided it was perfect, Pennywise spun around. “Ta-da!” He beamed, presenting it to Georgie through the prison bars.

Georgie’s eyes lit up when his new friend presented him with a monkey holding a banana made entirely out of balloons. He took it from Penny’s hands, examining it with a gasp. “A red monkey! Red is my favorite color!”

“Mine too!” Pennywise chimed with a goofy grin. Georgie placed a hand over Penny’s gloved hand, which initially made him flinch. Once he realized he didn’t intend on hurting him, Pennywise followed in suit.

“Thank you, Pennywise. This is the best birthday gift ever!” Georgie exclaimed, hugging the balloon animal close to his chest.

“You’re welcome, Georgie.” Pennywise replied. He was confused by this fuzzy feeling in his gut. Penny opened his mouth to say something else but was cut off by shouts.

“GUYS, I FOUND GEORGIE!” Eddie called from a distance, running as fast as his legs could carry him. The rest of the boys followed behind. Eddie came to a halt in front of Georgie, hunched over as he struggled for breath. He frantically dug through his fanny pack for his inhaler.

“G-Georgie! Th-Thank God.” Bill spoke breathlessly, scooping his brother into his arms. “D-Don’t you ever wa-wander off ag-gain!”

“Yeah, Georgie. Your brother almost– OH MY GOD, A CLOWN!” Richie screamed, falling on his ass. “What the fuck! What the fuck! What the–”

Eddie slapped him across the face, successfully silencing him. “Beep beep, Richie!” Had it been anyone else, Richie would’ve slapped them right back. Richie looked away shamefully, holding his tingling cheek.

“Richie, you don’t have to be afraid!” Georgie explained. “This is my new friend, Pennywi–” When the boy turned to face his friend, the curtains of the caravan were drawn shut. Georgie frowned deeply, looking down at his balloon animal. “Pennywise…”

Bill smiled sadly, reaching out for his brother’s hand. “Come on, i-it’s getting la-late.” He said, to which Georgie sighed and took his hand. “Can we come back tomorrow? Please Billy?”

“W-We’ll have t-to ask mom a-and dad, but I-I don’t s-see wh-why not.” Georgie smiled hopefully, following Billy home with the rest of his friends.

“Thank you for taking me, Billy.” Georgie said, looking up at his big brother wish a kind smile.

“Of course, G-Georgie. It is y-your birthd-day after all.” Bill chuckled and led his brother home.

All the while, Pennywise was peaking out from behind the red suede curtains. Tears rolled down his pale cheeks as he choked back a sob. He wished he had someone who loved him as much as Billy loved Georgie. He wished he had a family to celebrate his birthday with. Hell, he didn’t even know when his real birthday was. He only knew the day he was abandoned at the circus by his parents. Penny just hoped Georgie would be back tomorrow.

[annaraejackson12]

I’m A Daddy?

Requested: No but thought it’d be cute af

Summary: Reader finds out she’s having a baby and tells Gil who is very excited to be a daddy

Warnings: Swearing, lots and lots of fluff, prepare yourself

Words: 1,100

Pairing: Gil x fem!Reader

Pacing back and forth in my bedroom, I looked over at my best friend who sat on my bed. “Uma, I’m scared. What if it’s positive? What if it’s negative?” I asked her, biting my nails as I tried to gather up the courage to go into my bathroom to check what could change my life forever. 

“Then you deal. [Y/N], we’re all going to be here for you, don’t worry. And I know that Gil will react really well to the news.” Uma assured me, going and giving me a slight push towards the bathroom. “Now go check the damn thing!” Uma said, laughing some as I headed towards the bathroom, taking a deep breath as I entered the small room. 

I look on the counter where the pregnancy test sat, and part of me wanted to turn tail and run away. But this was a situation I couldn’t pretend wasn’t happening...if I was, it was going to happen. I had been sick for the past couple weeks, along with moody and craving the weirdest things. The only reason I even began to suspect that I was pregnant was because of a joke Harry made, but it all made sense.

I went over to the small counter and picked up the small stick that held my fate, taking a deep breath and looking down at the test and frowning when I saw a small plus sign. “Fuck,” I whispered to myself, tearing up and going into my bedroom, and Uma knew immediately what the result was just from my face, but she still asked. “I’m going to be a mommy...fucking shit,” I said, setting the test down and sitting on my bed next to her, beginning to cry.

“Hey...hey, it’s alright. You’ll get this all figured out.” Uma said, hugging me and rubbing my back some, letting me cry on her shoulder before she pulled back and looked at me. “Take some time off, I’ll cover your shift today. You just relax and think of everything.” Uma assured me, and I sniffed and wiped my eyes. “Thank you, Uma...do you really think that Gil will be happy?” I asked because right now Gil’s reaction was what I was most concerned about. 

Uma smiled and nodded, pushing herself off the bed and going to the door. “Honey, trust me. He’s going to be over the moon.” She said before walking out, and I gave a groan and laid back on the bed, placing a hand on my stomach. I shared this room with Gil since the both of us lived on the ship, and I knew that Gil would be there for me no matter what. It was just...scary. 

I heard the door open again so I looked up and watched Gil come in, and I forced a small smile when he looked at me, hoping he wouldn’t notice I had been crying. But he did, he always noticed. 

“[Y/N]? What’s wrong? Have you been crying, baby?” Gil asked, and part of me cringed at the word baby. 

I wanted to lie. I wanted to tell him I was fine and I was just having allergies or something. But I couldn’t lie to him. “Actually...yeah,” I said, looking up at him and watching as he headed over to the bed and sat down, helping me sit up and I laid my head on his shoulder. I didn’t cry often, so he knew that something was majorly wrong. 

“What is it?” He asked seriously. “Did someone hurt you? I swear to God if someone hurt you I’ll-” He started to say, and I gave a weak laugh and put my hand on his arm. 

“Honey, no, no one hurt me, it’s not that at all,” I assured him, kissing his cheek. “Thank you though...but um...it’s pretty serious. Do you have anything else you need to do today?” I asked, not wanting to tell him in the middle of the day if he had some things he had to focus on. When he shook his head no, I gave a sigh and pressed my lips together. After I couldn’t think of a good way to word it, I decided to just rip the band-aid off. “I’m pregnant, Gil,” I said, going over to the tiny desk we had in our room and I picked up the test, handing it to him. 

His face was blank at first, and I bit my lip. “Say something,” I said, starting to get scared that he wasn’t going to react as well as Uma thought, and I felt the tears well up in my eyes. 

“Huh?” He said, seeming to snap out of whatever trance he was in and he looked at the test, looking at it for about half a minute, then he stood up and wrapped his arms around me. “I’m a daddy?” He asked, and I looked up at Gil. 

“Yeah...you’re going to be a daddy, Gil,” I said softly, and then I yelped when suddenly I was in the air, Gil hollering. Okay, there was the reaction. I laughed, placing my hands on his shoulders before he sat me down. 

“Are you feeling okay? Did you throw up any today? Do you need me to get you anything? We should see about getting you off the Isle next time the guards come to invite people to Auradon Prep, this is nowhere to raise a baby. Does your back hurt? I don’t want you coming to practice anymore, it’s not safe.” Gil said, continuing to ramble which made me laugh. 

“Gil! Calm down, I’m fine! I don’t think I’m really all that far along!” I laughed, hugging him and resting my head on his chest, and I felt him wrap his arms around me. “We’ll get this figured out...and Gil?” 

“Yeah?” 

“I swear to God if you plan to get me moved to Auradon without you I’m going to fucking kill you,” I said, looking up at him. “I refuse to be alone for any part of this,” I told him, and he laughed, kissing my forehead. 

“I just want you to be safe, [Y/N]...but we’ll get to that when the bridge comes to it.” He said, brushing my hair from my face. 

“You mean we’ll get to that when we cross that bridge?” 

“Oh shut up.” Gil laughed, picking me up bridal style and laying me on the bed. “Let’s cuddle.” He suggested, laying down and pulling me close. I won’t lie...I could get used to this.