#I can barely look at the right one without crying cause it’s..ICKY

[nikobrad]

Sorta redrew an old doodle from like 2 yrs ago cause I nearly died of cringe..but it’s just a quick doodle cause I’m too lazy to shade and whatnot BABSNAJ..but here’s my babe..left new and right old…💀💀💀

[the-universal-sun]

if you don't mind could you write regressed Stan falling sick, with fiddleford and/or Stanford taking care of him?

It's totally okay if you don't want to write it but if you do Thanks very much :)

I decided to do Fiddleford as Stan’s caretaker for this one! I’m trying to take turns, you know! Please let me know how you like it!!

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Stan can feel Fidds’ eyes on him as he plays with some wooden blocks, a pout forming on his lips. Fidds was overreacting, he wasn’t sick or nothing. His nose is just runny and he has a little cough. Only a tickle in his throat, a constant one. He sniffles as he brings his cup of orange juice, his favorite, up to his mouth and sucks it down, his throat feeling more ticklish than ever, making him cough while drinking his juice. Which causes him to start choking on it as Fidds rushes over to help. Who’s Stan kidding? He feels icky all over, he just didn’t want to be fussed over because what if Fidds became annoyed with him? Got tired of looking after him and left? He doesn’t know what he’s do without Fidds.

“Stanley! Ohmagosh! Are you alright!? Breathe, baby, breathe.” Fidds thumped on Stan’s back, getting all the juice out his throat. Stan coughs and wheezes, his sore throat feeling worse than it is. He sniffles again, this time from the need to cry. He tries to hold it in, but he feels so awful and he aches all over and he choked on his favorite juice! He just wants to cuddle in bed with his blankie and stuffies and Fidds!

“Oh there, Sugar Bug, ‘S alright, I’ve got ya. That was mighty scary huh?” No, Fidds! Well, yes! It was scary but Stan’s not crying because of that, he’s crying because…because…because he’s sick and tired! He whines and shakes his head, burying it in Fidds chest when the movement makes his head hurt and go all spinny.

“Oh? What’s the matter, hmm? It wasn’t scary? Or are ya’ crying because it made you feel bad?” Fidds stroked Stan’s sweaty curls and paused, “Oh now, I think it know the problem. You’ve got sick, I can feel your fever and I bet that’s not the only thing going on,” Stan whines and shakes his head, softer, again, “Okay now, it’s time to get you in bed and get some med-ah rest. Rest!” Stan gets up with prompting, his legs feel shaky, so they walk super slowly and Fidds makes him put a hand on the wall when they go up the stairs so he doesn’t slip.

Stan grumbles and coughs a bit as he’s slipped in bed, Fidds tucking Poindexter and his blankie tightly around him. “A good think you still got yer jammies on, now ain’t it? Now stay right there, I’m gonna get some juice and a cold cloth for you.” Stan wonders where Fidds thought he’d go. He snuggles down deeper into the warmth of his blankie, absently chewing on Poindexters ear. He still feels icky, but he’s now cozy and sleepy, his eyes feel heavy, like he can barely keep them open.

“Come now, Darlin’, sit up for me a little. Gotta get this juice in ya’” Stan whines as Fidds helps him sit up. Doesn’t he know Stan’s sick? He needs to lay down and sleep. He scrunches up his face as he drinks his juice with Fidds’ help, it tastes different. It tastes kind of icky, but it’s probably because he’s sick, right? Things don’t taste right when you’re sick, that what he’s always been told. Stan doesn’t know why Fidds looks so nervous when he’s drinking his juice, or why he sighs when he finishes. He doesn’t really care to think right now, he feels heavy, warm and heavy. He shivers when a cold wash cloth is placed on his forehead, he doesn’t remember laying back down, but it must’ve been Fidds’ doing.

“Just get some sleep now, Pumpkin, I’ll be here the entire time.” Stan’s blankie and stuffy is tucked in with him again, Fidds slipping a pacifier in his mouth when he goes to chew on Poindexter’s ear again. He isn’t super achy anymore, but he is so tired. He can barely hear the story being read to him, but he cuddles his face against Fidds’ hip anyways. Stan was being so silly earlier, of course he wasn’t going to be abandoned for being sick, not by Fidds at least. This shows that Fidds loves him. And he loves Fidds. He loves his Papa.

Stan smiles behind the pacifier as he feels a gently hand brush against his head and pulling him closer.

[mcyt-imagines]

hiiii! may i request some soft sapnap? I dont really have any specifics just something soft lmao (also i luv ur writing!!)

I hope this was soft enough for you !! And thank you so much anon !! <33

Moving Blues 

The mid-morning sun splashes it’s bright glow across your freshly painted room, the curtains you had been meaning to put up yesterday mock you from the ground below your window. You groan as you cover your eyes with a heavy arm, feeling the aftereffects of carting all those heavy boxes around yesterday. Moving had been harder than both yourself and Sapnap had expected. Sapnap stirs behind you, hands creeping up your pyjama shirt to splay his warm hands across your soft stomach. He hums pleasantly at the skin contact, moving closer to nuzzle your neck with his face and pressing butterfly kisses in his wake. “Good morning hotstuff.” His voice low and raspy as you turn in his arms to meet his eyes, you cup his cheek and kiss him. “Morning handsome.” You smile against his lips and he happily pulls you in again, and again.

His hands wander, as they usually do, squeezing your hips as you pull him closer to you. Determined to go back to sleep despite the bright light invading your cosy bedroom. In a futile effort to escape the light you bury your head in his shoulder, which does help lessen the light as Sapnap chuckles. You feel it reverberate through his chest against your own, “Someone wants to sleep in, hm?” He teases, leaving a light pinch on your hip. You react instantly with a gasp and a soft yelp, “Heyyyyy.” You grumble into his neck, biting the skin cheekily. He lets out a surprised gasp before smirking against your skin, you feel his icy cold feet against your own and you squeal. 

“Get your feet off me!” You writhe in his tight hold as he cackles pressing his feet further up your legs much to your obvious dismay. After a few more moments of squirming Sap suddenly lets you go and you’re sent flying over the edge of the bed. You land with a loud thud, “Owwww.” Sap’s head appears from the bed and offers you his hand, “Sorry darlin’” He hoists you up with minimal effort, standing from the bed himself. You pout as you rub your wrist, he gently takes it from you. He eyes you as he softly kisses your wrist a few times, “See? All better.” You giggle as he pulls you close again, pressing a kiss to the top of your hair.

After a few moments of hugging in the warm sun rays by the window Sapnap pulls away, “C’mon cuddlebug, we’ve got a lot of work to do today.” You nod begrudgingly and let him take your hand in his to lead you to the kitchen, past your multitude of piled carboard boxes. It felt as if you had been unpacking for years yesterday but it barely looks like you even made a dent in the pile of boxes scattering the apartment. You yawn as you scramble over boxes in the middle of the room, Sapnap carefully pushing them out of the way whilst you flock to the fridge. You spot what you’re looking for immediately, you hold up the pre-made pancake batter with a victorious cry. “Huzzah! A breakfast fit for royalty!”

Sapnap chuckles as he moves to your side, watching as you rummage around in one of the nearby boxes searching for a pan. He happily hides the one he found in the boxes he’d moved behind his back, heading for the stove. He turns it on and simply unscrews the cap off the container holding the batter before pouring one large pancake out onto the pan. Your rummaging continues for a few moments until the pan manages to heat up enough to start cooking the batter. At the sizzle you turn, “You absolute scoundrel.” 

You gasp scampering over to him, hands raking up his sides once you reach him. Laughter bubbles from his lips immediately, he shies away from your hands futilely trying to escape. “This is payback for your icicle feet!” You cry only continuing your onslaught, only to smell burning. You lock eyes with Sapnap as your ministrations still, “The pancake!” You both cry, scrambling to try and flip it before it burns any worse than it already has. Sapnap tries with the pan only to completely beef it, causing the pancake to fold over in on itself like an omelette. “Quick try that box for the spatula!” You direct him, moving to your own box with vigour.

Within seconds you have the fated spatula in your hand and dive for the pancake, flipping it with a familiar expertise. “Hey not bad darlin’.” Sap smiles, arm sliding casually to your hip. “I learnt from the best.” You smile, leaning into him and he pulls you closer pressing his lips to your temple. “Now what do we want on these bad boys?” He asks, moving from you to the fridge as you shrug and make a non-committal noise “Whatever we’ve got in there.” His eyes scan the barren fridge knowing the two of you will have to make do with just the essentials, maple syrup and butter. Pancakes deserve a better condimental reception, but this is the best you can offer them right now. “Sorry pancakes.” Sap mumbles to himself as he grabs what he needs and closes the fridge, placing them haphazardly on the kitchen island.

You haul the last pancake from the pan, throwing it onto the pile of steaming pancakes and carefully carry it to the island where Sapnap impatiently sits. “Yuuuuum~” You take a seat beside him and without any second thoughts the two of you eagerly devour the whole tower of pancakes you had cooked up. “No rest for the wicked I guess.” 

You groan through your last mouthful of pancakes and haul yourself up from your seat, eyeing the box of kitchen utensils and pots that isn’t gonna unpack itself. Sapnap follows suit, standing from the table as well. Only to cringe at his hands, your own face mirroring the expression. Fingers sticky with butter and maple syrup you find yourself and Sapnap fighting for the kitchen tap, determined to rid yourselves of the icky feeling of unclean hands. Your hips and elbows bump against each other’s, “Hey!” You giggle as he splashes water onto you, you gasp and eagerly splash him back and make a run for it.

You barely make it into your bedroom before Sapnap’s arms loop around your middle from behind and raise you high off the ground. You squeal in surprise as he holds you tightly, your feet dangling off the ground as he spins you for a few seconds before he places you back down with a grin. He litters your face with kisses as your arms stay looped around his neck, now clean hands tangled in his hair. “You’re such a brat you know that.” He squeezes your hips, “You started it.” 

You stick your tongue out at him, and he chuckles at your antics. With a soft sigh you pull away from him, eyeing the mess that your apartment still is. “C’mon these boxes ain’t gonna move themselves mister strong man!” You tease, moving over to the window and hauling a curtain rod up onto the sill, easily hooking it on. Sapnap begrudgingly nods in agreement, picking up a particularly heavy box by the door to start unpacking his stream set up. Eager to get back online to start streaming with his friends again.

The hours fly by between the two of you, Sapnap turns on some music claiming it ‘puts him in the zone’ and you happily dance and sing along with him when he walks by you as the empty boxes begin to pile up. As the sun sets the two of you finally reconvene in the kitchen, eyeing the now collapsed cardboard boxes pushed into one corner of the room. The once empty apartment looking a little cosier now. The soft music coming from Sapnap’s speaker starts to quieten as one song ends and another begins. Something upbeat, easy to dance to. Sapnap’s eyes are already on you when you meet his gaze, a flush reaches your cheeks as he bows and holds out on arm. 

“May I have this dance?” He grins, “Of course, sir.” You can only smile wider as you bow and take his hand, letting him guide you to the centre of the room to give the two of you plenty of space. His hands stay in yours as he happily twirls you to the beat, your laughter only egging him on as the flush on his own cheeks reaches the tips of his ears. Your tired voices sing out loudly and unabashedly, heavy limbs swaying and snapping to the rhythm, in sync with each other.

Sapnap orbits around you as you move before you pull him close, desiring his skin against your own after a long strenuous day mostly apart, even if the distance was only a few metres. You sway gently with him as his arms envelop you, your own looping around him with such familiarity it makes your chest, and his, ache. He presses several soft kisses atop your hair, singing softly along to the last few lines of the song.

His breath warm on your face when he takes your chin in one of his hands and tilts your head up to meet his gaze, “I love you.” He hums, expression softer than you’ve ever seen before. His eyes look deep into your own and know that he loves all that he sees by that expression he wears alone, your heart lurches against your chest. “I love you more.” You smile, leaning in and he mirrors the action before pausing just as your lips were going to meet. “I love you most.” He mumbles against your lips before a hand cups the back of your head, guiding your head the rest of the way forward. Your lips meet in a firm kiss before meeting, again and again.

The last few notes of the song ringing in your ears before slowly drowning out as Sapnap pulls away just as breathless as yourself. “And if you’ll let me, I’ll prove just how much more I love you.” He mumbles against your lips, taking your lower lip between his teeth for a few moments. You watch with interest as his pupils slowly begin to dilate, you only smirk bringing a hand up to his chest to trail over his skin. “I’m listening.” Without a word of warning Sapnap brings both of his hands down to hook underneath your thighs, lifting you up against him. You let out a squeak of surprise, arms flailing to find their place looped behind Sapnap’s neck, your legs doing the same around his middle.

As Sapnap hurries towards your bedroom you realise you might be in for a long night. Good thing you installed those curtains today.

~Requests are open!~

[byrachel]

JACOB BLACK CURSED FATE

Word count: 2512

Summary: In an attempt to fix their relationship, everything falls apart

Warnings: angst, hurt/no comfort, emotional cheating, jealousy, unhealthy relationship

note: Thank you @tyb1 for giving me an amazing idea to experiment with. This was also loosely inspired by this imagine by @imaginingmanyfandoms (with their permission!) Please check both of them out!

You swatted away the lingering fly, which had been testing your patience the whole day, from the freshly set table. You didn’t want anything ruining your mood that day and if you had the same accuracy your boyfriend had when it came to killing flies, it would’ve been smashed against one of your counters the second you had seen it flying around. Losing the buzzing creature from your sight, you stepped away from your kitchen table to take in the view. Perfect, you thought with a satisfied smile, quietly praising yourself. 

After months of barely seeing your boyfriend and living with each other like you were roommates, you found it was time to find that spark you once felt by having his favorite meal and desert. You wanted to create a comfortable scenery to discuss your concerns with Jacob and was more than positive about the outcome. He was always willing to listen and  work on himself together with you when it came to problems you were having. 

With a lighthearted sigh you grabbed your phone from the edge of the table. Your notification centre showed a few unimportant emails waiting to be deleted from your inbox, instead of the text you were waiting for. You looked at the time above the notifications. 7:23 pm. He wasn’t supposed to be home for a while and him not responding to your texts probably meant patrolling just took longer. You pushed down that icky feeling at the pit of your stomach and decided to dress up with the time you still had. You didn’t want to wear anything over the top in your own kitchen, but something cute enough for Jacob to see you were trying to look nice for him.

Taking your time to take a shower, do your hair and put together an outfit you were pleased with, you were expecting Jacob to walk into your home at any given moment then, but even when you returned to the kitchen there was still no sign of him. This time you looked up at the analog clock hanging from one of your kitchen walls. 8:41 pm. 

With a forced smile you tried to contain the excitement you had been feeling the whole day as you got a pack of lucifers to light the candle in the middle of the table. Once the candle held onto the flame, you looked over your shoulder at the food on the stove while you waved with the lucifer in your hand, before it had the chance to burn all the way down to your fingers. You wanted Jacob to come home to a prepared plate but the moment you heard the fly buzzing around your living room you stopped yourself. You weren’t in the mood to keep that thing away from the food so you were just going to wait until he got home. 

You sat down at the kitchen table, grabbing your phone once again. Maybe he responded. Lightly tapping your screen, your notification centre popped up, but there still was no text. Out of curiosity you checked your messages, going into your conversation with Jacob. 

‘You still going to be home by 8:30?’

You sighed looking at the delivered stamp underneath your text, but decided to give him more time. He was barely ten minutes late and it wasn’t unusual with the recent supernatural activity in the area so you just had to keep your excitement at bay a little longer. 

Time ticked by slowly, ten minutes turning into thirty, half an hour turning into an hour as you impatiently bounced on your legs, soft thumbs filling the silent kitchen. You were leaning against the kitchen counter, looking down at the game on your phone to kill time, but with each passing second your worries were starting to grow excessively.

When the clock hit 10:30 pm you decided to call him, the phone icon next to his caller id waiting to be pressed by your hovering thumb. But before you could put your phone up to your ear, your call went straight to his voicemail. Your heart jumped, your sudden rising heartbeat ringing in your ears from worry.

His phone has never been turned off before. Why is his phone turned off? 

You exhaled audibly, automatically going to your contacts to find Quil’s number while you nibbled on your thumbnail. If your memory didn’t do you wrong, you were almost certain they were patrolling together. He would know where Jacob was. Again, you tapped on the phone icon as your hand rested against your neck, feeling your rapid heartbeat. 

You looked up at the ceiling, briefly closing your eyes as you forced yourself to stay calm. In and out, you told yourself, inhaling and exhaling deeply to keep yourself from having gruesome intrusive thoughts of things that could’ve gone wrong while you impatiently waited for your boyfriend’s best friend to pick up his phone.

“Hey, (Y/N). What’s up?” Quil’s neutral voice sent you into relaxation, your eyes shooting open and bending your head back down to its original state. His calm tone was enough to let you know nothing happened on their patrol. 

“Hey, Quil.” Your voice was slightly shaken up from the brief panic, but hoping he wouldn’t notice you tried to make it less obvious. “I’m looking for Jake, is he with you?”

“Not anymore.” He answered. “Lin called him earlier. I’m guessing something happened, because Jake left right after, but he didn’t say what though.” 

Lin. Of course he was with Lin. 

The itch you were trying to keep down suddenly became uncontrollable. The anger, resentment and hurt you thought you had pushed down months ago bubbled up without a warning, making you bite your tongue to keep your composure towards Quil. As far as you knew he didn’t know about the arguments and fights she had caused in your relationship, how many times you threatened to leave Jacob because of her presence and how many nights you had banned Jacob from your bedroom so you could silently cry into your pillow, knowing he was listening to the pathetic muffled sobs from the couch in the living room. 

“(Y/N)?” A different voice called out from the living room as you heard the click of the closing front door. “I’m home.” 

“Thanks, Quil.” You said, snapping out of your silent rage, remembering your boyfriend’s best friend was at the other side of the line. “He actually just came home.” 

“Anytime.” Quil responded unknowing of what he had just caused, before you exchanged goodbyes with him and hung up the phone. You slowly placed it back down on the table and shook your head in disbelief, pushing yourself away from the kitchen counter to meet Jacob in the living room.

“Hey, what did you make?” Your clueless boyfriend commented, briefly turning his head over his shoulder to watch you stand in the kitchen’s doorway, his back turned to you as he put his jacket away. “It smells good.” 

“Where were you, Jacob?” Your voice was icingly calm as you ignored his question, his name feeling foreign in your mouth. It was always Jake, not Jacob so using his full name for the first time in months made sure he knew how badly he had fucked up. You knew where he had been and that simple question was enough to let him know there was no use in lying. 

It was like he freezed up for a split second before he turned to face you, looking like a deer caught in headlights. You didn’t know why you were even giving him the room to answer, there was no way he could talk himself out of this. His mouth was agape, his lips moving slightly but there were no words coming out. 

“Spit it out. Where were you?” You repeated, your voice slightly raising this time. 

“Babe, I can explain--” 

“Explain?” You interrupted him as a humourless chuckle fell from your lips. You softly pinched the skin between your eyebrows, your eyes fluttering closed. Your patience was thin, your head full of different voices telling you what to do in your rage, but you weren’t sure what voice to give in to. “Explain what? That you basically ditched me to be with Lin when I explicitly told you I wanted to have one night, just one night, to have your undivided attention.” 

 “I know I messed up, but you know I wouldn’t do it without a well enough reason.” Jake sounded distraught and without looking up you could tell he was panicking. “Just hear me out, okay?”

You pulled your hand away from your face, opening your eyes to look at the man who was suddenly standing much closer than he was before in an attempt to close the space between you. If he came any closer you were sure you would’ve backed away, but he knew better than to try to touch you when you were livid. It was a mistake he made before, but surely wouldn’t do again. 

“She needed someone to talk to.” He started off, making you scoff. It was something you heard a dozen times before. “This is the first time she has been without her daughter for this long and it’s just hard on her.” 

“It still surprises me you don’t see what she’s doing. She has enough friends to call. She’s using you, Jacob. Using you.” You narrowed your eyes in disbelief and used your hands to emphasize your point. “She only has to breathe differently and you’re there, she just likes the attention you’re giving her, because no one else will.” 

“I don’t think she’s using me.” Jacob disagreed with a sigh. “But I also know you wouldn’t get me giving into it. As much I know you hate it, I have to be there for her, (Y/N). We’ve talked about the imprinting, it’s not a choice.” 

Was he seriously defending what she was doing? 

“And we’ve also talked about boundaries.” You snarled back at him. “You can be there for her without ignoring our relationship. You promised me we would come first no matter who your imprint was going to be.”

He nodded in agreement. “And we still come first, but like I said I also have to be there for her when she needs me. She might not be my top priority, but I can’t ignore Lin’s needs either, that’s just the bond.” 

“Just the bond.” You repeated with a chuckle, your eyes prickling with tears as the sudden realization seeped in. 

Nothing was more important to him than that damned forced bond and the longer you listened to him the clearer it became. You hoped it wouldn’t come to this, but looking back you couldn’t believe how stupid you were for believing the words of a man who hadn’t experienced something so intense before. ‘I don’t care who she is, you’re the one for me’ was what he said when you finally communicated your worries weeks after he had imprinted on her. You wished you had listened to the insecurity lingering at the back of your head when you had seen the relationships between Sam and Emily, Jared and Kim and every other pack member who had ended up with their imprint.

Why would I be naïve enough to think it would be any different for Jacob when he finally imprinted on someone? 

“Baby, don’t cry.” He finally tried to narrow the space between your bodies to comfort you, but as you snapped out of your thoughts you flinched away from him. His comfort was the last thing you wanted.

Just then his words registered and you noticed the tears staining your cheeks. You quickly wiped them away with the back of your hand. “You don’t even see you’re in love with her, do you?” You looked up at his pained expression. You might don’t like being touched when you were mad, but you had never backed away from him when you were crying before.

“I’m not, I swear.” He answered hurriedly.

“You’re lying to yourself.” You shook your head, wiping your nose with your hand. “You dropped everything to be there for her when I needed you here. Again.”

Without waiting for a response, you were headed to your shared bedroom, Jacob’s footsteps closely behind you. You wanted to get away from him as far as possible, there was no way you were staying in the same house together. You didn’t feel like suffocating on your own again.

“Baby, (Y/N).” Jacob called out to you, hopelessly following you as you marched into your shared bedroom, diving straight into your closet to grab a suitcase. “What are you doing?”

You placed it on the bed, zipping it open as the tears falling from your eyes blurred your sight. When you turned back to your closet to grab a bunch of clothes, not even thinking of all the things you actually needed if you were going to stay away for a while, Jacob finally managed to get his hands on you. He held your wrists, not tight enough to hurt you, but with just enough force to keep you from moving. “Hey, don’t go, okay? Please. I want to fix this.” 

“How? It’s not a choice, remember?” You avoided his gaze, looking down at the floor. Your body was trembling from the anxiety and all the mixed emotions coming out were making you sick to your stomach. You truly felt like throwing up.  “How did you even want to start a family with me if I can’t even be your first choice, hm? I’m not putting my child through that.”

“(Y/N), don’t tell me. . .” Jacob’s eyes widened. When you told him you wanted to talk this morning he could tell you were excited, but he brushed it off like the idiot he was. All the signs were there and when it fell silent for a moment, he finally understood why tonight was so important to you.

 “I’m pregnant.” You felt your arms slipping from his grip as you looked up at his blank expression. You pulled your hands away to dry the tears dripping from your face. “And I wanted to do things differently for our baby than our parents did, I wanted them to grow up with both of us there.”

“And they will.” His glinstering eyes and watery smile stared at you as he brought his hands up to your cheeks, softly caressing the sides of your face with his thumbs and placing his forehead against yours. You let him.  “Just let me fix this. I’ll do anything for you-- both of you.”

As much as you wanted to believe what he said, you knew it was only a matter of time before he went running to Lin when she needed him again. He could treat you badly all he wanted, but you refused to let your child grow up feeling unwanted the way you did. 

“No.” You whispered back to him, pulling your face away from his grip. “I’m done.” 

masterlist | not edited 

note: If you can’t tell I’m bad at endings and writing angst, but I hope you enjoyed it either way. Please let me know what you think so I know how I could improve or if you liked it!

[captainjimothycarter]

So silly image of sorts based on cousins, but Peggy and Steve vs other parents regarding their kid because their kid takes after serumed daddy and is big for his age. Someone giving them shit for being terrible parents cause their 'obviously' pre-school aged child is throwing a fit and the snap back that the kid is a year, 18 months, not pre-school don't expect a big kid just because he's tall/broad for his age, he's still a baby etc.

Okay maybe less funny but over protective Steve really wanted to showcase himself.

--

They knew that there was going to be problems down the road with Steve having the serum and he and Peggy trying for kids.

Howard had given his own input or two and it was nothing more than, “We simply don’t know what will happen, kid. It’s all guessing games. Peggy’s pregnancy could either be completely normal six, seven, eighteen months or she could have the kid in six and the kid be fine or worst.”

Peggy’s lips pursed slightly, taking Steve’s hand into her own. Their wedding bands gently brushed one another as she did. “First off, do you not know how long a woman is pregnant for, Howard? Nine months! Nine months. How…” She pinched the bridge of her nose and waved off anything he said in explanation.

“Second,” she continued with a huff. “What do you mean worse?”

Here now, Howard looked sheepish, more so for the worse than the lack of knowing how long a woman was pregnant for. “Well...when we first met Steve he did have that laundry list of problems and-”

“You mean our kid could be like how I was?” Steve interjected, interrupting an annoyed-looking Howard. “They could-could-”

“Hold up, before you start spiraling, Stevie.” Howard’s hands flew up, raised to defend himself and stop Steve from starting to panic. “I said could. If. Maybe. It’s a possibility, a slight possibility that we have to consider, even if I don’t think it’s possible. That serum coursing through your veins rewrites DNA. Genetics. Your little kid is more likely to have that serum than to have any laundry list of your problem.”

But it was still something they had to think about and Steve was struggling to wrap his mind around that.

All through Peggy’s pregnancy, that problem remained in the back of his head. It was a possibility. No matter how much he tried to reassure himself with the countless doctors and even Howard saying that Peggy was doing outstanding for her pregnancy, how big the baby was, and what naught.

It was still there, no matter how much he tried to drown it with optimistic thoughts.

It wasn’t until Chester Micheal Carter-Rogers was born at ten pounds and nine ounces, twenty-five inches in length did Steve breathe a sigh of relief. Even if Chest was three weeks early and Peggy had to have a c-section.

Peggy and baby were both fine and Steve was grateful, so, so, so grateful.

That’s when the problems began to show how it would be to raise a child with the serum. How much of the serum and if they’d later possess super-human strength, no one was sure. Not even Howard. It was all development.

At three months, Chester was already sitting up on his own and responding to his name with a toothless smile. At five months, he was holding his own bottle and loving to play with his parents. At six months, started the teething.

“Well, at least he doesn’t have your strength,” Peggy tried to joke as Chester chewed on the slushy-texture pacifier. “Else he would’ve bitten my nipple straight off with those three teeth halfway coming in. If he bites my nipple, we’re having a problem, mister.”

Chester just giggled at his mama’s finger and gripped at it, making Steve give that half-smile of relief.

Chester was eight months before he said his first word, “Broom!”

Steve dropped the broom he was holding, looking down at the heavy boy strapped to his chest. He’d dropped a glass earlier and was trying to clean it up, having strapped his baby boy to him so he wasn’t hurt. “Did you just…?”

Chester grinned a whole eight teeth in his mouth now. “Broom! Broom!”

“You just…” Steve swallowed, feeling faint and overwhelmed with pride as he picked the boy up and hugged him. “You spoke!”

It was near the year mark did Howard point something out over dinner. “You know...Chester has never been sick.”

Peggy shared a look with Steve, clicking her tongue on the roof of her mouth. Steve lowered his fork and looked at their baby that he was feeding mashed-up food. “That’s true,” she said carefully after a moment of thought. “Not even a fever, a cold. I wasn’t sickly as a child but I had my fair share of colds as an infant and Lord knows you did too, Steve.”

“I think it’s safe to confirm that Chester has Steve’s serum,” Howard mused as if no one had already thought about that. “Good for him.”

--

Other parents started to notice the developments too during their daddy and me! classes. There were some snide remarks on how big their boy was for a one-year-old.

“Thirty-two pounds!” Gretta hissed, glaring at where Steve was showing Chester and the other kids how to blow bubbles. “He said Chester is thirty-two pounds and thirty-five inches! Can you believe that? Look at how big he is!”

Steve huffed in annoyance and tried not to let the other gossip get to him. It wasn’t until Peggy stormed home one day after a grocery trip with Chester, the little boy sniffling like he’d been crying did it hit him how rude the other parents were.

“I ran into our darling neighbor today,” she noted, slamming the eggs down on the counter.

Steve flinched and hope they weren’t broken as he finished buttoning up Chester’s pants after he’d taken him to the bathroom. “Darling,” he warned, knowing how sensitive Chester was to emotions. “Which neighbor?”

“Oh, the wonderful and perfect Kelly and her perfectly normal daughter Jackie. Don’t you know how perfect they are?”

Steve watched as she half-aggressively put up the groceries, only stopping her when she almost dropped the barely-survived eggs. “Peggy,” he breathed, cupping her jawline. “What did they say?”

“Chester went to hug Jackie as normal - he’s fascinated with other kids and you know him, doesn’t know his own strength, and is just getting the hang of walking right. He fell into Jackie and pushed them both down and Kelly acted like he had punched her daughter. She told me to keep my monster of a child away from her and her family. I told her then she needs to keep her husband home and away from his mistress on business trips.”

Steve’s lips pursed and looked over to Chester playing with his blocks, sighing. Yeah, he got that. The neighbors were not the most polite about Chester’s rapid growth. It’s not like they could say he was Captain America and Chester had some percentage of the super-soldier serum.

“Well, maybe she’ll learn to keep her mouth shut,” he grunted, taking the eggs from her to safely put in the fridge.

--

In the two months since that incident, Chester was speaking more, learning new words every day. He was even speaking full sentences and could name objects. Now he was walking by himself, kicking a ball back and forth, and even sang songs.

Unfortunately, that meant that Peggy had, of course, taught their son The Man With The Plan.

Right now, none of that mattered. Not when Chester, his beautiful son with his downy soft blonde hair, and hazel eyes, was screaming in the buggy. Not that Steve blamed his son, really. The kid was hot and icky and tired and after several boosters from the doctor, he wouldn’t want to be in public either.

But grocery trips had to be had.

And it didn’t help that Kelly shouldered by them, dragging her daughter and loudly stating that Jackie wasn’t allowed to hug Chester or even look at him.

Now how do you explain that to a child who’s already in a bad mood? You don’t.

Steve had given up on comforting Chester beyond rubbing his back and whispering to him as he looked at the options of oatmeal. He was still sniffling and hiccuping loudly and screaming every so often, even if Kelly had insisted on staying on the aisle with them.

“If that was my daughter,” she droned on without anyone asking her, “I would’ve taught her right and told her tantrums to get you nowhere, especially at that age.”

“And what age might that be?” Steve challenged, standing up and laying a hand on the cart. Chester’s little fingers wrapped around his middle finger to try to suckle on. Poor buddy. Still had that tooth coming in.

“Four, isn’t he?”

Steve just blinked at her, scooping Chester up to try to ground him. God, he wishes Peggy was here. She wouldn’t keep her temper in check as much as he was, but her comfort was greatly needed.

“You know damn well that our kids were born the same year, just months apart, and your daughter, who’s now pulling open the boxes of grits, by the way, is three months older than Chest. And by the way, Kelly, Chest is only eighteen months old! He’s just big for his age and upset because you’re a terrible mother who insists that our kids can’t play together.”

“Well-well-” Kelly stomped to her child and ripped the box from her hand, jerking her up. “He’s too big! He’ll hurt her! He’s nothing but a m-”

Steve didn’t feel his feet moving him until he was in front of the woman about to call his child a monster. He cradled Chester closer to him and glared down at her.

“Finish that sentence, I dare you. You and I both know damn well that Paul isn’t the father of your child and unless you want him to know…” The smile didn’t quite reach his eyes as he stepped back fixed Chester in his arms. “Come on, Chest. I know mommy is waiting for us at the house. Are you ready for our big move, huh? Away from judgemental neighbors who can’t keep themselves in check, yeah? We’ll find new friends for you to play with who don’t mind how big you are. Yeah, we will!”

--

It might’ve taken two months from moving from Brooklyn to DC and to finally get their house in order but Chester was a lot happier here.

More room to play around in, even having three play dates lined up in the last week with new neighbors who didn’t seem to mind their son was a little more advance.

It wasn’t until the four-month mark hit and Peggy came home from a doctor appointment within Shield did Steve feel the familiar dread hit him as she silently handed him a blank envelope.

Two sonograms were laid inside. One labeled baby a and the other baby b.

“Twins,” he breathed, looking over to Chester rolling his ball after the cat. “We’re having...twins.”

Peggy, seeing the familiar look pulled him in for a comforting kiss. “We are, but at least we have practice with Chester. And no judgemental Kelly around here.”

[k7l4d4]

Midnight Striga: Fairy Tail/Owl House Cross Fic Episode 6 Part 7

And here we are, the final section of Midnight Striga, episode 6! Everybody Clap Your Hands!!

“Well, well, the piggy came through after all.” A deep voice growled out, cutting through the haze of pain in Eda’s mind. Thudding steps crept closer, before a kick lashed out, catching on Eda’s ribs. “And here I was thinking I’d have to waste my time hunting my target down.” He laughed.

Forcing her head up, Eda squinted at the figure before her. The first thing that came to mind was ‘Dang he is TALL!’ Which was true; her attacker was a hulking figure, easily towering even Eda’s own impressive height. His skin was a dark, almost bloody, red, stretched tight against a chiseled musculature. If Eda had been told he didn’t actually have skin, she’d believe it just due to how defined his physique was. His arms were just slightly too long for his body, hanging just short of his knees, with his legs being highly animalistic, with backwards joints and two pad-like toes. A harsh face stared down at her, eyes marked by prominent tear canals, short-cropped hair, and just plain freaky ears, basically looking like hollowed-out boxes hooked to his skull. He grinned down, carnivorous teeth bared to strike. Eda resisted the urge to shudder.

“I have no clue who you are,” Eda started, covering up her nervousness with a helping of bravado, “But I don’t have time to waste on some muscle-head!” She shouted, casting a trio of fireballs into her opponent’s face, leaping backwards to make distance between them. To her shock, he easily swatted her attack aside, closing the distance in a single leap, his arm swinging down. “GAH!” Eda shouted, pain flaring as her attacker slammed her into the ground.

“Way too slow.” He almost gloated, gazing down inscrutably. Without turning, his arm lashed out, catching King by the throat during his sneak attack. He looked at the struggling demon incredulously. “Did you actually think that would work!?”

“S-Silence peasant!!” King cried, struggling as much as he could in the larger warrior’s grasp. “As the King of Demons, I must act in the defense of my people!” He shouted. The figure blinked, cocking his head in confusion, before bursting into laughter. “What’s so funny!?”

“You!” The enemy laughed. “You, a King of Demons!? That’s the funniest thing I’ve ever heard!!” His chuckles subsided, giving King a side-eyed glance. “Go play with the pig.” He said dismissively, casually chucking King behind him towards a giggling Tibbles. He cracked his neck. “Now, where were we?” He asked, only to blink at Eda disappearing from her previous position. His ears honed in on a sound from the left, prompting him to whirl around to defend, catching the pillar of stone in his fist. “Ha! You think that’s enough to-” Further words were cut off as a bolt of lightning crashed down on him, a pair of thorn-laden vines whipping out to pull his legs out from under him. “GURYAH!!” He screamed, pain rushing through him at the energy surging through his back, mitigated by the surge grounding out through his arm to an extent.

Scowling, he slammed his remaining arm into the ground, holding himself parallel. With a roar, he whipped his torso around, ripping the vines holding his legs out of whatever was anchoring them, slashing them through the environment. Market goers ran in panic, instantly recognizing the danger of the raging warrior before them. With a force of effort, he called on the unique magic of his body, warping his legs into scythes, cleaving through the spells Eda launched from the underbrush during his rotation. With a savage grin, he launched into the air, cackling in glee at the potential challenge.

Groaning, King picked himself out of the rubble he had crashed into, embarrassed at the ease of his dispatch. “That impudent punk just made my list.” He growled. Breathing deep, he allowed his spell to build up some more, perfectly willing to risk blasting his throat to bits to hurt his enemy. His reckless action was cut short by the raucous laughter echoing from his left. Turning sharply, he glared at the sight of Tibbles howling in laughter.

“Ohohohoho!! That was a good one! You, challenge him!? That’s hilarious!” Tibble cackled, uncaring of King’s mounting temper. Tibbles clapped his hands, leering menacingly at the smaller demon. “But I must say, you would most certainly catch a tidy profit if I sold you to recoup my… losses.” He hissed, glancing in anger at the damage done to his stand/shop. “Whether you are alive or dead during the sale is honestly irrelevant, there is a buyer for everything.” He tacked on as an afterthought.

“How dare you contemplate selling your King!!” King shouted, his spell unraveling at his shift in priorities. Marching forth, heedless of Tibbles greater size and menacing attitude, he defiantly pointed at the Pig-like demon’s chest, leaning forward in what was probably meant to be a menacing gesture.

Tibbles blinked, dumbfounded, before his laughter resumed, louder than ever. “You actually are serious!! And here I just thought you were a little twerp with a superiority complex! But no, you’re just crazy! A King? You!? King of what?” Tibbles taunted, looming over King, who was still oblivious to his position. Tibbles pulled out a coin, flipping it in his hand, a mocking girl on his face. “You’re as much a King as this coin is edible.” Catching the coin on its descent, he pointed it at King, a sickening leer on his face. “Money Magic: Loan Shot!” The coin became encased in a golden glow, much to King’s alarm, before firing forth like a rocket, slamming into King and into the background. Chuckling at King’s undignified slump against the tree ahead of him, Tibbles calmly pulled out another coin. “Who knew reading that little book would grant me such a fun toy?” He muttered to himself, relishing the power he now wielded.

“How did a punk like you get access to this kind of Magic!?” King yelped, scrambling to his feet, yanking at the coin sticking to his chest from where it landed. “And why won’t this stupid thing come off!?” He demanded, wincing at the sting his struggles were causing.

Tibbles grinned, relishing the loud-mouthed demon’s discomfort. “Why, I loaned it to you!” He cheerfully explained. “With my Money Magic, I can completely control any form of money, so long as it’s mine, of course! And you can do oh so many wonderful things with money; you can spend it, hoard it, invest it, or even… loan it.” He stated, a bevy of coins floating into the air behind him, encased in golden light. “Speaking of… Money Magic: Loan Rush!” He shouted, his spell crashing into King again, pinning him against the tree. “Loan Pressure!” He commanded, grinning as his coins constricted around King’s body, drawing a harsh cry from the little demon. “Now what was that you said about being King?” He taunted, smirking at King’s pained glare.

“Demon King’s Rocking Roar!” King shouted, his spell ripping through his metallic bonds. Tibbles' eyes widened in shock, before he leapt clear of the blast of solidified sound. “Like I said, I’m the King of Demons!” He screamed, his spell shifting direction to bear down on Tibbles again.

Recovering from his shock at the spell, Tibbles snorted, already prepping another spell. “Well, for a King, you aren’t much of a strategist.” He commented, his coins linking into a chain. “Loan Shackle!” With a flash, his chain whipped forward, catching around King’s leg, slamming him against the ground, tossing him skyward, before pinning him against the ground. “A spell that renders you immobile isn’t very tactically sound. Loan Coiling!” His coin whip crawled across King, tightening around his torso and throat, choking him off. Tibbles waddled over, staring down at the smaller demon in disappointment. “And here I was hoping you’d be interesting enough for me to sell you to Oroboros. A pity.” He shrugged, unconcerned at King’s frantic struggles for air.

“I can’t believe you knew the Conjuring was going to fail.” Amity grumbled, giving a cheekily grinning Luz a weak grin, who merely shrugged. Amity sighed. “Well, at least now we know better for next year.”

“Yeah, it could’ve been worse.” Skara commented, shrugging in disappointed acceptance of the situation. At the questioning looks she received, she explained, “We could’ve ended up accidentally directing the spell into something outside, like a corpse or something. Icky, right?” At her explanation, nods went up around the group. Nobody enjoyed dealing with the risen dead, not even Oracles. Especially not Oracles, actually, as they were usually the ones who got drafted to deal with them, as Selena’s frustrated scowl indicated.

“Yeah, moving corpses are so annoying,” Luz grunted, her nose scrunched up at the thought. She glanced at Amity. “Are you sure you can convince your parents to let Neon and her guards stay?” She asked, pointing a thumb at the group in question, as Neon frantically shoveled the left-over treats into her gullet even as her guards tried to get her to slow down in case she choked, Bo and Cat joining them in convincing the flighty girl, trying to pull her away from the treats manually.

Amity rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry, I know how to handle my parents. As long as I keep them on the back foot, I can control the flow of the discussion, and browbeat them into agreeing, which they’ll be honor-bound to hold up.” She explained, oblivious to the concerned glances her casual explanation as to how she planned on negotiating with her parents, and of the implications that she had to resort to such measures with her relatives, stirred up.

“Okay.” Luz dubiously agreed, packing up the leftovers for King and Eda. “If you’re sure.”

“I am.” Amity assured her, a small grin on her face. “Now, it’s getting late, so I think we should all head to our own homes, don’t you think?” She asked rhetorically, facing the group. At the slightly nervous whispers of her friends, not counting Willow and Gus, Amity added, “And I’ll have my family’s abomination servants accompany you all to your homes to ensure your safety.” This seemed to convince them. And with that, the party ended, the guests bidding their farewells and making last minute plans for the immediate future, Amity personally seeing them all out the door.

With a sigh, she turned to her remaining guests, hopefully to soon be long-term guests under her and her family’s hospitality. She lightly clapped her hands, drawing the attention of Neon and her guards. “Now then. Let’s see if I can convince my family to let you stay here, shall we?” She asked, a pleasant grin on her face, amusement dancing in her eyes.

Eda clicked her tongue, frustrated at the durability of her enemy. “What does it take to keep this muscle-head down?” She muttered, twirling up a pair of spells to catch him between. With a smirk, she launched them, laughing as he smashed into the fireball, only for the ice blast to clip him from the side. Her smirk faded, however, as his arms warped, distended, and stretched, lashing out at her hiding spot from several meters away! Tucking into a roll, she called up one of her owl pillars, launching the writhing, hooty-inspired spell at her persistent foe. The good news, her spells managed to pin his arms. The bad news, he just torqued his body, ripping himself free in moments, crashing into the ground before her. He grinned ferally.

“This is fun!” He exclaimed, his eyes alight with genuine amusement at the brawl. “What’s your name, Witch?” He demanded, eyes narrowing in focus.

Eda blinked. “Wait a minute, you’ve been fighting me… and you don’t even know my name!?” She shouted incredulously, her annoyance rising at the simple nod he gave her. With a growl, Eda dragged her hand down her face. “It’s Eda Clawthorne, also known as Eda the Owl Lady.” She bit out, scowling in anger, hands tight around her staff.

“Eda… Eda…” He mulled over, almost tasting the name. “Ah! Now I remember! You were on the example list!” He exclaimed, a pleased grin crossing his features. “That’s honestly a relief, I really didn’t want to kill a fighter as clever as you. Not many people can give me this good of a warm-up.” He stated, oblivious to the wary shock and indignant anger bubbling inside of Eda. “My name is Menthuthuyoupi, captain of the Chimera Tribe Royal Guard.” He stated, giving a shallow boy.

“Mentuthoo-whatnow?” Eda said blankly, her mind uncomprehending of the bizarre turn this fight had taken.

“Eh, you can just call me Youpi.” He stated with a shrug, unbothered. “Anyway, my orders are to demonstrate to you the difference between you Boiling Islanders and we of Oroboros. Since I’ve already shown that I can shrug off your spells without much hassle, the next part is for me to give you an example of the carnage I can induce when going all out.” He finished, putting a finger into the air in emphasis.

“What are you-?” Eda began, only to stop at what happened next, going pale. In a blur, Youpi whipped his way through the remaining crowds of the Night Market, uncaring of who or what got in his way. With a scream of blood-crazed rage, he bodily ripped his way through each and every witch and demon to cross his path, physically tearing them in half without a care, tossing their mangled corpses to the sides. As he continued to rage, his body pulsed and swelled, shifting and growing in step with his temper and his screams. As he grew, vents opened up along his arms, flames and heat lashing out from the rips in his body, incinerating any poor fools caught in his wake. With a scream of unbridled hate and anger, Youpi leapt into the air, his distorted body twisting around him, before slamming into the ground, an earth-rattling explosion ripping out from his form. Eda dropped to her knees, shaking. The Night Market… was gone. The entire street razed to stone, the bodies of all those in it either gone or seared into the walls as shadowed outlines. She froze, unable to move, as Youpi returned to their spot.

“Well, that was boring.” He lamented, lazily stretching himself out. “But what can I say, carnage and destruction are things I can do pretty easily, especially when my targets don’t fight back. Welp, I’ll be seeing you around, Owl Lady. Try and get rid of that curse of yours, that way we can have a good-old battle to the death.” He casually stated, walking off into the night.

“My, he certainly doesn’t know how to hold back, does he?” Tibbles stated, standing not even four feet from Eda. For some reason, she couldn’t marshal the effort to attack him. Glancing towards Eda, Tibbles let out a taunting tisk. “What’s this? The big bad Owl Lady too scared to move? Well, I suppose it makes sense when confronted with something of that sheer force.” He mocked.

Partially snapping out of her daze, Eda’s arm whipped out, catching the smug demon by the throat. “Where’s King?” She growled, unconcerned for her own safety at the moment.

Tibbles flailed, desperate to move and get away from the angry, and not-at-all-cowed witch before him. “I left him tangled up in my spell back by my shack!” He squealed, desperately grasping at his throat to unblock his airways. “Please! Let me go! I can’t breathe!”

Eda was very tempted to just strangle the little sleaze, but she had bigger things to worry about. With an annoyed sigh, she dropped him, running off for King’s location. Tibbles' eyes narrowed. “You will pay for that indignity, Owl Lady. So swears Tibblet-Tibblie Grimm Hammer III.” He whispered, slinking off after Youpi. The powerful demon genuinely didn’t like Tibbles, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t keep Tibbles from harm, even if only to potentially get a nice fight out of whoever or whatever Tibbles managed to piss off.

Scanning the area, Eda zoomed in on King, eyes widening in panic at his slowing struggles against the coins constricting around his throat and chest. “King!” She shouted, rushing over. With a shout, she slammed her staff across the coins, scattering them. King bolted up, gasping for air, his eyes wide with panic at his near death. “How you feeling buddy?” Eda asked, concern etched across her voice.

“I think I need some more training.” King wheezed out, eyes roving the destruction surrounding them.

“Yeah,” Eda muttered, scanning the ruined market around them. She slung King over her shoulders, noting his lack of protest for the warning sign that it was, and hopped onto Owlbert, taking off before the Coven Guards and Scouts could catch them, “I’m thinking I might need some too.”

With a deep breath, Amity pushed her way into her father’s lab, where he was still tinkering away at his latest project, her mother perched next to him, enjoying some tea, and looking far more composed than before. “Mother, Father.” She stated, calmly announcing her presence.

“Mittens, dear!” Odalia stated cheerily, patting the spot next to her. “Come, come! Your father and I were just discussing what to do about Miss Nostrade and her companions.” She said, a gleam shining in her eyes.

Amity’s own eyes widened, before narrowing in consideration. “I see.” She stated noncommittally. Walking up next to her mother, she sat down next to her, grudgingly accepting the drink she was offered. “I came here to request that we offer refuge for Miss Nostrade and her guards.” She said, gaze level.

“Why, what a wonderful idea!” Odalia cried, eyes bright with amusement. “Your father and I were discussing the exact same thing.” She added, lightly patting her daughter’s head, prompting Amity to flush. “I must say, the idea of that poor girl out there on the streets, unable to procure shelter and reliable food and water, is truly heartbreaking.” She sighed, Amity rolling her eyes at the theatrics. Odalia clapped her hands. “Plus, having such capable fighters around to defend not only their charge, but also our property and persons would most definitely be a fine boon to us!”

Amity growled, frustrated at having been outplayed so rapidly. “Yes, indeed, Mother.” She bit out, causing Odalia and Alador to send her slightly disapproving looks. Forcing herself to calm down, Amity continued in a more even tone. “I will inform them of this development at once.” 

“Of course dear, of course! But before you do…” Odalia smirked, flipping the switch for the Panic Room. In a flash, the twins exited, Emira instantly rushing for Amity, and Edric rushed for the bathroom. Odalia chuckled at her youngest child’s borderline profane shouts to be released, even as Emira insisted on holding her forever and never letting go. It was simply adorable!

“Hey guys, I’m home and- WHAT THE HECK HAPPENED!?” Luz shouted, dropping the leftovers to the floor. Crashed onto the couch were King and Eda, both battered and bruised with distant gazes. Rushing over, she frantically fussed over the two, pulling out her emergency aid kit, bandaging wounds as needed, applying antibiotics, and even forcing the two to chug some internal cleansing potions for good measure.

“*Cough, hack!* Yeesh, kid, don’t blow your top!” Eda exclaimed, breaking out of her stupor at Luz’s frantic antics. Forcing Luz back, she insisted, “I’m fine, kid. Just had a run-in with some of Oroboros’ goons. Turns out the guy me and King were going to buy from was a sellout and the whole thing was a trap.” She finished glumly, slumping downward.

Luz bit her lip, understanding their frustration. “Did you at least get the potions?” She broached, hoping that it hadn’t been for nothing.

Wordlessly, King pointed to the counter, where a crate of Potions sat, ready to ingest. Luz sighed in relief at that. She turned back to Eda, “So, who was it you fought?” 

Eda shrugged, wincing at the motion. “Some red-skinned guy. I can’t remember his name, but I think he was some kind of demon, and he was REALLY strong. Wiped out the entire market in seconds when he got serious.”

Luz whistled. Not many in Oroboros had that much raw, destructive power, not that she knew them all, and even those that did weren’t necessarily the strongest, merely the best at causing chaos in terms of damage. “Yikes. What’s up with King?” She asked, hoping to shift the topic.

Eda snorted. “Apparently that Grimm Hammer guy, who prefers to go by Tibbles for some insane reason, got some magic when he signed up and whipped King’s butt with it. He’s been like that ever since we got back.”

“Training.” King piped up, focusing. He turned to Luz, an intense light burning in his eyes. “I need it. More training. Can you help me?” He asked. Luz gulped, caught off guard by the intensity, but ultimately nodded. King relaxed a tiny bit, staring forward. “Good.” He looked down at his paws, clenching them into fists. “That’s good.”

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 79

This was another chapter that was soooo fun to write.  Don’t worry, I’m not getting off the plot, swear.  So, thank you @charlylimph-blog for helping me flesh these pranks out. Also, thanks to @satan-parisienne and @baelpenrose for beta-reading.

Disclaimer: Food mentions below the cut.  I also want to clarify that I do not hate brussels sprouts.  I did, for several decades, though, and added that to one character in this chapter.

Given my track record with handling ship-wide issues in a personal capacity, I made a point to set up an actual appointment with both Grey and Xiomara to discuss our concerns.  Unfortunately, that meant it would be a few days before we all had time in our schedule.  All I could do in the meantime was try to do my actual job and pay more attention to odd behaviors of people around me.

I would like to submit for the record that I wasn’t succeeding with focusing on work terribly well.  And I wasn’t the only one.

“Seventeen,” Alistair greeted me as he arrived.  For what could only be dramatic emphasis, he removed a scarf and flung it over the back of the chair across from me.

“Ark’s temperature controlled,” I pointed out, staring at the scarf.  It actually looked soft.

“Seventeen different individuals,” he continued, ignoring my comment. “In a sum total of six groups, between three and eight people per group. Several were in more than one group.”

Wow. Go, Detective Worthington.  “This was just on your way from your quarters to my office?”

“From the cantina on deck fourteen, actually.” He stalked over to the food console, returning with a plate of food and two beverages.

“So, one, that’s an even shorter walk than the one from your quarters.”

He nodded around a forkful of pasta before swallowing. “Which makes it even more concerning.”

“True.” Taking the tea he offered me, I gestured at his penne.  Part of me was pleased to see it was one of my recipes from Before that I added to my profile once I learned how. “I thought you just ate?”

“I attempted to, certainly.  However, there have been several issues with the consoles in the cantinas.  I was given to believe they were resolved, but somehow I still ended up with brussels sprouts instead of capers.” He glared at me archly. “You are well aware of how I feel about those atrocities.”

“Even if you did like them, I can’t imagine substituting capers for brussels sprouts and still coming even remotely close to whatever you asked for.”

Already, he was standing to dispose of his empty dish. “I was sure that your console would be safe, but I selected a dish without capers, either way.”

“That’s fair.” Although I was mildly confused why he thought the console in my office would be ‘safe’ from the malfunction he just mentioned, but I also had no idea about the consoles in the cafeterias acting up, so he may have a point.

I was about to ask for details regarding the people he had seen.  I really was. However, I was preempted by the actual trumpet from the Book of Revelation started screaming from the speaker in the ceiling of my office.  

“BAYYYYY-BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE shark, do do do do do do!”

I screamed and jumped hard enough to fall out of my chair, while Alistair had flattened himself against the wall in an effort to escape the cacophony. Covering my ears, I begged Miys to disable the speaker.  I was reasonably certain I was yelling it, but either way the noise cut off abruptly and I was able to get up off the floor.

“What the bloody hell - bloody hell!” Alistair jumped abruptly at the figure that was now standing in my office. I wasn’t surprised, either, when I looked.

Standing right by my now-closed door was a shorter-statured figure, wobbling on its feet.  I couldn’t even really see the face, because my eyes would not look away from the top of their head. Specifically the earmuffs perched on there.

Five. Pairs. Of. Them. One pair was standard noise cancelling, but two were fuzzy - one neon green, another sparkly purple - and the other two, while not fuzzy, did have patterns in similarly bright colors: one set pink and green plaid, one fluorescent yellow and blue stripes.  Yet another pair was dangling around the figure’s neck, along with what appeared to be two pairs of earplugs.  I was getting the idea that the blaring music was something they were familiar with, against their will.

While puzzling at the noise-blocking hardware, I finally noticed the words across the figure’s hoodie.  It very clearly said ‘Fuck this shit’, framed by delicate vines and flowers. “Charly?” I asked, completely confused, before realizing she likely couldn’t hear me.  I gestured for her to remove the headphones, and once she did, I tried again. “Charly.  What is going on?”

“I have not had a hot bath in two weeks. Every time I walk through a door, the room plays that awful song until I leave the room, and cold spaghetti squash should be illegal! Very, VERY illegal!” As she spoke, her voice choked up more and more, and by the time she finished she was crying in my office.  Again. “I can barely eat, I can only sleep if I’m exhausted and practically pass out…” She trailed off.

I got her seated and rubbed her arms.  Turning to Alistair, I spoke softly.  “Can you please bring some of the stew from screen six in my file?  And probably water for now.”  To Charly, I reassured her. “It’s your beef stew recipe, the one you gave me.  For whatever reason, my console here and the one at home never glitched out when the ones in the cafeterias did.”

She sniffed and nodded.  My assistant quickly returned, gently setting down the stew and warm bread, along with some butter.  He narrowed his eyes at me, sharply. “I took the liberty of also getting some butter for the bread, because clearly some of us are heathens who serve warm bread without butter.”

“Some of us like to spread cheese sometimes,” I defended myself. “Okay, hon.  First, I need you to drink at least half of that water so you don’t dehydrate from crying.”  A very tiny white lie.  The real reason was an old trick I learned back Before - humans aren’t wired to be able to cry and swallow at the same time, so we stop crying if we are drinking something.  

Once that kicked in, I let her dig into the stew.  Keeping a careful eye to make sure she didn’t accidentally inhale anything in the literal sense while demonstrating the figurative sense, I tried to figure things out. “First and foremost, has anything else happened, anything that could have caused you injury?”

“Juss annoyig,” she told me around a bite of bread. Swallowing, she clarified. “Anytime I try to bathe, I only get cold showers.  No hot water, even the sonic function gives me cold water.  I’ve had to resort to letting a bucket of water sit out long enough to be room temp.  Anytime I try to get any sort of food or drink other than water, all I get is cold, icky spaghetti squash.  You saw what happens when I walk into a room.” She gestured at the speaker on the ceiling. “I’m not even sure how you stopped that.”

“I had Noah disable the speaker entirely,” I admitted. “So, all mid-range psychological torture? All irritants, nothing actually dangerous in and of itself?”

“Except the fact that I’m so jumpy I can’t sleep, I guess.  This is the first thing I’ve eaten in two weeks that wasn’t something Coffey had to go get from a canteen, bring it back, and give it to me.  And even that only works if it isn’t something I actually like.”

“But there are over a dozen full-time food vendors?” I was so confused.

She rolled her eyes. “You know I don’t trust other people’s cooking.  Yours, yes. Tyche’s, yes. Mine, of course.  But that’s it.”

“Miss Harper,” Alistair interrupted, gentle but horrified. “You said it’s been two weeks….”

She waved the concern away. “Two weeks of eating food I don’t like but don’t gag on is way better than cold, yucky spaghetti squash or food that may have… crawly things in it. You do know that some people cook with…. those things, right?” She eyed him suspiciously.

“Objection withdrawn,” he sighed. “However, I do believe that part of what you are experiencing may be part of the wider issues we’ve been having with the food consoles.  All of the public ones have been malfunctioning recently, and every time they are reset, it happens again.  I nearly ate brussels sprouts today, for heaven’s sake!”

“Okay, seriously Alistair? They aren’t that bad. Stop being dramatic,” I scolded. When I turned back to Charly, she was staring at her lap, very focused on the hem of her sweatshirt.  Fear spiked through me like ice. “Charly? What is it? Did something else happen?”

“The consoles might be acting up because of what’s happening with me,” she admitted quietly.  “Not the other way around.”

Huh? “What do you mean?  You think the same person who is doing this to you is going to target everyone?” I could feel my panic levels rising.  Suspicious people, maybe a cult, were increasing in numbers throughout the ship.  Maybe they were sending a message? It was pretty well known that Charly was close with Tyche and myself - 

“IthinkthisishappeningbecauseofaprankIpulledandsomeonegotmad.” Once she finished blurting out her statement, she screwed her eyes closed and seemed to be waiting for something bad to happen.  When nothing happened - I don’t think Alistair even understood what she said, and I know I didn’t - she cracked one eye to peek at our faces.

“In English?” I asked, shaking my head.

“I think...I may have...broken? The food consoles? I might have played a prank? And someone didn’t like it?”

I fought the urge to go entirely limp as all the panic and dread I had been building up rapidly plummeted.  “So, all of this… you broke the ship… it’s all a prank war?”  She nodded, face scrunched up in embarrassed apology. I pinched my nose before running a hand down my face. “And you started it, you believe?”

“It wasn’t on purpose!” she cried.  “It was a harmless prank, I freaking swear. I programmed the food consoles to give boba tea as every one hundredth beverage dispensed. That’s it. I even made sure to program it to be sugar free! Just matcha tea, lactose-free milk, sugar substitute, and the little boba pearls.  At most, someone would get it, go ‘hey this isn’t what I asked for?’, try again, and get the right thing.”

“Except that’s not the worst thing that happened,” I prompted.

“No, it isn’t! After about…five days? Suddenly all thiiiiiiis,” she flailed expansively, “started happening!  There is no way you can tell me that I deserve all this for erroneous boba tea here and there.” Charly stared at me, pointedly.

To be honest, it really did seem like overkill. 

“Well,” I sighed. “The good news is, only a select few people have that level of access to the ship to do something so far reaching.” My fingers drummed on the table as I tried to think of ways to narrow our list of culprits further. “Obviously, they don’t mean you any actual harm, just a significant level of annoyance and inconvenience.  And it would have to be someone who would take boba tea to be a grievous insult apparently…” Fuck.  

My head snapped up as I leapt to my feet and bolted for the console. Once I had a boba tea, exactly the way Charly described, I took a huge pull from the straw. Chilled, clean flavor, no notable texture, not terribly sweet, no aftertaste…

And chewy boba pearls. Like little candies. Most importantly? They were squishy. 

“Mother fuck….”  Charly and Alistair both gave me questioning looks.  “I will one-hundred percent admit that your prank had very innocent intentions.  But before I tell you who did this, I want to be clear: absolutely no retribution, and no more dinking around in public resources. Deal?”  She nodded so hard I thought her neck may break.  “Someone with an enormous food aversion to anything ‘squishy’ ended up with one of your drinks.” I jiggled mine for emphasis. “And I am willing to bet they got a mouthful of tapioca before they realized it.  They absolutely knew there was no error - they only drink water, and they are extremely sensitive to caffeine.  Once they realized it was a deliberate error? There was no saving you, girl.”

Her eyes widened to the size of saucers, and I could see everything falling into place.  “Oh no. Nonononononono.  I didn’t think Derek used the public consoles!  I never would have done it if I knew that!  Or exempted him, or something… Oh gosh, I have to go apologize. I feel awful!”  With that, she bolted from the room, throwing a “thanks for the stew!” over her shoulder on the way out.

Alistair just shook his head. “She really pulled a prank on the one person we can’t keep out of anything on the ship, who we have to rely on his good intentions?”

“Obviously, not on purpose,” I pointed out.

“It still doesn’t explain the small cabbages that contaminated my lunch.”

Taking a long pull from my tea, I tilted my head side to side. “It really kind of does.  Charly hates capers with a passion, based solely on what they look like.”

“Madam Councillor. Brussles. Sprouts. Surely there was a better option.”

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[entity9silvergen]

Oblique- Chapter 2 (Sanders Sides Fanfiction

Previous chapter, Full Story

Story Info:

Summary: Unable to experience romantic attraction, Remus feels incomplete. Unable to feel sexual attraction, Roman feels less than. Maybe as the King, they decide, they will feel whole again. Their partners and friends, however, know this isn’t the solution and seek to help them realize there’s nothing broken about them before it’s too late.

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Characters: Logan, Patton, Roman, Virgil, Nate, Remy, Emile, Seth, Toby, Janus, Remus, Unnamed Orange Side, Romulus, Dragon Witch 

Relationships: Logan/ Patton, Virgil/ Roman, Janus/ Remus, Remy/ Emile, Toby/ Seth, Nate/ Orange Side

Other Tags: AroWriMo, Aromantic Remus, Asexual Roman, Spider Virgil, Snake Janus, Orange Side, 7th Side, Additional Sides, No OCs, Short Vid Characters

Warnings for this chapter: Sexual themes, internalized acephobia, internalized arophobia, arousal, romantic feels, minor self-harm, intrusive thoughts, Remus

Author’s Note: There is nothing explicit in this one but there is some post sex scenes and pre almost sex scenes. Also romantic feels. I am aroace so like I don’t actually know what I’m doing, first time writing something like this, but we’re doing it. If any of that makes you uncomfortable, feel free to skip this chapter. It takes place prior to the previous chapter and provides more context to what’s up with Remus and Roman but is not actually relevant to the plot.

====================

Remus felt good in that way only an orgasm could cause.

It was like… like everything inside him just melted away. Everything tense and tight just washed away. It was at times like this he really felt at peace. The only times he felt at peace. With his mind quiet, he really just felt like himself. Not Dark Creativity, not Intrusive Thoughts. Just Remus.

He should go be productive. Draw something that wasn’t totally obscene. Maybe take a shower without trying to swallow the soap. Eat something other than deodorant. Trim his mustache without cutting himself. Nah, he was still going to do all that stuff. He loved it, intrusive thoughts or not.

He started to roll out of bed when an arm stopped him.

“You’re always so quick to leave,” Janus murmured, draping an arm over Remus’s bare hips. Fuck, that was sexy. Why was he so sexy? All naked and relaxed… Disheveled. That was the word Remus was looking for. His hat, gloves, and clothes were long gone, messy brown hair and scales out for the world to see. Well, not the world. Just Remus. Janus was cute when he was like this, rare as it was. Not cute enough for Remus not to have a double take at his words though.

“Is that bad?” Remus asked hesitantly, a bit more of his insecurity in his voice than he would’ve liked. He knew Janus wasn’t mad and he wouldn’t make fun of him. It was just… ugh, the post-sex euphoria was kind of fading and Remus was starting to feel bad about himself again.

Janus looked up at him, breaking out of his affectionate daze. He frowned. “I mean… no? If you don’t want to be here, you don’t have to be. Staying the night is just nice.”

“Why?” 

The question tumbled out of Remus’s mouth before he could think, like most things he said did. He felt like he shouldn’t have said that but he couldn’t help it. And he really did want to know.

“It just… um, helps with the emotional side of hooking up?” Janus ventured. Remus tried not to frown. “The romantic aspect?”

“Oh. Um, okay.”

“Okay what?”

“Okay, I’ll stay,” Remus responded and flopped back down on the bed, letting his back hit the sheets once more. Janus stayed where he was. Remus just stared at the ceiling, unsure if Janus’s touch was nice or uncomfortable. They were both all sweaty. And sticky. Didn’t people normally shower after this? Or wipe off or whatever? Normally Remus would just run around naked and the air would dry him off and he’d be good as new but that didn’t really feel like an option right now.

“You look so uncomfortable.” 

“What? I’m not uncomfortable.”

“You’re like a tree right now.”

“Unfuckable unless you want splinters?” Remus cracked, looking down at Janus, but the snakey Side didn’t seem amused.

“You’re literally lying on your back with your arms at your sides,” Janus deadpanned. He shifted a bit, resting his head on Remus’s chest. “And that’s fine but you look stressed. Which is weird because you just came and normally that makes you all loose. Figuratively, not literally, don't look at me like-”

“I’m loose in so many more ways than one,” Remus responded with a shit eating grin, wiggling a bit. Janus sighed, sounding exasperated but fond. But then Remus sobered up. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine. You know I don’t really mind your jokes. Or lewdness. It’s just part of who you are as a Side.”

“Not that. I meant for not being… romantic. It’s just not my thing. I’m not Roman.”

Janus lifted his head to look at him. “I don’t want Roman. You think if I wanted Roman I’d be in bed with you? If I wanted Roman, I’d be having Roman.”

Remus couldn’t stifle his laughter. Roman probably wouldn’t want Janus either, not when Virgil was so clearly the Side for him, but Janus’s confidence and self-assurance amused him. He was right, Janus probably had the swagger to seduce whoever in the mindscape he wanted. Though he may be biased.

“I don’t really care if you do the whole romantic bit of a relationship,” Janus went on, putting his head back down. “Feelings can get kind of icky. You’re my best friend and I love you, I wouldn’t change that.”

Now, Remus knew Janus said that to comfort him but it just made him feel all kinds of bad. Guilty. Selfish. Ungrateful. He didn’t like these feelings. He was the Duke! He didn’t get down in the dumps. He was just pure, unfiltered nastiness. Not whatever this was. 

He didn’t know if Janus expected a response or not but he just smiled awkwardly and patted Janus’s hair. Janus didn’t comment on how grimy his hands were and just relaxed against him, seeming to enjoy Remus’s fingers in his hair. It felt weirdly intimate to be doing this. It was nice, Remus supposed, but it felt foreign. Like he was missing something. Maybe he was missing something.

He tried to steer those thoughts away. He was naked in bed with his best friend, not fully clothed and crying in the shower alone like he normally was when these moments hit. Now wasn’t the time to be thinking about that. He was… This was a good moment. Good things were happening. He’d just had an amazing night of mindblowing sex. His friend- partner, fuck buddy, boyfriend, whatever- had just told him he loves and accepts him. How could he be thinking about this right now?

Janus would tell him he wasn’t broken. That he wasn’t missing anything. That he was amazing the way he was. But Remus couldn’t find it in himself to bring it up right now. It was hard, not voicing his thoughts. He loved talking, spouting out every thought that crossed his mind. These ones though… He didn’t really want Janus worrying about. He already knew what Janus would say. Janus was a two-faced liar who could trick the smartest Side in the mindscape but Remus trusted him. Janus knew how to be serious. He knew how delicate Remus’s heart could be when it came to- to… He wouldn’t tell Remus anything about himself that he didn’t believe. It was just Remus who didn’t believe it.

Remus loved himself. He knew he was amazing. He loved his creations and that he could creep any Side and Thomas out. He just wanted to live his best life. But that little voice telling him something was wrong, giving him memories of a time before, would always be there.

Maybe it was time he listened to it.

=================

Roman just felt so freaking good.

His heart just felt so full. He just had so much love in him that he felt like he was going to burst. It thrummed in his chest, letting the feeling of life flow freely into his limbs. He didn’t know why he felt like this. Maybe it was because of the role he fulfilled as Thomas’s romantic facet and his fanciful side. Or maybe he was just so high on love that it got him all giddy like this. He didn’t know, he just knew he liked it. It was an amazing feeling that he just wanted to have forever. 

But all good things had to come to an end.

Virgil withdrew from him, not quite letting go but enough that Roman craved his touch again. He leaned in for another kiss, and managed to successfully get one, before noticing the look in his boyfriend’s eyes. It wasn’t… a bad look. Not a new one either. Just somewhat different.

Virgil was definitely turned on. Expected, after making out for however long they’d spent doing just that. To be honest, Roman was pretty into it too and he could feel some arousal coming in. It was an exciting feeling, one only supplemented by the rush of affection he was feeling. 

So why did he feel so uneasy?

Virgil slotted his palms over Roman’s hips and gave him a sultry look. “You want to do a bit more?”

Roman opened his mouth to respond but no words came out. He didn’t know if it was from arousal or fear. He locked eyes with Virgil and nodded, trying to look eager. Virgil looked… excited? Happy? Satisfied? Something. He looked something good at his response and started undoing the zipper and buttons on his pants. Roman looked away, not really wanting to watch despite all the feelings happening down there. It was only once Virgil’s fingers were hooked around his underwear that it became apparent something was wrong.

“Dude, you okay?”

“Don’t call me dude when we’re in bed. You’ll kill the mood.”

“I’m trying to kill the mood. You look hella uncomfortable.”

“I’m not uncomfortable.”

“You looked away when I took your pants off and you flinched when I touched your underwear. Is that comfortable in your world?”

“I’m fine, Virge. Let’s just keep going.”

“We don’t need to do this if you don’t want to.”

“But I do want to,” Roman insisted, gesturing vaguely to his crotch which was very visibly hard through his underwear.

Virgil didn’t budge. “Having a boner and wanting me to touch you are two different things, Princey.”

Roman sighed. “I know.”

“Consent is sexy.”

Roman sighed louder. “I know, Virgil.”

“Communication is-”

“I know, Virgil.”

“Come on, talk to me, Princey.”

“You’re still killing the mood.”

“I know, Roman,” Virgil responded, mimicking Roman’s tone, before giving him a serious look. “What’s up? If you don’t want to, that’s fine.”

Roman opened his mouth but, again, no words came out. How was he supposed to articulate his thoughts? He wanted to… do stuff. Sexual stuff. Touching. That sounded fun. Sex was supposed to be, like, a big thing in a relationship, right? So shouldn’t he want to do it, being the romance guy and all?

Maybe it was because sex was more of a Remus thing. Ew, no wait, he shouldn’t be thinking about his brother right now. Actually, that was a big turn off which was what he needed right now. But point was that sex was never his thing. Roman didn’t think about it much. Or at all. Should he? That was something people thought about, right?

Thinking about sex made him feel… gross. Not completely though? Thomas was a pretty sex positive guy so all the Sides generally viewed consestuall sex as a healthy part of a relationship but anytime Roman thought about sex in a more personal way, not as an abstract concept, he felt all weird. And he knew he shouldn’t. Sex was natural. Hundreds of generations of humans have been doing it. So why couldn’t he?

There was just this… disconnect. Between what, he wasn’t sure. His feelings, his body, arousal, desire, all of it. And it felt wrong. Like, it should be there. He didn’t know what it felt like but he could imagine it. He’d read about it and he could see it in his mind but when it came to the present moment, it just wasn’t there. He-

Odin’s eyepatch, Virgil was waiting for him to say something, wasn’t he?

“Can we… not?” Roman said weakly, hating how unsure he sounded. But to his relief, Virgil just nodded. 

“That’s fine. We’re not ready,” Virgil responded. Roman couldn’t tell if he sounded disappointed or not. “But I, um, I’m going to go take a cold shower. Figuratively, not literally. I hate the cold. I’m going to go jer- I’m going to go take a shower. And you can do whatever you need to do or take one after me. And then we can just hang out. Does that sound alright?”

Roman was a bit surprised Virgil seemed so together. Not anxious. He was still a bit rambly but mostly together. Maybe he was just trying to put on a face for Roman’s sake. Either way, he was grateful that Virgil was taking the lead on this one, however odd it may be for the other Side. Smiling, he nodded. Virgil returned it and wandered off to the bathroom.

But when he returned, Roman was nowhere to be found.

=======================

They both slunk out in the night, stumbling to the Neutral Zone with similar goals in mind. Consciously or unconsciously, it was impossible to tell. They were just hurting and that was enough to draw them together.

Still, they looked surprised at the sight of each other, Roman on the stairs leading up and Remus surfacing from the basement. It was dark but the red and green of their clothes seemed to stand out. They stayed silent, staring at each other wordlessly, waiting to see who would move first.

It was a third figure who broke the silence.

“Sup guuurlssss,” Remy slurred as he drifted through the living room, seeming to materialize out of nowhere. Both of the twins jumped, startled by his sudden appearance, but Remy was already wandering towards the hallway by the time they realized who exactly it was. “Go to the dreamspace if you’re going to destroy anything, bitches. Toby will be pissed if you touch his shit. Byeeee.”

The twins watched the Neutral Side walk away, his shuffle making him seem to float away in a very dream-like manner. But that was just how Remy was and they could ignore him and soon they were once again focused on each other. Remus spoke first.

“So why are you here?”

“Why are you here?”

“I asked first.”

“But I’m older.”

“Explain or I fart and wake up the whole floor. And you know how smellicious this tank can-”

“Ugh. Okay, fine.”

“Well?”

“...”

“Princey.”

“What was the question?”

“Why are you here, Prince Boring?”

“Um, well…”

“Just spit it out, brother mine.”

“How do you sex?” Roman blurted bluntly.

Remus started at him. He blinked. Once. “What?”

“How do you do sex?” Roman repeated, looking flustered. “I can’t.”

To his credit, Remus was quiet for a full three seconds before bursting out laughing.

Roman scowled. “It’s not funny! I just… I can’t.”

Remus tried to smother his laughter to a series of giggles, wiping a couple fake- or real, who knows?- tears out of his eyes. “Oh Princey! You should’ve come to me sooner! I tried giving Seth some crash course kink lessons from yours truly but Toby hit me. Really hard. It was hot. Janus let me do my whole spiel on him but it’s no fun when you’re fucking the guy you’re teaching because he already knew all this stuff when he signed up to be my fuck buddy but now that you’re-”

“Stop. I already regret this,” Roman said, waving his hands. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Poopy.” Remus didn’t actually sound disappointed, a blessing in disguise. 

“I just… can’t get into it.”

“I know what you mean,” Remus said, surprising Roman. When Roman didn’t speak, Remus continued. “I can’t do feelings. All that romantic stuff? Bleh. Not for me. But I feel bad because I think Janus would like it. I’ve tried but it just feels like it’s… not… there.”

Roman suddenly felt a surge of mutuality for his brother. He was voicing exactly how he felt. Well, not exact. Opposite, really. But he felt understood. “Do you think it’s because of the split?”

“I- Maybe,” Remus admitted with a shrug. He rubbed a finger under his nose. Roman almost reached out to stop him from picking his nose but he was just scratching his mustache. “It feels like… like… I’m a mirror. And I shattered. A long time ago. And someone taped me back together. They really tried but they did an awful job. There’s sharp pieces sticking out everywhere ready to cut your hands open so you can watch as you bleed out but the reflection’s all fucked up and you just see all the dark, awful… goop inside of you. And there are pieces missing. And I don’t know where they are.”

“They’re probably in me,” Roman said softly. “I don’t feel like-” He gestured loosely in Remus’s direction- “that. I feel like- like a mirror that broke but got put together with glue. They made something new and it’s- it’s art. But it’s still broken. You just can’t always tell but it’s real and it’s there.”

Remus nodded, uncharacteristically solemn. He was playing with his hands, like he was nervous. Roman noticed tiny cuts on his hands around his fingernails, like he was picking at them. He wasn’t picking now though, just fidgeting. Like Virgil. “Do you think we’d be whole together? As King Creativity? Do you remember if he felt normal?”

Roman hesitated. “I don’t remember. But I think… Remus, I feel so empty all the time. Like I’m only half a Side. And not just about the sex thing. I feel so- so- so-”

“Oblique?”

“Oblique,” Roman whispered. “And I want to feel normal. And I think maybe we can do that if we tried to… I don’t know, unsplit?”

Remus didn’t say anything but his face betrayed him. With decisiveness, he offered Roman his hand. And Roman accepted it.

No longer would they be broken mirrors of each other. No longer would they be oblique. Soon, they would be whole once again.

Next chapter

[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

Infinity War (5)

CHAPTER 5: RAGE

Loki & The Avengers

Summary: A work inspired by @queencfthestarsdrfoster ‘s post of the universe where Loki is alive and Thor is avenged.

Series: Will contain all- and more- that we saw in Infinity War. Will not contain smut and fluff for obvious reasons. Might contain weird humor though.

Chapter content: Something I wish I could’ve done to them through the screen

Warnings: …blood. Icky. gooey, blood. Magic.

Word count: So my workplace shifted again. It’s...okay. Yeah, that’s it. Just okay. I mean partially it’s on me for not taking breaks and just keeping myself busy because I just cannot sit free, man. I can’t. And then by the time it’s 4pm I am exhausted as fuck and have to just keep it together till I can find my way out. Why am I like this? But I have to say, it kinda lifted my mood when I thought about my new radiant friend.

MASTERLIST & Taglist in bio, my love

Ebony Maw doesn't believe in violence of the mind. He does not believe one needs to boil one's insides just because some petty creatures with no real destiny in this universe have made a feeble decision of taking what is rightfully his master's.

Their death would be a small price to pay for the delay they have caused in me helping the Titan fulfil his destiny.

The periodic bloop on his ship's radar brings him to a rough terrain that is being tormented by the fresh blanket of snow piling over it. The winds are showing no mercy as they hit the transparent shield of his ship, illuminating the collision spots with a hue of gold and blue. How fascinatingly dull, this planet Earth, Maw coos to himself before landing his ship and walking towards the entrance.

Much to his surprise, he does feel a shiver through his adequately armoured body as the raging winds seem to be coming at him with impure intentions. And so, a tsk under his breath is followed by modestly twisting his hand to create an air barrier around him, keeping those vicious microscopic ice shards away.

The crunch of fresh cold powder under his feet is somehow welcoming to the symphony of havoc he plans on bringing to the ones who slipped through his hands. To the ones who do not have pure intentions for the infinity stone in their grasp.

There is a ripple he feels from somewhere behind him, tilting on one limb and taking a gentle swerve as an icicle misses him by centimetres. No time is wasted to pull that very icicle from the air and turn it around to throw it in the direction it originated from. And while that icicle travels back, snow is raised from the ground to be compressed into more. Those stubborn steps do not retreat as icicles find their target, only coming to a halt when those piercing eyes see for themselves Loki's figure lying in the snow, struggling to breathe.

Those piercing elements of snow have found all the vital points over the God's body, not surprising the Child of Thanos.

"You are supposed to be dead Asgardian," Ebony declares with a soothing yet eerie tone, his stature never faltering even as he looks down at the body writhing in pain, "you should stick to being dead."

Green eyes drowning in pain look up at him; same eyes he had once drained all hope out of. Such powerful techniques of purification were wasted on such frivolous being that day.

"But..." Loki struggles with the pain surfacing on his face, "b-but I'm not the one who's-"

It takes just one slight shift of Maw's posture. Just a single tilt towards Loki to hear what the dying alien has to say. And just as he does, a streak of blazing fire takes the master of torture with him, leaving Loki to complete his sentence, "-dead," before disappearing with hues of gold and green.

The snow feels harder on the skin than it looks, almost making Maw grunt. He thinks he misses the punch from the man clad in iron he thought he had left behind, but the hit to his skull sends a blaring pain, unbalancing him for a few seconds.

"Told you earth was closed, you dipshit!" Tony's voice resonates through the suit.

Maw feels the rising bitterness grind between his teeth before he slides away from another punch and sends ice shards towards Tony followed by a rumble under his feet.

"What the- is he trying to bring an earthquake?" Tony rises in the air to dodge the attacks coming his way.

The claws which are targeting the ground seem to be the epicentre of the rumble- focused on ripping the rocks lying somewhere under that blanket of pure white- feel themselves being wrapped by a stringed glow that yanks those arms, disrupting whatever power Maw possesses to move the elements around him.

"You really should get a hobby."

Maw knows that voice too well.

The magician.

When the supreme torturer tries to wrap the enchanted magic strings around his arms to pull Strange towards him, the latter moves his hands to convert those strings into handcuffs, freeing himself to create three more elemental circles and call forward blasts of pure energy aiming at his could-be tormentor.

Ebony dives away, calling forward more shards to break him free of those cuffs, taking the first chance his hands get to call up the already cracked rocks to target the sorcerer.

The first one is missed. The second is dodged. The third is barely tackled by his magic. The fourth one gets him. So does every other boulder that comes flying his way.

Strange is surrounded with boulders from every side, all of them aiming to crush him where he stands. While he is trying to protect himself- and the fate of the universe wrapped around his neck- he doesn't notice the slithering pieces around him, too wrapped up in fear as the rocks finally close in on him with a thunderous rumble breaking the air on their collision.

"Strange!"

No one knows where that cry comes from as clouds of dirt and smoke hide the point of impact; the crime scene.

Ebony Maw does not move a muscle from where he stands, his hands clasped on to each other with a watchful look, satisfied with himself.

"You critters should have given up these futile attempts when you had the chance."

His voice has a chill that echoes through the mountains. Even the wind seems to fall silent.

"You picked the wrong people for that intention, Voldey."

If Maw had brows he would have raised them when he turns around to look at a faint glow- a few feet above the ground- rise further. It's only when the clouds of unrest begin to lower the haze does the shadow of something fluttering around that figure comes to light.

How did he-

Every scenario is running through his mind to figure out how that magician escaped, cracking the glass walls of restraint inside him. The smokiness in the air takes its sweet time to reveal the shadow of the figure, the chest lit up in a warm blue glow while the arms rise from either side to mirror that very glow in Maw's direction.

"Light's out, you son of a bitch," Stark announces, already witnessing heaps of ice shards rising from the ground. The cloak of levitation readies itself to protect Stark while a grunt rises from Maw's throat as he changes the direction of the shards to point at Tony. Pulling himself back to gather as much potential, Ebony Maw is about to push them towards the man when piercing noise followed by something sharp jabs him like a thousand needles in the back.

"Now!" Tony shouts at the top of his lungs.

Within seconds a streak of green comes running on the snow- melting it where it touches the cold, cracking the ice till it reaches Maw to surround him in a circle marked with a Nordic enchantment.

Before those beady eyes can make sense of this intricate entrapment surrounding him, the cluster of boulders meant to kill Strange break with a crackling sound to reveal the Sorcerer Supreme clad in the Iron Man suit, his hands ready with burning rings that are fired at the tormentor, cuffing him while merging with the Nordic circle of magic, trapping his limbs.

It is unreal; the scream that leaves Maw's throat. The menacing cry is not for the pain but the pride that has been marred by humans and the God that is on one knee, keeping his magic strong and his eyes on the one who tried to take his light away not too long ago.

"YOU WILL ALL DIE! YOU WILL DIE THE DEATHS OF ROTTEN SWINE CRAWLING WITH MAGGOTS ALL OVER YOU! YOU WILL ALL WHINE BENEATH MY FEET!"

Stark and Strange walk towards the creature who roars while on his knees, their armours being exchanged without a word, looking at the dull alien yanking at the illuminated golden and green chains holding him down.

"Oh you coward," Maw hisses at Strange before turning to Stark, "using a shrewd God to capture me? Do you not know the likes of him? His silver tongue has a purpose. A purpose to fulfil his means. Once he is done you lot he will throw you to the black holes and move on to someone more powerful. He only fends for himself. I know because I have been inside his brain. His darkness eats him alive and soon it will eat you all!"

A huff of air leaves Tony's lungs when he shares a look with Strange. Their lungs slowly come back to ease. Their shaking hearts have found solid ground. Their doubtful eyes now look in the direction of the figure walking towards them, its hands illuminating green with an increasing density.

"They see through you, Asgardian!"

All the rage collected on Ebony Maw's forehead wants to launch at the God walking in his direction in any way it can find. But that rage seems to come to a standstill when it sees the figure emerge from behind the fog; concentrating on those lines running up and down the blue skin that is too flawless to belong to a mere animal. The rage resting on Maw's forehead starts taking a few steps back when it locks its beady eyes with the red that sears through his very soul.

"You're wrong, Maw-" Loki comes to stand right outside the glowing circle keeping his punisher captive- "they do not see through me."

A flick of Loki's wrist and the chains are pulled into the ground, making a reluctant Maw bow down to get them back up.

"They cannot see anything."

Maw tries to but he cannot break his gaze from those eyes carrying the colour of blood as they're looking down on him with unspeakable emotions; seemingly blank stare ripping his insides with every drop of volcanic heat leaving them.

"You did not leave much for them to see last time, did you?"

The icy chill from Loki's hand as it wraps around his throat to make him stand and face him with the roles reversed sends poisonous shivers through his existence.

"Don't worry-" Loki whispers too close to him; close enough to make sure he can be the first one in this universe to smell Maw's fear but not close enough for Maw to get his teeth in him. His free hand conjures a four edged dagger glistening with the glow from the snow. "-unlike you, I won't make you wish for death."

The strike is smooth. The blade goes inside his abdomen in one go, puncturing his vital organs with that very strike. Maw does not even feel it; something that brings a smile on Loki's face. "I will make you live death."

The blade comes out, bringing with it the spoils. Black insides slowly spill. This is the first time Maw feels something tickle his abdomen. The itch increases into an unbearable agony and he is trying to clutch to the wound to make that burn stop.

And the blood does stop. The wound heals back, leaving a blue bruise-like stain on that grey skin. The heavy breaths of relief slowly turn into wheezing. The eyes filled with three-seconds of reprieve go wide in horror. The murky, black blood-stained hands turn into claws to rip apart the very skin that healed a few moments ago as the throat breaks into an agonising shriek.

The poison on the dagger has done its job well. It coagulates the blood and regenerates the tissue to seemingly heal the wound but burns the coagulated blood and new fabrication of the tissue to the point that the animal would rather tear its skin apart than have that thing inside it for one more second. And when the freshly healed wound is exposed to the nitrogen in the air, it catalysis the poison to spread further into the body, making that animal a writhing howling mess on the ground.

Ebony Maw experiences the same fate. The shrill screams breaking the air come out for a few more seconds before he has gnawed himself inside out. All that is left of this child of Thanos is the goo its desecrated body lies in.

It does not take a genius to figure out how much thought Loki has put into Maw's extermination; something that makes Stark wonder what had Squidward done to Loki to call for such a gory end.

"Great," Strange snaps Tony out of his thoughts, scrunching his nose at the remains of the grey villain, "one down. How many more?"

"We took down the strategist," Loki announces, sending his dagger back to his pocket dimension, "it should be easy to take down the rest of the...children."

"Great," Tony mentions with a slight groan, "Alexander is dead. Loki's actually a-" he gestures at the Frost Giant, looking him up and down- "a teen girl's dream smurf and I just got a call from Banner telling me Cap met another of these deranged kids.” He groans. “Exactly how I was planning the day to go."

[searchingwardrobes]

Christmas in Storybrooke: 7/11

Another chapter that justifies the M rating, and it's Henry, so . . . be prepared. This is also where the angst begins, so buckle your seatbelts. You may have noticed that each of the chapter titles is a Christmas song. This one is probably a little obscure. It's a song by Matt Wertz. I don't even know who he is, honestly, but they play this song on the radio station my kids and I listen to. It's super cheesy, even my kids think so, and its peppy fluffiness clashes with the angst of this chapter. However, the title and even the lyrics fit the idea of Henry's crazy life. You'll understand I think after you read the chapter.

Summary: My Hallmark Christmas movie fic in which flights get cancelled and Henry’s “best friend’ gets snowed in with him in his quirky hometown for Christmas. Only with magic and fairy tale characters.

Rating: M for suggestive scenes and adult situations, not smut

Trigger warnings: Henry is an adult. Read that again: Henry is an adult. Look at the picset: that’s Andrew J. West. If Henry actually behaving like an adult makes you feel icky, the don’t read this.

Can also be read on Ao3

Tagging @snowbellewells @kmomof4 @kday426 @bethacaciakay @snidgetsafan @teamhook @whimsicallyenchantedrose @delirious-latenight-laughs @jennjenn615 @winterbaby89 @yohoyohoafandomlifeforme @distant-rose @let-it-raines

Chapter Seven: Snow Globe

Henry slept better than he had the entire time he’d been back home. Partly because the guest bed was far more comfortable than his old futon and partly because his activities with Evie left him thoroughly spent in the best way. He had fallen asleep with her in his arms, and he was pretty sure the loss of her soft curves pressed against him was what had awakened him now. The bed was also creaking with her movement, and he rolled over to see her swinging her legs over the side of the bed. Her hair, beautifully tousled and wavy, fell over one shoulder, leaving her back bare. He slid over to slip his arm around her waist and press kisses to her shoulder blade. The sun was just peeking through the window, so he knew it was early.

“Where are you going?” he whispered against her skin. He ran his hand down her spine. “Waking up to this sight makes me realize how many freckles I missed. I didn’t explore your back.”

“Henry,” she sighed with a hint of irritation. Yet she leaned back into him anyway and came willingly as he pulled her back down and into the circle of his arms. She shuddered as he trailed kisses down her back, his fingers tracing her freckles.

“You know this can’t go anywhere,” she said, turning in his arms with her eyes shut tight.

Henry felt as if he’d gotten emotional whiplash. Had he been misreading her all this time?

“Look at me,” he whispered as he traced her cheek with his fingertips. Reluctantly, she did as he asked, and he felt his heart stutter at those beautiful, mysterious eyes of hers. “If you think this was some friends with benefits fling, you’re wrong. That's not me.’

She gave him a tremulous smile. “I know that.”

He let out a relieved breath. “Good.” He swallowed down the nerves that came before he spoke again. It was risky, but she had to know. “And to be completely clear – I love you, Evangeline.”

Her face crumpled, her eyes suddenly welling up with tears. She looked as if he’d just given her horrible news. “You think you do – now.”

His brow furrowed. “My feelings may have crept up on me, but I’m one hundred percent sure of them now. So sure, that I’ll say it again. I love you.”

Henry pressed a kiss to her lips just to emphasize his point, and for a moment, she kissed him back, even wrapping her arms tighter around his neck as he rolled her onto her back. But then she pulled away, somewhat reluctantly, panting. Her gaze was sad as she cupped his face.

“Remember when we met?”

He smiled and turned his face to kiss her palm. “Of course I do. To be honest, I was attracted to you from the start, but you were engaged at the time.”

She gave him a smile as she ran a hand through his hair. “And you had just broken up with Grace. When Josh left, you were there for me. I remember you said you had been in a similar situation.”

Henry nodded, unsure where she was going with this. “That’s right. Grace hated New York City. We wanted different things, and she left.”

Evie searched his eyes intently, nodding as if he ought to be putting things together by now. “She wanted to come back home, you said. You grew up together. Now I know what that means. Who is she, Henry?”

“An old friend,” Henry repeated, “you know that.”

She sighed in frustration and gave his chest a slight push. “But who is she, really? She’s a fairy tale character, right? Or related to one?”

Henry rubbed his face wearily and rolled onto his back. Talking about their exes wasn’t exactly how he imagined their morning after going. “Her dad is the Mad Hatter, okay? He went back to the Enchanted Forest, and she wanted to go back there too. So we broke up. Met some guy there and is engaged now from what I heard. What’s your point?”

Evie propped herself up on her elbow. “The Mad Hatter? As in Wonderland?”

“Yeah.”

“And your first girlfriend, Violet, who was she?”

“What is this?” Henry groaned. “Why are you grilling me about my exes? You want to know how many women I’ve been with before we get serious, is that it? Cause let me assure you, I’m a pretty dull guy. One committed monogamous relationship after another. A complete relationship nerd.”

Evie rolled her eyes and shifted closer, propping herself up on his chest. The feel of her breasts sliding against his skin made him want to do anything but talk.

“Just humor me, please,” she begged him, “I have a point, I swear.”

He sighed, fiddling with her hair. “I just don’t understand why you’re asking about Violet. I was just a kid; it was completely innocent, puppy love.”

“She was your first kiss, though. So where did you meet her?”

He realized he had fudged the real story when he told it to Evie before. Of course, he hadn’t been completely lying. His memories had been erased, so in a way he really did meet Violet by the jukebox at Granny’s.

“At a ball in Camelot.”

Evie rolled her eyes, then flopped onto her back. He was still really distracted by her breasts.

“Oh, just at a ball in Camelot,” she repeated wryly.

Henry rolled over to nibble at her neck and cup one of her breasts. She held him close for a moment, sighing at his touch, but then she pushed him away again.

“Focus, please,” she reprimanded.

He relented, settling down with his head resting on her stomach. She began to thread her fingers through his hair. She hadn’t told him yet how she felt, but her response to his touch, and her affections despite her third degree spoke volumes. She had feelings for him beyond the physical, he could tell, but she was also afraid. He just couldn’t figure out why.

“How long did you date Violet?”

He sighed, but answered honestly anyway. “Until I was fifteen. And like I told you, we were young and innocent. And before you ask, her father was the Connecticut Yankee.”

“In King Arthur’s Court? Twain’s stuff is real too?” She chuckled. “Did you also graduate with Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn?”

He laughed as well. “Haven’t met them . . . yet.”

“And after Violet?”

No wonder she was so good at her job. When she wanted answers, she was unrelenting.

“I dated one other girl in high school. She was my date to the prom my junior year, but my senior year we broke up. Mom didn’t like her. I don’t think my other mom and Killian were all that crazy about the relationship either, but they were nice to Ava. They had a similar upbringing to hers, so they understood her better than Regina did. She was also a year older than me, and when you’re sixteen, that can freak your parents out I guess.”

“And who was she? Was Ava her real name?”

Henry sat up and rubbed his eyes. “You promise not to laugh?”

Evie’s mouth quirked up in the corner. She gathered the sheets to her chest and slid up to lean back against the headboard. She lifted one hand.

“Girl Scout’s honor. I won’t laugh.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “I don’t think that’s a thing in the Girl Scouts.”

“Hey, I was a Brownie, for your information, and we have honor too.”

He couldn’t help smiling, relieved to see she still had her sense of humor at least. ‘Okay, fine. She was . . . . Gretel.”

Evie’s eyes widened. Then she coughed and quickly clapped her hand over her mouth. Then she removed it, cleared her throat, and asked, “As in Hansel and Gretel?”

He saw the sparkle in her eyes. “You swore you wouldn’t laugh!” he exclaimed.

She schooled her features, though her lips kept quirking upward. “Do I look like I’m laughing?”

“Maybe not on the outside.”

She cleared her throat and made a big production of smoothing down the bedsheets. “Okay, so you lost your virginity to the chick that shoved a witch into an oven. Got it.”

“How did you know that I . . . “

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Your parents didn’t approve? She was older than you? Come on now, Henry, I can put two and two together.”

He rolled his eyes, then reached out to gather her in his arms. Evie frowned, almost looked like she might cry, but she let him hold her close. He kissed her hair and rubbed her shoulders.

“What is all this about?”

She turned her face into his neck, and he ran his fingers through her hair.

“Have you dated anyone who wasn’t from . . . there?”

He pulled her away from him slightly so he could look into her face. He rubbed his thumb across her cheek.

“Why do you -”

“Just answer the damn question.”

He sighed. “If you’re asking if I’ve ever dated anyone truly from the Land Without Magic . . . no, I haven’t.”

“See?” she asked, her lip trembling. “You say you love me, but what happens when you go on some adventure and meet Cinderella or something?”

“Ella runs the day care center and is married with two kids.”

She rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean. You’re the grandson of Prince Charming, for heaven’s sake! You’re from a world of destined soul mates and true love’s kisses. There’s probably some princess out there under a curse that you’re supposed to go rescue or something. I’m a nobody, Henry. Just an ordinary girl who grew up in an ordinary suburb of Atlanta. Trust me, my dad’s into genealogies. I’m nothing magical or special.”

Tears were tracing down Evie’s cheeks now. He tried to pull her to him again, to kiss her and tell her she was wrong, but she fled from the bed, from him. She grabbed her clothes and went to the bathroom, almost slamming the door behind her. He heard the click of the lock, and a sound that he thought might be a sob. He followed, knocking at the door, and begging her to open it.

“Go away Henry.”

He pressed his forehead to the door, and spoke in a voice loud enough for her to hear, but gentle enough to convey his feelings. “I will, for now, but I love you Evangeline Crawford, and I’ll keep telling you that until you believe it. Until you believe how special you really are.”

**************************************************

Henry hadn’t expected Evie to be able to ignore him so thoroughly when they were staying in the same house and sharing a room, but she seemed to be just as tenacious in this as she was with anything else. Even here, at Granny’s annual Christmas Eve party, she had skillfully avoided him. It got to the point that Henry started to feel like a pathetic puppy in his attempts to follow her around. So now he sat in a booth at the back of the diner, nursing a beer as he watched another cluster of Storybrooke residents surround Evie. She was a bit of a celebrity at the moment, as word had gotten around that Henry had told her the truth about everything. She was the first outsider since Tamara and Greg, which definitely increased the aura of mystery surrounding her. At least he hoped it was mystery. He knew his hometown well enough to know that it could still be fear and suspicion too.

He watched Evie’s expression over the rim of his mug. He hated that she looked a little overwhelmed. As he lowered the beverage with a sigh, his stepdad slid into the booth across from him.

“So, my boy, care to explain what’s going on with you and your fair lass?”

“She’s not my anything,” Henry grumbled, taking another swig of his beer.

Killian arched a brow at him. “Seems to me you’ve been emphasizing this entire time that she’s just MY friend. If I were a betting man, I would say that something has happened to change that label?”

Henry narrowed his eyes. “You are a betting man.”

“Were,” Killian corrected, pointing a finger in Henry’s face, “and don’t change the subject. I’m quite perceptive, you know.”

He tilted his head, and Henry squirmed. A slow smile spread across Killian’s face as he leaned back in his booth. Henry tried to cover his sudden blush with another swallow of beer.

“Just as I thought.”

“I’m glad my angst is so amusing to you,” Henry snapped.

Killian’s gaze went from teasing to sincere. “Listen to me, lad, in my experience, when a lady runs it means her feelings run deep.”

Henry deflated. “How did you do it, Killian? How did you get past Mom’s walls?”

“With patience,” he answered softly. “I was in it for the long haul, and I knew I had to earn your mother’s trust by letting her set the pace.”

“But what if she thinks a future is impossible? That we’re just too different.”

They both knew he wasn’t talking about his mother anymore.

“And you think Emma was any different? Who could be more different than a villain and the savior? A pirate and a princess? Captain Hook and the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming?” He leaned over and grasped Henry’s shoulder. “I told your grandpa once that your mother and I were no fated love story. We had to fight for our love. We fought, and we won. When your mother saw I would never give up on us, she knew she could trust me with her future, no matter what it brought.”

Henry nodded firmly, encouraged by his stepdad’s words, but then he frowned. “But how do I convince her when she won’t even look at me?”

Killian winked. “When a woman cares for you, and you truly honor and respect her, she’ll seek you out. Just be sure you make yourself available; that your right there when she needs you.”

Henry nodded. He still wasn’t completely sure how he could strike that balance, but he could sure as hell try.

“Henry,” Emma’s voice interrupted their conversation. Killian tensed, his eyes wide with concern.

“Emma, love, why aren’t you still in the booth with your parents?” He rose and helped his wife settle in next to him.

“Sorry,” Emma said with a sigh, reaching over and squeezing her husband’s hook. Then she turned to Henry, “I just saw Evie kind of getting surrounded over there, and I was wondering why you weren’t coming to her rescue.”

“Um . . . “ he was now squirming under his mother’s gaze.

“Oh,” Emma suddenly said, exchanging a knowing glance with Killian, “I see.”

“Seriously, Mom, you too?”

“Henry,” his mother said gently, taking his hand, “whatever is happening between you too, you can‘t let her keep you at arm’s length right now. The dwarves, Granny, and Belle are all over there trying to convince her she’s actually a fairy tale character.”

“What?”

Emma nodded. “They’re giving her the third degree, and she looks a little lost. She may need you, despite whatever fight you’ve had.”

“We didn’t have a fight,” Henry countered.

Emma seemed to be fighting a grin as she glanced at Killian again. “Hmm, so it’s like that then.”

“She probably told him it was a one-time thing,” Killian quipped.

“Silly girl,” Emma giggled. “I should warn her that those are famous last words.”

Killian bent and kissed her then, and Henry groaned as he quickly exited the booth. “You two are nauseating.”

His parents just continued to laugh (and kiss) as he stood. But before he could reach the crowd that had Evie surrounded, she turned and practically fled out the door. He felt the curve of Killian’s hook nudge his back.

“Go to her lad.”

At his stepdad’s words, he looked back down at the booth. His mother was nodding her encouragement. Henry squared his shoulders and strode towards the door. The bell above it jingled as he opened it and stepped out into the frigid air. Evie stood standing in the gently falling snow, her arms wrapped around herself, her face tilted slightly upwards. Her auburn hair fell in soft waves down her back, one side pulled off her neck with a silver and gold clip. Her black dress was cinched at the waist with a gold belt, and the skirt flared out, its black tulle outer lining embroidered with sparkling gold thread. Several gold bangle bracelets tinkled at her wrists, and she wore gold ballet flats on her feet. The dress hit her at the knees, but her toned calves were still enough to make his thoughts go in a heated direction, especially remembering them tangled up with his in the early hours of dawn. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

She shivered, and he realized that the gold shawl draped over her bare shoulders was doing little to shelter her from the cold. He stepped up behind her, shedding his sports jacket, and draped it over her creamy shoulders. He stepped closer, his chest brushing against her back, his lips ghosting across the top of her head, but he refrained from doing anything more intimate. He gave her arms one quick rub with his palms, then stepped back to give her space once again.

“What are you doing?” she asked, turning to him. Her dress brought out the gold flecks in her eyes, and he couldn’t stop staring.

“Giving you my jacket. You’re cold.”

She tore her gaze away, then nodded over his shoulder. “Look behind you.”

He turned and saw a small crowd gathered at the window of Granny’s, among them the proprietress herself and half the dwarves. They scrambled off in a way that wasn’t remotely subtle when they glimpsed Henry looking their way. He sighed.

“Kind of like being in a fish bowl, isn’t it?”

Evie pulled his jacket tighter as she gazed up at the sky once again. “A snow globe’s more like it.”

“Mhm,” he agreed stepping close again and brushing snow from her hair, “I apologize. After the curse broke, and everyone realized my real mother was the savior, well . . . let’s just say they suddenly all believed themselves personally invested in my life. It’s been unfair, and honestly way too much to live up to.”

“Is that why they were all so intent on discovering my supposed true fairy tale background? To see if I’m worthy of you?”

He sighed, his hand still playing with her hair, “Ignore them. I love you just the way you are, and I don’t care where you came from.”

She said nothing for a moment, but turned away from him. He thought she might walk away completely, but she stopped at the patio awning. She leaned her head against it as she gazed up at the stars.

“It’s a beautiful night tonight,” Henry said softly as he came to stand by her side. “The moon is full.”

“Not quite,” Evie commented, “but I noticed it was the other night. It was beautiful, and so incredibly close.”

Well, that explained the wolf Killian had mentioned to Evie when he went to dig out the snow plow. Ruby must have been out that night in wolf form and getting into mischief. He didn’t mention that to Evie, though. She had enough to process without the news that Little Red Riding Hood was actually a werewolf.

“Evangeline was the star that Tiana wished on in the movie The Princess and the Frog.” Evie turned her gaze on Henry. “That’s one theory on who I am. A star that was cursed to be born a human in the Land Without Magic.”

Her voice was laced with sarcasm. He drew closer to her. “Evie, I’m so sorry. Just ignore them -”

“But that wasn’t the only possibility. According to Belle, there’s a Longfellow poem that could be about me. Of course, it’s based on a Cajun legend, so Granny thought they might both be me. A star, and a legend. Now talk about lot to live up to . . . “

“Evie,” he said softly, going to stand in front of her and placing both hands gently on her shoulders, “I don’t need you to be a star or some kind of legendary character. All I need is you.” He pulled her close, and he counted it as a small victory when she relaxed in his embrace. “Besides, I was an English major at NYU, remember? I read that poem, and believe me, I don’t want it to be you. That Evangeline wanders in search of her lover, and doesn’t find him until they’re both old. Then he dies in her arms.”

Evie pulled back, and he smiled to see a teasing grin on her face. “Hello, Henry, spoiler alert? What if I was planning on reading that?”

He chuckled, and then bent to kiss her. She stopped him, however, with a finger to his lips. He opened his eyes, which had fluttered closed, to give her a confused look.

“Snow globe,” she told him simply, cutting her eyes to the side.

He groaned when he saw his Grandma Snow and Belle peering at them through the window. His grandmother made a big show of scrambling away, yanking Belle with her. He turned back to Evie, but the moment was lost. She stepped away from the awning and onto the sidewalk. She shrugged out of his jacket and held it out to him.

“I - um, saw that there was a flight in the morning out of Portland direct to Atlanta. I was thinking I’d take it.”

“Evie -”

“The only reason you brought me here was because I couldn’t get a flight out. Now I can.” She shrugged as if it was nothing, but the tears glistening in her eyes said otherwise. “I think it’s for the best.”

“Don’t,” Henry said, unable to keep the edge out of his voice, “don’t push me away. I don’t want the damn jacket back, and I don’t want you to leave.”

She hugged the jacket to her chest, wrapping herself protectively. “I also had a pretty interesting conversation with your Grandfather Rumple. Or a lecture was more like it. He said his son threw his life away by choosing the Land Without Magic, and he hated to see you do the same. Said you were running from your destiny.” She tilted her head to the side. “Seems you left out one little detail about your fairy tale life, Henry Mills.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

She marched towards him again. “You led me to believe you were just descended from storybook characters. But me, you said, I’m just a regular guy, you said.” The green in her eyes over took the gold now, deep and stormy. She poked him in the chest with one finger. “You’re the author, and while I don’t fully understand what all that means, the Blue Fairy and Rumple very snootily informed me that it had something to do with you being chosen. Something about a magic pen and the consequences of not wielding it right?”

“Evie, I can explain -”

She lifted a hand to cut him off. “I know you aren’t trying to toy with my feelings. We probably didn’t set proper boundaries in our friendship. We had both just gotten our hearts broken, and we shouldn’t have found comfort with each other.” She pressed her palm to his chest. “You deserve so much more than me, Henry.”

Then she gave him a tiny shove and hurried away down the snowy sidewalk.

[blissfulparker]

Dark paradise

Parings: newt x reader

Warnings: newts death, tdc spoilers, sadness

Request by @lifeisbetterinthesaddle :newt x reader where the reader know newt is sick and when he is fighting Thomas she gets the serum and saves newt

You knew newt was infected. He tried to hide it from you, but you eventually saw his arm where the infection had started. Watching him start to slowly lose himself to this virus is what pained you. The person you loved the most dying right Infront of your eyes, hurt the most.

“(Y/n)?” Him calling your name was like sweet honey.

“Yes, newt?” You responded to him placing your hand on his beating heart as the two of you lie in the bed that was given to you.

“If I die tomorrow-“ he started but you had quickly cut him off not wanting to hear those words from his mouth. You knew this could kill him but you didn’t want to know when.

“Newt, you are not going to die tomorrow I promise you that, okay?” You told him as you shifted your body up now sitting up on the bed glancing down at him trying to remember everything of him in case he does go.

“Love, you know what this does. I would rather die than turn into a monster right infront of your eyes and kill you. I would never forgive myself if I killed you even if I wasn’t me anymore whoever I turn into I will still love you.” He says as he grabs your hand and placed a soft kiss on it. Those were the lips you’d always love.

The night turned into morning and the day went by without newt. He had parted off with Thomas and gally whilst you parted with Brenda and frypan. You knew how much Minho meant to him and how they’ve been the glade forever together. Frypan and Brenda had reassured you that he was fine and that he was going to be fine. Although that was a lie, everything fell apart that night.

“Where are they? They should be back by now!” You accidentally yelled at Brenda. She gave you a sorrow look knowing that she knew about newt.

“They’ll be back, okay? Calm down don’t worry about it.” She told you as you now sat in the plane with children she had recused from wickd.

That’s when you both heard something come though the radio Brenda had kept so Thomas can keep in touch with her. The radio mumbled something at first causing you to grab for it and answer first. It was frypan trying to get to you, telling you to grab the seurm for newt.

“(Y/n) I-i need you to get the seurm.” That’s when you did it, your ran and got the serum as fast as you could because you knew your newt was dying.

You ran, as fast as you could to where frypan had told you to go. He kept in touch with you as you ran. Your mind couldn’t even keep up with you at one point but your legs kept running to get to newt. You had to save newt, there was no point in the paradise for you if newt wasn’t there to be with you. When you both were in the glade he promised you if there was a such thing as paradise he’d be right there with you for as long as you both live.

Tears would fall from your eyes as you ran to save him. Then you did, you saw him there lying on the hard floor as Thomas was on top of him fighting him off. Finally you saw Thomas hit newt in the back of his head with his gun, only enough to make him pass out. You pushed past Minho as he stared at newt with the saddest eyes ever, you’ve never seen Minho so sad in your entire life.

You felt a hand grab your arm causing you to jolt back, it was Jorge. He gave you a sorrow look before saying, “he’s gone.”

You stared at newts lifeless body as it laied there with black veins covering his once so precious face that you would adore staring at, kissing, and falling in love with a little more everyday. You still had hope though, you knew he wasn’t dead you promised him he wouldn’t die so you couldn’t let him die not now nor ever.

You jerked out of Jorge’s grasp as you ran to newt, straddling him plunging the serum into his heart injecting it in less than a heart beat. Your eyes could barely see him due to the tears that covered them. You felt someone walk up to you ready to pull you away from him.

“Come on Newt, come on baby.” You whispered to him as you were out of breath.

“We have to go.” Frypan had told you as he had grabbed your upper arm. You didn’t budge with him still on newt with your hands on his face.

You almost lost hope that the serum didn’t work. There was no real cure for anyone and that this is what the world was to become. You had stared at his now black eyes as you were pulled off of him. That’s when you felt it, you felt his heart beat and you felt him jolt up. You witnessed him gasp for air like the other just had as they had seen it work. His eyes searched for yours at first and then they met. You jolted out of frypans grasp running back to Newt pulling him into your chest and hugging him as tight as you can. The others had joined you in hugging Newt glad that the serum had worked and he was alive.

“Darling?” He said to you as he looked still drained but his face was coming back to his natural tone.

“Yes?” You said as you rubbed your thumbs over his cheeks that felt blood once again.

“My head really hurts.” He said to you as he rubbed the spot that Thomas had hit softly.

“I know.” You softly chuckled to him as you placed your head on his shoulder still crying.

You had managed to get Newt off the floor his body still weak but the serum obviously working. He had an arm around you and another around minho as Thomas had went off to get Teresa from the building hoping to save her as well.

You sat next to Newt on the plane and had comforted him the whole time not letting him out of your arms once. He had placed a hand on your worrying face and had told you he was safe now and that it was going to be okay. You both were going to be okay.

Time skip

You had sat on the beach of the paradise feeling the wind graze your cheeks and ocean salt fill your nose. You had made it, you both had made it. The paradise was the place Newt had promised you when you both laied in hammocks in the glade and stared at the stars as you fell asleep. Newt had been playing with your two year old daughter for the past hour causing you to gain peace and quite with yourself.

You had heard footsteps walk up to causing you to turn around looking at the man you had loved. He had given you a smile before kissing your lips gently. Wrapping a arm around you, you had placed your head on his shoulder giving it a small kiss.

“Wait, Where’s our daughter?” You said before you got too comfy with newt.

“She’s with Minho and Thomas, relax love.” He told you as he tightened his arm around you admiring the ocean with you.

“Why would you leave her with those two, oh my goodness.” You said getting up to witness Thomas throwing her up in the air way too high.

“Thomas!” You shouted as Newt got up too giving him a look.

Thomas had set your daughter down causing her to run over to her mommy and daddy.

“What?” He had replied throwing his hands up.

“You can’t throw her she’s a human not a toy.” You told him as she ran into your legs hugging you.

You had picked her up and gave her a kiss on her cheek and Thomas felt defeat. (Y/d/n) was everything to you and Newt as you both swore to protect her no matter what.

“Paradise.” Was all Newt had said to you before kissing your lips because you both knew you had made it but you just both wanted to say it sometimes.

“No, daddy icky.” Your daughter said as she pushed Newt away from you and put her hands over your mouth.

“Oh don’t think your not next little girl.” He said taking her out of your arms and kissing all over her small face making her giggle.

This was what made you happy, this life. This was everything you wanted and what you had before could never compare to now. This was your family, newt, (y/d/n), Thomas, Minho, and everyone here. You could never imagine what your life would be like if you didn’t save newt that night.

[adamarinayu]

“We’re All We’ve Got, Remember?”

So this was originally supposed to be a completely independent oneshot that just sort of popped into my head but then this quote slipped in there.

This is completely and 100% AU.

When a city, no matter how large, is all you’ve ever known, it begins to feel more like a prison than home. That was something Donald’s nephews had to learn the hard way.

Not that Donald took it much better- after decades of adventuring the world, being confined to Duckburg alone was driving him crazy. It was like cabin fever, only he could go out into town instead of being locked within the walls of that mansion he had once upon a time and once again called home. The simple fact of the matter was this was Duckburg, and there was no way out.

Except for the sky burning red and hot above them, the high glass ceiling of the dome keeping them inside the city, the guards patrolling the streets enforcing laws Donald had never grown up with, and a plethora of other small details and big details, it was the Duckburg he had known and loved and often left behind for a bigger, better, more exciting place- but the Duckburg he always returned to.

The children had never known any other world. They didn’t know life outside the dome.

Donald, Scrooge, Bentina, Gladstone and Launchpad did.

The world they grew up in was not the world Huey, Dewey, Louie and Webby would inherit.

“Uncle Donald!”

Donald’s eyes tore away from the window, swinging around to look at his nephews and niece running over to him. They had dart guns in their hands, but the expressions on their faces told him they were much less interested in their game and much more interested in something else.

They leapt up on the couch, forcing themselves between Donald and Gladstone, causing the latter to drop the book he had been looking through in order to scoot over.

“Yes?” Donald asked, giving them a somewhat disapproving look. Gladstone didn’t look too perturbed, however, as he just plucked his book back up off the floor. He waved the childrens’ apologies away.

“We were talking with some friends from school,” Dewey explained to his uncle, “and everyone else says their parents tell them stories about the “old world” all the time.”

“So we were wondering,” Huey continued almost nervously, “what was the world like when you were young, Uncle Donald?”

Donald and Gladstone shared a surprised look over the ducklings’ heads. “When I was young?” Donald repeated.

“Yeah,” Louie confirmed, leaning against Gladstone’s side. “You know, when you were a duckling. Like us.”

“When you were our age!” Webby added excitedly, dropping her dart gun to grab his arm. “Please tell us, Uncle Donald? Uncle Scrooge doesn’t want to talk about it!”

That was understandable, Donald figured- Scrooge was bitter about the whole affair and hated thinking of the old days. He missed those days so much.

But Donald? Donald wanted the children to know. He wanted them to know how it used to be. How it should be.

He gave them a slight, sad smile. “Gladstone,” he started, turning towards his cousin and holding his hands out. Gladstone looked slightly unsure.

“You sure, ‘cuz? Unc’ didn’t want us talking about it,” he reminded Donald.

Donald rolled his eyes. “Scrooge can stuff it,” he said as Gladstone dropped the book into his waiting hands. “They deserve to know.”

“If you’re sure.”

He turned to the children. “Things were a lot different when Gladstone, your mother and I were growing up,” he started. “Back then we could go outside.”

“We already go outside, Uncle Donald,” Dewey pointed out, raising a brow.

“Not outside the house,” Donald corrected, flipping the book open to the first page. “Outside the dome.”

The album was filled with memories. Memories of Donald and Gladstone and even Della’s entire lives, right up until the dome was erected. Twenty-five years of fun, glory and paradise.

Sometimes the cousins regretted not taking more pictures- why they didn’t just take a picture of that common flower that bloomed every spring, or take more pictures of their grandmother, or more of Della, more of Fethry, more of that old pond out by the farm... the farm itself...

It was filled with memories, longing and regret, but also respect and nostalgia for the things that no longer were.

On the very first page, three ducklings- one slightly different, his goose showing through- sat on a blanket in the grass, looking at the camera in confusion. In the background, ducks of various ages played.

Scattered across the page were more pictures of those ducklings, sometimes all together and sometimes separated. It wasn’t very clear whose pictures these were, to be honest- Donald and Gladstone, when the triplets and Webby were barely a year old, had piled all of their pictures up and cobbled the album together with no clear separation on who the photos had belonged to originally. Sometimes they were at the farm, sometimes they were at the house Donald vaguely remembered belonging to his father, sometimes they were at Gladstone’s house, and then sometimes they were elsewhere.

Some places the two cousins had carefully copied whatever their parents had written on the back of the photos underneath, to be sure they would never forget the details.

At some point, of course, the pictures seemed to all merge- when all three children came into their grandmother’s care. Several years passed with the children there before a sudden separation happened again in their teens, when Donald and Della moved in with Scrooge officially.

That was when the old photographs really got interesting. Suddenly Donald and Della were in other countries, in adventuring gear or camping or somesuch, while Gladstone was at parties and the “best of the best for tourists” countries available.

Of course, there were the “cousin roadtrips” they took and treasured every year scattered throughout, but other than that Donald and Gladstone’s lives ceased crossing over as much as they once had.

Fethry, their other cousin, showed up mostly in family reunion photos and the cousin roadtrips. Every day Donald and Gladstone felt crushing regret that they didn’t have more pictures of him.

No one knew where he was when the enemy none of them knew about rose into power. No one knew where he was when the dome came to be.

He wasn’t home when the sky began to burn red.

“Uncle Donald, these pictures look so...” Huey started, sounding unsure as he stared at the album.

“Fake?” Dewey supplied somewhat nervously.

“Fake?!” Gladstone repeated, almost offended. “Dear children, these pictures are our lives!”

“Gladstone,” Donald started tiredly, leaning back on the couch as he gazed at the old photographs. “It’s okay, they don’t know.”

“The world can’t be that different,” Louie said, frowning at the picture of three blue-eyed ducklings swimming in a lake, an orange sun gleaming down from a blue sky.

“Sure it can,” Webby argued. “I mean the world had to change sometime, right?”

“It can’t be this different,” Louie repeated, huffing. “I was expecting boring talk about a building that no longer stood, or a park where industry is now, not-”

“We grew up on a farm,” Donald interrupted their argument, silencing the children. “The pond’s water was really cold,” he told them, pointing at a picture of him and Gladstone swimming. Della was in the background, a blur jumping off of the small dock with a rare image of Fethry following. “We swam in it every summer, anyway. The skies were always blue in summer, and the sun was warm and the air clean.”

“Air,” Gladstone added, leaning over the children to peer at the album as well, “actually came from the trees and grass and oceans, and not a factory.”

“That can’t be true,” Huey mumbled in awe, eyes on the trees Gladstone pointed out to them. Donald and Della were beneath that true, the former holding a spider protectively in his hands while the latter tried to throw a rock at it.

Donald remembered that- that had been in the year between his and Gladstone’s parents’ deaths, and Donald and Della were living at the farm without him. Donald had, shortly after losing their parents, become obsessed with being a pacifist. Everything, he believed, deserved to live- even the icky gross spider he used to cry for his father to come kill.

It was during that time Donald came to really respect all life, and learned that he actually really liked spiders... much to Della and Gladstone’s horror. He saved a lot of spider and insect lives in the years following.

In a photo on the next page, however, something caught his attention and he dropped his line of thought. This, he knew, was so much more important.

“This is Grandma,” Donald said, directing the childrens’ attention to an elderly duck lady, laughing at her grandchildrens’ antics as they pretended to drive a tractor. It was old and rusted, and Donald remembered it was sold a year later (briefly he wondered what happened to it, considering he couldn’t remember a time that old thing had actually worked), so she didn’t mind the three (and sometimes four!) children climbing up to play pretend. “She raised us after our parents were gone.”

“Your parents died too?” Webby asked, surprised. Gladstone was the one who nodded.

“Yeah,” he said, turning back a few pages and pointing to a family photograph taking up the entire page. He tapped on the ducks in question. “These here were my mom and dad, and these were Donald’s.”

“This was taken a week before mom and dad died,” Donald told them quietly, looking at his parents. They were holding hands, gazing adoringly at each other while their children played in the front with the others. They had been so happy. “An accident on their way home from St. Canard.”

“St. Canard?”

Donald and Gladstone looked at each other, and the latter- who, even Donald would admit, knew the album much better than anyone else- swiftly flipped to a page further in the book. Donald immediately recognized it; Gladstone and himself, one of the rare pictures of Donald without his twin (as she was the one taking the picture), under the lights of a club they were much too young to enter. It was their first trip together after Donald and Della moved into McDuck Manor.

“This is Donald and me in St. Canard,” Gladstone told them. “A city across the old lake- the lake’s not there anymore,” he added, flipping back and tapping a photo of the docks. “It used to be massive. Donald had an old houseboat docked there for a time, always dreamed of moving in, but then...” he trailed off, a frown coming over his face.

“Then...?” the children prompted.

“The soldiers came,” Donald finished for his cousin. “Whatever they did dried the lake, and all of the boats were left stranded.”

“But that’s not what we’re talking about,” Gladstone said quickly, clearly not ready to tackle that topic, and he flipped back to the St. Canard pictures.

He began pointing out every picture of them there, talking about what street they’d been on, what it had been like, the sights, the sounds, the smells, everything, and Donald, for just a moment, felt like he was there again. The children were just as enraptured, trying to imagine all these things they never had the chance to experience...

Then they were back to green-grass, blue-sky and clear-waters. A cousin roadtrip picture came up, the first year Donald, Della and Gladstone had their licenses, and finally Dewey broke down and, pointing to the fourth duck in the picture, asked, “Is that Uncle Fethry?”

“Yes,” Donald and Gladstone said in unison, each looking at the picture of their missing cousin.

“The one who wasn’t in Duckburg when the soldiers came?”

“Yes,” Donald answered alone, quietly.

“Oh.”

“And this is mom,” Huey guessed, fingers reaching out to brush over Della’s form. She was smiling so widely, giving Donald and Gladstone both bunny ears while, unknown to her, Fethry did the same to her.

“Yes,” Donald answered again, voice cracking slightly. “She loved the world, y’know.”

Without any prompting, Gladstone flipped to the first picture of Donald, Della and Scrooge on their adventures. “They used to adventure all the time with Uncle Scrooge,” Gladstone told them, gently tapping a selfie Della had sent to him of the three of them shortly after they barely survived a crash landing. “Had a blast doing it, too. I opted out.”

“There’s no way Uncle Donald could be an adventurer,” Dewey protested, looking at Donald in shock. “Right?”

“I was, and it was probably the best time of my life,” Donald sighed, looking at another picture of himself and Scrooge, taken by Della, in front of a South American pyramid in a previously-undiscovered city. Two faces Donald hadn’t seen in more than a decade, faces that hurt to think about, names that the children wouldn’t recognize, seemed to be cheering in the background. It had been the first time his adventures with them and his adventures with Scrooge and Della had overlapped. “There’s nothing quite like exploring the world, kids.”

“Even I did some exploring, just not the same way,” Gladstone said, flipping back a few pages to a picture of himself on the Eiffel Tower. “This album is our lives, right up until-”

“The soldiers,” Webby whispered, sounding awed. “So... it this was the world back then...”

“What happened?” Huey asked quietly, staring at the photos as Gladstone slowly flipped through the pages. “Why did the sky turn red?”

“No one really knows,” Donald said, turning to observe each one of his children. “Scrooge, Gladstone, your mother and I... we were all here when it happened.”

“Why isn’t mom here now, then?”

Donald sucked in a shallow breath. He had expected it, of course- he just showed them an album full of their mother’s life.

They knew she was gone, but they didn’t know why.

“She fought,” Gladstone answered for Donald, voice so quiet it was almost lost. He stared intently at the last picture in the album, at Della’s mischievous smile, Grandma’s laughing eyes, Fethry’s goofy grin, Donald’s exasperated affection, Scrooge’s proud expression, Gladstone’s own confident smirk... the last photo they ever took. “She fought alongside Uncle Scrooge, Donald and Bentina while I stayed with you four here, at the mansion, to keep you safe. I only wish I had kept her safe, too.”

“She died?” Louie asked, though they knew it to be true already. “She died... fighting them?”

“She died trying to protect the world she loved,” Donald told them, reaching over to gently stroke Louie’s feathers. “And she died to protect you four.”

“We didn’t stand a chance against the soldiers,” Gladstone admitted, closing his eyes and looking away. “There were too many. After Della died, and Donald was injured, and Scrooge lost basically everything...”

“They didn’t even give anyone a chance to save their families,” Donald said, tears burning his eyes as he thought about the farm- about his grandmother- so far outside of any city limit. “We don’t even know if domes in other cities were erected, before they did... whatever they did to kill the world outside.”

“We could be all alone in the world,” Gladstone sighed, rubbing at his eyes as they both thought of the family that hadn’t been in Duckburg with them.The family they lost, the family they might have lost.

“It was only Gladstone’s luck that let us stay in the mansion. Even though it’s a good point to see the city from, the soldiers didn’t want to make the drive every day,” Donald told them bitterly, turning back towards the window. “Frankly I’m surprised they let us live, but living in Duckburg now is a greater punishment than death so it’s no mercy on their part.”

He stared out the window, across the city he had loved and now only loathed, to the dome wall slicing through the bridge, to the old Moneybin sitting outside, falling apart as the harsh environment lashed at its walls.

Everything was bathed in a red light.

“On the other hand,” he mused, turning back to the children, “we’re still here, together and alive. And so long as we’ve got each other, we’ve got everything we need, right?”

“Right!” the children agreed, though the tears in Louie and Huey’s eyes told Donald that they weren’t exactly happy about it.

This was the world they lived in now. They had to accept that.

All the loss, all the pain, everything. It was their life. And maybe one day, he thought, maybe one day these children and their generation would change the future, reclaim the world as theirs.

Donald, though- Donald could only wish he could help.

He looked at Gladstone, who without words took the album from his grasp and closed it, handing it to Dewey, saying, “Read the things we’ve written in there, if you want to know more.” Then Gladstone stood up and moved over to Donald, grabbing his arm and helping him to his feet.

Donald leaned on Gladstone as the half-goose helped him take the few steps needed to reach his chair. He sunk down into the seat and, after setting his feet in their proper space, reached down to the wheels.

Looking at the children again as Gladstone retook his spot on the couch, Donald said, “The world used to be bright and colourful. Not everything was red. We lost a lot in that fight...

“But we should still be thankful for what we do have. We’re all here together, and we’re all we’ve got, remember?”

Gladstone just looked back at him while the children nodded, each one quiet as they watched their uncle.

Donald took a breath. He sounded more confident than he felt. Because honestly? His heart was breaking all over again.

“Good. ‘Cause for now, that’s gonna have to be good enough.”

His smile was sad, shaky at best, as he turned and wheeled himself out of the room.

[cloudhoppinggriffon]

Thought Dump

//It’s currently 12:13 AM by the time I write this, and I really should be asleep. But I still have a little bit on my mind, and I figured what better way to express it out than by just enjoying the silence and doing something of a thought dump. Keep in mind: I’m okay, this isn’t a cry of help. This is just my (past me when I wake up in the morning) little rambling from a feeling of parts-loneliness, parts-mind drifting, parts-something or another. I’m okay. I just occasionally feel the need to write out how I feel - and rarely do I do it on here, simply for the fact that I try not to burden others with my stress. So without further ado, here goes:

I’ve never been the kind of person who follows trends. As a matter of fact, I only really figure out most things ala Youtube, or word of mouth from my friend circles. Obviously, two things pop up to mind - both related to games: The Fortnite Craze and the Battle Royal craze.

I, honestly, don’t care for either of these things - not because I hate them, but because they never caught my attention from the get-go. I don’t feel the sense of ‘attachment’ when it comes to the games I’ve played before. On the surface, sure, it could look fun - but having tried out Fortnite’s base game content; it didn’t hold me. To it’s credit, the non-BR version of the game looks fun, seems fun too. But whenever I see games that are fun on the surface and I begin to play them for a few minutes, the fun factor just kind of loses it’s charm, almost something like a sugar rush. It leaves me feeling empty and drained and I really don’t know why. And then there’s the ‘attachment’ aspect of it. Whenever I tend to boot up, say ‘Starbound’ - I feel a loose sort of ‘connection’ with the same, where it pulls me into it’s world and lets me slip away from the world around me, pulling me into something new and exciting, allowing me to immerse myself for a while in the shoes of my avatar. Sure, it’s the same few stars over and over, and the biomes of planets - but it’s still very exciting to just answer the question: ‘What lies out there? What’s on this planet?’

And sure, the same principle could be applied to other games, yet fail on others - where as Starbound succeeds ten-fold.

On top of this, I’ve always been the sort of person who always gets wary at new things, defensive on trying them just on the principle that it’s something new and alien to me.

For example, my friends recently have gotten into Homestuck, a series that I hold no attachment or interest from the surface, nor does it catch my attention in any form, be it artwork or otherwise. 

I often feel like the odd man out. I feel like I’m on the outside looking in to what sounds hilarious, and the jokes they tell go right over my head and I’m just left there confused going ‘What?’

Now, this isn’t any of their fault for causing it - in fact, it’s more power to them that they love something new that they’ve found. And I’m happy for them, make no mistake.

I just kinda wish that I could just shut off anxiety, and make it stop this icky, bitter feeling that I often carry with me into situations where something new just comes out of the blue and I’m caught off guard by it.

Now, what do I mean by that?

I would say that I’m a person who likes to be in on the loop of things, and likes to plan accordingly to those things when the time comes. When something doesn’t click with me, or I’m left out of the loop by something, it can be upsetting to me - for no good reason at all.

And back on the topic of games, my friends have all gotten into Warframe - a game that they’ve gotten to enjoy, where as my experience wasn’t so enjoyable.

Again, not for any particular reason of hate; but just that the first few minutes just.. really felt dull to me.

Games, media, and other things that I do really have to ‘click’ with me, before I get into it and give it my attention. I can’t just jump into something all willy-nilly out of the blue and expect myself to like it. But then my brain just gets stuck between two thoughts:

"Come on, man. Just follow X, or Y! You don’t want to get left behind and left in the dust by your friends.”

“..But what if I am already left behind and they’ve gone on without me?”

I struggle with these two thoughts, quite a lot.

My logical self and my emotional self clash, and it leaves me quiet, withdrawn and unsure of what to say or what to do.

And, to be honest, I could ask them advice many times over on what I could do, but I get a feeling this is only a problem that counseling or even a therapist could solve. Or maybe it isn’t and I’m overthinking things.

That’s what I am, at nature. An overthinking worrywart who often holds himself back out of fear or worry, and I absolutely despise it. I wish I could just turn it off and do things without that instinct in me, but that’s not how my brain works at all.

But the one thing I’ll say that’s sort of positive is that it’s not a permanent situation - it can be fixed. And it’s not as bad as it used to be.

I mean, I used to be way worse when I was younger - being shy, reclusive. I barely talked to anyone and when I did, it wasn’t very often. 

Comparing myself ten years ago to now, I’m a more developed person and I’m very thankful for the people in my life and the friends I had and have today - negative and positive experiences alike.

I suppose I really just wish that I could find the solution, and if it’s there and I haven’t found it, I just need a gentle nudge or a push in the right direction towards it.  But I know I can’t force myself to put on a smile, or simply just sit there in silence the whole while as my friends laugh and talk the whole while as they are. I have a want to be there, to make good times and good memories alike, be it in something new or familiar.

I suppose I’m just still growing, for my age. And maybe I won’t feel like this the next morning when I’m waking up and getting out of bed, but hey, I had to get myself out there somewhere.

I don’t expect anyone to read it (which is totally fine, I understand), but at the end of the night, this is - as I said - a thought dump. A collection of random thoughts that’ve been over my head the past few days.

I feel better having gotten all of this out. It’s nearly 1 AM and I’m sticking to my guns and getting to sleep.

[eris0330]

Whalien 52 - Part 11 Final

☽M. List☾ ; 1 // 2 // 3 // 4 // 5 // 6 // 7 // 8 // 9 // 10 // 11 [END]

☽Pairing☾ ; Jungkook | Reader

☽Genre☾ ; Angst | Fluff

☽Word Count☾ ; 3.8k

"I can't believe you actually cried while leaving me a voice mail~!" You cooed into the microphone of the heated cell phone, listening to the voice that gave you joy of just the thought. "For the hundred time, I didn't cry! My nose is just stuffed!" He quarrels with a smile, as he turned around in the king-sized bed. Your fingers tangled in your newly washed hair, feeling the freshness of a cold breeze stroke against your bare skin.

"Don't take it as a terrible thing Jungkookie, it's cute" You giggled, throwing the towel away onto the marble floor of your bathroom. An annoyed huff in the background of the speaker, you hummed to get ready for another defensive comment. "You think I’m cute?" He questioned, trying to keep his excitement at a minimum waiting for an answer. His body aching from the concert but the feel of his muscles contracting at the imagination of you in just a single towel.

"I think you're pretty cute, yeah. You're like a pocket-sized bunny"

"POCKET SIZE?? For your information, I’m at least 178!" He puffed his cheeks and raised his chest, at the sound of your laughter in the speaker.

"What do I know? Photos can be photo shopped and false information can be found continuously on the internet-" You teased, putting on your sleeping attire while trying to keep the phone steady between your cheek and shoulder. "It's not like I have met you in real life either, to confirm that you are as big as you say, Mr. White rabbit" You finished, crashing on the unprepared bed.

"Did you just reference me as the rabbit from Alice in wonderland?" He chuckled, scrunching his nose of the sudden comment. But something inside of himself, broke down at the sound of your vocals octaves lower at the last sentence.

"I sure did"

"Inaccurate. I'm never late and definitely, got the time, I just ask my manager" He snickered, looking at the clock of his phone saying it's way past his bedtime. Even surprised, of the longest phone call of his life on a random week day.

"Hey Jungkook?" You questioned, watching the stars blind the darkened night of the sky. A significant hum responding from the other line as his eyes opened to your call. "Why did you have my phone in the first place? I can't find a logic reason for having yours, but it sounded like you knew it all" You whispered, trying to piece the puzzle together as Jungkook bit on his lower lip in determination of the truth.

"You know... Whatever I’m going to say, please don't think of me as a creep" He spoke, taking in a deep breath as your ears peaked at the sound of his statement. Sitting against the fluffiest pillows, you prepared yourself for a ride of lost memories. "Spring break, you were at this bar I go to when I feel down or want to be alone without the members. It's the last place they would suspect I am, instead of an arcade, which is funnier if I may say..." He chuckled, remembering the DDR game that occupied his game nights with the boys.

"You were there, at the table by the corner in the bar. The music was so loud, the smell of alcohol and sweat were making me dizzy, but you distracted me. I was sure you were looking at my direction, even sure you recognised me. Actually, at those times, I would flee to be safe....But I didn't. I couldn't."

"Why couldn't you?" You questioned with a whisper, not trying to break the atmosphere that grew between a digital line, as your heartbeat hardened at every beat. The fuzzy memory of a boy in the shadows, was still unknown and didn't make an impression to be remembered.

"Because, you were beautiful. There was something about you." He chuckled awkwardly, rubbing his face into his hands and the cheeks burning of the delightful scene. "I don't think you can imagine, the war inside of me that went; 'Should I go? what if'. I wanted to speak to you, and stayed to gather up the courage to talk. As time went by, my balls minimised and I never went over to your table. Your smile was so god damn gorgeous, but it faded throughout the night. I wished to see it again, so I kept myself in the distance."

"I remember, that I wanted to go home. My friend tried to hook me up with some guy, because she thought I could use some fun. To be fair, I never wanted to go in the first place... but... I wanted to fit in..." You commented, feeling icky of the touch that the guy left on your thigh. The feeling of embarrassment as you brushed his hand away, seeing his face harden. You weren't the frisky and fresh girl as your friend liked to make everyone believe, frankly, being at home would have been a better idea. The alcohol running through your veins and the dizziness forming into a headache was making you feel out of place. “You went for something at the bar after the guy looked at you, and he continued to follow you through the place." Jungkook muttered, remembering the bulky guy that was probably ten times taller and muscular, or that was what he believed.

"Water. I remember I didn't feel well, but my friend wanted to continue partying and I couldn't turn her down... I wanted to go home but my body was not following my mind..." You whispered, feeling the headache from the memory form at the temples. Nothing else made sense, because after all, maybe the guy took you home. You remember someone holding you while walking, but not who.

"I saw the guy trying to give another shot, but you seemed so scared and sick... I couldn't help my impulse." Jungkook muttered yet again, with an insecurity.

"You were the one holding my waist... not the other guy?" You questioned, remembering the warm hand planted on your cold body, securing you against something so warm you wanted it to continue staying there forever.

"yeah... I told him you were my girlfriend, and that it was time to go home... He looked suspicious of me, but I just walked away in fear with you by my side. You were quite drunk, and told me where you lived. I followed you home, and took me inside... this is where it all got messed up..." He trailed off, facepalming internally at the imagination of your face that probably didn't want to believe his truthful story.

"Don't tell me.... did we actually...??" You sounded shocked, pulled out of your dreaming state at the thought of Jungkook being so close. It was almost unbelievable that the guy you had in your mind, being so close that you felt so warm was the one keeping you up at night.

"No no no!! I would never do that! Or- I mea-" Jungkook stuttered, making you laugh loudly into the empty bedroom. His own awkwardness flowing out of his aura, as he tried to calm himself down, thinking he might as well blurt out that he wanted to do it than not.

“Calm down bunny boy. We’re both adults”

“Sure…” He sighed, feeling his flushed cheeks get overwhelmingly annoying, that he couldn’t shut his mouth in a proper time.

“You didn’t scare me away yet, if that’s what you’re thinking” You blurted out softly, smiling in the process hearing the sound of his lips forming into a smile.

“Thank god… I was close to dig my own grave-” Jungkook chuckled, wondering if you had superior powers that no one knew about, since it was like you saw right through him. “-But I put you to bed and went to grab the necessary drunk stuff. You know… water, bucket and painkillers to the side.” He continued speaking, making you think about the glass of water on your bedside, that apparently didn’t trigger anything. It was always a habit, to have a glass of water while you were asleep.

“Sounds like you have gone through that ‘coming late drunk’ a lot?” You assumed, imagining that Jungkook has been in your presence, taking care of you by luck. But, your brain couldn’t process the remembrance.

“At times… J-Hope is not that good with alcohol, and it’s kind of cute but annoying” He giggled, scrunching his nose while thinking at the one night, where his older brother was only causing trouble at home. Loud, affectionate and way too many drinks. Jungkook didn’t hate it, but found it extremely cute when one of his elders decided to let go and drink till they pass.

“But, when I was about to leave… my phone was on the counter, next to yours. The batteries were dead and they were exactly alike… I panicked! Took one and ran away like a coward…” Jungkook finished, closing his eyes seeing your sleeping face against the pink shaded pillows. He wanted to make it more comfortable by taking your smelling bar clothes off, but he couldn’t, he wouldn’t dare. Like everything else about girls, he couldn’t get himself to take the step further. Making mistakes, was not a part of him. That was his given title, and that is something he couldn’t betray.

“You’re not a coward.” You blurted out, sensing the quietness from his side as defeat. You could recognise the way he moved against the speaker, if his interest was piqued. “You know… you’re pretty cool, and I think a lot of people have told you that already? Listen to them. It’s not bad making mistakes, or being insecure. We’re human after all, we’re meant to make tiny mistakes that can be looked past on. It’s about taking the first step, and if that doesn’t work, you take a step towards a different path. Mistakes is what makes us wiser and better people, as long you don’t kill anyone.” You chuckled into the microphone, as Jungkook could barely hold back his smile. You weren’t wrong about that people complimented him a lot, but when it came from you, it felt like something else. Something in his heart, fluttered like a summer day as the wings of a butterfly.

“Thank you, Y/N… You’re pretty cool too” He whispered, making your stomach turn at the sound of his voice. It was still unbelievable, to be talking to a famous person, but like anyone else, he was just like you.

“Thank you… Though, you are definitely a creep~” You teased, making the boy gasp louder than ever. “I AM NOT!!!” Jungkook spoke loudly, as he tried to reason up his moves the night you two met by fate. Speaking day in, day out with the same specific topics and the sensitive ones while nightfall came by. Speaking to each other like a regular couple, or so that was a wish you both had in mind, but it was silent. It didn’t matter to Jungkook that you are an orphan with a hardworking dream, because that’s not what he fell for. It was the way you looked upon the world, and showed him not everything is bad, there is more opportunities, but it’s about waiting and when time is right, a bell rings.

After class, you walked alongside the street towards the art shop, to see different canvas aligned on the pavement. Oil paintings, stick figures and other types of cartoon characters. There were even monochrome pictures framed of different buildings and rooms. Crowds walking by to see the canvas, as the flags flayed on top of the entrance. Hani serving hot drinks, as the shop manager talked to familiar customers. It was weird, it’s the first time in years, people have crowded the halls of art supplies and more people gathering at one evening.

“Hani, what is all this about?” Walking to stand on her side, as she smiled with a cup in her hand to give another customer. The aura was warm and the fairly lights crossing the roof was like walking under the night sky. “Your friend helped us arrange all of this! He’s really amazing!” She responded, as you saw Jooheyon walk inside the shop. His familiar smile mirroring your own, as you pulled him into a hug.

“No way, this is a dream, right?!” You questioned excited towards the taller man, who was only nodding with a teasing smirk. “Look around, feels too real to be a dream” He chuckled, patting your head. The scenery of people taking pictures and buying stuff from the desks, were enough to make tears pool in your eyes. The shop was getting recognition, and it was all you could ever wish for.

“But how??” The amazing view of people streaming in and out of the shop, was surreal and the fact that Jooheyon got to set it up, even though the mess that had happened, you had to know how. You needed to thank him, because he saved your precious shop and the light inside. “You know what? Enjoy the night, because I feel like it’s only going uphill from here” He pushed you towards Hani for one of the warm varieties of drinks, while mingling with the people around. Their auras of curiosity and disbelieve that they have never been here before, and first now could get to realise the worn-out shop wasn’t so bad after all.

Hours spent together with friends and strangers, felt like a fantasy. It’s probably one of the best nights in town, where smiles and laughter were gathered together. Feels like a new beginning, and the sound of music coming through the speakers, it was like a sign hearing Jungkook’s voice sing. Or was it really through the speaker? Your feet dragged towards the sound, and hopefully find what you were imagining. It was like your heart beat harder at every word, while squeezing through the crowd to see the street filled with fans and the boy of your dreams, singing loudly to all of them. The boys surrounding him, staging an acoustic concert of their latest songs, to even make the girls pass on the ground. Jooheyon was standing by your side, as the tears fell on your cheek. It was at a certain distance, that Jungkook couldn’t spot you, but that didn’t mind at all. He was here, only a few metres away, doing what he loves. The assurance of a grab on your shoulder, tilted your head to see the pleased smile on Jooheyon’s face.

“You weren’t the friend Hani was talking about, right?” You questioned, puffing his chest with your shoulder. The sound of chuckle and his palm warming his heart, acting like a child before he patted your head once more. “I did help a bit. But this is all on Jungkook and the boys”

Your eyes adverted to the small stage on the street, watching the boys perform with their hearts, while warming your own. It didn’t take long, before the little concert were over, and the promotion of a worthy cause was enough to get the store running for a bit more months. The strangers of customers were staying in the shop, regardless of the disappearance of BTS. Jooheyon stayed by your side till the end, where midnight had turned and cleaning up the street. Your body were worn out, but your mind was like a carousel. You saw Jungkook, so close yet so far. Right then and there, he could or could not see you from that distance, but it was good enough for you. As you knew, he was busy and that’s something that won’t change.

“I’m so exhausted, but this was the best nights in this shop I have ever had!” Hani chimed, locking up the cash and the bills burned to never appear again. Your manager, was old and left to go home early. That’s the least you could do, when she gave you the things she possibly could. “Since you were allowed to walk around and not stand for hours in the same position, you lock this shop up, yeah? Try to be discreet if you’re going to mush on your friend.” She continued, grabbing her bag from the counter, while waving with a sheepish smile on her face as if it was her last. Normally, you would argument against her, but this time, she deserved to go home and rest. Jooheyon leaned against the counter, watching your smile fade while your body walked towards the same counter, leaning against his broad arm.

“Stressful evening?” He questioned, seeing the floor shine at the streetlights. “Not even… I saw Jungkook, right before me and I didn’t do anything? I had my chance and I blew it. Now I’ll probably first see him in few weeks until they are back in Seoul…” You whispered, remembering Jungkook’s smile and glorious eyes scan the crowd of people.

“You really like him that much, that you can’t wait a few weeks?” Jooheyon sighed, watching your eyebrows knit together. “When you like someone, REALLY like someone… waiting just a day, feels like a month… it’s a pain in the ass.” You commented, looking at your phone without any messages from him. It did wonder you, why he never mentioned it. Maybe, he was scared too.

“How about you look up, instead of waiting for a message that won’t arrive?” Jooheyon puffed your hand, which just made you release an annoyed sound with gritted teeth. “I swear to god Joohe- Jungkook?” Your eyes planted on the boy in front, with a tiny flower in his hand. An awkward smile, and your shocked face felt like it was stuck forever.

“Oh good god…” It was unbelievable, watching the boy of singers and the one who took away your heart, stand right there. His hands giving away the beautiful red rose, and you silently taking it in yours. Jooheyon switching his eyes between the two of you, as if it was a movie in slow motion.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you… but I was scared you wouldn’t let me do it..” His voice was deep and raspy. His eyes glistering and the smile, that god damned smile which only made your knees weak. Your hands wrapping around his neck, to feel his heart beat so fast against your chest. It felt weird, but so lovingly comfortable to finally feel him. No more texting, no more calls, just you and him holding each other. It was like Jungkook couldn’t hold his own enjoyment, digging his nose into the crook of your neck, scenting your flower-like-perfume. Jooheyon coughed awkwardly in the background, making the grib around Jungkook loosen to look back. “Oh…right… sorry Joo-“ His hand holding up for no more words, making it seem like he was already having enough.

His smile crooked, and a significant nod; “My date’s here. I’ll see you in class Y/N”

Jooheyon walked out of the shop, waving his hand like Hani as if they had both planned it. Jungkook could see through the windows, another man was waiting for him. Their hug showed everything, affection and love at once. But confusion strikes him, when you caught his facial expression.

“You thought Jooheyon were trying to hit on me, right? Surprise Jungkook, he’s not into girls” You chuckled, watching his eyes grow larger and the sound of disbelief flowing in the bottom of his throat, made you smile brighter.

“Seriously?? Can you read minds or something??” He claimed, watching the couple walk away to disappear into the night. “No, but you’re quite predictable” You responded, looking down on the beautiful rose in your hands.

“Thank you… Really, you saved the shop.” Your eyes felt like burning and your cheeks flushed at the atmosphere, that it was just the two of you together. “That’s the least I can do…I couldn’t stand by and watch anymore… after all.. someone has to take the first step.” The mimics of your previous words, coming out of the boy in front. His fingers brushing lightly at the petals, before entangling them with yours. The tightness of his warm hands, and the smile growing wider on his face as the pink hue erupted his cheeks, felt like it was a Disney fairy tale.

“Who’s that wise person with that great advice?” Your eyebrows wiggling, the awkward feeling laid behind as if it never existed in the first place. His presence becoming so normal, it was abnormal. “I think you know her, she’s pretty great… and you know what’s the best?” He replied, pulling you closer to wrap his arms around your waist. The feel of his warmth growing on your body, making your stomach feel like lava and the butterflies escaping. You shook your head as an answer, feeling his arms shake lightly. Jungkook was more or less, just as nervous to come forward.

“I love her…” A whisper, so silent but it felt like he spoke into a microphone. Your heart beating hard inside the cave of ribs, while your red flustered cheeks were more than visible. The tears hiding in the corner of your eyes, thrilled softly at your skin. His thumbs drying it away, the danger that he will protect you from, forever. His eyes like stars, dragging you in. The soft tip of his nose, brushing ever so slightly and the sense of his exhales so close.

“She loves you too…” Lips taking the baby steps it needs to meet and feel the unforgettable desire to touch. The nights staying up to imagine the touch, gone. Sweet and delicate, careful but warm. Sparks lighting under the closed lids, trying out the waters before retreating for air. Your foreheads aligned and looking so deeply into each other’s soul, that you couldn’t help but smile.

“I liked that…” You whispered softly, making him chuckle in the process. “Good, cause’ I got more of that in store for you” He teased with his eyebrows wiggling ever so slightly, as the sound of your laughter overcome the empty room.

“I can’t wait, Mr. Jeon.” Biting your lower lip in attempt of temptation, failed as he removed his forehead to give you a sheepish facial expression. “For your information, I’m at least 178 and it’s Mr. Cool” He claimed, making you laugh while patting him on his muscular chest.

“Way to ruin the moment, ‘Mr. cool’” You chuckled, smiling softly at the way he tugged you tightly against his body. The height difference wasn’t a joke, he was truly a tall monster, but the cutest one of a kind.

“Oh please… I know you like it” He chuckled, dragging you into meeting his lips. Softer than any flower on earth, and unforgettable as your hearts beat in sync. The feelings laid behind a screen, coming to surface in the motions of your bodies. A long ride apart, but still a longer one when the new journey begins as a hidden couple. You didn’t mind, because you both knew, you would always find each other by the sound of a fateful bell.

[inenaffable]

*hungry tummy noises*

they read it and they ask me "what the fuck is wrong with you" and i just can cry and laugh a little bit cause its funny, you know? its funny when no one else exists besides you and you still cant do anything. youre so stupid, you know that, you know that? you cant do anything because youre caged inside yourself so you create fantasies to pretend your life is interesting and youre not a hollow of a person, a carbon copy of whoever is the closest, unable to survive without a partner, a disgusting parasyte. god, youre not even good enough to ruin people, to mark them in any way possible. you just bore them, then your thrashed to the side. its not even dramatic enough to be written about, its just logical. youre so bad at being anything, its pathetic. you cant be good, great, you cant be filthy, despairful, youre nothing, notghin nothign nothing notghin nogthing nothing nothgin!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! no one can hate you if no one gives a fuck about you and you know that you know that the only one who hates yourself is you and you are the only fucking reason to all your problems because theyre all in your head and theyre fake, fucking fake, fake fake fake fake fake because you cant entertain yourself on your fucking life because everyone leaves you when they realize you are just a shell a copy a parasyte that sucks and sucks and sucks and doesnt give a fuck and is locked inside their own head and blames people for the crazy things your dumb fucking brain created fuck fuck fuck fuck

no one asks you what the fuck is wrong with you because no one cares, and everyone knows those things are only in your head, because you tell them, and you know, you fucking know, and thats the worst part of it

i dont know how to be a human being , even when imbeing the most disgusting one that exists - but im not, because its all in your head and youve never done anything

im perfect, its incredible, its amazing, really, you should look at me,look at me

i do bad things and dont feel guilty for them, i guilty myself  for things that arent bad, and then i blame people for my own judgement, but i dontknow how to live outside of this

its scary, scary, scary, scary, scary, scary,scary,scary so so scary outside of here, dont let me go, dont let me go, youre gona go back all over again

except you cant go back to something that never even existed

what am i going to tell my therapist tomorrow? lies, lies, unconscious lies that im very aware of, all over again, excuses after excuses

why dont you just fuck me, tell me, why? i dont have to think, i dont want to think,  im spending so much time alone and yet im doing absolutely nothign, im disgusting

but im perfect, so perfect, how can anyone ever hate me? everyone loves me, right? you love me, right? hey, are you reading this? hey, hey, wont you just fuck me? wont you make me forget i have a mind of my own? 

im so disgusting, how can you love me? you like it, dont you? how im so very fake, how i cant take no’s, how im just barely nothing but annoyment when striped down. what, what? you want to see me strip? silly, silly, if i do that, then youd want to go away. its just too bad i cant control myself, right? i just want to be seen oh so badly. 

theres no liquor in this house and i hate it, i hate it how i could just ask for it, but i wont, and ill still hate that theres none. thats me, thats me for you. dont you like it, love it? dont you just want to fuck me now?

i dont need to pretend in front of you, if you dont like it, just leave, im tired of you. i can say fuck and i can act like everything i do is coated with so much honey  its nauseating, annoying, because thats who i am. lousy, annoying, nasty, spoiled, a horrible liar and so much more. but im nothing you guys like, im nothing i like, so ill wear baggy clothing even though i want to show my tits to everyone. my room is just too hot. i must not forget, nobody cares about me, nobody remembers me, no one will come back for me, so i can tear it up. i can say fuck and i can lick every single inch of my mirror and i can be whatever i want to be, because, because-

she said i love myself, i said i loved myself, and thats why. but maybe that was a lie. see, how havent you seen through that? i actually hate myself. oh, i do, so very much. its funny. dont you find it funny? tell me, tell me you laughed, tell me you could tell from the start, and that its okay, that ill learn to love myself at somepoint. i want to have sex with so many people because i hate myself and i dont want to think

hey, look at me, arent i ugly? arent i destroying myself? say, dont you think no one will never apreciate me again?

i dont know if what im preteding is to believe or to doubt. do i love it, do i hate it? its so tangled, its funny. i cant remember what came first. does it really even matters?

im so very hungry. i want to drink and let people touch me and touch them back, i want to feel whole. dont you just want to fuck me? im perfect, see? i promise, i promise, you wont regret it! come, come, just fuck me already.

imagine it,, imagine me, miserably sitting down in my bed, sweating, hungry, and writing all this jumbled mess on my dumb little notebook, typing on this double keyboard, listening to dumb little rain sounds on my dumb little one-sided earphone cause im too scared of the silence but cant listen to music cause my brain is just dumb dumb dumb and cant concentrate on more than one dumb little thing at a time

im so hungry, and its not even a metaphor anymore

im not doing it on purpose, i promise, i could eat so so much but theres just nothing  to eat and most of the things are just icky

i could eat a whole hamburger if i could go out

dad, please, buy me a hamburger, please, please, im so hungry, wont you just buy me one

hey, dont you want to buy me things too? that would be nice, so very nice of you. say, give me your money, wont you? i could buy so much with it! i need it, i need you

fuck, fuck, tell me, how am i supposed to sleep now?

i sometimes wonder if i should take pills for it, but that would probably be a bad idea

i dont need any of it, and starting it would probably get me into something worse

think, wouldnt it be cool if i could stay up till 4am?

but i cant, and i need to sleep

wont you kiss me goodnight?

pretty, pretty please?

ah! thank you! thank you so much! i love you, i love you, i love you!

[moiraineswife]

Do you have any Autistic!Rook headcanons you would like to share??

AS IT HAPPENS. I HAVE SEVERAL. BECAUSE THIS AS A CONCEPT DELIGHTED ME WHILE READING. HERE WE GO: 

(I would like to note that i am NOT reading this as a catch-all ‘fair folk in general are autistic’ bc a)- I don’t think they all do, Rook is specific and unique in this regard, and b)- I dislike the idea of just ‘all these inhuman characters are autistic’ bc icky associations with autistics then being inhuman...which we are not) 

ODD DISCLAIMER OVER. ONWARDS AND UPWARDS. 

Rook + Cat Metaphors: 

This sounds like an odd place to start but it was legit my favourite thing. Cats are fairly often associated with autistic people, as it happens, and are a generally more accepted symbol for it than...Other unspeakable things. Not getting into that, though, there were two things that made me die with delight...Which I will now explain: 

And yet looking at Rook Iimagined a cat proudly bringing its master dead chipmunks, only to watch thetwo-legged oaf lift these priceless gifts by the tail and fling them unceremoniously into thebushes.

Cats, like autistic people, generally have their actions/behaviours misunderstood. What they see as giving affection tends to be met with a reaction contrary to what they were expecting. See: above. 

Through it all Rook wore anexpression of aloof perplexity, as a cat might watching its favorite furnitureget moved about without its permission.

This one was The Best. Cats, like autistic people, typically have big problems with change, and can actually become genuinely stressed out/ill with changes in their household being made, such as moving the furniture around. Rook just being ???? ‘why are we doing this’ was too much. 

Then he strode right overand, in one smooth motion, insinuated himself into the bed next to me, facingme, under the covers, with the bold and unselfconscious vanity of a cat sittingdown on an open book.

I can’t explain exactly why this strikes me as being connected to an autistic thing but it just...It just does. and it’s another cat metaphor I deeply enjoy. 

Right, self-indulgent enjoyment of cat metaphors out the way, here are many more things: 

Difficulty Identifying Emotions/Trouble with Social Cues: 

“How can this be,” he said to himself quietly. That wasall it took; I gave a strangled sob. He crouched and scrutinized my face, whichI’m sure at that moment looked anything but attractive. “What do you require?”

Rook being baffled by the human notion of having to cook things is one thing, but the way he scrutinises her is more telling for me. Isobel gets caught up in thinking that she probably doesn’t look too attractive at this moment in time, but I’m pretty sure Rook is just trying to...Figure out wtf she’s feeling/how he should respond to this. And his response is deeply pragmatic. He doesn’t respond to her emotional needs/reactions, purely her practical ones. (There are a LOT of examples of this, I won’t go through them all) 

As an aside here, this is where I think Rook differs from other fair folk, and what tips him onto the spectrum. He isn’t human, so it’s reasonable to assume that human emotions are something he struggles with. But the thing is that the other fair folk who have experience with humans are much better at this than he is. The entire plot revolves around Gadfly knowing Isobel well enough to predict how she’ll respond to his promptings, so he can manipulate her into doing what he wants. 

Lark is also a good example of this. Before meeting Isobel, she had no contact with humans whatsoever. However, in a relatively very short space of time/very limited experience, she’s able to understand Isobel’s reactions/ways of displaying emotion and translate them to recognise other situations they should be used in. (She witnesses Isobel crying, understands it’s a display of sadness/upset, and correctly mimics it during her apology, because she understands that’s an instance where that emotion should/can be correctly applied) 

So the fair folk quite obviously have the capacity for recognising and understanding human emotions, as well as understanding how to respond to them. Rook, however, has definitely had contact with humans before, and has had enough of it to enable him to fall in love with another human before Isobel, but remains utterly hopeless at identifying her emotions. 

He drew in a breath. “I know it’s—wrong, that I care so much aboutthe pin. I can’t explain it. It’s—”

“It isn’t wrong.” My voice was so soft I barely heard myselfspeak. “Rook, it isn’t. It’s just human.”

This I’m saying is an example of Rook not being able to identify his own emotions (alexithmya) which is fairly common among autistic people. (Isobel’s response would be a tiny bit grating if Rook was canon!autistic, but given that he’s not, and given how ‘human emotion’ gets lumped together in this book, I’m dealing with it.) 

I whirled around. “Your blood did this.”

Rook stood watchingme, a conflicting clamor of emotions in his eyes: fascination observing myhuman response. Hope that I would find what he had created beautiful. Andbeneath that, sorrow, as raw as an open wound.

Desperation flashed across his features. He struggled to composehimself, but couldn’t. Finally he turned on his heel and put his back to mewith a dramatic billow of his coattails, drew his sword a few inches, and pretended toinspect the blade.

The way that he ‘observes’ her response, as though learning (which he likely is) consciously how to interpret her...But also the fact he has no idea how to process/regulate/respond to HIS OWN emotions, and that he retreats to something familiar to avoid looking at Isobel, and also to calm himself down. 

“You could offer to sleep on the floor, like a gentleman.”

He appeared horrified by the suggestion.

I love this bit, bc for all the fair folk are very much concerned with politeness and proper behaviour, this one is just...Totally lost on him. Like excuse u why would I offer to sleep on the floor Isobel??? The floor is hard and uncomfortable? How does this prove I am a gentleman? How is this polite??? Isobel I think this is impolite, that you would suggest I sleep on the floor. Do you not like me Isobel??? Do you not want me to be here?? Isobel?????? 

“And I’m not certain you’re in any state to protect me,” I wenton, sensing a lost cause. “Just now you were almost assassinated by a teapot.”

“Isobel.” Rook looked at me gravely. “Isobel, listen. The teapotis of no consequence. I can defeat anyone, at any time.”

“Oh, is that so? That’s the truth?”

“Yes,” he replied.

 I love the teapot line, you love the teapot line, we all love the teapot line. But I just...love the way that he talks. The pattern of it strikes me as an autistic thing. Just the way that he talks. And the very simple answer that he gives ‘yes’ it’s just a kneejerk thing, he doesn’t even think about it. (I know fair folk have to tell the truth, but that doesn’t mean that they have to answer questions like this) 

Especially when this one is definitely rhetorical. Because she knows full well that he’s speaking the truth, because he can’t lie. But this is another missed social cues thing: Isobel asks a question, Rook answers it. 

“Have you ever stopped to think that just because you can do something doesn’t mean you should?”

His eyes narrowed. “No,” he said.

 Same thing here. 

Comfort Objects/Stimming: 

He patted at his chest in alarm and then ducked to hunt throughthe wildflowers. This wasn’t the leisurely search of someone who’d lost apocket watch or a handkerchief. Rather, heclawed at the ground with a wide-eyed desperation that could be inspired onlyby the loss of a priceless and irreplaceable treasure. When he found it, hegripped it tightly in his hand. He moved his thumb to the hidden clasp. Butthen he stopped himself, remembering I was there, and started to put it in hispocket instead.

My heart hurt for him. It was painful to watch Rook reduced to this over something so small. He cared moreabout that pin than most people cared about everything they owned in the world.

I know the raven pin has sentimental significance because it was a goodbye present from his lost love, but this just reminds me of the panicked search for a lost comfort object, something which a lot of autistic people have. (Especially with the way his thumb moves towards the clasp even after his found it, which could definitely be a stim, because it’s clearly a habit he uses to soothe himself)  

Speaking of stimming...

His hand had wandered to myhair, and he spread it out on the moss, combingthrough the strands with his fingers until it gleamed as straight and smooth asit could get. It seemed impossible that someone who had lived for hundreds of years and hunted fairybeasts for sport could find this entertaining, but his expression wastransfixed. 

That’s definitely what this is. 

“What a lovely bird,” Irepeated in a syrupy voice. “Yes, you’re the loveliest bird.” I stroked hisback. He made a pleased muttering sound in his breast. Soon his smug silenceindicated that he was quite content to remain as he was, so long as I continuedmy praise.

and this tbh. 

Literal Thinking: 

“Rook,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady, “before I get up,you have to promise to never touch me again without my permission.”

“I can touch whomever I please.”

“Have you ever stopped to think that just because you can do something doesn’t mean you should?”

His eyes narrowed. “No,” he said.

“Well, this is one of those things.” I saw he didn’t understand.“Among humans it’s considered polite,” I added firmly.

A muscle jumped in his cheek, and his smile had faded. “Well, thatdoesn’t sound in the least reasonable. What if you were being attacked, and Ihad to touch you to save your life, but I couldn’t because I needed to requestyour permission first? Lettingyou die wouldn’t be polite.”

“Fine. You can touch me in that case, but every other time youneed to ask.”

 I really love this bit. She knows he doesn’t get what she’s saying, so she rephrases it somewhat to something that he will understand. But I love his response even more. He understands what she’s saying, but he still doesn’t quite GET it. And his brain goes immediately, (and often), to practical thoughts. 

She puts this rule in place, and he immediately starts...Not looking for loopholes, but considering the practical problems that it might pose. What if they’re in danger and he has to save her life? She would never have considered this as being unreasonable, because she would expect him to adapt, and realise that is a situation when it’s acceptable to touch her, because of the risk it poses. But he needs her to accept that as a limitation, and see his way of thinking. And they reach this...Little compromise that weaves through the rest of the story. Which I like a lot. 

Before I could find my voice and ask him to set me down, hedropped me like a hot coal. I landed inthe wildflowers with an undignified whump. Horrified, I squashed my legs together, hunchedinward with my arms clamped over my chest, and stared up at him. He looked asaghast as I did.

“Why did you just—” I began, at the same moment he blurted out:

“You stopped being in peril, and I couldn’t touch you any longer!Are you all right?”

 This harks back to their earlier promise, and poses some potential problems in the literal thinking category because there’s fair folk no lying/keeping promises magic wrapped up in it. But I think it’s still an expression of the way Rook’s mind works. I’m fairly sure other fair folk would have been able to work around their promise by telling themselves Isobel was still in enough danger to merit them touching her (still being naked and vulnerable in the spring court) but Rook is just....Too literal for that. 

“A fire, to start with. Some . . . some branches tomake a spit out of, I suppose. Or maybe we could cut it up and skewer it? I’venever cooked a rabbit outdoors before.” I might as well have started reciting an incantation. “Wood,” Irevised for him. “Some kindling about this size”—I spread my hands—“and a long,thin, sturdy stick with a pointy end.”

“Very well.” He rose. “I will bring you your sticks.”

 This isn’t strictly literal thinking but goddammit I love the ‘I will bring you your sticks’ line. But it also is. Isobel reels off her instructions and he just gets up and off he goes to get her what she needs. No muss, no fuss

. It’s also an example of rigid thinking. Isobel gives him a set of clear, precise instructions, and he follows them to the letter. (And I can get this in with APD, and the struggle to follow verbal lists, given his confusion of her initial explanation of what she needs. Once she gives clear, concise instructions, which she also pairs with a visual demonstration of what she wants, he understands and obeys) 

He halted just as he was about to disappear, shoulders stiff.“Will that be all?”

A devilish part of me wondered how far I could push him. If Ipretended it was necessary for my Craft, could I command him to stand on hishead or turn in a circle threetimes while he prepared the hare? Only my empty stomach’s increasingly urgentdemands prevented me from having some fun at his expense. “For now,” I replied.

 She probably could have done tbh. Not to say Rook, or autistic people, are incapable of critical thought but it’s more...A combination of literal thinking, and the struggle with reading people’s intentions. Isobel knows about this thing, and he does not, he has no reason to assume she would lie about what she needs, and without any knowledge of the required steps involved in cooking, and also without the inclination to suspect Isobel of having any intentions that aren’t purely practical/are in any way malicious, he’d probably be inclined to do whatever she asked, see: ‘I will bring you your sticks’. 

Organisation/Piling: 

However, as I crunched afterhim through the brambles, which disintegrated at a touch, my eyes fell on theneat pile of twigs and leaves he had taken from my hair—and despite myself Ismiled.

I love this little detail, too. Because not only did he pick the twigs and leaves out of her hair, but he further felt the need to pile them up neatly instead of just dumping them on the ground as twigs and leaves tend to be. This one is a little stereotypical but it’s also not false (and is a thing i know I would unconsciously do as well, so you know...) 

Difficulty With Empathy/Responding to Emotional Upheval: 

Grief smashed through my final defenses like a battering ram. Igave a strangled sob, so tired I couldn’t tell if my scratchy, aching eyes owedthemselves more to exhaustion or tears.

Rook sank onto the end of thesettee. He hesitated, then peeled his coat off and laid it over me. It was warmand smelled of him. Overwhelmed by his gentleness, I began weeping again inearnest. He drew back in alarm, clearly thinking he’d made things worse.

“Er,” he said. He patted the nearest part of me he could reach,which was my foot. “I apologize for . . . that. If you wouldstop crying now,” he added, a trifle desperately,with a note of princely command.

 This was the part that officially finished me. He knows Isobel is upset, and that he should do something to help/wants to help, but isn’t quite sure what to do. He also misreads her renewed crying, assuming that he’d done the wrong thing in giving her his coat. And then we reach the foot patting which is just...A hilarious ‘rules gone wrong’ type thing (Internal Rule: Human is upset - pat the human, this makes them better. Application: *Rook pats Isobel’s foot* A+++ Comfort Skills) 

And it’s all topped off by ‘If you would stop crying now’ which is just....The most wonderful response to a crying person EVER (and also mirrored in the way he orders her to get control of herself when she’s laughing hysterically over the hare incident near the beginning of the book). The desperation is perfect too, it’s like, I know this crying is an expression of your upset, and I don’t want that to be the case, I don’t know what to do, it’s making me uncomfortable please stop I don’t know how else to help you. 

The confusion in ‘I apologize for...that’ is good too bc he’s like ???? Isobel ???? Isobel what am I apologising for????? Isobel I did the right thing ???? Isobel why are you like this I do not understand. 

(the princely command is amazing too, like, maybe if I give it as an order that’ll work. Like we have transcended comfort here, he tried that, that didn’t work, now he’s just moving on to other ways of dealing with a situation. Which is grand in a practical problem but...Not ideal when it comes to emotional ones) 

OKAY. I THINK THAT’S ENOUGH TO BE GOING ALONG WITH. 

TL;DR: Rook is my precious autistic bean and this headcanon improved my enjoyment of this book by approximately 10000% bc god bless characters I can relate to on this level tbh. 

((As a fun side note: I also read Isobel as autistic, and did so before I did Rook. I think if she wasn’t set beside Rook, this would be far more obvious, but it’s still there with her. And honestly, I’m tripping over hc rep in this book and I’m Delighted. BLESS U FOR THIS QUESTION))