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greenninjagal-blog · 4 years

Note

15 for Anxceitmus pls - Anon 👽

I’ll be honest I’ve had a plan for this one for days but never enough time to sit down and write it. Now lets see how this goes :D

Summary: Virgil steals a taste of a cake that’s not his and ends up poisoned.

Words: 4360

Quick Taglist: @chelsvans @faithfulcat111 @felicianoromano @holliberries @jemthebookworm @killerfangirl3 @lunasfriendgabby @never-end1ng-suffering @silverflame-wc @stricken-with-clairvoyancy @thenaiads @treasureofpriam

Read on Ao3 || My General Writing Masterlist || Prompt page

Piece of Cake

“I’m sorry, I know it hurts, but you have to trust me okay?” the voice says.

At least Virgil, thinks the voice says it. He can’t really tell over the noise in his head and burning fire in his lungs and screaming in the background of everything that was going on. He can’t even see really, based on the rush of white and black dots all over his vision like pin needles getting jabbed directly into his eyes as his throat shreds itself apart again and again and again.

He’s not sure what is happening, not sure when he hit the floor or how the world around him compressed into just him or why his entire body seems to be trying to rip itself apart with varying levels of success.

He sure that it hurts.

And that he hasn’t cried like this since he was kid and he fell and hit his head on the cobblestone fountain in the market and there was just...so much blood everywhere and he thought he was going to die back then.

It had just been a bit of icing.

And Virgil can still taste it on his lips between the blood and the salty tears and the vomit. The avocado taste that he hadn’t had since his mother had passed from the plague a decade prior.

The burning in his lungs is agony, like he jumped into the castle furnace and breathed in the cinders for fun. He strains his arms to tear at his chest where the boiling feeling seems to bleed from, but something is holding him down, and he screams, pleads, begs-- anything, just to make it stop. He’s sorry, he’s sorry, he won’t do it again, he swears--

It’s like a white-hot poker being driven between his ribs and twisting, like a dragon’s breath right before those sharpened foot long teeth snap him right in half, like his head had been tilted back and he’d swallowed lava.

He writhes against it, but something has his left arm and his right wrist and there’s a weight on his legs that keep him from moving despite the desperation in his motions. Every inhale moves the flames--and he can’t quite tell if they’re imaginary anymore, surely something imaginary wouldn’t couldn’t doesn’t hurt like this hurts so much so badly he’s sorry sosorrypleasejustmakeitstopplease---

Then, all at once, it’s over.

The fire reels back, flooded by a cold so icy it steals the rest of the breath he had. His limbs feel like lead and they drop to the floor of the kitchen. It’s also mercifully silent, which seems eerily impossible because the Castle is never silent ever. His vision swims like dunking in and out of the river back home when he went swimming with the older kids in the river. Far over head the gaping arches of the room fade in and out of clarity. The hollowness rings faintly in him, followed by an all-consuming exhaustion that peels away the rest of his thoughts.

“Virgil?” Someone says his name.

He almost recognizes them. He should probably recognize them.

There are faces over him, people he knows, but they’re too blurry to make out. All he wants is sleep suddenly. A deep dark long sleep.

“Let him sleep, your highness,” someone else says softer. “He’s okay now.”

And then Virgil’s eyes close and he loses consciousness.

The unfortunate truth of the matter was that Virgil had no reason to be in the kitchen in the first place. He should have been mending that tapestry that the twin Princes had mangled in spontaneous duel last week, or adding the few last details to the new tunic Prince Remus had been instructed him to prepare, or fixing the tear in Prince Roman’s riding cloak, or simply catching up on sleep that he had missed while pressing himself to finish the new Birthday outfits for the Twins Ball at the end of the week.

But as it stood he had slipped from his crafting room to the kitchen in hopes that the Head of the Kitchen would take pity on him like he had done so many times before and offer him some scraps from the feast that was going on.

Some noble had arrived in the early morning and the castle had been abuzz with energy as the King welcomed him. Virgil had already heard several rumors about it, just from lurking on the corner counter out of the way of the scurrying kitchen maids and the servant runners.

“Something about him strikes me as odd,” Patton had admitted to him between cutting up strawberries, helping a maid balance a honey bun tray, and directing a newer servant boy on the proper way to refill a spare goblet. “I didn’t like the look he gave Prince Roman at all.”

And Virgil had snorted at that, swiping a glob of honey from the empty pan before it when to the stack of dirty dishes. “You don’t like any way anyone looks at Prince Roman.” He had pointed out sucking on his index finger.

Patton gave him a disapproving look but waved off his blatant theft. “I don’t know what you mean, kiddo-- Lower Terrance! If you keep trying to pour from that height there’s a chance you’ll miss and stain the table cloth-- I know that he’s an important noble, but the way he was looking at Roman was the way a butcher eyes a piece of meat before he cuts it.”

Virgil swallowed and eyed the cook carefully. “Well, how was he looking at Prince Remus?”

“He wasn’t.”

Virgil frowned, “Wasn’t? He ignored the second Prince?” Which seemed ridiculous on all fronts. First of all, Prince Remus was royalty, and no one ignores royalty, ever. Not even if its 3 A.M. and they send for you to discuss a different pattern for the tunic you were making for them and you barely have time to put on presentable clothes much less brush your hair. Secondly, Prince Remus was impossible to ignore even if you were trying to: between his gaudy outfits and the morning star he kept looped on his belt like a sword and his voice which echoed off the cement at all hours of the day, he stood out wherever he went. His auburn hair and green eyes made him quite the talk of the castle.

Patton wrung his dish cloth between his fingers before going back to slicing strawberries. “Well not at first. He bowed and present Remus a cake. After that Remus was too distracted to really notice anything else.”

Virgil had snuck a strawberry from the pile yet to be cut and pops it in his mouth, chews, swallows and then asks politely, “What about his consort?”

“You mean Dee?” Patton slid a sliced strawberry to the side of the wooden board. Virgil had thought was entertaining that Patton had even asked. Roman didn’t take consorts, and Remus only had one: a man by the name of Dee who had the eyes like butter and a smile too soft. His hair flowed like a golden hay field, and his voice was like a fable siren’s. Virgil hadn’t heard him sing, but he couldn’t imagine that there had ever been an instance where he hadn’t been able to get what he wanted from someone.

Dee was pretty, but in a sense that it was too pretty to be real. Like a snake oil merchant come to sell wares to the naive populace.

But Virgil was biased on all fronts: Dee had always been present when Virgil had need to take measurements of Prince Remus for his new tunic, and every time he’d been summoned after that, watching Virgil’s every move like a predator waiting for the perfect time to strike. Virgil’s hands had shaken so badly he had barely been able to read his own notes later, and even if he tried to tell himself it was the stress, he knew it was because of how delightfully attracted he was to two things that weren’t open for him to even dream about. So, he buried thoughts of Prince Remus’s muscles and of Dee’s breathy laughter and pretended that they didn’t keep him awake at night.

“Dee was impassive, you know,” Patton had said, drawing Virgil from his thoughts, “I’m never able to read him.”

“Not like I can read Prince Roman,” went unsaid, but Virgil could hear it under his words.

“What kind of cake was it?” Virgil had asked instead, because he was a merciful friend and wasn’t about to bother a man about unrequited crushes while he was kick dirt over his own emotions.

Patton had wrinkled his nose. “Avocado! Can you believe it? I’ve never heard of an avocado cake before!”

Virgil blinked. He had glanced towards the end of the counter where the cake had been placed so elegantly. He had been eying it all night, letting his mouth water how good he imagined it might be, but knowing it was avocado? “My mom...she used to make those. They were my favorite.”

“Oh, I know that look,” Patton said, pointing his knife at him, “You know that cake is for the Prince. He already declared that no one but him is allowed to have it, Virge. Even if I wanted to slip you some, that would put both of our necks at risk.”

And Virgil knew that, he did. But it was a large cake. Surely, the Prince couldn’t eat it all by himself.

And frankly he knew enough about the royal family by now to know that absolutely no one else would eat a monstrosity like that. Prince Roman didn’t even like avocados to begin with and had loudly complained the last time Patton had tried sneaking it into a meal.

Was the man really going to miss if Virgil snags just swatch of the icing?

Patton lightly hit his hand. “Don’t,” He warned with that stern voice of his which revealed his years over Virgil.

“I wasn’t!” Virgil lied.

“I’ll toss you out of my kitchen, Virgil.” Patton had told him. “Because I’d rather lose your company for the next few nights than have to watch you be run through for stealing from the crown.”

“It’s a cake.” Virgil whined.

Patton gave him another warning gaze and moved another strawberry around. He had been about to say something else, but at that moment Logan, the resident mage who always chose to stay scarce when there were visiting nobles about the halls, had chosen to flourish down the servant staircase which had appropriately distracted them both. Not that Virgil had been hoping for a distraction.

But who was he to stare a gift horse in a mouth?

Logan had zeroed in on Patton, per usual, causing the cook to blush the same way he did around Prince Roman and Logan had mentioned something about a plant they were attempting to magically grow. Virgil hadn’t really been focusing on the words as much as the fact that Patton’s eyes stayed trained on Logan while he talked.

Virgil had inched down the counter, placing a finger to his lips when Terrance noticed what he was doing. He reached out with on hand and flicked just enough of the icing that he’d get a taste, but not enough to disturb the overall look of the cake. In fact, Virgil was certain no one would even know he took some if they hadn’t seen anything.

“Virgil!” Patton yelled just as he popped his finger in his mouth.

Virgil had stiffened at the sound of his name and whirled back to face a very mad Patton and a surprised Logan. The taste of avocado had hit the back of his throat, which almost made him feel great: it tasted just as earthy as he remembered it being when his mother made it, with just the right bitter aftertaste that made Virgil want more, although he didn’t remember it being quite so prominent--

“That was the Prince’s Cake!” Patton had shouted, “As in Prince Remus! I don’t care if you are in good graces with his highness! That was a stupid- stupid -stupid-- what on earth were you thinking? Virgil--!!”

And that was when Virgil had first felt the burning, like an itch in his throat that had suddenly swept him up. Patton’s voice had faded as he grabbed for his own throat, for his chest, for anything to remove the sudden agony ravaging his body. He had toppled straight off the counter in the middle of whatever else Patton had shouted, taking the cake right down with him.

Because that was just Virgil’s luck that he’d steal a lick of the second Prince’s cake and end up poisoned within an inch of his life.

And to be honest, the price for stealing from the crown in most cases is death, and since Virgil had been pretty sure he was going to die anyway he figures when he closes his eyes that was going to be the end.

He wakes up, with someone carting their fingers through his hair the way his mother used to do, before she had gotten sick and died from that plague that had taken over half their village. His head feels like someone had stuffed cotton between his ears, his throat like someone had forced him to swallow swords. He’s warm, which was a strange concept: usually the servants’ quarters are cool, even in the summer and Virgil’s blankets are never quite been enough to stave off the tendrils of chill that seep into his cot. But here and now? Oh, he’s so warm and comfortable he never wants to move again.

“--want him killed!”

“I know you do, your highness.” Another voice says, a voice that’s closer and more comfortable, “But there’s much more to gain from keeping him alive.”

“That cake was intended for Me!” There is the sound of something shattering, something ceramic, and fancy, and expensive.

Virgil tries to shift, tries to open his eyes, but it’s just so...exhausting. The hand in his hair drags slightly, before restarting softly, more gently than before.

“It’s okay, Love,” the voice over him says softly. “I’ve got you. Go back to sleep.”

Something else crashes. And another. And another.

There are more after that, but Virgil doesn’t remember them.

The next time he wakes, he’s more aware of where he is: he can feel the luxurious goose feather blanket draped over his chest, and how several of the loose feathers tickle his chin with each inhale, can feel the soft pads of fingers dancing through his hair in a way that make him want to relax and drift off again, can feel the coolness of a wet cloth on his forehead that wards off an overheating.

Its comfortable, its perfect.

But there’s never been a perfect thing in Virgil’s entire life.

He shifts, moaning with the effort to get his body to move after so long (?) of stiffness. He hadn’t realized that there had been people talking around him, until the conversation comes to a soft stop and the hand in his hair retracts slightly.

Virgil’s eyes open and he almost believes he’s still dreaming.

He knows where he is, even though he can’t believe it: he’d know the opulent bedframe and those darkened green curtains anywhere; he’d know those grey and silver blankets, and that room shape even if he should have fallen blind with everything else that had happened. He had been in that room far too many times for him to not have known.

He’s in the Second Prince’s room, lying in the second Prince’s bed, under the second Prince’s covers, and the Second Prince’s consort was sitting beside him with his hand in Virgil’s hair and another hold a book he seems to have been in the middle of reading.

“Oh,” Dee, the consort who was far too pretty to be anything other than trouble, says softly. “You’re awake.”

“He’s awake?” The sound of the Prince Remus startles Virgil, although it shouldn’t have. It only made sense that the owner of the room would also be in his own room.

What does not make sense is why that Virgil is there.

“Softly,” Dee says to the Prince without removing his eyes from where he’s staring down at Virgil with an expression that he doesn’t dare put an actual name to. The very idea of it makes the back of Virgil’s mouth sting.

Prince Remus had been across the room, perhaps staring out that large window which he did often while waiting for Virgil to respond to his summons, but he comes to the bed almost before Virgil can form another thought. Virgil tries to sit up, tries to move because this was the Prince and Virgil had already been caught stealing a taste from his cake and he was lucky they did just let him die--

Prince Remus puts a hand on Virgil’s shoulder and lightly shoves him back to the pillows, back to Dee’s side, back down. Whatever strength Virgil thinks he has disappears right out of his limbs.

There’s something strange about the Prince, Virgil notes squinting up at him. Not that there isn’t usually something strange about him; it seemed that every time Virgil was requested to his presence there was something just off about him. Virgil had thought it had been like a tease: something that would stick in his mind while he threaded his needles and cause him to shake his head with fondness. It had seemed that Remus had made a game out of it too, on the rare occasions where Virgil almost asked if he was cultivating some sort of joke, and the Prince had smirked at him and dared him to say something (which of course he never did, because Virgil quite likes his head where it’s attached to his neck, and the feel of Dee’s eyes on made him dangerously aware of his own standing).

But this sort of strangeness was not like the other times. It’s a calmness that encompasses the Prince, much like a still pond moments before a stone plunges into the depths. There’s no extra energy, no mischievous glints, smug crude joke. There’s just Prince Remus, and a seriousness that make Virgil fear for his life.

This is the Prince who could beat most of the military with nothing but his fist and his morning star. This is the Prince who could stare down an invading army and send them running home with just a single threat. This is the Prince who would challenge Death to a duel and make it out with his soul.

There’s a fresh cut across his cheek that hadn’t been there the last time Virgil had seen him, as if he had dodged a blade by mere inches and dismissed the attack as not nearly as worthy of his attention as Virgil somehow was.

“Why did you eat that cake?” Prince Remus asks.

“Re—” Dee says sharply.

The Prince holds up a hand at him, and Dee holds his tongue. “I want to know.”

Virgil suddenly feels like the blankets are constricting, tightening around his torso and his chest like a vice. His body shakes at the very idea of the cake. The mere thought of avocado makes his mouth violently taste like blood and his throat smolders with the threat of pain.

His hands go to his neck, to relive the pressure that’s not really there, but Dee is quicker. The consort catches both his wrists and pins them softly to Virgil’s abdomen with one hand and uses the other to rub tenderly rub Virgil’s cheek.

“It’s okay,” the consort says, in a soothing tone, that makes Virgil want to cry, “Shh, you’re okay now, Virgil.”

“I’m s-sorry,” Virgil chokes out, “S-sorry.”

Whatever the Prince is looking for, he doesn’t seem satisfied. He stands up again, fiercely shoving the bedframe. He takes three steps from the bed and then spins back around with a murderous expression.

“Sorry?” He shouts. “He’s sorry!” He slips his morning star from its hook on his belt and spins to swing it against the wall.

“Remus!” Dee interrupts.

“Shut up!” Prince Remus snarls right back. The sound of metal against the stone walls explodes throughout the room, causing Dee to tense up. Its violent and cold and Virgil hates it, hates that he caused it, hates that he doesn’t know why and he’s too afraid to ask.

Dee shifts like he wants to get up, wants to go to his prince and cup his face to ground him back to a reality before he does something he will regret, but in the end he stays right with Virgil. And Virgil is selfish enough that he’s thankful more than he’s guilty. The sunlight from the windows make the consort’s hair glitter gold and the black jewels around his neck that claim him as Prince Remus’s property glint harshly. His touch is far softer than Virgil would have expected, softer than the blankets, softer than a breeze on a warm summer’s day.

The prince swings four more times at the wall, deepening darkening cracks without the slightest care in the world. Then he takes his weapon and throws it across the room where it collides something else beyond Virgil’s line of vision before falling mercifully silent.

“Are you finished, your majesty?” Dee says in a tone that’s dangerous close to being chiding.

“I will be finished when I have that skamelar’s head at my feet!” Prince Remus says nastily. “That cake was intended for me!”

“I’m sorry,” Virgil whimpers again.

“And just what do you have to be sorry for?” Prince Remus turns on him, “Tell me, Virgil! If not for you, I would be dead from having boiled from the inside! Or maybe from having clawed my way right into my ribcage. Or maybe from having ripped my own throat apart? I’m sure that would have been a lovely sight for everyone to watch!”

Virgil’s heart clenches, and he doesn’t know what to say, what he should do. The back of his throat tastes like the inside of his stomach, like blood, and poison, and avocado. And the Second Prince is saying his name like it’s the most normal thing in the world, talking like Virgil had done it on purpose, sounding like Virgil had saved his life and that meant something more than fate intervening at the right moment.

Dee says, “We came so close to losing you, Virgil. It was a matter of luck that you survived. Logan said that if he had been any further away, if you had taken any bigger of a taste... you would not have stayed alive long enough for him to figure out the cure.”

They talk like it means something. Like Virgil’s life is worth something more than the tailoring services he supplies, like he can’t just be replaced with just a single royal announcement, like they think Virgil is….

“W-why?” Virgil trembles. “Why are you—"

Prince Remus kneels next to the bed, and his head dips slightly so that his black crown bows for Virgil.

“Did you really think that all these times I just wanted new clothes?” The Prince says so quietly Virgil’s breathe catches. “That I’m not capable of fixing my own holes in my trousers, or my cloaks, or that I truly cared if what I was wearing had rips in them at all? Before you came along Father had been threatening to take all of my weapons and lock me in a tower so I would stop going through fabrics so quickly.”

Dee’s fingers ghost over Virgil’s chin lightly. “And a three A.M. summons is surely the most normal thing for the royal tailor.” There’s a teasing smile on his lips, lips that Virgil thinks might be very nice against his. “Our prince was quite inconsolable when you appeared looking just as presentable as normal, Love.”

There’s something about the way he says words--“our prince”, “Love”--like they’re the most normal and natural things in the entire Kingdom.

“Don’t pretend like you haven’t spent night waxing poetry to me about what you want to do with him, Dee!” The prince commands.

“I have no clue what you are referring to, your highness,” Dee says with a red blush across his ears.

Prince Remus looks up at both of them, before leaning forward on the bed. Like a magnet, Dee moves towards him as well and meets him for a smiling kiss in right over Virgil.

He’s seen them kiss dozens of times: soft kisses, warm kisses, kisses so openly filled with love that Virgil feels like he’s intruding when he looks at them. They’ve kissed while Virgil had taken measurements, when he had been taking notes for the specific requests the Prince had for him, when Virgil had been leaving to go about his duties.

Virgil has never left apart of a kiss like this. His lips are on anyone’s and the only touch he has is where Dee was still holding his hands, which had turned into him lacing their fingers together in a mangled knot. Prince Remus reaches out and takes his other hand, and who is he to deny his prince?

He feels faint, float, not really. Surely, he was still dreaming; the last wisps of the poison having their fun with him. Surely, he was about to wake up and find himself not nearly this lucky.

“Don’t scare us like that again, Virgil,” Prince Remus says, breathlessly as he presses his forehead to Dee’s and squeezes Virgil’s hand, “Not before I have a chance to properly court you. I’ll bring you a barbarians head on a stake or something!”

Dee merely smiles down at him and says “Love.”

Virgil thinks that if he died, perhaps this wasn’t such a bad place to spend the rest of eternity.

#sanders sides #greengabs #Anxceit #demus #anxceitmus #virgil sanders #Remus Sanders #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #sympathetic remus #patton sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #your author might be touched starved!#we aren't sure yet!#also might make a part two some day #alternative universe

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angrymongol01-archived · 3 years

Text

A/N: Am reposting two of my shelved discontinued fem!Hinata fics from my old blog here (for exposure ig? Also I didn't delete them completely there, they're just posted privately lol); for those who've read the original post before and wondering why this blog repost another blog's work, supplies~!! OP here, filling this blog with some Haikyuu content from last October. Enjoy ^^;; ALSO DO NOT SEND HATE ORZ smh

My Masterlist

Prologue | 01 | Omake 01

tho it doesn't looked like an extra chapter at all smh ahaha

Omake 01

wc: 1.9k words

warning: mentions of thigh touching (and probs kidnapping but not implied), a bit of OOC-ness, a few ‘damn’ mentions.

note: indented paragraphs -> flashbacks

*NOTE: since purple/violet is unavailable via PC (using desktop beta lol), I'll use yellow for Ushijima instead.

“…ta…nata…Hinata!”

A female’s voice continued calling her from her deep slumber.

The faint smell of ammonia wafted in the air.

Eyelids slowly opened as she regained consciousness.

“Ah, thank goodness you’re awake now, Hina-chan!”

“Yachi-san?” She groggily glanced at her friend.

“I’ll tell the others she’s awake!” Suddenly, the owner of that voice earlier, Date Tech’s manager, Nametsu Mai, stood up and headed outside the door. Yachi nodded her thanks.

“W-what happened… Where am I? Is this not our—the managers’—room?” she asked.

Hinata started to sit up from where she was laying but wobbled.

Luckily, Yachi and their second-year senpai Kinoshita Hisashi helped her out and gently positioned their fellow member on one corner of the classroom-slash-makeshift sleeping area.

Her senpai sheepishly replied to Hinata, “This is Date Tech’s sleeping quarters. We were having our first practice match of the day, against them, when Sugawara-san called to inform that they’ve found you together with Shiratorizawa, and their captain carried you on—“

The decoy shivered, thinking about the restroom incident hours ago.

“—and fainted on Ushijima’s shoulder. Ma~n, Suga-san’s so furious back then Kageyama had to stop him from killing them.” Kinoshita chuckled.

“Your room’s kinda far away from where they found you, so the managers decided to drop you off here since it’s the nearest one.”

Hinata sweatdropped, a bit embarrassed.

“Ah… thank you, and sorry for whatever inconvenience I have caused earlier…”

Yachi shook her head. “No, no, it’s fine! You’ve done nothing wrong, Hina-chan~,” she grinned at the orange-haired girl.

Smiled back also.

Then she suddenly facepalmed. “I forgot about the practice match! Is it still going yet?”

“It finished an hour ago, we lost—2-1,” a scowling Kageyama answered, trudging towards the three.

“K-k-kageyama…!!!” the female middle blocker blanched with fear, hands gripping the blanket draped on her lap, while the raven-haired setter shot a menacing glare at her, which she averted. “I’m… I’m sorry for—“

“Are you alright?” he quietly asked Hinata, his hand perched on her head.

His deep blue eyes swimming with concern and worry.

She felt a slight flush on her cheeks while meeting his gaze.

“H-hai, I’m fine!” the chibi assured Kageyama. “Nothing to worry about, Bakayama-kun~!”

And she smiled at him.

The boy suddenly became hot and turned to look away from her, hiding his flustered face with the back of his hand.

“H-hinata boke… idiot,” Kageyama stuttered, his heart thumping louder than normal.

Ahh… he sure is whipped for Hinata, that Kageyama boy, Kinoshita thought, shaking his head.

While their blonde manager only giggled.

Recovering from his blushing mess a while ago, the raven-haired setter took a deep breath, narrowed his eyes at Hinata and quipped.

“But I guess you do know that we lost in the match earlier because of your carelessness around your surroundings, right, dumbass?”

He smirked.

This pissed the female decoy and threw in some punches at Kageyama, which he constantly dodged. “Shut up, you!! I said I’m sorry, alright?!”

“No, you did not!”

“Yes, I did, Bakayama!”

There goes their ‘lovers’ quarrel’ again… hahaha…

“Hinata!” Sugawara’s sweet voice boomed inside the room as he entered together with their team’s captain Sawamura Daichi. Beside them tagged along Hinata’s friend from Date Tech, fellow middle blocker Aone Takanobu.

“Ah, Sugawara-san!” The first-year idiot duo stopped their bickering when the gray-haired setter all of a sudden hugged her.

Hc’d Suga and Hinata are chummy-chummy but in a mother/daughter sort of way.

He is, after all, Karasuno’s Sugamama.

“Honey, are you alright now? Did those Shiratorizawa bastards hurt you? Don’t lie to me!” She blinked in reply, baffled.

He might cry in an instant now—

“Oi, Suga, calm down,” Daichi said, drawing circles at the fellow third-year’s back to calm him down.

Aone then stepped closer besides Hinata and sat with his legs crossed, his eyes gazing at hers like Kageyama’s.

“Are you okay?” he asked her, his deep voice nearly startled both Hinata, Yachi and Kinoshita.

Date Tech’s one-third of the famous Iron Wall is a man of few words, and his replies were mostly grunts, hand gestures, and nods.

So it’s rare for him to speak, or ask a question, especially to a member of the opposite sex—or, in this case, at Karasuno’s Number 10. At Hinata Shouyou.

She held both hands at Aone’s now flustered cheeks, and grinned.

“I’m okay now, Aone-san! Don’t worry too much~ nn?” She tilted her head while looking at him.

C-cute… she’s cute, No-Eyebrows thought to himself. Even the other boys thought so, too.

Then he nodded.

Hinata patted his shoulders. “Good!”

Ahhh the power of friendship, feat. AoHina—

“Say, Hina-chan,” Yachi looked at the orange-haired girl. “Care to say to us why you fainted on Ushijima-san’s shoulder?”

The chibi stilled herself, cheeks starting to get a bit red. Kageyama noticed it.

“A-a-ano!! H-hinata-chan, it’s o-okay if you d-don’t have to tell us! S-sorry for asking such a foolish q-question—“

“Yachi-san, calm yourself down, too—,” the captain sweatdropped.

Looking at the people around her, Hinata slowly opened her mouth to speak.

“My thighs are kind of ticklish when being touched,” she muttered, face in an embarrassed state.

“Ha?” “Ticklish?”

“He—Ushijima-san touched the back of my thighs, but just to keep myself from falling down his shoulder!” the female middle blocker said aloud, pouting. “That’s why I… f-fainted earlier.”

Her partner remembered the face she made while being carried on Ushijima Wakatoshi’s shoulder.

“USHIJIMA-SA—hyaah! …P-please… stop—“

A vein pop ticked on the raven-haired setter’s face, his jawline twitching slightly.

Kageyama’s fists gripped hard, his face a big scowling mess.

Damn that Ushiwaka guy—

Another dark aura emitted on another corner as vein pops ticked on both Dadchi and Sugamama.

Wearing their scary faces.

Both Hinata, Yachi and Kinoshita panicked, while Aone furrowed his brows.

“Did you bring some shovels, Daichi?”

“They’re inside the bus compartment, Suga.”

“Good. We’re digging some graves for some perverted volleyball dorks to bury down later—wanna help us, Kageyama?”

———

Meanwhile, at Shiratorizawa’s side of the training camp, the members were at the sidelines, taking a break from practice when—

“ACHOO!!!” Tendou sniffled for the nth time already ever since coming back to the gym with Ushijima after the incident with Karasuno’s Number 10. “Uh, yizz…”

“Tendou-san, are you really alright?” their team’s first-year ace-in-the-making Goshiki Tsutomu asked, his face scrunched with worry. “You’re sneezing constantly.”

The redhead shook it off with a wave of his hand in reply, and smiled grimly.

“Yeah, I’m a-OK, thanks for your concern, Tsutomu-kun!”

“Oi, are you sick?” Shiratorizawa’s team mom third-year setter Semi Eita stared at his fellow third-year teammate with disgust. “If you are, please stay away from us! We don’t wanna get infected by your cold… Goshiki, don’t go near him!” “Eh? But, senpai—“

Tendou narrowed his eyes on him. “Semi-Semi, if I do have a cold, I will first go straight at ya and share my germs, duh!”

“DON’T CALL ME BY THAT STUPID NICKNAME, YOU IDIOT!” the team mom seethed, throwing a pack of tissues at the middle blocker in reply, hitting his arm.

A quarrel ensued at Shiratorizawa—

“Okay, guys, that’s enough! Save your bickering later at lunch period,” another third-year, Oohira Reon, chided and managed to stop both Tendou and Semi from tearing off their heads.

While the rest of the team just sighed and/or watched at a distance.

“Ano sa…”

Some of them turned their heads at the semi-deep voice of second-year starting setter Shirabu Kenjiro.

Idk how to describe voice ranges ‘cept high-pitch, deep blah blah sorry—

“Tendou-san, you mentioned earlier that you and Ushijima-san met Karasuno’s Number 10, right?”

“Aye~ we have!” the redhead then nudged Ushijima, who was sitting near him, on the side. “Right, Wakatoshi-kun?”

He nodded. “Un. We met Hinata Shouyou early this morning, outside the gym.”

“EHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! You two met that cute sunshine already upon arrival!?!!” Both their libero, Yamagata Hayato, and middle blocker, Kawanishi Taichi, squawked at their captain.

Their faces looked like (‘◉⌓◉’), with Kawanishi gripping the collar of Shirabu’s shirt, shaking wildly.

“T-taichi, stop shaking me, goddammit—!” Whack!

Said second-year middle blocker started to wail in a dramatic way.

“WHYYYYYYYYYYY—!!”

Dunno how to grasp Kawanishi’s personality here tbh so stfu dejk—

“We were about to bring her here back though…” Then Ushijima’s usual stoic face darkened a bit.

“…if only those Karasuno setters didn’t show up.”

“Ah, that Kageyama guy and their vice-captain, isn’t it? Number 2?” Shirabu pointed out. “That guy’s really scary even though he has the face of an angel; their captain also.”

Oohira asked, “Wait… so you two attempted to kidnap the girl?”

“No, no, ‘kidnapping’ will only cause us trouble,” Tendou said, waving his hand in a disapproving way.

“Let’s call it ‘luring her with some sweets then put her inside a potato sack’—“

“ARE YOU A DOWNRIGHT LOLICON!?!!” Semi screamed straight at the Guess Monster’s face, pissed at his earlier statement.

Tendou vs Semi, Round 2–

“I-I heard from Date Tech’s Koganegawa-san that Hinata-chan fainted on you, Ushijima-san,” Goshiki stammered, red tinge on both his cheeks due to embarrassment, maybe? “Is that true?”

Ushiwaka nodded curtly. “Ye—“

“EHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! SHE DID WHAAAAAAAAAAT!?!!” Both Yamagata and Kawanishi squawked again, interrupting his response.

Their faces now looked like (● ˃̶͈̀ロ˂̶͈́)੭ꠥ⁾⁾, with Kawanishi again gripping the collar of Shirabu’s shirt, shaking wildly.

“KAWANISHIIIIII!” An uppercut.

Chaos ensued inside the Shiratorizawa Academy (High School Division) Men’s Volleyball Club.

Their captain declared to himself, his olive-colored eyes shone with determination:

We will take Hinata Shouyou here, in Shiratorizawa. She should have (come here). Whatever the consequences be.

“WHAT IN THE WORLD ARE YOU SLACKING OFF, YOU NIMRODS!!! GET YOUR ASSES BACK TO PRACTICE!!!!”

“HAI!!!!”

———

How did the supposed-to-be ‘rumor’ begin? It all started when…

“Aaaarrrggghhh!! This is not right, Ryuu!”

“Huh? What d’you mean ‘not right’, Noya?”

“I want to sit next to our cute kouhai Shouyou on the bus earlier, but it’s always that bastard Kageyama who gets to sit beside her!! Hnnnnnngh—!!! He gets to touch Shouyou’s hair whenever she dozes off, or place her head on his shoulder to sleep on! Or-or maybe even take a candid shot of her sleeping cutely—dammit!!! This is frustrating!!!!!”

“Ahhh~ I know how you feel, bro! I, too, want to sit next to our precious Hinata-chan on the bus! B-but… Noya, what about Kiyoko-san?”

“Ryuu bro, our loyalty is always on our beautiful goddess Kiyoko-san—BUT SHE’S DIFFERENT FROM SHOUYOU! Our kouhai is literally the epitome of a living sunshine~! She cures our blues away! Remember that time during our match with Wakunan, when you were kind of down about Daichi-san’s injury then Shouyou suddenly hugged and peppered you with words of encouragement?”

“Oh, yeah! It calmed my senses down… and also! Remember when you came back from your suspension, and me and Hinata noticed bruises—“

idk I really need to refresh my HQ knowledge by rereading the whole manga orz—

“—on your arms? Ma~n, she freaked out and began applying those with some ointment she had in her bag. And you told me later that time Hinata’s hands were very soft even though she spiked and blocked so many balls in her lifetime? Also that expression on your face! So priceless!”

“Ahhhh~ I wanna touch Shouyou’s soft hands again longer! Not just a high five—but holding hands!”

“Me too~ Damn, I wish there’d be some kind of (rotational?) seating arrangement whenever we’re on the bus, traveling to matches and stuff…”

“Ryuu! Noya! Heya!”

“Tora! Our shitty (city) boy from Tokyo—wassup!”

“We can’t wait to play another game against you guys later! ww”

“Same here!”

“Ah, what are you guys talking about?”

“OUR PRECIOUS KOUHAI HINATA/SHOUYOU!!!”

“Eh? Shrimpy-chan? What about her?”

“It’s like this….—“

The two crows and mohawked cat walked their way inside the camp premises, talking.

Unbeknownst to them, two eagles accidentally eavesdropped on the earlier conversation.

DO NOT REPOST/EDIT WITHOUT PERMISSION. PLAGIARISM IS A CRIME, KIDS. LIKES ESPECIALLY REBLOGS ARE HIGHLY APPRECIATED. ALL WORKS © angrymongol01 - 2021.

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hargreeveslftv · 4 years

Text

The Occult: DOOMSDAY | an umbrella academy series

chapter three | word count: 3,142

CHAPTER THREE | midnight reflections and attitude infections ( song | make it wit chu (remix) - queens of the stone age )

"Well," Melanie says tiredly, putting her plate in the sink as Klaus digs into a pile of waffles on his plate, a separate plate resting beside him with a drizzle of honey over the two now cold waffles that sat in front of an empty chair, "I think I'm gonna go hit the hay. It's been way too long of a day."

Klaus nods with a laugh, stuffing another fork full into his mouth before speaking.

"True shit. I'll get the lights and turn everything off, you probably need the sleep more than I do." Klaus giggles to himself, making Melanie smile.

"I doubt that. Thank you though." She kisses the top of his head, leaving him with a pat on the shoulder before walking down the hallway.

"Night, boys." She calls, walking through her bedroom door and closing it most of the way, leaving the latch undone and enough room to push it open in case Ben wanted to read some of the books sitting in her room.

Ben, who watched her with worried eyes beside Klaus as the man poured more syrup on his waffles.

"I'm worried about her." Ben speaks, resting back against the table in front of the cold plate of food.

"When are you not worried about her?" Klaus asks with a frown on his face.

Ben rolls his eyes, partially because his brother is right, partially because he knew he wasn't going to be listened to.

"She was worried about you. I didn't have to be with her to know that. You can't keep taking advantage of the fact she's the only person who cares about you."

Klaus looks down at his plate in silence, frowning at the food as he takes another fork full.

"I don't take advantage of her, Benny-boy."

"You don't bother calling her to tell her where you are when you go missing for a month but then don't hesitate to come back to the room she gave you just to make sure you have a safe place."

"Okay!" Klaus fires back, cutlery skidding across the table, "I'm a shitty person and I should have called her and brought you to see her sooner. I'm sorry I got in the way of your weird, supernatural romance."

"You know it's about more than that." Ben argues, not acknowledging the last part of his sentence and making Klaus sigh.

"Okay, okay. I screwed up and I need to do better next time. Just… give me a break for a couple hours." He asks, near pleading with his brother.

"Fine. I'll see you in the morning." Ben agrees tiredly, pushing himself up from the table.

"Actually," Klaus interjects, making Ben groan as he throws his head back and turns around. "I wanna get going before Mellie wakes up. Get out of her hair for the day, come back after she's had some time to rest."

"Whatever. But we're leaving a note." He says with a roll of his eyes, walking down the hallway and lightly pushing open Melanie's bedroom door.

The orange striped sweater Klaus gave her lays across the arm of her desk chair, Melanie laying in her bed in one of the worn band shirts she'd had for years instead.

Ben walked carefully around where her boots were carelessly dropped on the floor, and avoided the small towers of books laid around the end of her bed, not wanting to disturb her knowing she needed all the rest she could get.

As he laid down on the bed beside her, his weight didn't make the mattress dip at all, the pillows not even noticing he was there as he finally let out a deep breath.

Still, Melanie could sense him beside her, the cold air in the room an obvious sign of his presence.

Knowing he was there, Melanie rolled over to face him, moving closer to the middle of the bed and pulling the blankets up under her chin to counteract the coldness.

"Don't go disappearing on me again, please." She says quietly, barely above a whisper.

Even if she'd opened her eyes, she wouldn't be able to see the sad look on Ben's face, knowing he couldn't make that promise to her.

Instead, as he heard the lights click off and Klaus's bedroom door shut, he settled for pressing a small kiss to Melanie’s hand that rested on her pillow, the smallest smile gracing her face as she drifted off into much needed sleep.

When they were younger, they would lay in the same position nearly every night they could for hours before falling asleep, though obviously in much more cramped quarters. There wasn’t a night when Melanie wouldn’t sneak into Ben’s room, or vice versa, after Reginald turned off the night monitors so they could talk about books, their missions, their plans for once they left the academy.

It started as in-jokes between the two, laughing about how they would run away and find real, boring jobs. They joked about renting an apartment together, and filling it with plants since the only living thing in the academy were the people inside it.

It was what they did to escape their realities, the one that told them to put themselves in danger every day with not even a thank you at the end of it for their efforts. Which is why later on, the late night jokes turned into actual plans, ones that would see them carrying what little they had out of the academy the night of their 18th birthdays and not stepping foot back inside.

It was what best friends did, right?

And that’s what they were, ever since that day in mid November, when the New York snow was already falling and made the small ten year old girl in the backseat of her Grandmother’s car shiver in her coat.

She hadn’t talked for over a month at that point, and wouldn’t for another two until Five’s antics managed to draw a laugh out of her one Sunday afternoon.

She didn’t know what was happening that day, how could she? She was a child. She didn’t understand the cheque placed inside an envelope handed to her Grandmother, or the suitcase packed with all of her possessions, and no one bothered to explain it to her either.

All she knew was the cold eyes of the man with the monocle had replaced the ones of the Grandmother who hadn’t even had her for a week.

She was frightened, as any child would be. Especially when she stood in front of the seven other children dressed exactly alike, the intimidating man’s hand on her shoulder as she was introduced to the children.

“Children, this is your new sister, Number Eight. She shall be entering training with you, and taking residence in the house. As her legal guardian, I expect you to treat her as you treat each other. Understood?”

There was nothing Melanie wanted more than to curl up in a ball at the stares of the children, to tell them her name wasn’t Eight, it was Melanie, her name being the only gift from her father she had left.

As she was introduced to each child, all Melanie could do was nod at their welcomes, following the tall, blond boy, Number One, she thinks, as he carried her suitcase to the plain and near empty bedroom down the green hallway.

She was left alone for a couple hours, Number One telling her that his name was Luther, and to make sure that she was dressed in her new uniform and down stairs when the dinner bell rang.

After changing into the outfit she was told, Melanie sat on her bed, and she cried.

Images of Alice in Wonderland drowning in her tears came to her mind as she laid on the bed, face first into her pillow and smothering the sound as best as she could. It was a miracle at all that she managed to hear the incredibly gentle, quiet knocks against her door a small while later.

At first, Melanie panicked, thinking she had lost track of time and the dinner bell had already rung, but after wiping away her tears on her new white buttoned shirt sleeve, letting her hair fall into her face, she opened the door to see one of the boys from before, the one equally as quiet as she had been.

Melanie sniffled as she opened the door wider, the boy she struggled to remember as Number Six standing in the doorway with a book in his hands, and a soft smile on his face.

“Hi, I’m Ben, but Dad calls me Number Six. My room is next to yours, and I just wanted to come see if you were okay?” He asks quietly.

Little did he know, but it was the first time someone had been kind to Melanie in a very long time.

Melanie went to speak, before stopping herself, bolting away from the door and tearing through her open suitcase still sitting on her bed. Ben was confused, worried he had already scared the obviously already scared girl, but calmed down slightly as he saw her reappear, pen furiously moving across the page of her notebook before she turned it around for him to see.

“I’m Melanie. I’m okay.”

“Oh, I get it.” He smiles, understanding that she wasn’t scared of him, she just couldn’t speak. “Well, Melanie, I thought you might like this. It’s one of my favorites, so I thought maybe you would like it too. I thought it would be a nice welcome present to help you feel more comfortable.”

He carefully handed her the book he was holding onto, revealing it as Alice’s Adventures In Wonderland. Melanie’s eyes lit up as she read the cover, a smile coming to her face for what felt like the first time in forever.

Melanie took the book with careful hands, staring at it with wonder before looking back up to him.

“Thank you.” She mouthed, before an idea sparks inside her head, and she grabs his wrist, pulling him into her room behind her.

Ben wasn’t expecting the sudden movement, but followed easily anyway, stopping in the middle of her room as she let go of his wrist, putting the book he gave her down beside her pillow, along with her notebook and pen, before digging back into her suitcase, rummaging through for a moment before finding exactly what she was looking for.

With a smile on her face, Melanie handed Ben the book from her suitcase, “The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe” written across the top of the cover.

Ben took the book from her, holding it as she turned to pick up her pen and notebook, scribbling quickly before turning it to him again.

“For you.”

“Oh,” Ben says in surprise, “you don’t have to-”

Melanie tapped on the notebook, a look on her face and the tapping of her finger against the page insisting he took the book.

“I… thank you, Melanie.” He smiled gratefully.

She nodded happily, before another thought crossed her mind, and she scribbled her words down on the notebook yet again.

“I promise all witches aren’t bad, though”

Melanie is awoken the next morning with a startled gasp, shooting up in bed and throwing herself across it until she lands on the floor, scrambling over to her grimoire and slamming it open, her eyes burning as she fumbles for a pen to write down the incantation she heard in her dreams.

Not every morning was like this for her, the messages from her dreams often being nothing more than a bunch of symbolism and flashbacks. Other times, though, they were actually useful.

Times like last night, when the visions came in loud and clear.

If she didn't know any better, Melanie would swear it was just a dream. Everything she saw, it looked older, changed from what she knew as normal.

The underside of her hair, purple since she was eighteen, was a light pink, her face appearing fuller, more lively. Klaus, who was helping her with the spell in the vision, appeared more lively as well, his eyes popping and hair shaggy as always, but longer and closer to his shoulders than his scalp.

Everyone looked different, but it wasn't an unwelcome change.

But the one thing that really hit Melanie, was the person in front of her as she sat around the beam of light in the center of the academy foyer, with Klaus on one side, Diego on the other, and Vanya, Allison, Five and Luther opposite her.

Melanie scribbled down the words as quickly as she could, knowing with a seed of dread in her stomach that the ending of the incantation wasn't shown to her in full, but hoped that it would come to her eventually as the vision decided she was ready to see it.

With excitement buzzing through her veins, Melanie shot up from the floor, pulling her heavy grimoire with her as she ripped her bedroom door open, running through the hall and pushing Klaus's door open with a shove, her momentum dying on impact as she sees his bed empty.

Disappointment washes over her, as she walks back through her apartment in search of any sign of him. Noticing something on the table, Melanie stops beside it, dropping her grimoire down and picking up the post it note.

"Grabbing some things from academy. Back later!"

Melanie sighs, putting the note back on the table and falling into the seat closest to her with a sigh.

"Shit."

One breakfast burrito later, Melanie waltzes through the doors of the academy, takeaway coffee in hand and grimoire hanging off her arm in a gaudy tote bag acquired from the thrift shop a few doors up from her work.

Melanie walks into the living room, Luther reading a stack of papers on the couch looking up at her as she enters.

Ignoring him completely, still bitter about the statue the day before, Melanie sits her sunglasses on top of her head, walking around the bar and looking behind couches for wherever her brother might be hiding.

"Lost something?" Luther asks, raising his eyebrows as he gets no reply.

"Nice, silent treatment. Real mature Melanie." He scoffs, quickly looking like he retracts his statement as she turns to face him.

"If I wanted your help, I'd ask. But if I did that, it would be to help find the marbles I'd finally lost."

After being met with silence herself, and not spotting Klaus anywhere in the room, Melanie abandons the search of the ground level, walking up stairs and sipping her coffee along the way.

Melanie silently nods a hello to Allison as she passes her, angrily jabbing a number into the phone after she passes, making Melanie raise her eyebrows as she knocks on Klaus's door.

"Klaus? You here?" She calls, groaning after a few moments as she gets no reply.

Opening the door, she sees yet another empty room of Klaus's, frowning as she sees nothing different from yesterday when she sat on his bed while he rummaged through his clothes.

She searches the room for a moment, looking over the scribbles on the walls, not all that different from the pages upon pages of scribbled notes in her grimoire.

She sighs as she sees small empty bags sitting on his bedside table, knowing Klaus probably didn't even know where he was himself.

After stepping back from the table with her hopes up for finding Klaus and Ben today, Melanie hears a conversation happening down the hall. Abandoning the search of Klaus's room, Melanie frowns suspiciously as she walks out, watching as Allison speaks to Vanya in an obviously condescending tone down the stairs.

"You're an adult now Vanya, you don't get to blame your problems on anyone but yourself." She says, Vanya looking at the ground in front of her as Allison turns to walk away up the stairs.

"Oh, that's rich." Melanie says.

"Excuse me?" Allison says, stopping in her tracks and turning to look at Melanie, who walked along the hallway, stopping at the phone hanging on the wall.

"What, we're all crawling with childhood trauma and you don't think that has an impact on who you are just a few years later? Are you for real or did you rumor your own memories outta your head?" She asks, head cocked to the side and hostility matching that of the woman in front of her.

"Last I checked, I don't owe you anything." Allison squints, storming away in a cloud of expensive perfume and anger.

"You do actually, if the divorce happens within three years of the wedding, the guests get their gifts back." Melanie calls after her, "I want my crock pot!"

Turning around with a sigh, she sees Vanya still standing in her spot rooted to the floor.

"Have you seen Klaus?" Melanie asks her sweetly, instantly shifting gears from the aggressive stance she held before.

"Oh, uh, no, sorry." Vanya apologises, Melanie giving her a soft shrug in return.

"No worries, I just wanted to try something with him and Ben but they skipped out on me again. Left a note that they'd be here but hey, is what it is."

Vanya laughed lightly, looking over her shoulder, almost worried she'd get scolded for expressing joy in the house.

"Well, I hope you find him."

"Yeah, me too." She says sadly, looking down at her shoes before glancing back up to her sister, "hey, we should go get coffee sometime, catch up."

Vanya looks startled at the offer, but agrees with a short nod.

"Yeah, that sounds good."

Melanie nods again, giving Vanya a smile before heading downstairs, bypassing the already checked living room to go to the basement, not seeing anyone there and sighing heavily.

"Slippery little shits." She mumbles to herself, walking through the room and flopping down onto one of the couches, bouncing for a moment before coming to a stop.

As long as she had been best friends with Klaus, he had been the one Melanie told her visions to before absolutely anyone else.

Sharing his own brand of clairvoyance, he was the only person in the world that she knew could understand her, which after a rocky first ten years and even rockier twenty afterwards, meant a whole lot more than normal to both her and Klaus.

If her and Five were closer, maybe she would seek him out to tell him instead, given he was the only one to actually experience the future, not just see it.

But after being close to him for the, in retrospect, short time they had around each other, Melanie knew there was something going on with him well above her level of comprehension right now.

Instead, she let her head lull back onto the headrest, letting out a heavy sigh of frustration and closing her eyes.

chapter four coming monday, sep 21st

#the umbrella academy #tua #Umbrella academy imagine #umbrella acedmy #umbrella academy fanfic #tua fanfic #ben hargreeves fanfic #ben hargreeves imagine #ben hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #vanya hargreeves #luther hargreeves #allison hargreeves #Diego hargreeves #five hargreeves

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jadekitty777 · 4 years

Text

On the Precipice of Trust

Fff alright, time for my personal favorite of the three I’ll be posting this weekend. I hope you all will like it too!

Day 2: Scars

Dedicated to: @saenda for unknowingly encouraging me to finish this one. I took an educated guess that your tumblr name and Ao3 name are the same lol

Rating: T, because Qrow had to be an inappropriate asshole

Words: Almost 9k

Summary: When Clover mysteriously doesn't show up for mission assignments, Qrow fears another betrayal is on the horizon and decides to go investigate. Instead of finding the man scheming with General Ironwood, he discovers Atlas' famed boy scout is just a bit under the weather.

But Qrow quickly realizes that there's more to the captain's sickness than just a simple cold. And even more to Clover himself, well hidden under all those cheerful smiles.

Ao3 Link: On the Precipice of Trust

Suspicion immediately wove into Qrow’s mind when Harriet went up to the mission board and started the announcement process.

“Alright everyone, I’m going to be assigning the missions for today!” Her voice boomed over the room.

Keeping his tone light and casual, he asked, “Where’s Mr. Lucky?”

“According to the General, he’s indisposed for today.” Harriet sidestepped, before turning to the board.

In the corner of his eye, he saw the various ways some of the kids reacted. Ruby sat up a little straighter. Blake’s left ear twitched. Yang started to curl a thread of her hair around her finger. All subtle, but all on the same wavelength.

This was what they had been waiting for.

As Yang, Blake and he crossed the courtyard towards the transport ships, Qrow spared the academy a look, then said, “Alright kiddos, I’m gonna vanish for a bit.”

“Right.” Yang’s tone betrayed her unease.

“Firecracker?”

“It’s just-” She stopped, halting the rest of them. She looked towards him with a frown, “Do you really think the General will betray us?”

Qrow frowned, his gaze drifting towards the skyline. “I never thought Leo would. Or Oz. So, safe to say my judge of character is pretty shit.”

“Then am I just dumb?”

That had Qrow’s gaze snapping back to her.

Blake’s ears had fallen. “Yang…”

“I, just, feel like I’m the only one who doesn’t suspect him.” She offered hesitantly, rubbing her hand over her metal wrist.

He followed the movement, reaching out to place a hand over the metal limb. “You wanting to see the best in someone isn’t dumb, especially for someone who’s done so much for you. Actually, you share that quality with Summer.” He snorted in amusement. “Granted, you’re a little more careful. …A lot more, actually. Sums was the type to trust a pickpocket to hold her wallet.”

That earned him a chuckle and he took it as a personal victory.

“Believe me, I would like nothing more than to be wrong. That’s why being cautious is the smart thing to do.”

Yang sighed. “I wish we didn’t have to.”

“Maybe one day, we won’t have to.” Was his own offer of condolence. “You two get out of here. I’ll catch up with you if it turns out to be nothing.”

With that, they went their own ways. Yang and Blake to the transport that would take them to the Grimm extraction mission down in Mantle. Him in the sky on his unofficial reconnaissance mission.

Qrow was so tired of being betrayed. Of feeling like he had to second guess every action of every so-called friend. He didn’t want to suspect James. Hell, he especially didn’t want to suspect Clover – though, he’d be the first to say his decision on that wasn’t entirely sound, if his growing attraction to the handsome brunet had anything to say about it.

That was what was on his mind as he flew past the General’s office, finding it empty. He gave a squawk of annoyance, before starting to circle the building.

Maybe this was just what trust looked like during a time of war. Spying on their own allies at every hint of unusual behavior and second-guessing every word spoken. The more he thought about it, the more he had to wonder if it was going both ways. Were the Aceops offering to train the kids because they truly wanted to hone their skills, or were they secretly hoping one of them would trip up over intel that they could report back to James? Was Clover assigning their missions together because he enjoyed his company or because he could keep an eye on him?

The idea filled him with dread. It only worsened when he considered that to do that, James would have had to order it. A year ago, he would have said that was a ridiculous thought.

But things had changed so much since Beacon fell. With him. With the world. With – Clover.

Wait. Clover?!

Qrow canted to the left, circling back to the window he had just flown past. Another glimpse told him his sight had been true. He dared to draw in closer, landing on one of the fancy panes that decorated the window in crystal-shaped formations. He tucked his wings in so the wind couldn’t carry him away and peered into the room.

The man was shambling around a small studio not too unlike the accommodations Qrow himself had been provided upon his arrival. There were personal touches here and there that he noticed on first glance – a plotted plant right on the other side of the glass, a shelf full of books, a ship in a bottle displayed on a desk. His focus mostly remained on Clover though.

The other huntsman was a mess. He seemed to be walking with a deliberate slowness, an arm around his stomach as he carried a small cup to his bedside. His normally upkept hair was a disheveled tangle and his face seemed pale and gaunt. He hadn’t even gotten out of his nightwear, still in dark grey sweats, a green undershirt and – were those slippers? Shaped like goldfish?

If he wasn’t currently a bird, Qrow would have rolled his eyes.

The ridiculous smiley abominations didn’t last long, Clover kicking them off his feet as he climbed back into bed and huddled under the covers. He looked absolutely miserable. Sick as he obviously was, Qrow was pretty sure he could believe Clover wouldn’t be up to anything nefarious for the rest of the day – and probably not the rest of the week either.

Qrow spread his wings and let the wind currents take him away. He headed towards the docking bay, figuring he could join the girls on the mission now.

He didn’t think about Clover again until he was shuffling into the mess hall behind the girls. Not everyone had made it back yet, but Jaune practically pleading for Marrow and Elm to take some of the casserole he’d no doubt been given (seriously, that was the third one this week) reminded him quite suddenly of their missing leader and his poor state.

While Blake secured them a table and Yang and he got in line, he took out his scroll, sending out a quick message. You eat yet?

The response came only a few moments later. No, why?

So he was awake. Good.

How about some soup? I know you’re not feeling well.

He was almost at the front of the line before he got his answer. That would be good. And then, like an afterthought: Thank you.

Qrow dutifully ignored his eldest niece’s knowing look as he ordered the turkey sandwich and chicken noodle soup to go.

He couldn’t quite ignore her teasing tone as he joined her by the pick-up counter. “What’s wrong Uncle Qrow? Feeling a little under the weather?”

“Hush.” He bumped his shoulder against hers. “He’s got to eat.”

“Oh yes. I’m certain there’s no ulterior motive there at all.” Her grin was almost predatory.

Too bad for her he had played this game much longer then her – and was better at it too. He lent over, murmuring, “Yang, it’s called ‘having game’. And honestly? Considering my dinner dates often end in a nice roll in the hay and you can’t even get past hand-holding with your little pussy cat over there, you might just want to bow to the master here.”

Her eyebrows practically hit her hairline. “You’re the worst!”

“That’s not what Clover’s going to be saying.” His smirk grew. “In fact, he might just elect me as Remnant’s newest god.”

She buried her flaming face into her hands. “Oh my gods.”

“Yeah, exactly like that!”

All things told, he probably deserved the punch.

When he reached Clover’s room, he was surprised to find the door was already open a crack. He pushed it the rest of the way with his foot, announcing as he did, “Special delivery!”

Clover was in the same spot he’d been in this morning, huddled under his blankets on the bed – the only difference being he was sitting up at least. Despite the fact he was looking like death warmed over, he managed a smile in his direction. “Hey.”

Qrow grimaced at the hoarseness in his voice. That had to be painful. He kicked the door closed, heading across the room. “You sound like you swallowed a cheese grater.”

“You always this charming to invalids?” Clover joked.

“Nah, I reserve it only for optimistic assholes like you.”

That graced him with a small chuckle.

Qrow set the bag down on the nightstand, pulling out the container of soup and a plastic spoon. As he handed it over, he asked, “Seriously though, how are you feeling?”

“Like I got hit by a truck and, when the driver found out I was still alive, backed up over me again.” Clover set the container in his lap, pulling off the plastic top. “Thank you, again, for this. I probably won’t be able to finish it though.”

He waved it off, plopping down on the edge of the bed. “Don’t worry about it. Better you have something than nothing.”

“Suppose so.” He blew on the first spoonful, sipping on the broth. “How’d you know I was sick? I only told James.”

“Uh.” Shit. To make himself appear busy, he riffled through the bag for his sandwich, mind working on overdrive to come up with a plausible excuse. “You just didn’t look so hot after coming in yesterday, so I put two and two together.”

It was a gamble, but unlike their games of poker, this one actually paid off.

“I’m surprised you noticed. I’m usually more discreet.”

He shoved the first bite in his mouth. “You make it sound like you don’t want anyone to know when you’re sick. What’s wrong? Worried about people knowing the Captain of the Best isn’t as infallible as he seems?”

“Careful. If you keep being this observant, you’re going to reveal all my secrets.” He framed it like a joke, but there seemed to be a lack of humor in it.

Qrow paused, side-eyeing him. “You alright?”

“Hm? Oh. Yeah.” Clover sighed, slumping back against the headboard. “Just tired, I guess.”

That rose a weird set off alarm bells, and he couldn’t help but sweep an eye over the small studio, almost expecting an Apathy to be hiding in the corner. Of course there wasn’t, the room empty beyond themselves and whatever program was playing on the TV at such a low volume it was almost inaudible.

“It’s frustrating actually.”

He turned his attention back to the other. “What is?”

“Just that-” He frowned, then shook his head. “No, nevermind. It’s nothing.”

It was with way more satisfaction then he should have had against an ill man when he came back with, “Now who’s deflecting?”

Clover blinked, then chuckled weakly, seeming to slump further. “Got me there…” He stirred his soup, already having lost interest in it. “I was sick not too long ago. It was some real awful thing; my throat was so sore I could barely eat. Hardly could get out of bed, either. The day you guys landed was actually only my second day back.”

Qrow did some quick calculations. That was only six weeks ago. “That normal for you, boy scout?”

“Not really.” He sighed. “And this couldn’t be a worse time for it. We need to get Amity up and Mantle’s defenses fine-tuned and the newbies training is still behind and-”

“And maybe that’s the problem.”

“What?”

Was he really going to have to spell it out? He rolled his eyes. People needed to learn when to half-ass it, like him.

“I mean, you’re overworking yourself, genius.” He could already see the argument brewing. Too bad for Clover, years of being a professor and having to deal with overachieving students had given him all the ammo he needed. “And yeah, I know. Everything you’ve got to do is important. But, so are you hotshot. So, maybe don’t run yourself into the ground?”

He thought about, but didn’t add, how thanks to him keeping tabs on nearly every single member of the Ace-ops, he also knew Clover almost never left his office until it was nearly midnight but was still the first to rise at dawn. That any tasks James didn’t have time for on his already overbooked schedule fell to him. That he was both running and assigning missions, handling reports and regimes, and somehow still managed to find time to provide Qrow with daily life advice that probably came from his desk calendar.

Overworked probably didn’t even begin to describe it.

Clover seemed to mull over his words quietly, running a hand over his chest with a grimace. “I know you’re right. But there’s still so much to do.”

“I think we can handle things for a few days.” He reassured.

“I don’t doubt you can. You’re all incredible. It’s just hard, knowing everyone else is giving their all while I’m just… here. Not contributing.” He ladled another spoonful of soup, raising it. “Oh! Maybe I can still do the paperwo-”

Without warning, a shake ran through Clover and his left hand suddenly spasmed, the utensil he’d been holding falling right back in the soup, splattering the bedsheets.

They both stared down at it, then Qrow gave him a look. “Might want to work on finishing dinner first, pal.”

He’d kindly let Clover pretend the flush that rose to his cheeks was only from fever.

They watched sci-fi dramas all night.

Or, Qrow did at least. Clover kept dozing off every few minutes. It was never for long, because whatever dreams his feverish mind was conjuring kept jerking him awake, one time hard enough he accidentally kicked Qrow in the leg. It was during one of these fitful tosses that an arm landed on his stomach with enough impact to knock the wind from him.

“Oof!”

Clover startled, his eyes opening. After a few blearily blinks, he started to draw away. “Sorry, sorry-”

“It’s fine.” Qrow waved him down – it wasn’t like it had hurt – when something caught his eye. “Hey, wait.” Much to both their surprises, he caught Clover’s wrist, pulling the arm back towards him, staring intently on the marks he saw there. Raised, red bumps, starting at the joint and going down the length of his forearm. Like a rash almost.

They weren’t there before, were they?

“Does this hurt?” He asked, running a finger along the skin as lightly as he could. Hot to the touch, but hard to say if it was just from fever. “You’ve had the chicken pox, right?”

They didn’t look quite right for pox though. When his nieces had gotten it, their spots hadn’t turned the skin around them red and the blemish had covered the entire area of their body, not just patches. Still, he heard it was different for adults, almost dangerously so. He remembered Tai had quarantined him from the house, when Qrow revealed he had no idea if he’d ever caught it or not.

“Clover?” He asked as the silence stretched, glancing over at him to make sure he hadn’t drifted off again.

Wide green eyes stared back at him, the man only seeming to realize that he was waiting for something when their gazes met. “Oh, uh. No. I mean, yes. I mean – what was the question?”

That blush was also not from fever.

He may have felt proud, if Clover didn’t appear so out of it.

“You. Chicken pox. Had it?”

“Oh. Yeah, a’course. Hit all of us at once.” Qrow thought maybe he meant fellow classmates or siblings, until Clover added, mumbling the rest into his pillow. “Sister Lisa was so upset when she couldn’t take in anyone new at the sanctuary for almost a month.”

His brows furrowed. “Got a feeling you ain’t talking ‘bout a church sanctuary.”

“No.” He shifted onto his side. “I mean, Sister Lisa was religious, but the only reason she called the home that was because she thought orphan was an ugly word. She was right, in a way. Learned not to let bad labels define me – so I could thank her for that lesson at least.” He gave a half-hearted shrug, wincing when he did.

Which gave Qrow the out he needed to bypass the uncomfortable conversation. “You alright?”

“Ugh.” He grunted, rubbing a hand over the muscle and trying to roll out the ache. The movement only seemed to cause him more pain. “You know those dolls, where you can move all the limb parts?”

“Yeah.”

“I feel like some kid got ahold of a voodoo version of me and pulled them all off.”

He snorted. “Hate to tell ya, but it was probably one of my kids.”

“Well, when I find them, I’m court martialing them.” Clover grumbled.

The poor joke still won a laugh. That then won a yawn.

Which didn’t go unnoticed even by a man on the verge of death. “You should go. It’s probably late.”

“Yeah, it is.” Qrow conceded reluctantly. “What about your arm?”

He rose the splotchy appendage to eye level, reporting, “Well I won’t be entering any beauty pageants anytime soon, that’s for sure.”

“Clover-”

“It’s fine. I’m fine.” He waved him off, curling further into his blanket cocoon. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

Qrow regarded him skeptically, but ultimately didn’t pry. He knew what it was like, being mother-henned; and while Tai and Summer always meant well, it wasn’t always enough to combat the embarrassment that would often result from their good-hearted meddling. He wasn’t about to inflict that on his newfound friend that he maybe, kind of, liked.

A lot.

“Alright well,” He started as he finally slipped off the bed. “Try to feel better at least.”

“I will. I got all the luck in the world.”

Qrow gave him a look. “I’m going to let you get away with that smartassary only because you’re sick.”

“So kind and giving.” He joked. “And since you are, you’ll get the light, right?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He headed for the door, running his fingers down the dial that was next to it until the room darkened. As he stepped into the hall, he added. “Good night Clover.”

“Night. And thanks, for keeping me company.”

Qrow glanced back. The glow of the TV was just enough for him to catch the soft smile aimed his way that left his heart fluttering and his own mouth twitching upwards. “Yeah, anytime.”

As he shut the door and headed for his own room, he pulled out his scroll to set his alarm clock back an extra twenty minutes. He was sure Clover would appreciate breakfast too, right?

There were many things Qrow was – a morning person was not one of them. Those who knew him were very aware if it was before 9 AM to not bother him until he’d had at least one cup of coffee. If it was spiked, wait until noon; or better yet, just pretend he didn’t exist on the mortal plane at all. How he’d ever managed to survive as a school teacher outside of just sheer willpower was completely beyond him.

So it was a rare feeling to be so chipper first thing in the morning, strolling through the halls with a spring in his step, no one around to see except for the robotic janitors tidying up for the day. As he hit the last leg to his destination, he checked his messages, not surprised to see Clover hadn’t responded. He probably wasn’t even up yet.

Which was why he had brought nothing that wouldn’t keep until he got up. The tray he was carrying only had a banana, a bowl with a ‘just add hot water’ oatmeal package sitting in it and a similarly bundled up cup with a lemon tea bag and a honey packet. He set it down next to the door, knocking a few times. “Clover! Breakfast is by the door!”

He waited, pressing his ear against the metal.

Not even a stir.

Well, he could always peek in on him from the window. For altruistic purposes only, he told himself as he headed for the fire escape. When no emergency was going on, the doors were kept locked to prevent students from hiding in there whenever they wanted to skip class – but James had long ago given Qrow the override code, because they were some of the only windows in the entire facility that had latches on them and the one place which had cameras only pointing at the stairwell entrances.

Not really a blind spot, unless becoming a bird was an option.

It wasn’t long before the icy wind was under his wings and he was circling the building. He knew he’d found the right room when he spotted the bamboo plant sitting at its place in front of the window. He landed on one of the panes just as he had the day before.

There was just enough light from the rising sun to stretch into the darkened room, spreading halfway across the lump laying in the bed. Though the plant was blocking Clover’s upper half, Qrow noticed how the blankets at the end of the bed were spilling down the side, probably kicked off from the same feverish fits that had bothered him during the evening. Qrow also spotted how the man’s left pant leg had rolled up, revealing the same rash he’d seen before was now spreading along the calf. He twittered anxiously, hopping to a higher pane to get a good look at the man’s face.

Red took up his vision like a blooming scarlet rose.

He hopped off with a squawk of panic, speeding back to the window. In his panic, he shifted too soon, grunting as his ribs collided with the sill, knees cracking against the wall outside. Ignoring the sting, he scrambled over, landing inside and taking the stairs two at a time until he was stumbling back out in the hallway. As he sprinted down it, he yanked out his scroll, hitting redial on one of the top recent contacts.

It felt like forever before James answered, voice thick with exhaustion, “Qrow? What are-”

He cut him off with a shout, “James! I need you to give me the code to Clover’s room, now!”

“What?” The general seemed to snap to attention, tone shifting from sleepy to alarmed. “Why? What’s happening?”

“He’s bleeding!” The vision filled his head again. Red, so much red, pooling around Clover’s head and soaking his pillow. Like he’d been stabbed. Or shot. The image was so jarring, he almost missed the door, skidding to a stop and slamming his fist against it. If only Harbinger wasn’t still back at his place, he wouldn’t have even bothered with the call. “Give me the damn code already! Hurry!”

Rather than a verbal response, there was a click from the panel and then the door flung open seemingly by itself.

Qrow didn’t question it, rushing inside. He put his scroll onto speaker mode before tossing it on the bed as he rounded it. He pulled down the blankets to check for other wounds while his other hand pressed against the man’s pulse point. Everything looked normal, though he spotted more of that rash outbreaking along his collarbone.

“There’s a medical team on the way. Qrow, talk to me. What are his vitals?” His friend called.

“Heartbeat’s too fast and irregular.” He replied, grateful for something to focus on. He shifted to Clover’s face and, this close, he realized the blood wasn’t quite as copious as his fearful mind had conjured up. There was splatters of it here and there, like blots of red ink, and a circular splotch surrounding the middle to lower half of the man’s face. “Not losing as much blood as I thought.”

“Where’s the wound?”

He squinted, seeing a lot of it congealed onto his upper lip and announced faintly, “It’s uh… it’s a nosebleed.”

He was allowed to feel a little foolish for about two seconds, before James spoke up, “Is he awake?”

“No.”

“That’s not normal. Clover’s a light sleeper, he should have woken up when you walked in.”

Qrow took that in, before he shook the man’s shoulder, softly at first then, when it failed to do anything, harder. “Clover? Hey, come on, get up.” The other man didn’t even seem to stir. “Nothing, he’s out cold.”

He heard James curse softly, the only sign of his own worry that he quickly stamped back down. “Breathing? Eyes?”

“Breathing’s labored, pretty raspy.” He gently pulled back an eyelid, seeing the pupil constrict as the light hit it. “But eyes are dilating.” That was good. That meant his mind was still working. He rested a hand along his chest, trying to feel if maybe fluid had built up in his lungs, only to frown when he noticed something else. “His heart’s not doing good James. It’s going way too fast. This can’t just be a sickness, right?”

“I don’t know.” He replied honestly. “But I’m forwarding this to the medical ward. They’ll know what to do.”

Qrow took a deep breath. “Okay. What else should I do?”

“Just stay with him. The team should be there soon to bring him down.” A pause. “And I’m right here too.”

Two emotions hit him in rapid succession. The first was relief, knowing he could count on James to keep him calm if Clover started to die right in front of him or something. The second was guilt. He’d spent so much time doubting James’ aims but, bullheaded methods aside, in the end, he was still a good man willing to look out for the people around him.

It made Qrow wonder how he’d ever jumped to the conclusions he had. Was he just becoming just like Oz? So suspicious of everyone around him, that he refused to trust anyone?

As he heard rapid footfalls coming down the hall, he made a silent vow to talk to Ruby after all this was over.

Throughout his travels, Qrow had met many people and, with a lifestyle like his, quite a few of those chance meetings were with folks in the medical profession. Yet, none of them quite matched the quick efficiency and brutal tongue-lashing of Dr. Callister. She was quite frankly a little intimidating, especially when after she was done commanding her staff to get this machine working or that test done, she whirled on him to grill him for all he was worth. And once he was done answering her questions, she promptly kicked him out of the room with sharp orders to stay out of her way or else.

That was why, when the General arrived, he found Qrow sulking outside in the hall like a delinquent waiting to be called in to the principal’s office.

“I see you’ve met Dr. Callister. She’s quite proficient, isn’t she?” James observed.

He did not at all appreciate the slight humor in his tone. “Woman’s a witch.” He pushed off from the wall, demanding, “And where have you been? It’s been, like, an hour!”

In answer, the man pulled out his scroll, the holo display showing a message having been received only minutes ago. “Updates take time and I had other arrangements to attend to, so I asked to be notified when something more concrete was known.”

He was tempted to call his friend out on turning a medical crisis into something he just ‘fit’ into his schedule, but the excited texts he’d been receiving from his nieces told him just what else his friend had been doing. “Like giving the kids the day off?”

“We don’t know whether Clover’s ailment is natural or not. Until we do, proper precautions aren’t ill-advised.” James replied.

Qrow frowned, mulling that over. Salem certainly would stand to gain a lot of headway by eliminating Clover, taking out the Ace-Op’s leader and James’ right hand in one fell swoop. It would completely shake the Atlas inner circle with an equal devastation to knocking down a load-bearing wall in a building. Yet, even if that was her aim, it didn’t really add up. If she had that kind of power, why stop at Clover? Why not just take out the headmaster himself? Or better yet, all of them?

He didn’t get a chance to broach his thoughts before the door was sliding open and the good doctor came marching out.

“Ah, Anora! So lovely to-”

“Don’t you Anora me, James.” She cut him off as she came to stand before him, her eyes ablaze. “Would you care to tell me why I was not properly informed of Captain Ebi’s condition sooner?”

“I, uh, well-”

Wow. And he thought Glynda was the only one who could strike James speechless.

“More importantly,” She continued on as if her commanding officer wasn’t even speaking, “Why was he allowed to go untreated six weeks ago?”

That drew the General to attention, a severe look crossing over his features. “He informed me he had gone to see you.”

“And yet, you failed to verify that with me?”

Having heard just about enough, Qrow cut in sharply, “Hey doc, if you didn’t happen to notice, the General’s been a bit busy handling – oh, I don’t know. Everything.” He waved a hand dismissively. “So the boy scout missed a doctor’s appointment, what’s the big deal?”

He kind of regret speaking when she whirled on him. “The big deal is Mr.-?”

“Qrow.”

“Mr. Qrow,” She continued without missing a beat, “Is that Clover is notorious for ignoring his own health needs to a near foolhardy degree. The General here is quite aware of that fact, and is supposed to inform me whenever I am to expect him in my office so that we assure he doesn’t skip it.”

He snorted. That sounded ridiculous. “What? Is he afraid of needles or something?”

“I believe we’re getting off track.” James intervened hurriedly. “Anora, what is Clover’s status?”

Oh. Qrow realized, side-eyeing his friend. There was something he didn’t want him to know.

His attention fell back to the doctor as she spoke up. “Currently stable. We’re managed to bring him back to consciousness, though he’s very disoriented and weak. It’s one of the most severe cases of Rheumatic fever I’ve ever seen.”

The only indication he had that whatever had just been said was bad was in the way James tensed up beside him.

“Uh, hey doc?” Qrow rubbed a hand over the back of his head. “Mind explaining that for those of us less cognitively gifted?”

By gods, the woman could smile. “It’s a disease that can develop when strep throat goes untreated. You recall informing me that Clover had expressed to you he’d been ill a few weeks ago as well, yes?”

“Yeah?” He also remembered the way Dr. Callister’s eyes had lit up in sudden realization over what he had believed to be entirely useless information.

“Well, six weeks ago, I also just happened to be dealing with a rather rampant number of cases of strep throat among the facility and students. Not unusual, it’s a highly contagious infection. But it can only be properly treated with antibiotics. Clover was among the ones afflicted, but because he failed to seek treatment, it resulted in a new complication.”

He frowned, not liking where this was going. “This Rue-fever thing?”

“Precisely. Everything you’d listed out matched up.” She rose a hand, ticking the fingers off as she listed them, “Fever. Rashes. Joint pain. Jerky movements. Nosebleeds. So, I had my staff do a throat swab, and we got a positive on the streptococcus bacteria. I’ve already got him on the first dose antibiotics.”

“That’s good then, right? Pop a few pills and he’ll be good as new.”

James was the one to speak up, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s… not so simple. Rheumatic fever damages the heart.”

He didn’t need to have a doctorate to know that was bad. “Wait, what?! So he was having a heart attack?”

The doctor shook her head. “Nothing quite so dramatic; at least, not right now. Though, the tissue decay can weaken the valves or muscle itself and that can cause future issues. Rest assured, we’re monitoring it closely and if further treatment is needed or even surgery-”

Surgery?!

“-He’ll be in the best of care.”

Qrow felt like the whole world had shaken underneath him.

However, James, whose own heart was nothing more than metal and oil, merely nodded. “I know he will be Anora. Thank you for all your hard work.”

“As much as the flattery is appreciated, you’ll find it will get you nowhere.” She said, donning her rough exterior once more. “I am going to make it very clear this cannot happen again. So, I don’t know what sense you need to knock into that boy, but do it.”

“I… will discuss it with him.”

“See that you do. And give this one a raise.” She waved vaguely in Qrow’s direction. “Clover certainly would have been worse off had he not been around.”

He blinked. Now that was a sentence he never thought he’d hear.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me gentleman, I have my duties to attend to. I’ll inform you of any updates and when he’s ready for visitors.”

Without further ado, the woman about-faced, heading back to her office without so much as a dismissal. In the silence left in her wake, Qrow could only find one word to accurately describe the whole situation.

“Fuck.”

“Indeed.”

He glanced over at James, seeing the man sag some as he allowed himself to feel the weight of the world for a minute. Strangely, he was reminded of Oz; airing on an infallible image to most, but in private and trusted company, allowed for some of the cracks to show.

“Hey,” He reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You know this isn’t on you, right?”

A sigh. “The wellbeing of my team should always be a top priority. I should have known better.”

“You still can’t expect to control anyone’s choices. Clover was the one who decided.” And almost died for it, Qrow thought but didn’t add. “What’s his deal anyways? He’s not actually needle-phobic, is he?”

James chuckled softly. “No. And I’m afraid that’s not something I’m at liberty to share freely. Although…” He eyed him over thoughtfully. “You two have certainly grown close.”

“Uh, I wouldn’t say that.” He shifted away to lean back against the wall. “I mean, sure I guess we’ve talked a lot but, well, those rides to Amity are long and boring is all.”

“Qrow, in all the years I have known him, Clover has never been open to sharing with anyone when he’s ill.”

He knew what James was trying to imply, but the feeling of being ‘special’ to someone was so foreign it just felt uncomfortable to fathom. Besides, it wasn’t exactly like he’d come across that knowledge honestly. He slid down a bit, crossing his arms. “Was probably just the fever getting to his head.”

“I suppose anything’s possible.” He hummed. “I really must get back, but I’ll keep you updated on his condition.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“And Qrow?” The knowing look James shot him was more powerful than one from his revolver. “If you want to know for sure, I suggest you ask him yourself.”

As his friend retreated down the hall, Qrow was left wondering if he’d been talking about Clover’s strange phobia or his feelings for him.

His chance came 36 hours later. He was just dragging his feet through the doorway of the academy after a rather brutal series of Grimm extraction missions, when a ping on his scroll alerted him to the news.

Clover’s awake and doing well. Already gone to visit. He’s in room 7A.

He glanced up from James’ message, calling, “You kids go on ahead. I got something to take care of.”

“But Uncle Qrow!” Ruby said as she bounced on her heels, still hyped up on adrenalin. “Oscar says they have strawberry cake in the mess hall!”

“Save me a piece.” He waved over his shoulder as he headed down the hall. Faintly, he thought he may have heard Weiss’ muttering that she’d make no such promise if Nora arrived. He chuckled, certain his waistline wouldn’t miss the 60 grams of sugar.

Besides, Qrow found his appetite mysteriously disappearing as he approached the medical wing. He followed the directions given to him by the receptionist to room 7A, pausing outside the door in a panic as he wondered if maybe he should have brought something. Didn’t people usually buy gifts or flowers? Desperately, he snatched up the first thing he could spot – a handful of fake begonias sitting in a vase on a utility cart, before he made his way inside.

Streamlined for efficiency, the small room offered little beyond a window to look out at the night sky, a closet-sized bathroom, and a corner-mounted TV. The rest of the space was filled with the necessities every hospital seemed to have: a series of machines placed around or mounted onto walls, various jarred items like swabs and cotton balls organized on a counter, an IV stand, and a wheel-around bed. Which, of course, held only one occupant.

Clover was resting on his back, in nothing but a light green hospital gown that, oddly, seemed to suit him. Wires ran underneath the fabric and the steady beep that filled the air gave away where they were attached to. One arm had a steady IV drip going through it, but the other he had hovering above his face. His fingers were jerking about in such a manner it almost made him look possessed. So intent on what he was doing, he hadn’t even noticed he had a guest, until Qrow finally announced his presence.

“Trying to puppeteer your face?”

“Oh!” Clover started, head swiveling about, a brief jump to the heart monitor giving away his startlement. “Qrow! I, uh, wasn’t expecting you.”

“No one ever is.” He crossed over to plop into the only chair in the room. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m good. I’m great!” He said a little too quickly as he sat up with some effort. “Just have a lingering pins and needles effect in my arms and legs, but Dr. Callister says that’s normal.”

That explained the weird voodoo motions.

Before he could think to pry, Clover pointed down at the flowers, asking, “Are those for me?”

“Huh? Oh, right. Here!” Qrow practically shoved the bouquet in his face. “Get well and all that.”

Those unfairly fetching green eyes peered at him over the pale pink blossoms before reaching up to take them. “Thanks.” He brought them close, as if to smell them, only to pause in confusion. “They’re… fake?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, struggling for a plausible excuse that wasn’t ‘I stole them’. “Well yeah, I wasn’t sure if you were allergic so I, um…”

“Hedged your bets?” Clover supplied with a grin.

“Hah. Funny.” He made a mental note to never leave him, Tai and Yang in a room together. They’d probably have a pun off.

Chuckling, Clover dropped the flowers into his lap. “Well, it was very thoughtful.” He heaved a long sigh, resting back against his pillows. Despite all his assurances, he already looked exhausted.

Like the night before. Qrow took the easy out as he looked around the room. “Hey why don’t we try to finish up that season of Border Control? They were just about to unravel that cipher in the diary and – oh, there’s the remote.” He stretched his arm to reach the little stand by the bed, plucking the device from the plastic organizer it was housed in. He took note that it was filled with a few of Clover’s personal items, like his pin. As he pulled it back, the remote snagged the corner of it, tipping it over and spilling the contents across the table and floor. “Ah, shit!”

He overturned his own chair as he dove across the floor to catch the man’s scroll as it skidded over the edge. A second later, he was dinged on the head by the stupid pin and then the plastic organizer. He grumbled, rubbing his head in irritation as he picked himself up off the floor and started to put everything back together.

Clover still must have been delirious, because for some reason he found the whole thing hilarious.

“Yeah, yeah.” He rolled his eyes. “Yuk it up hyena.”

He reached down to pick up a piece of paper that had been pushed off by everything else. The Atlas military insignia caught his eye. Try as he might, it was hard to miss the gigantic, scripted header, bolded for emphasis. He sucked in a breath as the words sunk in:

Letter of Reprimand

The room had gone quiet.

Beyond sneaking a peek at the familiar signature at the bottom, he didn’t dare delve into the paragraphs, merely setting it aside with a scoff. “Can’t believe Jimmy gave you a warning while you’re still recovering.”

“Yes, well,” Cover idly fiddled with the stem of one of the flowers, gaze distant. “It’s not anything I didn’t earn.”

“How so?” He asked, feigning ignorance as he righted the chair and sat back down.

“Remember when I told you I was sick a few weeks ago? Well that and this are related. And I maybe, kind of, didn’t show when the General ordered me to get checked out.”

Qrow lent forward, scanning his face as he asked, “You, boy scout? Disobeying an order? I don’t believe it. What could possibly get you to do that?”

For the first time since they’d met, he saw the easygoing attitude the man wore like a shield crack as Clover ran a hand over his face, his sigh bordering frustration. “I just – It’s really ridiculous. But I feel guilty, coming here.”

He blinked.

That was not at all what he had expected.

“Why?” When his question was only met with tentative silence, he backtracked, “I mean – I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be prying into your personal business. You don’t have to tell me.”

Clover shook his head. “It’s not that. I just, it’s really dumb, Qrow. You’re going to think I’m a moron.”

“Okay, let’s shake on it.” He held out a hand.

The soldier looked at it, then him, curiously.

“If it’s as dumb as you say it is, then I’ll tell you something stupid I’ve done in my life. Fair?”

Being a spy for as many years as he had had taught Qrow the unconscious skill of getting people to talk when his bird form wasn’t enough to get what he needed. Oftentimes, that involved getting people into a position where they both felt comfortable and loose, but not vulnerable. Bars tended to create that atmosphere quickly, and loosen the tongue twice as fast.

But sometimes, he reminded himself as Clover grasped his hand, his methods were more honest than others.

“Okay. Deal.” As he drew back, he took a moment to gather his thoughts, before finally saying, “Do you remember yesterday, when I told you about the sanctuary? Truth is, that was my home. It wasn’t terrible, or anything. We had beds and food and an okay school system. But…” His gaze dropped back to the flowers, rubbing the petals between his fingers.

A nervous habit, Qrow realized. Maybe that was why he wore so many trinkets.

“But?” He finally pushed as the quiet drew on.

“They… weren’t well funded back then, if I’m being completely honest. Especially the ones in Mantle. A lot of our furniture was rickety or uncomfortable. Almost every toy was broken. And I don’t think my clothes ever fit properly until I made it to the academy.” Clover grimaced. “I mean! Things are way better now, of course. James convinced the council years ago to shift the budget. Though, I may or may not have given him a… gentle suggestion on that.” He didn’t seem so hard up on this fact, puffing out in pride. It was kind of adorable. “I went by the old place a year ago. It’s all fixed up with new paint and everything! Even some playground equipment.”

“But that’s why you feel guilty coming here, because it’s too expensive?” He guessed, trying to work with the weaves of information he was being given. But something still didn’t feel quite right.

The way the other’s smile shifted tensely told him that feeling was spot on. “No. I mean, we didn’t have regular doctor’s appointments or anything, but Sister Lisa really did try her best to make sure we stayed healthy.” His hand clenched around a blossom. “Everyone except me.”

A terrible, sinking feeling filled him as the missing piece fell into place.

Qrow breathed out slow. “When did you find out you had a good luck semblance, Clover?”

“I’ve had it as long as I can remember.” His whole body slumped, like he’d finally lifted off a great weight and could finally relax. “I knew you’d understand.”

He did – or at least, he was starting to. There were a lot of textual accounts of kids, even toddlers, inadvertently unlocking semblances when under duress. Orphans were often the number one case of this particular phenomenon, as over half of them found their way into the system after Grimm attacks.

Qrow had been ironically lucky. His own semblance had come about when he was a teenager. He wasn’t entirely sure he would have survived his childhood had he found out sooner. But he remembered how easily he became the black sheep to his people. Every little thing that went wrong was suddenly his fault and any instance of someone falling ill was on him. Those events had still left their scars and misgivings, things that went deep and were hard to undo and some days all he could tell himself was that sometimes, bad things just happened.

Clover was the case of what one would do with someone with the opposite of that ability and discovered it young.

“So, when you’d get ill, your caretaker decided your luck was enough to keep you well. I’d bet you got in trouble if you even tried to take something for yourself too.” He surmised.

“Basically, yeah.” Sheepishly, he rubbed the side of his neck. “Told you it was stupid.”

He pressed his lips together, a protective anger spilling the words out in a heated rush, “I wouldn’t call it that. But I would call it child abuse.”

Sharp as it was, Clover didn’t flinch back. “Yeah. Yeah it was. But that’s not what I meant.” He rose his head, finally meeting his eyes. “Did you know I got my first and second demerit because I wouldn’t go to the regular checkups Atlas academy students are required to be present for? And, the first time I got sick when I actually had some money to blow, I went out and bought some aspirin. But I felt so awful for doing it, thinking I was taking it from someone who needed it, that I slipped it into some other kid’s bag.”

“But Clover, that’s-” Qrow tried, but Clover wasn’t done as he gestured wildly to the room around them.

“Even this place! I almost died, yet the longer I sit here the worse off I feel because I can’t stop thinking: what if someone else needs it more? It’s pathetic!” He pressed the palm of his hand against his forehead, tugging at his hair. “I’m thirty-nine year’s old! I should be over this. But I can’t-”

He never found out what Clover couldn’t do, because, without even thinking it entirely through, Qrow had reached out, grasping his other hand in both of his. “Hey, stop. Breathe for a second, okay?”

“But I-”

“Breathe, boy scout.” When it seemed the other was taking his advice, he lessened his iron grip some, rubbing his thumb over his knuckles. “Now look, I might not know everything, but I sure as heck know this – you’re not less of a person just because you can’t get past a bad experience.” He chuckled humorlessly. “I should know. I got about half a dozen of those hang-ups.”

The side of Clover’s mouth twitched upwards. “Like accepting compliments.”

Well. He supposed it was only fair. “More like accepting praise. When I was a teenager, the people I was around sometimes literally beat the idea into me that I couldn’t do anything right, until I just thought that was the truth. It was so bad, that by the time I got to Beacon, being told I’d done a good job actually caused me to have these weird anxiety fits.”

Their grips changed, Clover now the one holding his hand.

“It took years of reconditioning to break that response and even now, I sometimes still struggle with accepting praise of any kind.” Qrow scanned the other’s face, reading nothing there but sympathy. “So yeah, some things are hard to get over, especially if it was caused by something that was supposed to make you special.”

It was almost funny to think that there was once a time he’d been excited to discover he had a semblance and what it was.

Clover sighed, head drooping. “What if I can’t ever get over it?”

“Then all you can do is learn to deal with it best you can. Just know that that’s okay.”

There was a long moment as he seemed to take that in, before finally saying, “Yeah, I’ll try to remember that. And…” He looked up. “Thanks, for listening.”

“Thanks for trusting me.” He replied, unconsciously squeezing his grip.

As one, they looked down at where their hands were joined.

Also as one, they both jerked away, faces flaming up.

“O-Oh, sorry I was just-”

“I didn’t mean to-”

Their voices stumbled together, only for them both to pause at the same moment, staring.

Then the room steadily filled with the combined sound of their embarrassed laughter, Clover trying to stifle his behind his hand while Qrow rubbed the back of his neck.

“Man, what a day right?” He was the first to say.

Clover’s smile was soft. “A surprisingly good one.”

“You’ve spent half of it unconscious so… yeah I guess it would be for you.”

He tossed a flower at him. “Oh stop. Come on, let’s watch that episode already.”

“Gladly.” This time Qrow got the remote without incident. He shifted his chair around to face the TV, placing it closer to the bed. As he started to scour through the listings for their show, he couldn’t help but say, “Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Hm?”

“Why trust me? This whole thing seems like something you’d rather keep under wraps and it’s not like we’ve known each other that long. For all you know, I’m gonna go blab this to everyone who frequents the water cooler.” He tilted his head back, asking again, “So, why me?”

Clover merely arched a brow. “Because we’re partners, aren’t we?”

“Doesn’t mean you owe me anything.”

“True.” He conceded. “But I have to trust you with way more on the field than I do with my personal life. Isn’t that why you told me what your semblance was?”

Qrow faltered, dropping his gaze to the tiled floor. “I just wanted you to be on guard when around me.”

“It was still hard for you, right?”

“Sure but still, what you told me wasn’t relevant to the job.”

“Neither was your sobriety.” Was the cheeky reply. “Yet, it’s all relevant to our relationship. I want to get closer to you Qrow.”

Oh. He flushed a bit, averting his face to hide the silly grin he could feel on his face.

“That’s not gonna happen if I don’t trust you. Sure, maybe you might go telling my secrets to the world, but if I don’t risk them, then nothing will ever go anywhere. And at its core, isn’t that what trust is? A risk.” Those words made him look up, the sincerity in Clover’s smile making his heart jump. “So… you willing to risk it with me?”

Was he? It had been a long time since he’d taken that step with anyone.

Yet as their gazes met once more, the fears that normally held him back seemed to crumble so easily in the wake of those kind teal eyes, guiding him in like a gentle ocean tide.

“Yeah.” He finally said. “I think I am.”

It wasn’t the only one he decided then and there it was time to take.

The next morning, Qrow strolled into Jimmy’s office, Ruby and Oscar at his heels.

The General had his head buried in a holographic replica of Amity Tower, scouring over the progress data – but at their entrance, he minimized the diagram, getting to his feet. “Ah, good morning. What brings you three here?”

Gut twisting with nerves, he paused at the foot of the stairs, looking between the kids that flanked either side of him.

Ruby smiled.

Oscar nodded.

He took a breath, then faced the man head on.

“Hey James. We gotta talk.”

#qrow branwen #clover ebi #fair game #fairgameweek2020 #rwby #fanfiction #Chase Firekitten's Tale

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jovialyouthmusic · 6 years

Text

Two’s Company, Three’s Allowed, a TRR fanfic Part eight

@brightpinkpeppercorn @sleepwalkingelite @zaffrenotes @ao719

The Big Reveal

Mention of sexual activity

Later that evening, it had been decided that their ‘down time’ would take the shape of a barbecue, with Drake cooking and the kitchen preparing some salads to go with the meat. The barbecue was set up beside the firepit on the stone terrace to the side of the building, with fairy lights strung over the bushes and trees. The sky was clear, and the air was still, the fire keeping off the slight chill. They ate their fill companionably, and Drake explained about his recent battle with whiskey, declining alcohol altogether. Lucy was still taking some medication after her accident and also abstained, so Brad ordered sparkling water with fruit from the staff. They talked over the business of the day, then fell silent for a little.

Brad gazed into the flames, Lucy leaning against him and Drake sat next to her holding her hand. He cleared his throat.

‘So, Brad – isn’t it time we told Lucy about the De Montfort sisters and our ‘Summer of Love?’ Brad stirred and sat up a little straighter, so Lucy sat up also, leaning back into the bench they sat on, drawing her jacket around her shoulders.

‘Oooh… Is this the secret you were telling me about last night, Drake?’ Lucy asked, ‘Though the word ‘our’ poses a couple of questions – but I’m willing to hear you out.’ Drake frowned

‘I’m not sure I’m with you – but anyway, I promise you’ll like where we’re going with this.’

‘I’m all ears.’

‘Well, it all goes back to when we were in our mid-teens – hormones going crazy, and Leo misbehaving too. He was a real lady’s man, and kept the Royal Guard very busy, always disappearing or sneaking girls into the palace. He got such a reputation that some girls got the idea that Brad was made from the same mould’ Here Brad cleared his throat.

‘I’m afraid I didn’t do much to disillusion anyone, though in reality I was far less adventurous than my older brother. Drake and I always hung out together, and he became my – I’m not sure how to put it, but he became rather good at vetting the girls that came my way.’

‘The term is ‘wing man’’ said Drake drily.

‘You paint a pretty picture, guys.’ said Lucy sarcastically.

‘We were teenage boys, there’s nothing worse.’ said Drake. ‘and I daresay teenage girls have their faults too.’

‘My lips are sealed’ said Lucy innocently.

‘Anyway, there were one or two who were prepared to ah – bribe me to get to Brad.’ said Drake sheepishly. ‘So I didn’t miss out too much.’

‘Again Drake, you’re not doing yourself any favours.’ said Lucy.

‘Aww it was innocent enough’ he protested ‘just adolescent fumblings and assignations. Until the DeMontfort sisters came along. They were a little older, and out to go all the way – they’d been working though the Court, breaking hearts left right and centre with their eyes on the prize – the prize being Brad.’

‘So – sisters?’ she said incredulously. ‘Really, I’m seeing you in a different light.’ Brad looked embarrassed.

‘Once Leo abdicated, all the shenanigans more or less stopped, so I’m not the Casanova you’re thinking of, Lucy’. She smiled and patted his arm.

‘That’s fine honey, I’m glad you weren’t a clueless virgin, that would have been sweet but tedious.’

‘So…’ continued Drake ‘there was one last glorious summer, when the sisters got past security and targeted Brad big time.’

‘Oho, two women to one man? I’m beginning to see the light.’ teased Lucy.

‘They were rather focussed.’ admitted Brad. ‘in my defence, they were insatiable and they very nearly wore me out. Then they suggested Drake might like to join in.’

‘Well now that’s just greedy!’ Lucy laughed. ‘and more of an orgy than a threeway.’

‘It worked.’ said Brad. ‘We all had fun – a lot of fun, I’m ashamed to say.’

‘Okay, so it was a rite of passage, I get the idea.’ said Lucy, picking up a piece of wood to feed into the fire pit. The firelight flickered and played over their faces, and she held her hands out to the flames.

‘Ah but then one night, one of them couldn’t make it, and both of us were waiting.’ said Drake ‘And that’s rather the point when it comes to our current arrangement.’

‘Are you saying what I think you are?’ said Lucy incredulously. Drake grinned.

‘Together, Brad and I made the older sister a very happy woman – so much so that the next night the younger sister came on her own. It seems we were a good team.’

‘So you’ve had practice – both of you – making love to one woman between you?’

‘We certainly did, and we’d like to do the same for you.’ said Drake. ‘When you’re stronger of course’

‘I’m stunned.’ admitted Lucy. ‘Whatever happened to the sisters? Are they likely to come looking for you again?’

‘Oh no.’ said Brad. ‘In the end they married brothers. Rumour has it that they regularly swap between the four of them. I think they finally met their match.’

‘To be honest, I think I’d just like to sleep tonight.’ Lucy said, yawning ‘And you’re both welcome to join me – but only if you promise to let me rest properly’

‘I can certainly pledge to spend a chaste night with you.’ said Brad, bowing. ‘But I can’t speak for Drake.’

‘Sleeping is something I do very well.’ said Drake drily. ‘Do you think Valois will be able to keep her part of the bargain, Brad?’ The King made a face that said he was only slightly dubious.

‘I’ve just got one question for you both before I retire for the night.’ said Lucy.

‘Shoot.’ replied Drake.

‘Well… you’ve known each other a long time… and you’ve errm… seen each other in the throes of passion if you’ve been in a threesome – or two.’

‘Yeees.’ replied Liam cautiously, waiting for Lucy to continue.

‘Did you ever – fool around with each other?’ The two friends looked alarmed.

‘No, never!’ said Liam vehemently.

‘Not once.’ said Drake swiftly. ‘Like we said, we just – work well together. We already know pretty much what the other one is thinking or what they’re about to do; we kind of communicate without speaking.’

‘I’ve noticed that. So, did it not freak you out if you accidentally touched?’ The two men shook their heads and Lucy went on. ‘You’ve never done something together that a third party asked you to do?’

‘No, and that’s off the table, Valois.’ insisted Drake. ‘So don’t ask. We one hundred percent focus on the third party – which would be you if you agreed to it.’

‘Okay, that’s a potential deal – as long as there’s only the three of us and you don’t invite another woman into our little group.’ Lucy said, arms crossed ‘That’s a deal breaker.’

‘Never crossed my mind, hand on heart.’ Drake replied.

‘Your conditions are accepted, and I’m sure I could find a way to phrase it diplomatically, for the record.’ added Brad.

‘Right, well it’s time for me to hit the hay. Like I said, you’re both welcome to join me, but no hanky panky’

‘Yes ma’am.’ Drake said with an ironic salute, and Brad placed his hand on his chest.

‘Cross my heart, Lucy.’

--------

The next morning Lucy awoke to the morning light in a tangle of limbs, with Brad on one side of her and Drake on the other. She gently freed herself and lay on her back listening to them breathing, amazed at her good fortune. Talk about having her cake and eating it – she had fantasies in the past about being shared by two men, but never did she think it would become a reality. She wished fervently that she was feeling strong enough to find out what it might be like. She was getting better though. The gynaecologist had said no penetrative sex for a week, and to notify him immediately if there was any further bleeding.

The two men compared favourably and complemented each other; Brad was steady and loving and slow, and Drake was sparkier, spontaneous and appreciative. Physically they were both in good shape – Brad was slightly heavier and more straight up and down, where Drake was a little slighter with slimmer hips. She wasn’t entirely sure, but she thought that as far as equipment went, Brad was shorter but thicker than Drake, but both were satisfyingly big enough. She felt Drake beginning to stir, and she turned toward him to see his eyes open.

‘Morning gorgeous – did you dream of me?’ he grinned and reached out to touch her cheek. She leaned in to kiss him, rolling away from Brad. She had fought shy of sleeping naked, not wanting to tease the two men more than necessary. At least they had all recently had a release, but she had no idea how strong their respective libidos would be now that it was so much more complicated. Now it was almost no holds barred – when she had clocked in her week of penetrative abstinence.

It was Brad’s turn to stir, and she turned to him for a second morning kiss, Drake keeping his hand on her hip as she did so. That was so much of a turn on it almost took her breath away.

‘Good morning Lucy – Drake.’ said Brad. ‘This feels very cozy.’

‘It does.’ breathed Lucy. ‘But I’m guessing we don’t have time to indulge ourselves.’

‘Sadly you’re right Lucy, we must prepare for the press interviews. Don’t worry, I’m sure we can all find some time again soon to be more intimate.’ said Brad regretfully. Drake groaned.

‘This is torture.’ he grumbled. ‘It sucks being a Duke.’

‘Try being King, my friend.’ said Brad, pulling back the bedclothes and sitting on the edge of the bed. ‘I shall go to my room to get ready – see you both downstairs for breakfast?’

‘Sure.’ said Drake. ‘See you there.’ but Brad lingered at the door.

‘Are you – wearing what you wore yesterday, Drake?’ he prompted tactfully. Drake groaned and flung back the bedclothes. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. Brad could not miss the heated look Lucy gave him, bare chested and tousled haired.

‘Hint taken, Brad.’ he said. ‘No, I’m not wearing denim, I’m going to dress up smart for the press, and dammit, I will leave Lucy in peace and go back to my room to search for suitable attire.’

‘Good man.’ grinned the King. ‘I will personally visit you after a shower, and appraise your wardrobe.’ Lucy pouted.

‘You’re no fun, Brad. But I guess if I save my strength, I’ll get more of a chance to wear the pair of you out later.’ She sighed. ‘I will peruse my wardrobe too. See you boys at breakfast.’

‘Careful what you say.’ grinned Drake. ‘We’ll see who’s worn out when we get to show you our moves.’

‘Come on, Walker.’ said Brad sternly, drumming his fingers on the door frame. ‘leave her in peace.’ With a heavy sigh, Drake retrieved his clothes and started toward the door. Lucy blew her two lovers a kiss and reluctantly waved them goodbye.

#Two's Company #lucy and brad #drake x lucy x brad #drake x lucy #brad x lucy #fanfiction

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secretlygrantaire · 6 years

Text

Everybody is replaceable. Kylo Ren x Female Reader Soulmate AU Chapter three.

Synopsis: The reader was taken away from her family as a child to work on a First Order base as a weapons tester with other children. After managing to escape the First Order when she is older the reader lives by herself and begin to feel her connection and sensitivity to the force. It is discovered that she has similar abilities to Kylo Ren who is ordered to take her in as an apprentice and show her the ways of the force. I’m not going to give anything else away I’ll just say that they are soulmates but don’t know it yet, chaos ensues.

Warnings: THE LAST JEDI SPOILERS SORT OF!!! Angst, the reader gets injured, fluff.

All research for fact-checking is done on Wookieepedia.com or Starwars.wikia.com

Previous Chapters:

One: http://secretlygrantaire.tumblr.com/post/169673830791/everybody-is-replaceable-kylo-ren-x-female-reader

Two: http://secretlygrantaire.tumblr.com/post/169719813901/everybody-is-replaceable-kylo-ren-x-female-reader

Chapter Three: There is another.

Days past since Y/N had escaped the first order’s base and there was no sign of a search party coming after her. After days of continuous hiking, Y/N felt confident in the distance she had made between herself and the base and decided to build a more permanent camp site. Reaching into her pack she pulled out a heavy tarp and a rope, using what little survival knowledge she possessed Y/N proceeded to construct a shelter. Y/N pierced the front of the canvas with two sturdy branches she broke off of a nearby tree and drove the poles deep into the frozen earth. Taking her rope Y/N lifted the middle of the tarp and tied the rope to two separate trees parallel to her campsite. The remaining fabric behind the rope draped down onto the ground creating a wall she secured with heavy rocks. The structure wasn’t impressive but it would keep the elements out. By the time she had finished her settlement the sun was low in the sky, Y/N knew she would have to build a fire soon.

Nighttime noises filled the cool air as Y/N stared into the deep oranges and reds of her fire, her blanket wrapped tightly around her body she let her mind wander. The past few nights had been the same, ever since her 18th birthday, ever since her tattoo had appeared on her wrist, she continued to dream about the same boy in every dream, she would call out to him and in every dream, he would ignore her. Y/N believed that he just couldn’t see her but part of her knew he sensed she was there, she wondered if he dreamed about her. Lightning struck overhead, thunder rattling the ground below, as the rain began to extinguish her flame Y/N crawled into her shelter. Pleased to find that tarp was water resistant Y/N allowed for her eyes to shut and her mind to drift off to sleep.

Back In The First Order Base The Day of the Escape:

“I don’t care how long it takes! Review the security footage and identify that traitor!” The Commander of the base demanded. “Sir it appears to be weapon’s tester LT4675.” An officer said as they watched the scene on their computer. “Where did they go? Did the leave the base?” The commander asked. “Yes sir, she took an emergency pack and headed towards the forest. We can track her through the pack each is equipped with a portable homing beacon for rescues ” “Then let’s find her! Send a search squad into the forest, tell them to kill on sight, we don’t want this traitor to get away so easily.” “Sir!” Another officer interjected. “You might want to take a look at this.” The Commander strode over to the computer, his eyes widened as he witnessed the incident before him. “I rescind that search party, nobody will be looking for the girl tonight.” The commander said as he held up his gloved hand. “Send a transmission directly to General Hux, tell him, we have someone that might be of interest to our supreme leader.”

Back To Y/N

Y/N opened her eyes, she was in the same dark room she recognized from her past dreams if she could still call them dreams. Before her sat the same shadowed figure and beside her was Ben, now Kylo Ren. He was kneeling, the shadowed figure was saying something but Y/N could not make his words out for a deafening white noise filled her ears. “ Ben?” She asked, knowing once again he would not hear her. “Ben!” Y/N reached her arm towards the boy. In her past dreams, she had not been able to move and despite her doubts, something in her commanded her foot to step forward and to her surprise she did. Without a second of hesitation, Y/N headed for Ben, the noise in her ears growing louder as she approached him. “Kylo!” She shouted over the noise, “Kylo!” Now inches from him Y/N slowly reached out her hand, “...Ben.” She whispered as she placed her hand on his shoulder. Suddenly the noise vanished, Kylo’s head shot up and Y/N could feel his muscles tighten. “ Ben.” Y/N said once more, “Can you hear me?” Kylo’s eye flickered to Y/N and back again. Disappointed but not surprised Y/N dropped her hand. “Why does this keep happening?” She uttered to herself her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the booming voice of the shadowed man. “My young apprentice, each day you grow stronger with the force.” “The force?” Y/N whispered. “It is my belief Master Ren that you alone shall fulfill your destiny, however.” The man paused. “There is another who possesses a strength like you, a girl whose heart has been darkened by her past and whose power lays wreckless within her. She has killed two men and escaped into the wilderness of the planet Hays Minor. You shall find this girl and make her your apprentice as I have made you mine. Her power is strong, yes, but without direction. Go to her, guide her to the power... of the dark side.” Kylo bowed his head once more. “Yes Supreme Leader.” And with that he stood and turned towards the door, pausing only to look over at Y/N though his eyes did not meet hers, but went through her.

Y/N woke gasping for air, the sun shone brightly upon the frozen planet. Y/N looked down at her shaking hands, “There is another who possesses a strength like you...” echoed in her mind. “The Force.” Y/N whispered. Suddenly engines roared through the sky, peering out of her shelter Y/N’s heart dropped, imperial landing crafts had been deployed and were making their way to the planet’s surface. “They’re coming for me.” Y/N said and without a second thought she grabbed her blaster and began running. Cutting through brush and debris Y/N peered over her shoulder just as the imperial craft landed, the force of the ship created a wind that destroyed her shelter. A hatch was opened followed by several imperial troopers and behind them a man dressed in all black, his face covered by a mask. Y/N stopped, “Kylo...” she whispered. “ There she is!” A trooper yelled pulling Y/N from her thoughts. Swiftly she fired her blaster at the trooper sending him crumbling to the ground. A trooper snuck up from behind her and grabbed her blaster, pinning her body to his chest, Y/N lifted her leg and kicked the trooper backward, firing her blaster at his arm. More troopers charged at the girl, one shot their blaster at Y/N hitting her in the hand causing her to drop her weapon. Aggravated Y/N reached for the man, feeling an energy flow through her she lifted the man into the air and threw him into the nearby troopers, all three of them tumbled to the ground in pain. Y/N reached for her blaster only to see that it was gone, she looked up only to find her blaster floating midair, the masked man’s hand was reaching out towards the weapon, he flicked his wrist and sent the blaster flying into a tree causing it to explode upon impact. Y/N could feel her heart pounding in her chest, “ Who are you?” She demanded. The man lowered his arm, “I’m not here to hurt you.” he said, his voice metallic behind the mask. “What do you want from me?” Y/N asked. The man raised his hands and with a short clink he pulled his mask off, revealing unruly black hair. “Ben.” Y/N whispered. “My name is Kylo Ren, I am the master of the Knights of Ren, I am here because, like me, you have an ability.” Y/N took a step towards him, feeling an overwhelming comfort. “An ability?” She questioned. Kylo nodded, “You have the ability to sense and control an energy known as the Force.” Y/N’s eyes widened, everything she had seen in her dreams weren't dreams at all, but visions. “What am I to do with it?” She asked though she already knew the answer. Kylo extended his hand to her, “Come with me, I can guide you in the ways of the force.” Y/N looked at his hand, his wrist was covered by black fabric, she wondered if he even knew who she was. “What have you to lose?” Kylo asked. “You’re lost here, you have nothing left, nothing. But if you come with me...” Y/N looked into his deep eyes, they were sad, pleading but also powerful and secure. She knew that if she went with him she would be safer than where she was now, she would have food, warmth, shelter. But she also knew that she couldn’t let Kylo know she was his soulmate, it was too risky, it could ruin her chances of finally understanding what this energy inside her was. Slowly Y/N took Kylo’s hand, “okay...” she said, “...okay.”

END OF CHAPTER THREE!!

Ahhh this one took way too long to write mostly because I ended up doing research to fact-check every little detail so I could make sure I had the timelines right for who would be general and such, blah blah blah, did you all know Hux is an illegitimate child!!!!! I found that out and thought it was super fascinating, I ended up just reading his biography, wow I’m lame, but gotta love General Hugs. Anyway, I’m so glad you guys like this story so far, let me know if you want any more or if you have a request for another story I could write later.

P.S My cousin’s name is Ben so sometimes it’s weird to refer to Kylo as Ben because I think about my baby cousin, he’s adorable he’s seven and he likes to draw me pictures of superheroes. I got him a Lego set for Hanukkah and loved it. Okay sorry, it’s over now.

#star wars #Star Wars imagine #Star Wars fanfiction #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren #ben solo imagine #ben solo x reader #ben solo

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twilightvolt · 6 years

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A 3 month late art summary featuring art that i haven’t uploaded here due to my absence. unless i randomly feel like it, i don’t think i’m gonna go back and upload them here. if you wanna see them, though, they’re all on my DA.

I know i've pretty much said all the important bits in A Sacrifice for the Wind, but i figure i reiterate everything said along with expanding upon everything that occurred during 2017. piece by piece. and yes, i did intend to make an art joke. So, to get it outta the way, 2017 stunk more than a dead fish on a city bus. i lost a lot during that year. i lost the will to believe in whatever the future had in store for me, i almost lost a few friends, i lost my motivation to work on my projects and above all...i lost the smile i've always kept on every year before that. never have i been so emotionally damaged in all 5 years of my artist life leading up to this point. But, i can't say it was completely terrible. as much as i bashed it, art wise, 2017 was a very progressive year. looking at every wedge on the clock, i can't stop staring at how far i've come since the end of 2016. after being stripped of my tablet at the end, i've even learned how to not be afraid of making permanent mistakes. But yeah, let's begin. by turning the clock all the way back to January. when things were much simpler.... January: Hukaro Nakawa ~Final Mix Yeah, this was done in October, but i uploaded it in January for Moon's birthday. plus, there was nothing noteworthy this month. i still remember all the nice comments i got. this was the beginning of a year that i ran right in and yelled "LET'S SHOW THIS WORLD THAT WE WON'T STAND FOR ANOTHER 2016!" Oh how naive i was... February: The Beast Inside Remember when i played a lot of League in my free time? i sure do. anyway, this was my next attempt after Hukaro to continue doing my "Squeenix Cinematic Style." this time on the, at the time, new revamp for Warwick. needless to say, i still think i did a better job on Hukaro. BUT, this was still pretty good. it was during these first few months when things were really lookin' up for me. i was continually working on things cuz i really wanted to make something and school was pretty cool too. March: Digimon ZX Cover ZX ISN'T DEAD I SWEAR! *ahem* I MEAN....hai. owo As we march on into March, i think R2 of Digimon Temporal Jump was going on at the time. we were going through our story entries and things were pretty great being with my best buds. i also began doing art streams i'm pretty sure, with this drawing in particular being done during two days of streaming. i'm being serious, by the way. ZX is not dead. i've been typing up the story on my phone, so look forward to those chapters sometime soon! April: Are You Ready? Yup. in anticipation for Digidestined.Com, i decided to start seriously developing Digimon Unchained ahead of time so people would be able to get to know Yuki beforehand. unfortunately, i didn't actually get to start the story until much later, but that was just me being a lazy bum. i was hangin' out on Discord and stuff, talking about how excited i was for what was to come. we all know what happened, but at the time, being able to go back to the world i once knew with Luneth was a big deal for me. it's like i was going back to the beginning. And fear not, peeps! i've been working on Unchained for quite awhile. you'd be surprised how much i've worked on it with Gao. ^w^ May: Bits n' Bytes Ultima Vocal Collection Oh yeah, i did a birthday gift for Fire too! just so you know, i do still wanna make OSTs for my other Digimon adventures, but without my tablet i can't really do them right now. this month was pretty alright if i remember. making new friends and strengthening bonds with old friends. things were pretty fun in the sun cuz y'know......summer was coming. June: Connection Flow in Ice and Snow AWWW YEEEAAAAH, LET'S KICK IT!!! *Another Way by Girugamesh plays at full blast* (if .Com had a vocal OST, that would be opening.....3 if i remember the list i made. would've been the final opening i think. it's been awhile since i looked at the files.) Now that .Com finally began, i was on the hype train to the sun as i feverishly worked hard on my .Com stuff. this poster was one of my proudest works this year tbh. i promised i would make something great outta this story. this would be the closure that Luneth and Vivi so desperately needed, and Yuki and Arcus would be the ones to save them and close their book for good. not only that, but i was also graduating high school. after throwing my cap in the air, i said my heartfelt goodbyes to all the friends i've known since elementary and middle school including the close friends in my AP Art Squad. Team AP Art Will Never be Apart! honestly, things couldn't be any more exciting for me. Gee, it would be a shame if something were to happen that would trigger a chain of events that would divide my friends forever and send me down a spiraling pain train to the void known as crippling depression. July: DigiJuly Day 5: V-Mon (Vivi) This drawing was done to commemorate three years of adventures with Luneth and Vivi. this was during DigiJuly, when i was doing Digimon doodles nonstop for the duration of the month. What was once a hype train became a train wreck once July came around. things were ok until DTJ burned down in a raging fire and that set the stage for the rest of the year. i literally wouldn't be able to overcome any of this until November or so. i don't wanna dwell on it anymore since i'd be sounding like a broken record at this point. August: D3P: D-Sona 3 Portable Not a lot of art this month either. can you believe that? XD Hoo boy. August. need i say anything more about this month? we thought things settled down after DTJ shut down, but something was amiss.... This was the month that it happened. the climax of the story best left untold....even though i told it a hundred times already. >_>' Outside of the incident, time was running short for our stay at our current home and we were thinking of our next move. i began to worry about college as steep student debt caused us to have a change of plans on where to go. i was beginning to doubt if i even had a future to believe in. i was running out of options, and i was running out of hope. And trust me, it only gets worse from here. September: The Next Generation After awhile, things were still going on outside my realm of knowledge. it only made me feel worse seeing everything transpire long after the initial conflict. with this stigma hanging over me, i finally decided to pack my bags and leave the Digimon group era of my artist life. it was a pretty sour note to end it on, but let's be real here, there was no way i could wait any longer for things to get better. granted, my birthday was awesome, and i couldn't thank everyone enough for coming together to try to bring my spirit back. unfortunately, my bout with depression was just beginning. it was so bad, i pretty much stopped taking care of myself, which would lead to a few days ago when i'd end up with one less tooth in my mouth. i swear i won't let it get that bad again. With everything plummeting down to the dark abyss, i said goodbye to the life i once knew. from here on, things were about to change. i wasn't gonna end here. not now. October: Howling in the Shadows From this month forth, my family had no idea where we were going. the beginning of the tale of the borderline homeless that still continues to this day. Packing away my computer and drawing tablet for what feels like an eternity, i was moving out of my current home that we rented for the duration of my senior year and into grandma's house......in a raging storm. i'm not kidding. the rain was so bad that when we got there, our clothes were completely soaked and we couldn't even see 5 feet ahead of us outside that night. i knew immediately that it was some sort of ill omen for what was to transpire in the coming months. in fact, i even had dreams of the aftermath of what might happen. Now that i was stripped of my digital art abilities, i had to think of something else to do. so, i decided to dedicate myself to going back to traditional art. Boy, did i have fun. November: Return to the Realm of Sleep Now, this was the only thing i was able to crank out in November. BUT, that doesn't mean i didn't draw. i drew stuff, but nothing noteworthy enough to upload here. i'm gonna tell it to you straight now. Arcus will return. With my mental health still kicking me in the butt (it hit me so hard i had a panic attack one day.), i wasn't really motivated to draw much. in fact, i even hid myself away from the internet for quite awhile. without my friends or my sense of purpose, i felt like i had nothing and i was pretty under the weather for a majority of this month. that being said, i snapped myself out of it by force. it was stupid that i still felt the way i did months after what happened. sure, it was horrible, and i wish i could forget everything. but i can't stay stuck in the past. And so, i picked up my colored pencils and other such tools, and began my journey to recovery. December: Lexicon (Lex) and A Sacrifice for the Wind I got the hang of drawing traditionally pretty quickly. throughout the month, i was on fire, drawing masterstroke after masterstroke. (at least, in my opinion. XD) Making my new home in the mobile communities of Amino, it was a nice change of pace from the big screen of my computer. i made a bunch of new friends (to the staff of the Aminos i'm in and the rest of the crew in our Digimon Discord server, you guys are the best and thank you for healing the pain of yesteryear!) and had a grand old time making new OCs, Lex being one of them. i honestly luv Appmon and i wish we got more, but i'm content with what we got tbh. it'll live on in Seikatsu and his friends. be ready to see them once again in the near future! And so, in the wake of destruction as the world continues to change around me, i chopped off my signature anime emo locks, revamped my wardrobe and set my sights toward the future. Nowadays, i've completely moved on from the pain, but that doesn't change the fact that it still happened. overall, 2017 was a complete pile of poopoo garbage and i'm glad the nightmare is finally over. Even if i can't completely write it off as bad, there's just way too many negatives that weigh down the rest of the year for me personally. it's March now and things are pretty hectic, but i've got newfound courage and i know this year will be better than the last. time for me to get back up and charge forth to a better tomorrow!

#digital art #traditional art #summary of art #2017 summary of art #i'm still proud of all the ones featured here #now updated to show the full story from the DA version

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andrewmoocow · 6 years

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Gravity Soul chapter 2: The Stans Head to Shore, Return of an Old Foe? (originally posted on December 24, 2017)

AN: Oh hello, almost didn't see you there! Anyway, welcome back to Gravity Soul. In today's chapter, Stan and Ford return to Gravity Falls and meet the twins' new friends but something is wrong with Stan. Something...demonic. Can the kids save him before it's too late? Now let us begin.

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After many months of searching for anomalies and women, Stanley and Stanford Pines have returned home finally accomplishing their childhood dream. When they were young boys living in Glass Shard Beach, New Jersey, they roamed their home's local beach in search of adventure when they got the idea of sailing across the world. They worked on a boat they found in a cave all the way up to their teenage years where an accident separated Stan from his family and forced him to try & make money.

Now decades later after they destroyed Bill Cipher and ending Weirdmageddon, the brothers finally made amends and sailed out to sea on a new boat dubbed the Stan 'o War II to the Arctic Circle. We now pick up where the story left off as they headed to shore. "Alright Stanley, prepare for shore!" Ford exclaimed pointing onward while their great-nephew and niece waited excitedly on the dock.

Finally dropping anchor, they were welcomed with open arms by their loved ones. "STAN, FORD!" the twins cried tossing themselves into Stan's arms. "Kids, I'm so glad to see you again!" the con-artist said hugging them tight. "Feels like forever since we last saw you." Ford added with a smile. "MR. PINES, YOU'RE BACK!" Soos exclaimed joining their hug. "I've hugging people to practice for your return." Then Wendy joined in. "The Shack just wasn't the same without you!"

"Okay then, I love y'all too." Stan affirmed as they all let go. "Oh hey, you're that Melody girl. How's your relationship with Soos goin'?" he asked Melody. "Great actually! We've already gotten engaged." she replied showing off her ring. Stan just looked back at his former handyman and just said "That's my boy." Then he finally turned to notice Maka and friends following close behind. "Now who are these wackos?"

"My name is Maka Albarn Mr. Pines, and these are all my friends." Maka introduced herself to the Stans. "Okay, lemme see if I got this right." the ex-con stated as he pointed to the rest of her group. "Sharkbait, Ninja Man, Ponytail, Stripes, the Twins, Pinky, Holy Cross and Frankenstein." he listed off everyone. "Well he's not half-wrong." Stein snarked.

"Who are you calling Ninja Man old fart? I'm the man who's gonna transcend God!" Black Star boasted getting all up in the great-uncle's face. "Well if you claim to be so, then can you walk on water?" challenged Stan. "Okay then, I'm a wagering guy." the arrogant ninja accepted Stan's offer and rushed onto the water. "See, I can walk on water! Who's laughing n-" He suddenly fell into the water and struggled to escape. "Someone, help me! Damn my lack of proper swimming skills!"

"Oh my gosh Black Star! Somebody help him!" Tsubaki cried. "Don't worry Tsubaki, I was a lifeguard for like a few days last summer." Wendy calmed her down before jumping in and swimming after Black Star. Finally grabbing a hold of him, she pulled him back to shore and laid him out. "Dipper, you know CPR, give it to him!" she ordered Dipper, who was reluctant to do so after last time but eventually gave in before Mabel took a picture. "Haha, more blackmail!" she chuckled.

Black Star immediately bolted right back up gasping before glaring at Stan. "YOU! Do you realize what you've just done?!" he shouted. "It was just a joke kid, no need to get so wound up about it." the grunkle said. "Oh okay, sorry about nearly getting you drowned." he apologized. "Apology accepted, but of course you realize this means war."

"Okay, settle down everyone." said Ford as he split up the two. "I think we should all head back to the Shack. Besides, we got tons of stories from our adventures to tell." The others agreed before all walking back to the house. "Hey Mabel, do you think something might be wrong with Stan?" Dipper whispered to Mabel. "I don't know. He may be kind of a jerk but he would never leave someone to drown." she replied. "I think we may need to investigate. Mystery Twins?" he suggested holding out his fist for a fist bump. "Mystery Twins." She returned the fist bump and they continued on their way.

"And then the Green-Eyed People of San Lorenzo told us about how a football-headed child and his friends saved the adults of their people from a sleeping sickness!" Ford finished telling a story of an adventure he and Stan had in Argentina. "Wow, that La Sombra guy had it coming to him!" Patty giggled sipping her cocoa. "And there was also this giant baby we found in the Arctic!" Stan followed up. "How big was it?" Death the Kid wondered. "Like ginormous! It was the second biggest baby I've ever seen!"

"Who was the first one?" Spirit asked. "My ex-wife Marilyn." Stan answered before bursting into laughter. "But in all seriousness, then it started looking at me like it really hates me or something." he added with a look of dread on his face. "But that was probably my imagination."

"So Maka, how did you defeat this Kishin Asura guy?" Dipper asked Maka. "I simply punched him with the power of courage." she replied. "Wait, a courage punch? That sounds like something out of one of those terrible My Miniature Equine fanfics." Mabel commented. "Oh, my, God! You watch that show too?!" Patty shouted getting incredibly excited. "Heck yeah I do! Surprise Party best horse for life!" The two of them high-fived while Dipper and Liz just watched sardonically. "Oh great, now we got two hyperactive sisters to deal with." he said. "Tell me about it."

"So Crona, tell us your story." Soos said to Crona. He didn't say anything. "Shy little dude, aren't ya? No wait, you're definitely a girl." he wondered. "Wrong?"

Crona quivered a bit before he finally spoke up. "O-okay then. I was born a weapon for my mother Medusa, who implanted Black Blood in my body to create Ragnarok." he explained pulling out a piece of paper from out of nowhere and drawing a picture of a young blonde woman dressed in all black with black dotted tattoos on her arms. "That's your mom? I don't see the family resemblance." Melody commented. "She tormented me for most of my life until she sent me to Italy, where I first met the girl that would become my only friend, Maka."

"Aw, that's really sweet." Wendy was touched by Crona's story. "Wow, you had a pretty terrible life dawg. At least you had a parent that was actually around." Soos stated. "My mom died when I was a little kid and then my dad just up and left after that, the only way he talked to me was with postcards he sent to me on my birthday. But don't worry Crona, we'll all be a better family for you." He then hugged the former minion of Medusa. "Oh uh, thank you." he said before Melody hugged him as well, followed by the twins, Maka and everyone else.

"Well, I'm getting' tired. Might as well hit the hay." Stan said leaving the room and going upstairs. "But where are we gonna sleep for the night?" Soul asked. "You can room with us if you want." Mabel implored. "You kids can go upstairs, I'm staying down here." Spirit said plopping down on the chair and instantly falling asleep.

Soon everybody left the living room until Dipper heard a noise, like a snake was hissing. He simply shrugged it off and followed the others. Little did he know that a snake did indeed infiltrate the Mystery Shack, with arrows covering its scales.

In the attic that Dipper and Mabel had made into their bedroom, everybody was already getting ready for bed. "I expected something a bit cleaner and more symmetrical." Kid commented on the space. "Well if you want I can try to rearrange all the mold on the ceiling, like Daryl for example." Mabel replied picking up a duffel bag. "Okay Soul, where do you want this?" she asked Soul. "How about right over there?"

She dragged it to the spot Soul pointed to before hearing a meow coming from the bag. Zipping it open, a black cat wearing a witch hat popped its head out of it. "Aw, it's a cute little kitty cat! And it's got a little hat too!" Mabel cooed picking up the feline and snuggling it. "Wait, how did she get in?!" Maka exclaimed with her eyes widening. The cat turned its head to Soul and squealed in delight.

"OH SOUL!" She jumped out of Mabel's arms, transforming into a beautiful woman with purple hair and yellow eyes, and pounced on Soul smothering her chest in his face. "What're you doing here?!" Soul cried as he was trapped in marshmallow hell. "I couldn't bare to be left alone without you back in Death City, plus I always wanted to get in on the action." the cat woman replied before Soul was Maka-chopped.

"Friend of yours?" Dipper snarked getting into his bed before Stan barged in with a broom. "Hey, what's all the racket goin' on here?!" he demanded before laying his eyes on a beautiful woman sprawled all over Soul. "Not even gonna ask." He finally closed the door. "Anyway, my name's Blair! What's your names?" Blair said introducing herself. "My name's Dipper and this is Mabel. Now can we sleep?" Dipper replied. "All right then, see you in the morning everyone." Maka said as everyone closed their eyes and finally fell asleep. "Laters." Black Star added snuggling into his sleeping bag.

Meanwhile with Stan, he was tossing and turning in his bed. His glasses rested on the sidetable near him. Suddenly his eyes burst open, finding himself in a blank white void. He examine his surroundings, not knowing where he is or how he got there until he discovered a familiar figure standing away from him. That yellow jacket, brown fedora and robust, stern stature was unmistakable. It was his father Filbrick Pines.

"Wait, dad?!" Stan shouted rubbing his eyes in sheer disbelief. The last time he heard his voice was when after he faked his own death and opened the Mystery Shack, but seeing him here now was a complete surprise. "I thought you bit the dust ages ago! What're you doing here?!" he asked his deceased father, who simply turned to him and smiled, something he would never expect from him.

"Stanley, I have to say I'm quite impressed." Filbrick said. "Impressed that you would survive being taken over by me for this long!" His voice suddenly raised an obnoxious cadence as he tore off his sunglasses, revealing a pair of golden peepers with black slits for pupils. He let out a psychotic cackle as his form contorted into a triangular shape while the void started falling apart, revealing none other than Bill Cipher disguised as his father.

"Oh my gosh, I can't believe you actually fell for that!" the dream demon laughed. "Did you really think ol' Filbrick actually said that to you?!"

"Bill! I thought I smashed you into tiny pieces!" Stan exclaimed furiously. "Not quite Fezhead, there's still a little bit of my essence wandering through your mind just waiting for me to take it back!" Bill said pointing to the old man's noggin, continuing to chortle. "Well you can forget it Cipher, Dipper, Mabel and Ford will find a way to stop you just like last time!" Stan declared. "But how can you get them to stop me if you're not even in your body!"

Stan was immediately forced away by Bill out of his own mind, appearing as a projection of himself while he watched as the triangle woke up in his elderly form. "Good grief, this body smells! Have you even showered?!" the deal-maker wondered sniffing Stan's body odor before he was suddenly tackled by his victim.

"Gimme back my body you three-sided freak!" he shouted wrestling Bill for control. "Fat chance, I can't wait to see the looks on your family's faces when they learn their beloved uncle is gone!" the lying, snappily dressed monster cried punching Stan in the face with his own fist. "I swear to God, if you lay a finger on my family you're done for! They made some friends that will most definitely waste your golden posterior!"

"Mr. Pines, what's wrong!" Soos called rushing into his bedroom wielding a golf club with Melody by his side. "Oh it's nothing Soos, just some old man pains! Say, have you lost weight since last I saw ya?" Bill commented. "Soos, Melody, you gotta wake up the kids and Ford! Bill's back and he's trying to take over my body!" Stan cried trying to get their help. "Wait, you're telling me your pet gopher got a girlfriend? I'm impressed, all this time I was convinced he would've died alone!"

"You take that back Bill!" Soos roared smacking his boss in the face with his golf club. "Oh that felt good! Come on, hit me!" The former handyman hit him again, to which Bill shouted "Hit me!" He continued smacking his boss with the club while the demon continued chanting "Hit me!" while laughing like a madman. "Don't do it again Soos, you're gonna make him want more!" Melody urged her fiancee. "I know Melody, but I gotta save Stan!"

"Don't listen to her chubby, hit me again!" Bill demanded. Suddenly Stan took control once more. "Just leave you two, we can take care of him in the morning." Just then Dipper and Mabel walked in looking very tired. "Hey, what's all the racket going on?" the brace-faced sister wondered. "Dudes, you won't believe this but Bill is back and took over Mr. Pines's body!"

"Soos, it's like two in the morning. Have you been eating paste and green beans after dark again?" Dipper wondered. "Yeah kids, just go back to sleep." Bill said trying to imitate their grunkle as best as he can. "Stan's right, let's just go." Melody stated and they all left Stan's bedroom.

When the door finally closed, Stan got up and stood in front of a mirror, taking in all the bruises he received from his closest confidant and former employee. He also discovered his right eye now resembled that of Bill and his left started to show some blood. "Welp, good thing I have some spare eyepatches for situations like this." He reached into his sidetable drawer and pulled out an eyepatch, putting it on his head and hiding his Bill-eye. "That should do it."

"I don't think so Stanley!" Bill chuckled, now appearing in his reflection. "It won't be long before your kids catch up to our current situation and try to stop me. But then again, they probably won't be alive to foil my plans!" In a blind rage, Stan broke the mirror with a single punch, his knuckles bleeding. "Oh yeah almost forgot. I made a special friend who was put in the same problem as I and let's say, we made a symbiotic connection." the dream demon's voice echoed in his mind. "But all beings need their rest, all that struggling made me beat!"

The next morning, Dipper and Soul were sitting in the living room watching an episode of Ducktective. "By George Ducktective, this man is not an actual man at all!" the constable on the television gasped. "He's...a grasshopper creature!" The program's titular mallard started quacking while subtitles reading "Yes, but where could the rest of his people be hiding?"

"Of all the animals in the world, they picked a duck to be their main character?" Soul asked. "The creator actually based this off his own childhood when he would play detective with his own pet duck." Dipper explained. "That makes sense, but who would really watch crazy stuff like this?"

"Hey kids, anything you want for breakfast? I got toast, fried eggs, muffins and Stancakes!" Stan said walking in. "They're kinda like pancakes, but they probably have some of my hair in them."

"Pass." Dipper deadpanned. "Ditto." Soul replied. "Good morning everyone." Maka greeted coming downstairs. "I've been hearing noises in Mr. Pines's room last night, what was going on?" she wondered. "Oh yeah, Stan was just having a little 'episode' where he thought his body was being controlled." the boy replied, which caused Stan's patch-covered eye to act up again. "Oh sure, it was just an old man spazzing out, nothing about demons taking over his body." Stan added, his voice sounding oddly familiar to him.

"HEYA GUYS!" Black Star shouted slamming open the door. "Been working out in the forest bench-pressing some boulders and I'm starving! What's to eat wrinkles?" he asked. "Oh nothing much kid, but I'll give ya something in exchange for your soul!" Stan replied becoming more menacing. "Whoa. I know you think I'm annoying, but taking my soul? No thanks!"

"Um, I'd like something to eat please." Crona squeaked coming downstairs. "Do you happen to have any waffles?" he asked. "Sure I do, got a few frozen ones left after a bunch of handsome young men dug through my kitchen and ate them all." Stan said taking the Demon Swordsman to the kitchen. "And whatever you do, don't ask."

Sitting the little one down and sticking some frozen waffles in the microwave, the twins sat down alongside Crona. "Oh boy, waffles!" Mabel beamed. "Finally, some good grub!" Ragnarok added bursting from his meister's back. "Okay kids, they're ready!" Stan called setting down some plates with their breakfast on them. "Eat up now, I gotta go do some things later."

"Hey, anyone seen Dad or Dr. Stein anywhere?" Maka wondered walking into the kitchen. "Knowing your father, he's probably out drinking." Kid snarked. "Well, why don't we go look for him after we're all done eating?" Mabel suggested her mouth full of waffles. "Speaking of which, how's your waffles Crona?"

"I haven't eaten them yet. I don't know how to deal with this." Crona winced. "Just try 'em, I'm sure you'll like them." Dipper said. The child of Medusa just stared at his breakfast before picking one up with the fork and sticking it in his mouth, slowly chewing it before swallowing. "So, how is it?" Dipper asked. "I love it!" Crona cheered before chowing down on all his waffles. "Can I have some more Mr. Pines?"

"Sorry Pinky those were my last. But hey, least you're full right?" Stan said. "Well let's go then! You coming broseph?" Mabel said to her brother. "I think I'll pass today. Ford wants me down in the basement for something." Dipper replied. "Okay then, let's go everybody!"

Mabel led Maka, Black Star, Kid, the Thompsons and Crona out the front door as they went on their merry way into town. "Why aren't you going with them Soul?" the boy asked Soul. "Just wanna see what your other great uncle gets up to." the Demon Scythe replied.

The two left the kitchen leaving Stan all by himself. "They're onto us Wrinkles, better play it cool while you still can." Bill commanded from within his subconscious. "Fine, I'll play along Bill but you can't harm the kids while you're jacking my body. Understand?" the great uncle offered. "Okay then, geez! Y'know, it's people like you that are the easiest to manipulate."

The mid-morning summer sun dangled over the group as they walked into the town. The locals were just walking around minding their own business while Mabel searched for Spirit and Stein. "Now if I were Dad, where would I be?" Maka mused thinking about where her father could've gone to. "Maybe he ran off over there?" Black Star suggested pointing to an establishment with a neon sign saying "Skull Fracture" over the entrance guarded by a man with multiple tattoos on his body.

"Are you really sure friends? That place looks quite filthy." Kid commented. "Hey dudes, morning!" Wendy greeted them all riding up from behind on her bike. "Good to see you too Wendy. You seen a guy with red hair walk into that place?" Liz asked her. "Yeah, my dad frequents that place with all the other manly guys in town." the teen replied. "No, we're not looking for your dad. We're looking for my dad and Professor Stein." Maka corrected her. "Right, sorry about that."

"Don't worry guys, Liz and I have walked into places like this before so we can handle this!" Patty stated.

"Sorry, still don't allow miners here." the bouncer said to a miner, who just shouted "Dadgumit, not again!" and stormed off. Just then Mabel and company walked up to him. "Hello there my good sir, any room for Lady Mabelton and company?" she asked before they all pulled out fake IDs. "Whatever." the bouncer said letting in them in.

They were all greeted by the sight of several manly men inhabiting the bar, many of which were weeping while cradling their broken arms. "Looks awfully violent." Crona commented. "Oh geez, I don't wanna know what happened here." Black Star commented before he spotted a large man with a scarlet beard dressed as a lumberjack. "Yo Wendy, would that guy happen to be your dad?"

"Oh my gosh, Dad!" Wendy exclaimed rushing toward her father. "Wendy, what're you doing here? You know they don't allow minors here, but then again their ID policy isn't very good." the lumberjack said. "We're just looking for my father Mr. Corduroy. He's about yay high, red hair, blue eyes, probably accompanied by someone with a giant screw in his head?" Maka said. Just then, Stein walked out of the bathroom looking the same as always aside from a few red bumps on his hands. "Whatever you do, do not go in the bathroom. There are entire colonies of wasps living in the urinals."

"So tell me dad, what the heck happened?" Wendy asked trying to console Manly Dan. "This guy just waltzed in and challenged us all to an arm-wrestling contest, and he's winning too!" Dan explained pointing to a tall, muscular man with pointy ears, black and white striped pants, a tank-top and a distinctive red glow in his left eye.

'What, he's here?!' Kid thought panicking. "Hey, doesn't that guy look a little familiar?" Tsubaki commented. "Yeah, he looks kinda like that wolfman who worked for Medusa." Maka added. "That's because it is that wolfman! How could you not recognize him?!" the young Shinigami exclaimed. They all heard the other Skull Fracture patrons chant his name as the man took down another unlucky opponent. "So, anyone else wanna take on Free?!"

"I'll take you on!" Black Star declared glaring daggers at him. "So, the little God wannabe wants a shot?" Free wondered putting up his arm on the table. "If I win, you'll have to return home in eternal shame! But if you win, you'll get this!" He pulled a burgundy colored book with a monocle within its pages and a golden six-fingered hand with the number 3 on its cover. Mabel and Wendy knew that item all too well.

"No, that can't be!" Mabel exclaimed. "I thought we tossed all three of them down in the Bottomless Pit!" Wendy added. "Wait, what are you guys talking about?" Patti said. "That's a creepy book Dipper found last summer written by our great-uncle Ford decades ago." Mabel explained. "So did he use this to document the oddities of this town?" Stein asked. "Exactly Doc!" Wendy replied. "And speaking of oddities, I think I found your father Maka."

Spirit was currently lying asleep on the countertop surrounded by numerous shot glasses stacked on top one another while the bartender just stood there with a neutral expression on his face. "'Scuse me, is he with you guys?" he politely asked the group. "Yes, yes he is sir." Maka groaned trying to wake up her dad. "C'mon dad, you've been here for who knows how long!"

"I'm sorry Maka, even I don't know how to wake him up." Stein stated turning his screw. "Well, I do now." the Scythe Meister proclaimed Maka-chopping her father, finally awakening him from his drunken slumber. "What? Where am I, what happened last night?!" Spirit exclaimed jumping down from the counter to see his daughter standing before him. "MAKA! What are you doing here, you know this isn't a place for people like my precious baby girl!"

"Dad, you're embarrassing me in front of all these men." Maka said. "Don't worry Mr. Albarn, my brother and I came here before and the ID rules here are pretty lax." Mabel assured him grinning. "Yeah, this seems like my kinda place!" Ragnarok added bursting out of his Meister's back.

"So if you're all here, where are Black Star and Soul?" Maka's father wondered. "I'm pretty sure Soul stayed behind at the Mystery Shack and Black Star on the other hand..." He gestured toward the young ninja in the heat of his arm-wrestling battle with Free. "Don't get too cocky brat, I got more muscles than you can ever dream of!" the wolfman bragged. "Oh yeah? Well if I'm gonna transcend God, I'm gonna need to take down some sinners!"

"This ain't gonna end well." Manly Dan mused watching the fight. "Hey Stripes, you look pretty rich. You wanna pay everyone's hospital bills?" he asked Kid. "Not right now sir. Black Star may be a nuisance, but he's got a real fighting spirit within him that is just itching to break out." the OCD-obsessed Death God proclaimed. The fight continued on with all the patrons spectating and cheering on both combatants, Maka's group supporting their friends and the barflys chanting Free's name once more when suddenly, Black Star slammed Free's hand on the table, breaking it. The building went deathly silent as the man who would transcend God towered over his fallen opponent, huffing in exhaustion.

The silence was finally broken when Mabel beamed in delight before chanting Black Star's name and everyone else joined in. "Fine, you win squirt. Take the damn book." Free admitted defeat handing the journal over to the victor. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go wallow in my own loss." He glumly walked away as Black Star was being celebrated. "You did great there Black Star!" Tsubaki cried hugging her partner. "Yeah, you got some killer ninja skills there dude." Wendy added high-fiving him.

"Thanks everyone, guess I don't know my own strength." the blue-haired assassin thanked, his face reddening. "Well, we all got what we came here for, among other things, so I suppose we should head back home." Kid announced beginning to take his leave. "C'mon gang, why don't you stay a while? Drinks are on the champ here!" the bartender exclaimed pointing to Black Star. "Ah what the hell! Let's all have a toast for the champion!" The other patrons cheered in agreement and the party began.

Free was now in the bathroom, mourning the loss of his winning streak with the colonies of wasps living in the urinals as his only company. He wept over his fractured arm before he started gritting his teeth with a look of pure anger on his face. "With God as my witness, I will have my revenge on that ninja brat." he declared when suddenly, his ears perked up at the squeaking of mice. A group of rodents scampered up to his feet before suddenly turning into five child-sized individuals with short pink hair, buck teeth and hats resembling that of mice. "Oh, the Mizunes! Then that must mean..."

A small frog hopped into the bathroom when she stopped at one of the Mizunes and turned into a young woman with silvery hair, black circles at both ends of her mouth and an orange hat with the face of a frog on it looking very cross. "So you lost an arm-wrestling match to one of those Academy students and gave him the book we were supposed to hand to the boss?" she chastised him. "Look Eruka, I was just too engrossed in my own hype! Please forgive me for this!"

"Forgive you for what?" a voice rang out from within the lavatory. Everything suddenly turned monochrome, signifying the appearance of none other than Kishin Cipher, looking just as mad as Eruka. "So tell me gang, which one of you idiots lost the journal?!" he roared at Medusa's former minions whimpering in fear before they all pointed to Free.

"It was you wasn't it?! Guess I should've thought twice before picking out minions to carry out my master plan." he said grabbing the werewolf by the neck. "I am terribly sorry Lord Cipher, I promise it won't happen again!" he protested. "Sorry ain't gonna cut it jailbird. Maybe you should change your name to Dead Meat."

He was about to murder Free in cold blood before he got distracted by a ringing noise. "Hang on a sec, gotta take this." he said dropping the werewolf to the ground and shifting his hand into a phone. "Yello?" he said. "Master, my partner and I have finally reached the town and are delivering the journal we found as we speak." the caller announced. "Good for you Pointy but there's gonna be a change of plans. The big furry moron just cost me Journal 3 after stupidly giving it away in an arm-wrestling match." Kishin Cipher replied. "Seriously?! Free may be incompetent, but at least he has some class unlike someone I know! Isn't that right Giriko?"

"Hey lay off me old man!" another man from the other end of the line shouted. "Simmer down, both of you!" he commanded. "Listen, I got a new assignment for you guys. Take out the Pines family, they were detrimental to my plans before and I don't want it to happen again. Understand?" The two men he was calling gulped in obedience and he finally hanged up. "Well gotta jet now! Plan on meeting up with some of my other minions so you aren't of any use to me anymore."

"Wait, why?!" Eruka cried. "I dunno, just wanted to watch over some smarter goons. Until we meet again, NOSTRADAMUS WAS A HACK, THE MOON LANDING WAS ACTUALLY A FAKE, WE ALL FLOAT DOWN HERE, BYE!" He finally vanished from the room, leaving Eruka, Free and the Mizunes utterly stunned. "So he basically just fired us? I kind of expected it to be more bloody." Free wondered. One of the Mizunes chittered in agreement. "Doesn't matter now. What we should do is find these Pines ourselves and terminate them. Hopefully that should put us back in Kishin Cipher's good graces."

Speaking of the Pines, Dipper and Soul were just wandering through Ford's underground laboratory, taking in all of the machinery created to monitor the weirdness of Gravity Falls. "So this is what your great-uncle gets up to?" Soul wondered examining the various computer systems. "Yes, and he's been at it for decades. Speaking of which, there he is." Dipper replied pointing to his great-uncle sitting under a ceiling light dangled over him. "Ah Dipper, just the man I wanted to see." Ford greeted his nephew turning his chair to face them. "And I see Soul's come along too."

"Hey Mr. Pines, good to properly meet ya." Soul greeted him. "Nice to meet you too kid." Ford replied shaking his hand. "Now Dipper, do you know why I've called you down here?" he asked his would've-been apprentice. "Was it about last night with Stan?" the boy responded. "Exactly. I've been told that he may have been possessed by an old enemy of ours. That enemy being none other than Bill Cipher."

"Wait, Bill who now?" the Demon Scythe questioned with a raise of his brow. "Bill Cipher was a dream demon that menaced our family last summer after he was summoned by a business rival of Grunkle Stan's." Dipper explained. "Years ago he made Ford build a portal to other universes that would allow him to bring about the end of the world, but thankfully we all came together to destroy him once and for all!"

"But there's one problem with that. Due to recent events, we may have beliefs that Bill has returned and he's taken over Stanley's body." Ford added. "Plus I think it may be connected to the giant baby we found in the Arctic during our journeys." As he spoke, he pulled out a journal with a golden hand and the number 4 on it. "Wait, you made another journal?!" Dipper exclaimed. "Yes, but this one I made to catalogue the things Stan and I found on our voyage." He flipped to a page depicting a gigantic infant frozen in ice.

"This was the first anomaly we spotted on our trip. For some reason it just kept glaring at Stan from its sub-zero tomb and it just wouldn't stop." the genius stated. "Huh, I think Mabel and I saw something like that last summer." Dipper commented, much to the others' confusion. "Long story, but let's say it involved Soos's birthday."

"So would Bill be like some kind of evil soul or something?" Soul asked. "No, I fear he may be even worse than that Asura fellow you encountered. That's why we must remain vigilant in case this turns out to be true." Ford said boldly before they heard something upstairs. "That must be Stan! We gotta do something!" Dipper shouted rushing back to the elevator. "Right, see ya later Ford!" Soul replied running after him.

Returning upstairs, the two boys tried to locate the source of the commotion until they came across Soos's grandma. "Oh hey Abuelita. What's up?" Soul asked. "Mr. Pines just burned himself on the stove while laughing like crazy. Overall, pretty normal." the old woman calmly said to them before walking away. "That can't be good." Dipper fretted. "Soul, you stay here. I'll take care of Stan."

Creeping into the kitchen, the boy spotted his great uncle sitting calmly at the table with a mug of coffee in his hand. "Hey there kiddo, off doing nerd things with ol' Sixer?" he greeted. "Y-yeah Grunkle Stan. Are you feeling okay?" Dipper asked him. "Oh I'm fine Pine Tree." He got up from the table to face his great-nephew and took off his eyepatch, revealing that his eye was now yellow with a black slit for a pupil. "Just fine."

"B-b-b-b-b-BILL?!" Dipper whimpered stepping backwards. "Oh come on Pines, aren't you happy to see me?! Been so long too!" Bill commented. "Now come on, give me a welcome back hug!" The boy replied by smacking him in the face with a nearby frying pan. "Oh-ho my that felt good!" he cried feeling incredibly euphoric from the pain. "Come on brat, give me another one!"

Dipper smacked him across the face a second time. "Soos has good arm strength and a great throw, but's he nothing compared to you!" the demon cackled. "Give back my uncle or else!" Dipper shouted before Soul came back with Ford, Soos and Melody in tow. "We were runnin' some errands when Soul told us what happened!" Soos exclaimed. "Guess I was right dudes."

"You guys get something to hold him down! Dipper, get away from him! I'll handle it myself." Ford gave out orders while marching towards his possessed brother. "Well well well well well well well well well! Good to see you again after so long Fordsy!" Bill greeted the very peeved genius. "Now listen here Cipher, give my brother his body back or I swear I'll-"

"You'll what IQ? Whip out that ol' memory gun on me again?" Bill interrupted him. "Well actually, it's kinda broken now." Ford replied. "Ooooh my, you just love making yourself look like a complete idiot don'tcha?!" Stanford just replied by socking square in the face, toppling him over.

"Don't think you can keep me tied down forever filthy mortals!" Bill bragged as he was tied to Stan's chair by Soos and Melody while Dipper lit nine candles around him. "Okay, is there anything we can do to stop this guy? Cause I'm just a girl from Portland who previously skewered meat which probably has nothing to do with stopping evil triangles!" Melody wondered. As if she spoke of the devil, the door opened and in walked Mabel with Wendy, Maka, Crona, Black Star, Tsubaki, Kid, the Thompsons, Spirit and Stein. "Hey guys, we're home!" Mabel said walking into the living room to find her great uncle tied to a chair. "Hark, is that Shooting Star and Ice Bag I see? It's almost like the whole Zodiac is coming to welcome me back!"

"Wait, what's going on here?" she wondered. "Listen Mabel, Bill's returned and he's taken over Grunkle Stan's body! We gotta stop him before he does something terrible!" Dipper cried. "Oh yeah, speaking of which when we were looking for Mr. Albarn and Dr. Stein when we found...this." She pulled the journal they retrieved from behind and handed it to her brother, who was just gaping in utter shock. "T-the journals?! But we tossed them all into the Bottomless Pit!" he stuttered. "That's sort of exactly what Wendy said!" Black Star replied. "By the way, I won it from some wolf guy and everyone had drinks on me."

"Is there anything in the book that can allow us to find him?" Maka asked. "There actually is Maka." Ford responded taking the codex out of his great-nephew's hands and skimming through it to a section about Bill. "If we recite this chant, we can be able to go into Stan's mind and hunt him down! Now everybody put your hands on his head." They all complied placing their hands on his head before he shook them all off. "Okay, that might need some work."

"Do not worry, I got this covered." Stein announced pulling out a syringe labeled "Lullaby" as he put it to Stan's neck. "Wait, what is that?" Bill quivered with his voice full of dread. "Don't worry this'll only sting a bit." the doctor calmed him with a sadistic grin on his face as he injected the serum into Stan's body, finally putting him to sleep. "Thank you Stein for the help. Now then, hands on his head everyone."

Everybody put their hands on Stan's head again, this time while he's still asleep. "Melody, I'm gonna need you to hold down the fort while we're gone." Ford said. "You got it Mr. Pines!" Melody exclaimed leaving the room. "Okay guys, there's no turning back now. Any last words?" Dipper said. "I got some," Tsubaki replied. "how did you beat this Bill guy anyway?"

"Oh yeah, we actually beat him a few times last summer!" Wendy explained. "There was the first time Bill invaded Stan's mind and this other time where I saved Dipper from being possessed by tickling him!" Mabel said. "Tickling may have kicked him out, but the mental pain is eternal." Dipper responded before turning back to Ford. "Alright Ford, go for it."

"With pleasure!" He started reading from the incantation on the journal. "Videntus omnium. Magister mentium. Magnesium ad hominem. Magnum opus." As he continued chanting, everyone's eyes glowed blue and the candles went out. "Habeas corpus! Inceptus Nolanus overratus! Magister mentium! Magister mentium! MAGISTER MENTIUM!"

Everything suddenly went blue and then, they all fell asleep.

"Ugh, my head." Dipper groaned waking up and rubbing his head. Rising from the ground, he noticed everything was grayscale sans him and the others. This was it, their great-uncle's mindscape. "So this is what the mindscape looks like?" Liz wondered. "The mindscape usually varies from person to person, but Stan's centers on the Mystery Shack." Ford explained as he led the group onward. "Now come along gang."

They all took in the monochrome scenery, everything was completely black and white from the trees, to the sky and even a nearby swing set that looked seriously dilapidated. Finally, they came across a mental recreation of the tourist trap which looked like an earthquake ran through it. "Whoa, what happened here?" Patty gasped. "Seems like deep down, Stan is still recovering from having his memory wiped last summer." Soos said. "Okay, be on the lookout everyone. Bill could catch us at any moment, so we should be vigilant." Dipper said.

Just as he warned them, the triangle himself appeared before him just as psychotic as ever. "Yeah, remain vigilant even though you're gonna die soon!" he chortled. "Bill!" they all shouted taking up arms. "This is just rich, most of the entire cast together! Pine Tree, Shooting Star, Six Fingered Hand, Ice Bag and Question Mark!" He pointed at the three Pines, Soos and Wendy.

"And I see you've brought me some fresh blood too! Scythe, Piano Keys, Shuriken, Skull, Twin Pistols, Holy Cross, Cigarette and-" He started pointing at Maka and her companions before suddenly stopping at Crona and wheezing in utter surprise. "Crona, it's been too long! It's me, your uncle Bill!"

"Wait, you know this guy?" Stein exclaimed. "Of course I know Crona doc, the two of us go way back!" Bill explained putting an arm around the child who simply tried to escape. "Yeah, and I'm still pissed off about what you did to him!" Ragnarok shouted putting up his dukes. "And ol' Ragny's here as well! If your mom and aunts were still alive, it'd be a big family reunion!"

"Seriously Cipher, how do you know Crona?" Maka demanded answers from the shape. "Oh, so you want some backstory Scythe? Allow me to demonstrate."

"This is your target Crona. Now destroy it." Medusa Gorgon, the mother of Crona, commanded with her amber eyes gazing down on her son. Crona was pitted against a black dragon that glared at him with smoke puffing out of his nose. The boy was reluctant to kill it and turned to his mother. "I can't do it. I don't know how to deal with something like this." he weeped. Medusa simply replied by taking him into a dark room. "You are a bad child and I want you out of my sight. As punishment, you'll be locked in here for a long time until you can think about obeying me."

As she closed the door, Crona begged to not be punished. "No, please pick another punishment! I promise I can do better, just don't close the door! It's super scary in here when it gets dark!" But sadly, his words went unheard when Medusa finally shut the door. "It's so dark in here. I don't know how to deal with darkness like this." he quietly sobbed before Ragnarok materialized sounding very aggravated. "Damn it Crona, you screwed up big time!" he shouted. "No Ragnarok!" He started teasing her which lasted long into the night.

The next day, Medusa opened the door once again to find her son with tears covering his face. "So then, are you ready?" she asked before he rushed up to her and hugged her leg. "Ragnarok is just so mean! He keeps beating me up and I don't like it! Please just stop him already." he sobbed.

"Come now little one, we have work to do. You will eliminate it this time." Medusa ordered leading him out of the room. "There's no way, I can't do it." he muttered twiddling with his fingers. "I still don't know how to deal with this." With a glare, Medusa just said "Vector Plate." and sent him flying back into the room. "You can stay out of my sight a little longer."

"Ugh, I don't know how to deal with a child like Crona." the witch moaned walking into her study. "If only I can find a way to make him more violent, less of a pushover." He buried her face in her hands before suddenly falling asleep.

When she woke up, she found herself in an utter hellhole of a world with buildings burning, people running for cover and a figure hovering high above everyone, laughing madly. "What is this place?" she wondered. "Why, your mindscape of course!" an obnoxious high-pitched voice answered. Turning around, she discovered a golden triangle dressed in nothing but a black bow tie and top hat taking in the chaos around him.

"What's up babe, name's Bill Cipher!" the creature introduced himself with a mocking bow. "And I suppose you must be some kinda punk rock wannabe! I'm kidding, I know who you are Medusa!" he stated pointing at her. "Who are you monster, how do you know my name?!" Medusa exclaimed. "Oh I know lots of things Snakebite. LOTS OF THINGS." his tone suddenly dropped as his form displayed images of a trio of eyes, mosquitoes, a golem and a world similar to the apocalypse they were in. "Wanna see what I can do?!" He brought forth a man on the verge of death and burned him alive, only leaving behind a still beating heart. "Here, a heart for you lady. Don't mind if it's still living, it's just what I do."

"Agh, you're insane!" Medusa cried dropping the heart to the ground. "I know I am, but what're you?" Bill snapped back snickering. "So, heard you have a problem child on your hands am I right?" he wondered pulling up a chair out of trash and seating her in it. "Yes, my little boy Crona refuses to obey my commands and I have very big plans for him." the witch explained. "Small world, I have big plans myself!" Bill exclaimed. "Hey, how's about we make a deal? I'll whip your brat into shape and you can help me with something I've been working on." he offered lighting his hand in a blue inferno. "It's a deal."

The two of them shook hands sealing the deal. "We can work out the details later but until we meet again, THE MEANING OF LIFE IS 42, UNCLE WALT IS STILL OUT THERE, ALWAYS TAKE THE SHOT BYYYEEE!"

As soon as Bill vanished, Medusa awoken from her slumber. Looking around her room, she discovered a note on her desk saying "Been nice meeting ya Gorgon! You're really quite my type. Say, you got any siblings to hook me up with?" She simply grinned manically looking it over before deciding to turn in for the night.

Meanwhile with Bill, he had found himself hovering in a bright blue sky. "Hm, kind of expected something more tormented. Eh, it'll do." he snarked before beginning to search for Crona. "Now where could that little brat be?" he wondering searching high and low for the child until he came across an orb covered in sand resembling a beach or a desert and its only inhabitant being a youth with pink hair wearing all black. "Jackpot!" Bill exclaimed soaring down to the boy.

Crona was sitting all by his lonesome on the sand with his shadow as his only companion. "So, how are you doing?" the shadow asked him. "O-okay I guess. Mommy locked me in the room again and Ragnarok just kept bullying me." the child replied. "So how are you doing?" he asked the shadow before it suddenly took on a different form. "Just fine squirt! I got a question for you. What's my name?"

Crona simply jumped back in fear, stepping backwards until he bumped into a mysterious figure. Turning around, he found Bill Cipher standing before him. "What's up kid?" he greeted the Demon Swordsman. "W-who are you?! What a-are you d-doing here?!" he stuttered crawling away from him before Bill grabbed him by the ankle and pulled him to his eye. "Easy there brat! Apologies for being so rude," he said. "my name's Bill Cipher and I'm here because your mother made a deal with me."

"Wait, you mean her?!" Crona teared up in horror. "Yeah, she wanted me to beef you up, prepare you for a bright future ahead of ya!" As he continued speaking to the child, he summoned a projection of the moon. "Looks beautiful doesn't it?" he asked. "Well it's about to get even more beautiful!"

Dragging the moon closer with a wave of his hand, the two of them watched as an older Crona absorbing a grey-skinned humanoid creature and a young man in a plaid cap with a torrent of liquid blacker than night. "See this kid, this is what your mom wants you to be! The next Kishin, the embodiment of fear! And if you don't man up, well, her plan is gonna go all boop-boop!"

"Wait, she wants me to become what?!" Crona exclaimed trembling at the thought of this possible future. "Speaking of which, what's even under those clothes anyway?! I've been told you're a boy, but you seem more like a girl to me!" Bill exclaimed rubbing his hands. "Let's see what's hidin' there!" He grabbed the hem of the child's dress and prepared to lift it up before his hands were slapped away. "Okay sheesh, best to keep things 'private'!" He giggled at his own terrible pun. "Well then Crona, I best be off! Got some other things to take care of. But until I see you again, I'll always be watching you!"

He tapped Crona on the forehead and sent himself off with a cackle, while the child began to grow a mad grin on his face.

Once again, Medusa opened the door the next day. "So, are you ready?" she asked him while his head was down. When he raised it to look at her, he was wearing that same sadistic smile and had some black blood leaking out of his nose. "Did you know my blood is black?"

"And that's the whole story!" Bill finally finished telling his history with Crona. "Though it seems one of you may have averted that prophecy by punching the Kishin in the face. But let's face it, he was kind of a weenie anyway!" He let out another crazy snicker before finally letting go of Crona.

"Well we now know the story Bill, but what does my brother have to do with this?!" Ford shouted. "Oh yeah, kinda forgot about that!" the demon responded. "Ever since he punched me into pieces, your grunkle had a bit of my essence nestled deep within his wrinkly noggin. Once I get my hands on it, I can return to my full strength." he explained. "But since you're all here, might as well kill you all so you don't interfere with my plans!" He fired a giant laser blast from his finger to terminate the gang before it was suddenly deflected by Ragnarok, who had transformed into a large broadsword with a pair of lips on the blade. "You leave my friends alone Bill!" Crona shouted preparing to fight him.

"Oh goodness would you look at the time," Bill panicked. "I gotta go...to the bathroom!" He zoomed away inside the Shack obviously just wanting to retrieve his essence and escape. "He's ran into the shack, after him everyone!"

They all ran inside the building to discover various doors all leading to Stan's memories. "Okay dudes, the twins and I have been through this place before which is how we first met Bill, so maybe we know this place like the back of our hands." Soos explained. "I say we all form into teams." Ford suggested. "Dipper, Liz & Patty go this way, Wendy, Kid & Stein go that way. Mabel, Black Star & Soul go over there, Spirit, Tsubaki & Soos can move thataway, etc."

"BREAK!" Maka exclaimed before they all split up into their assigned groups, with Crona accompanying Ford and Maka.

"Bill's essence, come out wherever you are!" Patty called as she, her sister and Dipper traversed through the old man's consciousness. "Good God, how big is Mr. Pines's head?" Liz inquired with a hint of snark in her voice. "I don't know yet, but wherever Bill is searching for his essence, we gotta get to it before him." Dipper determinedly said. "By the way, I got a question for you. What were your lives like before meeting Kid?"

"That's a funny story," the younger Thompson sister replied grinning. "we were once the Brooklyn Devils after our mother abandoned us and became serious criminals before we met Kid, who helped us see the light!" Liz on the other hand told him a more realistic version of their story. "Long before we met Kid, we were the twin daughters of the most beautiful whore in Brooklyn when she ditched us for some reason. We never knew who our father was and became more dependent on each other. Then we tried to mug Kid, who saw the good in us mostly because we were so symmetrical. And that's how we wound up here today."

"Wow, kinda reminds me of Stan and Ford's relationship," Dipper said. "Only they weren't criminals from birth and couldn't turn into guns." He then turned to a nearby door. "Hey, you think this might be one of Stan's memories?" Patty wondered opening it to happen upon a projection of Stan playing with his stomach in the bathroom. "Hey Mr. Tummy!" he greeted. "Hey Mr. Stan!" he made his gut reply before Patty abruptly shut the door. "Well, I know what I'm puttin' in my eyes tonight!"

Meanwhile with Ford, Maka and Crona, they were searching their part of the mindscape. They were in a hallway of doors all relating to Stan's past. "That part of Bill could be anywhere! We've got to find it before he does." Maka declared. "Simmer down Maka. We'll find it soon," Ford said. "but right now one of these doors could lead us to him."

Examining the various entryways, some of them were slightly ajar showing various parts of the Stan twins' lives from discovering a boat in a cave to Ford winning a science fair project. "Ah yes, I remember those days." the scientist reminisced. "Back when Stanley and I were around your ages but kind of older, I built a perpetual motion machine for our school's science fair that would've won me a scholarship to one of the most prestigious universities in the country. But Stan broke it because he didn't want us to be separated and was kicked out by our dad as a result."

As he finished, another door opened showing that fateful night where the Stan twins' father threw him out of their home. "You ignoramus! Your brother was gonna be our ticket out of this dump! All you ever do is lie and cheat right on your brother's coattails." he scolded quite harshly. "Well this time you cost our family potential millions! And until you make us a fortune, you aren't welcome in this household." The three watched this memory play out, Ford just looking away in resignation, Maka covering her mouth in shock but Crona just backed away before running off with tears in his eyes. "This is so much like Medusa!"

"Wait Crona, come back!" Maka called for her friend before racing after him and Ford following suit.

"Here Bill's essence, I totally got a human sacrifice for you!" Soos called, which echoed throughout the hallway. "Uh Soos, I don't think it can hear us." Tsubaki commented. "I mean, it's just an itty bit of some bigger monstrosity." Spirit replied. Suddenly they all heard a crying noise which came from Crona who came running up to them in tears.

"Hey, you all right there little dude?" Soos wondered wiping a tear from the swordsman's face. "Mr. Pines, Maka and I were looking through memories and I found one of Mr. Pines' dad tossing Stan out of their house, and it was just so horrible!" he bawled into the manchild's arms. "Sh sh sh, it's okay Crona. It's okay."

"Yes, our father may have been a bit rough but at least he didn't use Stan and I to further his own evil plots." Ford tried to lighten the mood before Bill suddenly appeared before them with a cackle. "Oh isn't this just precious? Someone actually caring about Crona for once!" he chortled cruelly. "Listen Bill, this is where we end this! Leave my brother's mind immediately or I swear I'm going to end you in the most painful way a dream demon can feel pain!" the polydactyl exclaimed. "That's what you think, cause I've already made a new friend during my time in the void. Say hello Asura!"

He motioned for his partner to make himself known. The Kishin Asura appeared seemingly from out of nowhere looking down upon the group with a smug grin on his visage. "Well well well little humans, it seems we finally meet again." he said. "Wait, you teamed up with HIM?!" Maka screamed in shock at the dream demon. "Oh course we did Scythe, turns out he and I had a lot in common."

"Beings of extreme power with unusual eyes," Asura said. "hatred for children, dreams of conquering the universe! It's like we're twin brothers!" Bill exclaimed. "Only difference is I make three sides look good." he added with a shake of one of his points, much to the gang's disgust. "Now then, allow us to show you what we've got now!" The pair soon began to align and finally fuse into Kishin Cipher, still retaining his manic grin. "They can fuse now?!"

"And now to destroy you once and for all!" Kishin Cipher exclaimed bringing forth Mabel, Black Star & Soul, Dipper & the Thompsons and Wendy, Kid & Stein. "Oh my God, what is that thing?!" Black Star howled. "Guys, what's going on?!" Mabel shouted to her brother. "It turns out Bill teamed up and actually fused with this Asura guy to kill us all!" Soos explained fearfully.

"Now then, which one do we start with?" Kishin Cipher wondered glaring at everyone. "How about...YOU?!" He fired a laser blast from his finger at Maka only for it to be deflected by Crona carrying Ragnarok. "Come on Ragnarok, Scream Resonance." Ragnarok let out an ear-piercing shriek from his lips and his Meister threw a mighty slash at the fusion, slicing his arm off. "AGH, what was that for?!" he cried reeling in pain. "Now's out chance! Weapons everyone!" Maka ordered as Soul turned into her scythe, Tsubaki into Black Star's shadow weapon, Liz & Patty in Kid's twin pistols and Spirit into Stein's own scythe.

All the Meisters lept forward and dealt serious damage to Cipher. "What do you suppose we can do?" Wendy asked. "This is the mindscape, meaning we can imagine pretty much anything to help us out here!" Dipper responded before firing lasers from his eyes. "Likes turning your fists into kittens!" Mabel added transforming her hands into cat heads and fired rainbows from them. "Soos Love Stomach Beam Stare!" Soos exclaimed launching a question mark shaped energy beam from his stomach. "Anything, eh?" Ford wondered before spawning a staff with a golden hand on the tip. "Let's finish this!"

Kishin Cipher was not doing fine here. Scythe & Piano Keys slashed him in the face, Shuriken blinding him with smoke bombs, Skull & Twin Pistols kept shooting him in the eyes, Black Blood had already sliced his arm off and Holy Cross & Cigarette were doing the same as Scythe. "ENOUGH!" he screamed, finally fed up with their futile attempts at fighting back. "This has gone on for far too long, so now it's time to get rid of you and conquer everything there ever was!" He hovered high above the group with his hands clasped together and between a pair of circles. "WEIRD VAJRA!"

A giant laser beam shot down from above aimed towards the heroes. "Well dudes, guess this is goodbye!" Soos began to say his prayers and bid his friends farewell. "What are we going to do?! He's going to kill us and completely take over Stan's mind!" Dipper fretted. "We're not completely hopeless!" Stein declared pulling something out of his pocket, that something being a small yellow triangle that fit in the palm of his hand. "Bill's essence? But how?!" Mabel cried. "We managed to retrieve it from one of Mr. Pines's memories. Maybe we can use it to get Bill and Asura to leave." Kid suggested.

"Are you nuts, this is Bill's essence! If he gets his hands on it, he'll regain his full power!" Ford shouted. "Hey guys, can we just give it to him because that giant laser beam is getting awfully close." Wendy said. "How long has it been since he fired it anyway?" Spirit wondered. Stein boldly stepped forward to the monstrosity and held out the triangle. "Here's your essence. Now leave here." he simply ordered him. "Good choice Stein." the villain commended him disappating the laser. "Now just give it to me and I'll be on my way!"

"Sorry, changed my mind." Stein snarked, crushing the small triangle in his hands. "NO! NO NO NO NO NO!" Kishin screamed trying to piece it back together with what little pieces remained. "Okay, I'll leave your great uncle alone!" he regained his composure. "You're all quite worthy opponents, especially the fat one."

"I still think he's talking to you." Soos whispered to Mabel. "I'll see you again soon, BUT KNOW THIS! When madness takes over and inner strength fails, the only sound left will be your wails!" he declared summoning a circle that surrounded him. Ten symbols circled him and ten more were outside of those. "Until then I'll be watching you! I'll be watching you!" With that, everything finally disappeared.

"Did we win?" Dipper asked groggily as everyone woke up. "Yeah, we saved Stan!" Mabel cheered just as Stan woke up. "What just happened? And why am I tied to my chair?" the old man asked. "You would not believe what happened Mr. Pines! You were taken over by Bill and we had to go inside your mind again to stop him!" Soos exclaimed. "Yeah yeah, more of your weird mystery stuff. Now can someone untie me? I'm starving!"

"I knew somebody would say that!" Blair called walking into the living room wearing nothing but an apron. "So then, what does everyone want for dinner?" she asked everyone while Soul fell down all bloody-nosed. "Good grief madame, put some clothes on!" Ford said covering the twins' eyes. "Yeah, I'm getting' hungry anyway." Mabel said when everybody walked to the kitchen. All except Crona. "Aren't you coming Crona?" Maka asked her friend. "I'll catch up with you later, I want to talk with Mr. Pines."

The room was now completely empty except for the swordsman and the con-artist. "So, what did you want to talk to me for?" Stan asked Crona sitting him down on his lap. "C'mon, tell me." he beckoned him. "I just want to ask you. Was your dad that mean to you?" Crona asked sheepishly. "Kinda. He may've been hard to impress and kind of a jerk, but deep down he still loved me and Ford." the great-uncle replied. "This is about your mom isn't it?"

"Yeah, when me and my friends were in your mind I came across this memory of your dad tossing you out of your house, it just reminded me too much of Medusa." Crona explained shedding a tear. "Hey, wipe those tears Pinky. At least neither of our parents used us as tools!" Stan laughed before the boy started to chuckle as well. "Listen, if you need someone to talk to other than Maka or any of the others, just come to me."

"T-thank you Mr. Pi-" Crona thanked him before being interrupted by Stan hugging him. "Please, just call me Grunkle Stan." he corrected. "Okay. Thank you Grunkle Stan." He returned the hug.

"You idiot! Do you realize how much our plans have been screwed up?!" Bill screamed at Asura from within Kishin Cipher's body. "Not only did we lose the journal and my essence, I lost a way to break back into the physical realm!"

"Oh be quiet you three-sided twit!" Asura snapped back at him. "If it wasn't for your arrogance, we would've succeeded!" Bill was quite honestly angered by his partner's comment. "Now listen here Pasty, I'm not the one to blame here! You're just thinking I'm the cause of our failure just because you're a complete coward!" he shouted turning his back on him. "Some embodiment of fear you are."

Asura finally snapped and the two prepared to fight before Bill suddenly stopped them both. "WAIT! Just because we lost two parts of our plan doesn't mean we still have the others." He created an image of a brown-haired young man with metal piercings & a pair of gloves reaching up to his elbows and a miniature senior citizen dressed in all black with a pointy nose carrying a book with a golden hand & a number 2 on it. "Time for Plan B."

And that's Chapter 2 everyone! What secrets will our heroes uncover? Can Bill and Asura be stopped from accomplishing their goals of world domination? Who will be a good parent figure for Crona?! Find out on the next chapter of Gravity Soul! Until we meet again, merry Christmas and happy holidays!

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objectsdeconstructed · 4 years

Text

Chapter 1, Tale 1: “The Present"

“What are you doing!? Get your hands off of me, you jerk!” Leafy screamed.

“Leafy, leafy!”, Firey defends himself. “Leafy, I’m sorry for what I did. I realized what I wanted most wasn’t Dream Island, It’s you. Your friendship. I just want you to know that I’m tired of all this turmoil that’s going on, all these conflicts and stuff. And I’d rather spend my time with you, whether It’s on Dream Island or not.”

“Really, you mean it?” Leafy whispered, as they hang glided away.

“Hurry up! We have to get back to the execution!” Golf Ball shouted, from the ground.

But it was too late. The lovebirds were already flying off into the sunshine, to a better life, a better tomorrow.

“THE END”

“Battle For Dream Island.”

“Written by-”

________________________________

The TV is shut off. “What a load a’ bullshit.“ Larson mused. “That was corny as hell.”

“Larson!” Mariette shrieked. “We have children in the room!”

“Ah, don’t worry ‘bout that, Ma’. Lil’ Liam’s been out for 10 minutes already.”

It was true. Liam had fallen asleep in his mother’s lap. It seems that he’s been asleep for a while.

“Cute lil’ fella. Here, let me-” Larson gently lifted up his youngest brother, whispering. “I’ll take ‘im to the bedroom.”

Mariette thanked Larson, and Larson left the room, with Liam in his arms. Seeing this, Susan spoke up. “Wow. Uh… so, any thoughts on that episode?”

John turned to his sister, “I thought it was kinda good. I mean, for a season finale. Wrapped up stuff nicely. Good enough for me.”

“Wait, really?! I thought it was disappointing as heck! Like, seriously! Even for a cartoon that was absurd! Where did all that come from!? The love arc at the end was jarring and out of place!” Susan complained.

“Well, dear, like you said, It’s a cartoon. Don’t think too much about it, dear.” Mariette replied, yawning. “I’m getting kinda tired, though. You kids wanna keep watching TV, go ahead, but remember to clock in early for tomorrow.”

“What? No, mom! It’s not just a cartoon- We’ve been following this show for like, 2 years now, and It-”

“It’s getting a new season in a few months”, John interrupted. “Don’t worry too much ‘bout it. They’ll probably tie up a few loose ends.”

“Yeah, but- Urgh! I can’t wait that long! I need my fix now!”

“Well, what about Inanimate Insanity? That’s still going.”

“But It’s on hiatus!” Susan groaned.

“Well, you’ll have to find another show on your own. There’s literally hundreds. I’m goin’ to bed.” John remarked, before standing up, carrying his empty drink cans, and heading to his room.

“Ugh, fine. Bye, bro.”

“…Also, you should probably go to sleep soon. It’s getting late-”

“Yeah, no.”

Susan flipped through the other channels, searching for something else to watch.

John walked up the stairs, tossed the cans into the trash, and retreated into his bedroom.

John’s bedroom was a mess. But It wasn’t an ugly mess. It was the kind of mess that felt comfy, and warm, and familiar. There was a mattress at one corner of the room, covered in magazines, books, and other reading materials.

Next to the bed was a desk, textbooks, notebooks, pens and pencils strewn everywhere upon it. Upon the desk was also a laptop. This was John’s most prized possession, and it was old.

John booted up the computer, checking to see if anything interesting has been happening recently.

John was pleasantly surprised to see that his posts have gotten some attention. Making a mental note to check out the comments later, he created a new post, trying to, admittedly, capitalize on BFDI’s recent finale.

Since he didn’t really had anything else interesting to say on the matter, John turned his attention over to what his relatively small social circle had to say on recent events. Maybe there’s some drama or something weird happening.

And away, we go…

Click.

Huh.

John had to admit that he was friends with some really peculiar people. Welp, Anna was… being her usual self. Tony was, in John’s opinion, still trying to influence things outside of his control (John found this trait of Tony’s admirable, but mistaken in this situation). Bryan was still raising questions about his sanity (and apparently, his abilities to spell the word “evasion"). The next post was-

Wait.

What the fuck?

That account uploaded a post.

That account never uploads.

Hold on.

As expected, everyone’s going wild in the comments, but that’s not what matters right now. Something is going on. John had to find out what.

John immediately opted out of his social media tab, and opened up another tab, typing in the address of a less-popular, less-friendly website.

Enter.

The web-page loaded. John stretched back, and scrolled down-

The door to John’s room slammed open.

John slammed his laptop down like hell.

“AAAH!”

Liam was standing in the door way. Larson stood behind him, looking extremely sleep-deprived, yet, amused.

Liam inquired, with large eyes, staring up at him. “John? Are you okey?”

Larson glanced at John, who realized that the sight of him holding down his laptop, staring wide-eyed at the door might not have given off the best impression.

Larson chuckled, “Welp! Uh, Liam. I think we walked in at a bad time-”

John shot him a look.

“No! It’s- Sorry, uh, Liam! Bro! What’re you doing here?”

“…I want give you pwesent.” Liam whispered.

“What?” John asked, flatly.

“Present. Liam wants to give you your Birthday present.” Larson motioned at his mouth “Gotta work on that “Arr" sound. Look, we know that you don’t wanna celebrate your B-Day, and haven’t done so for the last few years, but, what the hey! It’s not every day our boy turns 18! I mean, our man turns 18. Wait-”

“Ah! Thanks, Liam! But uh, you didn’t have to!” John said, beaming at Liam.

Liam just looked down.

“Uh- No. Kid! Liam! He means that in a good way. Now, give him the drawing, Liam.” Larson said, reassuringly.

Liam beamed up at John again, shoving a slightly wrinkled drawing in his face.

“It’s a pic of our- our family, and- that’s, um, you. And, um, mom and sis, and me and larson! Um, and that’s our ages, but yours is, um, eighteen! With an explooooosion! Because you turn eighteen! Today!” Liam babbled, pointing at the multi-colored representations on the paper.

“Not sure why I’m wearing a suit.” Larson whispered, grinning.

Frankly, it was one of the finest works of art that John had ever seen, despite the fact that Liam drew his arms on his head.

“Wow! It’s awesome, champ! I-”

John was interrupted by Liam giving a huge hug.

“I love you bro.”

John put his hand on Liam’s back. “…Love you too, Liam.”

Larson was just kinda hanging at the door, absorbing the general awkwardness of the situation. “So! Liam! You wanna hit the hay yet? Because I’m about to give out any second now. So! Hop to it, lil’ buddy.”

Larson clapped his hands together. “Chop chop.”

Liam walked to Larson, and they left together.

John was about to reopen the laptop when Larson popped in again. “Hey, uh, kid-”

“Dude, you gotta stop calling people that. I’m 2 years younger than you now-”

“-Sorry, force of habit. John. Uh, I wanna have a word.”

“Yeah, can you make it quick? I’m kinda tired.”

“Don’t worry, I will. I’m pretty close to collapse myself. So, uh…” Larson clasped his hands together. “Enjoy your life, make the most of it, don’t panic, be careful, don’t hold grudges, be a good man, save up money as soon as possible, word smart not hard, something something eggs in baskets, and uh, don’t take shit from anyone. Oh! and invest in some stuff smartly, watch the stock market closely- And BUY. BITCOINS. Yeah, okay. I think that’s it.” Larson said, extremely quickly.

John blinked.

“…Sorry, what?”

“Life advice, John. That’s life advice. Good night.” Larson yawned, “You can proceed with whatever…” Larson waved his hands “…weird stuff you were doing before. Not gonna judge you, kid.”

“Lars!”

“Right! Not gonna judge you, John. Look, I’m super-”

“What was that?! The life-advice thing!”

“Well, Ah’ don’t really see a point in making that some kinda big deal, so I gave you all I got at once. Don’t expect anymore advice for a while, John. G'night.” Larson was closing the door now.

“…Uh, okay, yeah. Good night, Lars.”

Clank.

Finally. Silence. Privacy. Now-

Bam!

“Lars! For crying out loud-”

“Shit. Sorry ‘bout the door- Happy 18th Birthday, John!”

“Yeah, thanks, bro. Just-”

But Larson had already closed the door.

John waited.

Sensing no one, he opens the laptop again.

#object show #object shows #objects deconstructed

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butiaintgonnaloveem · 7 years

Text

Crapulous

Characters: Dean, Reader, OC Patsy

Word Count: 2700-ish (whatttt?? that’s it??)

Warnings: Language, alcoholic consumption, sass

A/N: The morning after an alcohol-soaked case, the reader is doing her best to recover with little-to-no help from Dean. I wrote this for @seenashwrite‘s 200 followers celebration. Prompts are bolded throughout the fic. I also managed to sneak in the Hiatus Challenge prompt from @thing-you-do-with-that-thing. *Nash, although I didn’t sign up for it, there’s a bonus prompt in there, too!! Many thanks to @idreamofhazel and @kayteonline for being fabulous and helpful betas. As always, feedback and constructive criticism are welcomed and appreciated!

I groan as I feel sleep drifting away from me. My head is rocking and bouncing with the potholes in the road, but I fight it, desperate to hide away from consciousness and the hangover that would come with it. The beginnings of it already start to creep in on me, my body sore and achy, the foul taste of hard liquor remnants coming alive as I lick at my dry mouth. My eyes scrunch further shut and my nose crinkles in displeasure as the heat from the sun beats down on me.

“Nooooo,” I moan, feeling the immediate jack-hammering to my skull, making my brain throb as I start to wake. “Oh. Bad.”

A feeling of nausea rolls through me, my stomach quivering as it threatens to heave up its contents.

“Well,” Dean says, gratefully gently, “Good morning, starshine.”

“No,” I grunt, cutting him off and making him chuckle.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m dying. I don’t ever want to drink again.”

“Aww, come on. Can’t be that bad.”

“Shut up.” I whine. Completely pathetic.

“Hey. Don’t pass out on me again.”

I wave him off as he chuckles to himself again, and once I swallow the nausea back down, I resettle myself to pass back out. I’m just finding the sweet spot when I feel the car swerve then start to shake and rattle, the loud thundering from beneath us jolting me upright as I cling to the dashboard.

“Ohmygod!”

Dean turns the wheel, pulling the Impala away from the rumble strip along the side of the highway. “You gotta wake up, we’re almost in Hays.”

“Ugh, again?” I look at him, my face scrunched up in pain. “Can’t we just go home so I can die in peace?”

He purses his lips, at least pretending to think it over. “No can do. I’ve got a date with a plate of bacon and a sweet, sweet woman.”

“Dean, it’s unhealthy.”

“Look, leave the bacon alone-”

“No, not the bacon - Patsy. Because you - prolapsed rectum that you are - are infatuated with her, whose cobwebby old snooch, by the way, I can smell from here.”

“Pshh,” he shook his head at me, “You sound jealous.”

“You. Wish.”

Twenty minutes later, Dean pulls off the highway and into a lot overgrown with weeds and rogue patches of grass. The restaurant lacks a sign out front, and if it weren’t for the huge, dingy windows, no one would have known people were inside. Dean quickly hops out, waiting as I force myself from the car, every bit of me protesting as I go.

He pulls open the creaking screen door, following as I walk through first, and lets it slam shut behind him. The short, leather-skinned waitress pushes through the kitchen door, mouth curved into a wrinkled frown.

“There’s my special lady!” Dean shouts from behind me, making me cringe. I glance to my left, noticing a group of college kids looking like they’re still going from the night before, and on the other side, a few other stragglers who seem just as confused as I am as to why they are there.

“Well hey Dean, Y/n. Go on, sit down, you’re blockin’ the breeze,” she says, shooing us away from the entrance and the swiveling fan that pulls in nothing but dry, hot air from outside.

Dean shoves me into a booth, just settling in as she places down two waters, condensation already dripping down the sides of the slim glasses.

“Didn’t expect to see you so soon. You keep up with all these visits and you’re gonna make my husband jealous,” she croaks. Her sandpaper voice, perfected by about 80 years of smoking at least 2 packs a day sends my skin crawling with irritation.

“Which husband is that - number four or number five?” I ask, rubbing my head on my palm.

She tilts a hip, setting her hand on it. “Four. And if I have my way, Dean will be my lucky number five,” she responds matter-of-factly.

“Ohhh, Patsy, I’m yours. Just as long as you vow to make me that pie of yours.”

“Oh, no you don’t,” she scolds him. “You’re gonna be my trophy husband. Can’t let you go and get all plump on pies.”

“More like consolation prize,” I mutter.

“Please honey, this boy is arm candy and you know it,” she emphasizes with a bony finger pointed at me. Dean sits up a bit straighter, pleased to be so blatantly objectified as I roll my eyes, regretting it immediately as the movement strains my eye muscles.

“So what am I in this whole situation?”

Patsy eyes me up and down for a moment, clumpy mascara chunks sticking together as she lazily blinks.

“I’ll let you be his mistress. I’m sure he’s got the stamina for it, and Lord knows you ain’t got the brains to lock him down before someone else does.”

I bark out a laugh, setting off a fresh wave of pain in my head. “More like I’m too smart for that.”

She gives me a pointed look, droopy eyelids hanging down despite the eyebrow she’s raised.

“What? I am,” I insist.

“Right, because you walked into ‘Stripper’s Discount Warehouse’ and said, ‘Help me showcase my intellect.’”

I drop my mouth open, amusement and shock hitting me in equal measure. Dean slams a hand down onto the table, making the silverware rattle as he tries to contain his laughter.

“Patsy, go easy on her, she’s had a rough night.” He gestures at me and I glance down at myself, assessing whether or not I look as awful as I feel. I’m still wearing my ‘bait’ outfit that helped me blend in with the rowdy, drunk crowd from the night before. It’s more than a little off-kilter; I wipe under my eyes, pulling away the residue of eye makeup.

“Well, Dean, if that’s how you leave the ladies the morning after, I might have to reconsider our relationship.”

“Please, Patsy, you know I’d treat you like a queen.” He grabs her hand, holding it tenderly.

“And I’d never let you out of bed to see the outside world again.” She winks. “Now, let’s get some food in y’all before Y/n here goes green.”

Dean smiles and shakes his head in awe. “I love you.”

She pats his shoulder condescendingly as she walks away humming ‘Looking for Love,’ refilling a few coffee mugs and jotting down an order for the cook waiting at the griddle.

“So, fill me in on last night. I’m guessing the bloodsuckers didn’t give you too much trouble?” I ask, sipping the water and letting my fingers trail along the condensation.

“Nah, it was pretty easy to get the location of the nest. However, you...at last call, that’s a whole other story.”

“Yikes.” It’s as much of an apology as I can give at the moment, but he accepts it. I dig an ice cube from the glass and pop it into my mouth, “Next time, I’m dangling you for bait.”

“What? I don’t get an encore?” He smirks.

“An encore of what?” I ask with a tilt of my head. Desperate for the pain to go away so I can focus on remembering what happened.

His smirk spreads into a wide smile, his eyes shining with mischief. How he looks so good while I feel so terrible just makes me more frustrated and ready to backhand him. A flash of red and green zooms past before I hear it plunked onto the table, drawing my attention away from our staring contest.

“Quit makin’ eyes at my man and drink up,” Patsy interrupts.

I turn to her, getting a stern look in reply as she nods at the table. A short glass of thick, red tomato juice with a huge celery stalk sticking out of it rests before me, which I stare at suspiciously.

“Hair of the dog, hun. It’ll perk you right up.”

My stomach rolls and Dean laughs at the gurgle.

“Oh, well, I hope that’s got some whiskey, and some tequila, and let’s see - does rum sound right to you?”

“I'll be...ugh….bathroom,” I mumble and gesture as I scramble out of the booth, tripping on anything and everything on my way. A watery belch escapes from my stomach, burning on the way up.

“Gross,” I whisper at myself, trying to ignore the giggling from the table of college kids that got an earful.

The bathroom smells like piss, and wet dog, and more piss - not helping my uneasy stomach, but at this point I'm sure puking would make me feel worse. I hover over the seat, weakly tugging at the fabric at my hips to pull it down, until the urge becomes too much and I shove them down, letting out an ahhh of relief, followed swiftly by a confused, “What the -?”

After taking a moment to wipe some cool water over my face and clean up the smudged makeup and drool marks, I do my best to walk back without wobbly legs, barely making it before collapsing back into the booth, sliding across the vinyl to unflattering noises, grateful to have to put little to no effort into sitting.

“Dean?”

“Yup?” he asks, popping the ‘p’ harder than necessary. His bottom lip is stiff and trembling as he tries to hold onto a straight face.

“Whose underwear am I wearing?”

Before I get two words out he's folding over in laughter.

“Fucking tequila,” I spit, angry at drunk me, and more angry at Dean for enjoying it so much.

He's trying to form words between laughter, but only gets out snippets that don't make any sense. “The band...and these paper hats...he had beef jerky...and you...and you…” He gives up as I stare at him flatly, not following a damn bit of it but certain I had violated at least a few local ordinances by his reaction.

“And what did you do that whole time?”

He digs his phone from his pocket, wiggling it in his palm. “Surveillance.” He winks.

My head hurts more. My brain rattles in my skull with every hard beat of my heart, the blood struggling to pump through my dehydrated body. I close my eyes and wrap my hands around the glass of tomato juice, hoping what's in there is enough to provide relief until we get back to the bunker. If Dean’s this thrilled, I must have done something good, but it's all blank, hours lost to a haze of alcohol and loads of blackmail. God Damn it.

“For I am a sinner in the hands of an angry God.” I attempt to sound repentant.

“Prayers won't help you with this one.”

I open my eyes, staring at the cocktail in my hands and the absurd celery stalk standing in it like it's a Magic 8 Ball, ready to provide me with an answer as I continue my prayer. “Bloody Mary, full of vodka, blessed are you among cocktails. Pray for me in the hour of my death, which I hope is soon. Amen.”

“That was very moving.” I look up, surprised to see Patsy there with a tray of food and a smirk on her face. She sets the food on the table in front of us, moving things as she pleases to make room.

“It was something,” Dean laughs, shaking his head back and forth, staring at his phone screen.

“I'm too hungover for this.” With a groan and all the speed I can muster, I reach across the table, barely snatching the phone from his hand before he can react and dropping it right into the thick, red juice sending it splattering across the table.

I pick up the glass and hand it to Patsy. She takes it gingerly between her fingers, eyebrows lifted in disbelief.

“Patsy, dear sweet angel that you are, can I please get another? There's something in this one.”

“Waste of vodka,” she grumbles, walking back into the kitchen.

Dean has his head resting on his fist, a bored look in his face instead of the angry one I expected. “Feel better, sweetheart?”

“Maybe.” I narrow my eyes at him. “Why?”

“Sammy’s got everything backed up. The cloud, ya know,” he waves a hand in the air, “Now all you did was piss off Patsy.”

“Whatever, she knows you're an ass.”

“Blue ribbon ass.” He takes another bite, talking through his food. “Don’t forget, I’m a prize.”

“You sure are honey,” Patsy croons at him. “But darlin’, you mistreat this girl right here and I don’t care how sweet that ass is, I will beat it up and down main street.”

Patsy sets another drink down in front of me, sending a nod of solidarity my way as she sets Dean’s napkin-wrapped phone in front of him. I finally take a sip, only slightly gagging as I push more alcohol into my system.

“Careful, Patsy, I might like it,” he calls over his shoulder as she walks away.

“So would I,” she hollers as she pushes through the kitchen door.

“Could you be any louder?” I whine, grasping my head in my hands, wanting nothing more than to sink down into the seat and go to sleep again. “Next time you’re the bait.”

“You just wanna see me in a skimpy outfit.”

“I’m gonna puke.”

“So, the case,” his picks up, muffled by a mouthful of food, “There’s good news and bad news.”

“Lord, take me now.” I pinch my nose in frustration.

“Okay, ignoring that. So, good news, the plan worked and we drew out the nest.”

“How could there be bad news?”

“We still gotta take them out.”

“Excuse me? H-how? I mean. Why?” I watch as he shoves more food into his mouth, ignoring me.

“Yeah, so it looks like we’re still on clean up, Buffy the Vampire Slayer.”

“Oh, I liked that show,” Patsy chimes in, breaking the tension as she fills up Dean’s half-empty coffee mug. “And, ya know, I like them Twilight vampires, too.” She walks away, not adding anything further to the conversation.

Dean’s face curls in displeasure, his voice dropping low, “Oh, Patsy. No.”

“Patsy, yes.” I smile sleepily. “You know, opposites attract. I can see why you like coming here so much.”

“Shut up.” He wipes his hands and face.

“So,” I gulp down more of the cocktail, “Where are they?”

He stares down at the egg residue on his plate, swirling it with the tines of his fork. “They’re, uhhh, West. Just over the Colorado border.”

I squint. “Dean. That’s where we just came from.”

He glances up at me, lips pinched shut as he chews. His eyes wide with a fake look of surprise.

“God damn it, Dean!” He freezes and I lower my voice. “You mean to tell me you just dragged my hungover ass two hours away from our hunt for some breakfast.”

“Not just breakfast,” he insists, shaking his head. “Patsy.”

“You’re seriously obsessed. Are we sure she isn’t a siren or a witch...or mayyybe some kind of rogue leviathan hybrid -”

“Please don’t ruin this for me, Y/n.”

“What if she’s got the whole town under a spell, and we’re screwed because she’d dumbed us down with food…”

“Please stop,” Dean begs, eyeballing the skillet in front of him.

“Oh no no no. Just imagine, we’ve got her cornered, torching this godforsaken place, but we’re too dumbed down to move, and like, a big sweaty fireman carries you out of the burning building and you think - Yeah, okay, he’s gonna give me mouth-to-mouth - but instead he just starts choking the shit out of you, and the last sensation that you feel before you die is he’s squeezing your throat so hard that a big wet blob of drool drips off his teeth, and just - flurp - falls right onto your popped-out eyeball.” I finish describing the scene with my hands clenched around the air.

Dean stares at me blankly, chewing uneasily on the food in his mouth. “That was cruel.”

“What was cruel? Something wrong, hun?” Patsy stops, nodding at Dean’s unfinished plate.

He gives her a skeptical up-down. “No, no, just gotta, you know, hit the road again.”

“Love ‘em and leave ‘em. Typical.” She shakes her head as she slaps down the bill. “Til next time, darlin’.”

He watches her shuffle away, eyes shifting between the waitress and me. He leans in, whispering, “You don’t really think? I mean, it’s Patsy.”

“Seriously. Grossly. Infatuated.” I shake my head in disbelief, “If we check her out and she’s clean, I won’t come between you again, I promise. Now let’s get back out there and you can tell me about what happened to my underwear before this vodka wears off.”

Tags y’all:

@aprofoundbondwithdean @attractiverandomness @mrswhozeewhatsis @deathtonormalcy56 @kittenofdoomage @jpadjackles @supernatural-jackles @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @babypieandwhiskey @brewsthespirit-blog @mysaintsasinner @impala-dreamer @sis-tafics @littlegreenplasticsoldier @whywhydoyouwantmetosaymyname @ultimatecin73 @mrsjohnsmith @bringmesomepie @sharingan-rasengan-chidori @muliermalefici @mogaruke @feelmyroarrrr @kayteonline @notnaturalanahi @anokhi07 @deandoesthingstome @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog @ceeceewinchester @roxy-davenport @anotherwinchesterfangirl @demondean-for-kingofhell @iwantthedean @klaineaholic @wheresthekillswitch

#nash200 #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester #reader insert #spn reader insert #spn crack fic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural reader insert #spn meets archer

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arrowsbane · 7 years

Text

Okay, so there is something to be said for not eating cheese before falling asleep in the mid-afternoon sun, because as fun as it sounds, it can mean for some seriously weird dreams. I am 1000% blaming @shanastoryteller for this, because right before I dozed off, I read this post here that she wrote and it hit a wall, turned 90 degrees east and ran off into the sunset of hell half-frozen over.

So. First let me tell you this, I am not writing this as a fic. Just no. It’s bad enough as it is. Also, while I’m somewhat known for genderbending, I am not really a fan of Fem!Ed. Kind like how I can’t handle Fem!Yuuri from YOI. It’s just… these precious babies are perfect just the way they are and I cannot bear to change them. But, I am down with reading Fem!Ed if there is a reason – like… gender reassignment. (See the aforementioned post). Or maybe Truth just likes to fuck with Ed. Idek.

So. On with the insanity:

So. For some reason, poor Edward Elric is a girl born in a boy’s body. Or maybe he’s just a boy who is more at home in the female shape. I don’t know okay. I’ve always been comfortable exactly as I am, and I’m not going to insult anybody by pretending that I know everything. The point is - Edward is not comfortable in his own skin. Edward knows that his body is somehow wrong. And he’s smart, and brilliant, and a goddamn whiz with Alchemy. And so is Al, who just wants Ed to be happy, no matter what.

So, crazy brilliant brightsparks that they are – with a supernova burning in place of a soul, and the universe in their eyes – they draw up a circle, and Ed goes before Truth.

Truth, of course, isn’t too happy at being faced with a tiny scowling boy who insists that he is a girl; but Truth does understand that sometimes bodies can be uncomfortable at best, and soul-destroying at the worst of times, and this insanely brilliant child is going to be the source of a shit-ton of entertainment for years to come.

So Truth helps.

For shits and giggles, because why not.

...

Trisha is… understandably puzzled. She went to bed the night before, a mother of two sons, and then woke up with a son and a daughter.

Um, what?

They are grounded. Of course they are. Origami cranes are one thing, but this? What were you thinking? You could have been rendered braindead, you could have blown up the house. Or the universe. You could have died!

It should be noted that Trisha ranks her kids’ lives above that of the universe continuing to turn, and reality not peeling apart at the seams.

As any mother rightly should.

...

Time passes, as it is wont to do, and Edward grows into a lovely young woman with a talent for mass destruction and reconstruction.

(although, it must be said that when puberty came rolling around, there were more than a few curses, and Ed had to be physically stopped from reopening the Gate in order to yell at Truth. Because Fuck you asshole!)

Officially, her name is Elizabeth on all the paperwork, but here’s the thing: Ed might be a girl now, but she never stopped being Ed. You can change your shape, but you can’t change who you are. And hell, Ed loves confusing the fuck out of people when she introduces herself as Edward.

[Teacher didn’t discourage this. If anything, she encouraged it.]

It becomes a joke – wherever she goes (and Al is with her, because in what universe would he not be? Don’t answer that. Because that probably means Al is dead in that universe and you can all go to hell before you hurt my little cinnamon roll), leaving chaos and destruction and generally uprooting tyrants for fun; leaving only the whispers of a red coat, long blonde hair and the names Edward and Alphonse Elric: Alchemist Extraordinaires’.

...

[Somewhere in the East, Roy Mustang is tearing his hair out trying to track down a pair of genius brothers. Here’s a hint: It’s not going so well.]

...

Now this? This is not love story for Roy and Ed, oh no. My weird ass dream is twisted, and somehow, I love it. Even though I don’t ship this…

So. It’s summer, and it’s bright, and Edward is now… what? Seventeen? Eighteen? Who cares? The point is, there’s a massive inter-village party going on, and alcohol is involved. She dances the night away, laughing madly the whole time and winds up going for a roll in the hay with a charming chap from two villages over who’s on leave from the military. Not her usual choice, but hey – he’s funny and he pulled out her chair for her, and calls her “ma’am”, and he made her laugh. He also turns out to be brilliant in the sack, so hey – Ed reckons she made a good choice of partner for the night.

She wakes up to a lazy grin, and work-roughened fingers gently teasing straw and dried grass out of her tangled mess of hair – because I’m not joking about the phrase ‘roll in a hay’. It’s round about then that she realizes she forgot to introduce herself, and so she holds out her hand, “Elizabeth,” She tells him. Because hey, he did good last night. He did more than good. She can play nice.

“Havoc,” He replies, shaking her hand, “Jean Havoc.”

Ed fucking laughs at him.

“What?” She asks, “You gonna tell me that you’ve got three brothers called Mischief, Chaos and Trouble?”

He laughs as well, and they’re both still laughing when they tumble over each other and go straight for round two.

...

On and off, the whole summer, these two wind up together. In bed, at dinner, just generally wandering about causing trouble. And then Havoc has to go back to work.

And dammit, Ed finds that she’s missing him. What the hell? Ed doesn’t do pining. She does quick flings, and moves the fuck on. But apparently not anymore.

Al figures it out before she does.

And then when she does, he sits her down and listens while she rants and raves, and curses Havoc out because she did not plan on falling in love. I mean, yeah, she’s got plans to be a Housewife someday, because Teacher was ah-mazing and all that – but no. She had not planned on marrying a military guy. Why would she? The military is E-vil. (And wow, Ed has no idea just how right she is there).

So Ed hmms over it for weeks and then she gets that stubborn look in her eyes, packs her bags, and scoots off down to East City because dammit, she’s getting married. Whether he likes it or not.

Al and Winry are cheering her on, and Trisha isn’t really sure what’s going on anymore.

(Yes, Trisha got ill and shit, but Ed got even more stubborn and kinda maybe might have been more interested in Alchemy and it’s healing properties in this ‘verse, and yeah, she paid a bit more attention when she met Truth. She doesn’t know it yet, but she gave something in trade to the Gate. There’s a reason she doesn’t have Daddy Issues here – she doesn’t even remember him. There’s nothing left to hate.)

...

Ed shows up in a hurricane of energy and barges her way back into Havoc’s life without so much as a by-your-leave. He’s not really complaining. Not even when she storms up to him in a bar when he’s out for a night with the boys, yanks him down by his collar, and tells him that they’re getting married.

“Um… Don’t I get a say in this?” He asks, blinking down at her. Her hair is a mess, and she’s breathing heavily from beating the tar out of a guy outside because he tried to put his hands where they weren’t welcome – but goddamn, she’s still the most beautiful thing Havoc’s ever seen, and in all honesty, his question isn’t so much a “no,” as a bemused “oh really now?”.

Ed straight up growls at him, and he laughs, scooping her up and tossing her over his shoulder.

“Oi! Breda!” He shouts down the bar, “Get your coat, I’m getting married.”

Breda chokes on his drink, and then he starts to laugh. “This I gotta see.”

...

So they get married in an office, with a half-sober Breda and some random person they grabbed off the street as witnesses.

Havoc’s collar is unbuttoned, he smells of beer and cigarette smoke. Ed is wearing jeans and a tank top, her hair is a tangled mess of gold and there’s dirt smeared on her left shoulder.

They don’t have any family members there, and Ed makes their rings out of her earrings and Havoc’s watch. But that’s okay. Trisha and Elaine can yell at their kids for eloping at a later date. And then ask about grandchildren in the next breath. Al will laugh himself sick, and Winry will demand to be Godmother when they get around to it.

Not that they plan to – I mean, practicing making the future babies is fun and all, but neither of them want kids just yet.

...

More time passes, and you know what? It works for them.

Ed is a freaking genius who sometimes gets so into her work that she forgets to eat or do the dishes, but that’s just fine because Havoc grew up on a farm where folk did whatever needed doing. So he cooks, and coaxes food into her. He washes dishes, and folds laundry, and he’s even brave enough to pull her away from her books for long enough to get her to sleep.

And then once she’s done with her bender, Ed spends days making it up to him. Because she’s a hundred percent the kind of person who gives stuff her all.

Havoc doesn’t understand one whit of what she’s doing, but hey, it makes her happy. He doesn’t need to know anything more than that.

…

The first time he accidentally catches sight of her notes over her shoulder, he thinks she’s going to kill him, because Alchemists are nothing if insanely secretive of their work.

But hey, no, not Ed. Not with her husband.

She smiles at him, and then yanks him down onto the floor next to her.

And then she starts explaining the basics to him.

…

Because here’s the truth. Ed’s been worrying over Havoc’s complete obliviousness to alchemic circles for a while now, especially seeing as he’s almost always on the team chasing the crazy (in a bad way) alchemists – and dammit, she wants him in one piece. So come hell or high water, she’s going to make sure he knows what is safe and what means he should be hightailing it out of there.

…

The next time he’s closing up a case with the team – a crazy wannabe alchemist had been messing with the structural integrity of a building, and was also apparently a complete and utter moron, because even he knows better than to use those two particular equations in conjunction together.

He says as much, and is treated to looks of utter amazement and disbelief from his teammates.

“What?” He asks, “I know stuff.”

Breda is sniggering behind his back, because unlike the others, he was there when Havoc married the crazy alchemist lady. Come to think of it… Breda might be the only one on the team who even knows that he’s married. Oops.

He really hopes that Hawkeye doesn’t shoot him for this.

…

So yeah, things go fine. Mostly.

Havoc learns when to run away from the crazies, and Ed wanders off with Al to save the world, or sometimes just turns entire cities on their heads by sticking her nose where she shouldn’t – see Youswell, Liore, ect…

And all the while, Mustang rages over the antics of the famous Elric Brothers.

…

It’s actually rather pathetic, and it takes Havoc a long time to put the pieces together.

He’s more than a little bit embarrassed to be honest.

Mustang is halfway through a rant on how Liore has descended into chaos – two raging factions; and Havoc’s eyeing the pin-board, feeling strung out and an odd sense of de ja vu.

Penny in the air?

Huh. Wasn’t Ed in Liore the week before last?

Penny drops.

Oh. Havoc thinks. Oh, shit.

He’s so used to her going by her legal name in public – because while Edward Elric writes alchemical papers and rescues kittens from trees, it’s Elizabeth Havoc who fails epically at knitting, burns scones and actually has a bank account – that he forgot (and wow, is she going to laugh herself sick tonight) that when she’s off gallivanting across the country with Al, she uses her birth name.

Son of a –

He’s been trying to track down his wife and brother-in-law the whole time.

The wife who sleeps in his bed, and the brother-in-law who camps out on their couch.

How is this even his life?

…

Ed does indeed laugh herself sick that night.

Mean.

…

He reckons that he should probably tell Mustang, if only to save Eastern Command from being set on fire the next time the Colonel loses his temper, but hey – Havoc likes living.

So he sleeps on it.

And he sleeps on it.

Eventually, Friday rolls around, and Ed is giving him that look – the kind that says ‘man up, or I’m buggering off to cause mass chaos and destruction without you,’ and so Havoc swallows his pride.

That day at work, he waits until Mustang is once again ranting on about the Elric Brothers, and then, carefully, warily, pipes up with: “So, um, Chief? I might have a lead.”

Mustang freezes, and then pivots.

Ack. He looks like he might breathe fire at any moment.

“What?”

Havoc gulps. And then he starts to fidget.

“Well, actually,” he admits, “it’s my wife that you’d be wanting to talk to, sir.”

Mustang looks at him like’s gone mental.

“You’re… married?”

“Yes?”

“She’s way too good for him,” Breda snickers, leaning back in his chair.

Mustang blinks, frowns, blinks some more, and then moves his mouth soundlessly for a few moments, clearly furious.

Then, finally, he grinds out a short command of “Call her.”

“Yes sir!” Havoc yelps, diving for the phone line and praying that Ed is at home.

She is.

And she’s more than happy to come down to Command and set the record straight.

She’ll even bring Al with her.

Havoc sort of wants to curl up into a ball and cry.

...

Ed glides into the office, all grace and charm, looking exactly as people would expect an innocent modern-day country housewife to appear. Her blonde hair is carefully braided up into a milkmaid’s style, and there’s a touch of flour dusting the hem of her peasant’s blouse.

Havoc feels like he’s in the twilight zone, because she’s even wearing makeup. Since when does his wild dustdevil of a wife wear makeup?

Al catches his eye and winks – he himself is dressed in neatly pressed clothes and sporting a pair of glasses (why? He doesn’t even need them for fucks sake?) and looks the textbook image of a wet-behind-the-ears scholar who probably couldn’t even find his way out of a paper bag.

“Mrs. Havoc,” Mustang smiles, offering her a seat, with his charm turned up to eleven.

“Hello,” Ed smiles, and there’s a devilsh look in her deceptively innocent topaz eyes, “Edward Elric, at your service.”

She sweeps into a genteel bow, and then gestures to Al.

“Alphonse Elric,” Al grins. “Nice to meet you.”

Havoc sorely wishes he’d called in sick that morning.

…

So… Okay. He’s probably going to die.

Mustang practically has a fit, and Hawkeye’s hand is on her gun, which means Havoc has to try really hard not to flinch.

Once he’s done making a series of choking noises that sound like a dying weasel, Mustang straightens his back, puts on his ‘the military wants you!’ face, and says: “Enlist.”

To her credit, Ed only blinks twice, before her mouth curls into a mischievous grin to anybody who knows her, and a dangerous snarl to the uninformed.

Al grins.

Havoc cringes.

“I,” Havoc’s wonderful Valkyrie of a wife thunders in a flawless imitation of her Teacher, “am a Housewife!”

Oh god. The look on Mustang’s face is priceless. He can’t help it.

Havoc starts to laugh.

BONUS:

Wondering why Father never managed to take over the world?

Funny story actually, Ed kinda might have just happened to be wandering by Briggs when Kimblee (the fucker) conned the Drachmans into attacking the fort, and hey, she kinda likes Amestris you know, being Amestris and not Drachma 2.0

So she drops a mountains worth of snow on them.

Funnily enough – carving a blood crest does not fucking work if all your victims die of air deprivation, or being crushed under several tons of ice and snow. Because, y’know, not enough blood being spilled and all.

Basically? The bad guys ran out of time – and it was all Ed’s fault, because no matter what they tried, she kept fucking up their plans by accident.

And then Honoheim owned their asses.

The End.

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artificialqueens · 7 years

Text

Rain rain go away (Zeezee) - Bitney.

Summary: Courtney gets stood up on a date. When she decides to leave the embarrassing scene, it seems luck isn’t on her side. Drenched, she hitches a ride with an old friend she hasn’t seen since High School graduation. 2 years later, she’s still blonde, New York lights still kill the stars, and she’s still obsessed with the lips of Del Rio…

A/N: Inspiration came from the song ‘Strangers’ by Halsey/Lauren Jauregui. 20 year old lesbian fic. I hope you enjoy! - Zeezee

t“Do you think the universe fights for souls to be together? Some things are too strange and strong to be coincidences.” ― Emery Allen

Courtney sat alone at Square Diner, stirring what was now sludge in the bottom of her sundae glass, staring out the window at the murky view of New York’s deserted street. She rest her cheek against her hand, letting out a pathetic sigh as she gave into the confused, shamefaced tension racking her body. There she was, watching the hours draw in the evening, beautiful but tragically alone. There weren’t many other people at the diner but a few of High Schoolers, a couple with their new born baby and an elderly man reading his paper.

She’d waited over an hour for a date that was supposed to be perfect for her. A 6ft tall, brunette rugby player from Liverpool England, 23 years old and described to be broad and brutish. “A mans man” Alaska had told her, wriggling her eyebrows suggestively. He worked at the veterinary with Alaska and Farrah and both girls had recommended him highly, sending her countless photos of him at the reception desk, usually containing cringy emojjis or crude captions. He was stunning, and Courtney figured she had nothing to lose.

Alaska organised the blind date with high hopes the two would have a happy ever after ending. That’s how Courtney Act found herself alone, with her sad melted treat and her phone buzzing continuously with apologies from Alaska.

‘He’s a wonderful guy, I promise! Sorry about tonight, he got caught up at home with an emergency apparently!’

Courtney had given up answering after a while. She’d pretty much read the same thing at least 5 times: Alaska apologising, trying to reorganise, begging her not to blame herself and repeat. It wasn’t as if Courtney had put all her eggs in one basket and was relying on this stranger to be her soul mate, but she was excited for some intellectual dinner conversation with someone she could see herself getting lucky with. She liked how sharp his jaw was in photos, or how thick his arms were, and she bought herself an adorable baby pink summer dress that feathered her frame elegantly especially for the date, she’d rather it didn’t go to waste.

Courtney had never been stood up before. She was slim, athletic, blonde, and had a light aussie accent, and eyes a person could swim in - pretty much the moment a person set sights on her, she had them putty in her hands. Courtney wasn’t big headed, but she knew what she had to offer and the luck that she had been blessed with. Advantages came with her appearance that she liked to use when appropriate. Dates would drool at her feet, and it had been that way since puberty- she figured this muscle-bound crumpet would have been as easy as cake to land. Maybe Alaska hadn’t shown him a flattering photo of her, or any photo at all! Had she forgotten to reveal Courtney’s strengths, her stunning good looks?! Did she paint a repulsive, unimaginative, cruel picture to her blind date that he had no choice but to give her the cold shoulder?

She pulled her cardigan over her shoulders a little more, frowning as a breeze hit her. It had been a long time since she’d been on a date, which wasn’t because no one was asking, she had just put them off for a while to focus on her work. She thought it was about time she put herself back on the market, but apparently it was meant to be that she’d stay alone.

Rather than pity herself any longer - which was probably an hour too long already - she stood up and threw her cardigan over her shoulder, strutting out the diner.

New York City was as alive and breathing as Courtney was. She took every step like the beginning to a waltz and let the rich excitement of a New York’s spin her in a tranquil frenzy. The contradiction of New York was what kept Courtney laughing through all the hardships - no matter what the time, she could rely on the city that never slept to lull her with a lullaby. Some people hated the constant noise, but for Courtney it kept her from being driven mad by her own incessant worries. She walked down the streets with the upmost confidence, swinging her arms at her sides and swaying to the tune stuck in her head.

It was a particularly quiet evening, suspiciously for New York, but it didn’t stop Courtney organising an orchestra in her walk. A pristine, proud faith in her beauty, that caught the eye of a few passersby and one puerile car of frat boys that couldn’t resist wolf whistling as they sped past her. She enjoyed the attention, twirling on the spot before they were out of sight and giggling with enjoyment at the ego boost. She may not be on a date with a hunky man, but walking through the city when the sun is almost settled feels just as wonderful right now.

An optimist till the bitter end, that was Courtney.

Her apartment was quite a distance from the diner, but she didn’t feel like calling a cab. The walk would do her good she figured, so she took the time to gather the passing thoughts that had been floating around her head. When should she call her mother next? Should she get to the studio an hour early tomorrow for extra practice? Had she saved up enough money for next months rent as well as this one? The small worries that felt massive when she was rushing around the place.

About 10 minutes into her walk, her phone starts to ring. She digs into her Ted Baker piggy pink handbag and fishes out her mobile.

“Hello?” She cheerfully answers, her mimi toned lips spread from cheek to cheek.

“Hay baby, it’s me!” The nails on a chalk board voice let her know, it was Alaska. “Listen, I’m sorry about what happened. I just spoke to dreamboat, and he is dying to meet you. How about we reschedule for tomorrow?”

Courtney wrinkled her nose, concealing the irritated groan that wanted to come out. It wasn’t that she wasn’t still interested in the date - she had a working pair of eyes and knew exactly what she wanted to do with her English muffin, but the tedious job of getting dressed up all over again and forcing a sickeningly sweet smile just to prove there were no hard feelings for standing her up today just seemed to tier her out at the sheer thought of it. Alaska had the best of intentions, but Courtney wasn’t sure going along with the charade was worth a chance at sex.

“I don’t know Alaska…” She was about to go on when her friend interrupted, fumbling over her words in a desperate attempt to keep Courtney interested.

She listened fondly, grinning as Alaska listed the endearing qualities of her mystery man. It seemed like he didn’t have anything wrong with him, and when she was about to give in to rescheduling, Courtney’s attention was suddenly cut off by a loud crackle from the sky. She looked up, and there it was, the clouds disguised amongst the evening shades. Grey and ready to burst. Her eyes widened as she realised she was still 20 minutes from home, with no umbrella, and not a cab in sight.

“What the hell is going on today?!”

“Hmm?” Alaska half heartedly hummed.

She began scuttling toward a velvet shelter, leading into a hotel. “Sorry, it’s about to rain. I’m walking home!”

“Call a cab?”

“Yeah, there are none around. None! How is this New York without a damn cab anywhere on the roads? Is this a sign of the apocalypse of something, where is everyone?!”

“Oh, you know, I did hear there was going to be a massive storm today.”

Courtney wished it were possible to slap someone through the phone.

“Are you far away from your place?”

“Yes! I still have another couple of blocks to go!”

All of a sudden, the heavens opened up and let loose the nerve wracking tonnes of rain, drowning the earth in misery. Courtney’s mouth fell open as she watched the rain pour down and smack the sidewalk, the sound harsh like bricks being thrown at a wall. The water bounced off the ground aggressively and she felt splashes hit her ankles. It was going to be a hellish mission to get back home with the mightiest waterfall releasing on the streets on New York City.

“I don’t know what to say-”

“Look Lasky, I’ll call you later…after I have a brisk shower!” and before her friend could answer back, Courtney hung up. This was unlike anything Courtney had ever experienced with rain. A storm, pulling the city apart with the power of 20 dozen men, focused in on the wind. Courtney felt a sudden gush rush past her legs and blow her dress up. She squealed in panic as she tried to smooth it back down.

Courtney squinted her eyes as she stared out into the distance. Everything was decorated a dirty blue blur, the rain washing out any view there might have been. Why would Alaska organise a date when she knew there was a God damn storm?! Courtney cursed, stomping her heel and sighing. It wasn’t going to let up, leaving her with two choices: to stay stranded underneath the shelter of a hotel’s entrance for however long it may take, or run home and risk pneumonia. Her new highlights would probably get ruined, and she’d have to throw out her Sophia Webster Evangeline strappy heels, but the impatience her father had passed down to her began to take charge of her instincts.

After a few minutes of watching the streets practically flood, she took a deep breath and began running, squealing every few seconds when her foot got drenched in a puddle. The rain beat her bare skin mercifully, cleaning her of any sins staining her skin. The pain was horrific, she could feel the bruises being left already. She ran as fast as she could given she was wearing heels. Courtney was in good shape, but the humid air of heavy rain was enough to wind anybody regardless of their fitness.

It didn’t seem to let up at all in the short time she’d been running. In fact, it felt like it only got harder, hammering down as if it had been sent by God himself to smite the wicked. Maybe this was Courtney’s punishment for when she’d lied to that homeless man about not having change- she didn’t believe in a higher power until this moment, where her new outfit was ruined and her hair was a soggy mess. That’ll teach her to lie on her way to window shopping for Mikimoto earrings.

Adding to the disaster of her drenched appearance and the damning weather, a loud crashing suddenly announced itself, practically splitting Courtney in half as she screamed in panic and fell over herself. She landed on her hands, muttering profanities under her breath realising she’d cut up her palm on the rough stone pathway. The sting shot through her arms all the way upward. She clenched her teeth at the pain, trying to keep herself calm. A ruined outfit, cut up hands, and her worst fear lightening. Could it get any worse? She scooted over to the doorway of a small bakery nearby and sat, nursing her wounds and trying not to panic every time the heavens irrupted with a flash of light and a terrifying roar.

She felt like a drowned rat.

“Christ almighty.” Courtney blew at the cut on her hand, clearing the dirt and wincing when a particularly painful sensation shot through her veins. She looked out at the block she was on - cobblestone pathways, classic red bricked houses, the real sense of timeless nostalgia that still read modern and fresh.

Courtney sighed, watching the rain crash down upon the streets violently. It wasn’t going to let up anytime soon, and she must have had that thought more than enough times by now. The optimist she was kept hoping it would clear up and she’d be able to flee home without anymore inconveniences. Alas, it never came. She sat on the step of the bakery for 5 minutes, with no progress on the weather wearing off.

In the distance, the first car she’d noticed on her run, pulled up on the curb in front of her. An old fashioned 1972 navy chevy nova, glistening against the bolts of rain. She glared at it for a good minute, cautious of who the driver may be, and eventually the car beeped. Long and drawn out, demanding her presence. She sprang up in shock and rushed toward the passenger side, leaning over to peer in the window.

That’s when she saw her, the all too familiar face that use to send her through the motions in High School, making her crazy whenever her name slipped off the lips of another person. Suddenly the rain slamming around her didn’t exist, and all she could fathom was the ghost before her. The same slick eyeliner, the same pointed nose, the same bulbous ruby lips-

“Long time no see, cum biscuit.”

The same crude sense of humour.

Courtney laughed, pushing back the extensive strands of soaked hair from her face and signalled to open the door. Bianca nodded, and Courtney clambered in, shivering when the difference in temperature hit her.

“You’ll freeze in that get up. Get unchanged, I’ve got spare clothes on the back seat-”

“Trying to undress me in under a minute. That’s a new record for you.”

Courtney smiled, completely smitten with her joke, but was met with nothing but a stern stare. She nodded knowingly, and kept quiet while she reached back and grabbed the clothes. Some baggy sweat pants and an oversized tee with a few stains of paint. Courtney timidly wriggled out of her clothes, her eyes on Bianca as she drove on completely focused on the road. When she was in the new clothes, she pulled out the top and raised a brow.

“Do you paint now?”

“Nah, it’s an old top my roomie Shangela borrowed. She took up art to impress some pretentious French guy she met at a bar. Now he’s out of the picture, I get back my ruined top.”

“Why keep it?”

“It’s easy to throw on. You know, if I’m ever entertaining in the car,” Bianca rolls her head on her shoulders and gives Courtney a cocky smirk, snickering, “Like old times.”

Courtney’s eyes widened and she had to look away, in fear the rouge of her blush would open too many old wounds.

Bianca had once been the most important person in Courtney’s life just a few years ago. She was the the fire in her loins, the crack of her whip, the definition of desire for Courtney Act. Back in Highschool, it all began when they were 16 in gym class. Bianca threw a dodgeball directly at Courtney’s head and hit her so hard she fell a few inches backward, straight on her bum. Bianca had apologised profusely, helping her stand and getting her a cold water bottle to put against the blow. All the while Bianca’s friends giggling with one another at the whole scene. Courtney didn’t take it to heart. She shook off the initial shook and accepted Bianca’s apologies, giggling herself. Somehow, they ended up good friends. Inseparable almost, having to be with the other like they supplied the oxygen to their lungs. Bianca would go to every football game just to see Courtney cheer, and Courtney would stay behind after school as Bianca did extra work for her textiles class. Like opposites attracting, the two girls found themselves utterly obsessed with the goings-on of one another’s life.

Then Bianca came out, and Courtney found herself in dire need of Bianca’s affections more than ever. They spent what felt like everyday round each others homes, bitching and flirting. Courtney took the risk on Bianca’s 17th birthday, when Bianca took Courtney into the kitchen to cut her a slice of the cake her mother had baked and was shocked to be kissed. Then they kissed all the time, every chance they got, without any regrets or concerns for what anyone else might think.

It seemed like a forever feeling - stars aligning and air tasting like sugar, the two teens madly in love with each other. There were no hardships, no bitter exes, no rude homophobes…it was all too perfect. Bianca would fall a thousand feet under the earth if it meant she could make Courtney sublimely happy. Hands in a frenzy for the skin to skin contact, and hair caught in mouths, and legs trembling to stay solid. They made fire look like ice compared to them caught in the heat of a moment. There was nothing to complain about; they were in love, truly, madly, deeply so.

Then High School ended. Bianca went to college with two of her friends from class, Shea and Sasha, and Courtney got an internship in a studio as a mixer. Her girlfriend was miles away Courtney couldn’t just drive for a quick visit, and then the rumours started speculating. Alaska heard Bianca had slept with some grungy wanna be singer, then their mutual friend Bob told Courtney she’d been hanging around some girl called Adore a lot, and that’s when the safety pin of Courtney’s sanity was pulled, and she ignited like a grenade. The stupendous love she’d had was suddenly dust in the wind, and her trust for Bianca broke.

Courtney stopped returning Bianca’s calls. She made excuses to stay home rather than visit her girlfriend. Eventually Bianca broke up with her out of frustration and they hadn’t spoken since. Two years since the melt down, and here she was, soaking wet in her passenger seat.

Was it fait? Was that something Courtney even believed in? She hadn’t thought about Bianca in months, and even then, she hadn’t thought anything pleasant about her since the break up.

“I um…” Courtney coughed, trying to loosen the knot in her throat. “I can walk to my place, you know. I don’t want to be an inconvenience.”

“You really want to get back out in that?” Bianca asked, tossing her head toward the window, a sly grin on her face at the idea of Courtney struggling any more to get home. Courtney awkwardly laughed, shaking her head.

“How did you even see me in this weather?” What she really wanted to ask was ‘What the fuck were you doing in my neighbourhood, picking up girls off the streets? Regardless if it ended up being me of all people!’

Bianca looked as sexy as she did when they were a couple, Courtney shamefully thought. She didn’t want to see Bianca as such still, but that girl had an overwhelming power over Courtney, she couldn’t control her thoughts. She alluded such ease and comfortability, tousled and uncaring, like a true college student. Her hair was dyed blonde, unkept and fallen around her chest, and the dark brown of her roots had began to peak. She wore a lazy over sized blue denim shirt, hiding the booty shorts and black tee, and oversized punk dock martian boots. Her makeup was heavy, as it always use to be, and persist, in a way only Bianca could wear it and somehow come off casual. She was the same old Bianca, from the cosy clothes to the sharpe brows, not a colour outside the lines. Courtney wanted to spend all her time looking at her, recalling the familiar awe that always smacked her round the face when Bianca looked her way.

Bianca shrugged. “I have good eye sight I guess. I was heading back to my place, and I saw a blonde in the rain. I’m not one to let a damsel stay distressed!” Bianca joked. Her smile lifted high across her face, and there were the same dimples Courtney had fallen in love with. The dents in her skin, so unimportant, seemed to have meant the whole world to Courtney at one stage of her life.

“So,” Courtney took a hair tie out from the bottom of her handbag and messily threw her hair up in a bun, “What have yo- wait, where are we going? Do you know where I live?”

“Of course I don’t, dim wit. I’m driving to mine.”

“What? No! No, no, no, I just want to go home-”

“I haven’t seen you in how fucking long, and you want to skip out on a catch up?”

“I just want to take a shower and relax.”

“You can shower at mine.”

Courtney took a deep breath, frowning. “I don’t think that’s very appropriate, Bianca. I want to go to my apartment. My address is-”

A sudden boisterous roar of thunder tore through the air, causing Courtney to screech in distress. She dug her fingers into the leather of the car seat, as a shiver sent down her spine. She hated thunder, and even more so lightening. Bianca peered over, and rolled her eyes.

“Save it. My place is like 5 minutes away. You can dry off, I’ll make you a coffee and then I’ll drive you back to your place when the storm dies down.” She took a turn, then faced Courtney. It was hard for Bianca to keep a stern, cold look when she was met with the sunny, bubbly old flame of her affections. “I promise.”

Courtney remembers exactly what it was about Bianca she first fell in love with: her undeniable charm, laced in the gravelly tone and devil’s smile. She’s met with gorgeous, sparkling brown eyes, and she can’t seem to find the will to fight her corner anymore. Despite not having thought about Bianca in months, all she wants, more than anything, is to hear about her life, and be caught in the translucent fairytale of her what-once-was.

The sound of rain trickling down glass is the sweetest serenity that could mend a broken soul. Soft pitter patters grazing rooftops, tiny droplets splashing the grass and making it shimmer under the glow of the moonlight. Rain was truly beautiful when angled correctly. New York City, where the buildings shot up high into the heavens, and the lights blinded the angels above, it was hard to have a romanticised version of rain like others experienced. By the Irish sea in the countryside, with the tears of a vengeful God, translating into a peaceful shower for mother earth. Washing the nature, bringing life to the crops, and giving that grumpy old farmer another thing to complain about. New Yorkers could never have that same wonderful simplicity; but Bianca would be damned if she didn’t try and find tranquility in the rain.

Bianca had the delightful task of ringing out Courtney’s summery dress over the kitchen sink and resting it on the radiator. She didn’t mind all that much, but when she thought about it, it seemed more perplexing of a job than it should have. Not physically, but emotionally.

Courtney immediately jumped into the shower upon arrival, so all Bianca knew so far of her ex was she still had a killer body, and she had found herself lucky in riches somehow, noting the shoes and the handbag and the jewellry. She boiled the kettle and leaned against the counter top, pondering on the possibilities that could be Courtney’s lifestyle now.

Bianca lived in a shabby, run down apartment with three other girls. There was Sasha, the two agreeing to live together in New York after collage. Sasha was dealing with her heart being stretched to the point of snapping where Shea decided to stay in Chicago, so to be in the company of a friend was at least a little relaxing on her strained love. Then there was Peppermint, an overly enthusiastic girl who waited tables in the day and performed on stage in the evening. She always came home with treats for everyone and an infectious smile. Finally, there was Naomi. A buggy, twig-like creature who was never around very often since she was usually galavanting all over America modelling, but when she was there she was quiet and well-kept, and bitchy enough for Bianca to get a kick out of her company.

That was her life. A normal, hard working life, with bills, an empty fridge more than often, and a ton of stress weighing down her shoulders. Bianca was often jumping between jobs - being hired to do hair and makeup for special events or making costumes for party shops, and just recently she’d been employed to shadow a costume designer for a Broadway design company. Looking at Courtney, she saw all the success she only hoped to have in 5 years time, accelerated in the form of a beautiful, young fighter. Maybe even a little bit of a careerist, which, was a good thing and a bad thing. Not exactly the nature of the free spirited flower child she use to know, who preached love, peace and reaching for the stars.

What were the chances of running into Courtney after two years of separation? Out of all the zany characters that inhabited New York, she had to pity the pretty blonde that just so happened to be her ex. It couldn’t have been an underwear model, or a cougar, or even a prostitute! It had to be Courtney fucking Act.

Bianca pulls out two mugs from the cupboard and pours out the coffee. She stirs both cups, adds sugar, milk, then takes a refreshing sip from hers. The warmness alights her after the bitter cold of the outside, and she can’t help but smile to herself. She moves toward the couch, resting both cups on the coffee table to throw on the ratty grey cardigan draped over the arm of the chair, and settles in for the night. The idyllic setting of a dimly-lit room and the rain drumming on the glass, Bianca let out a heavy breath that had been stuck in her lungs for far to long, rigged and knotted with tension.

The shower shuts off, the door unlocks, and eventually Courtney walks through in the same oversized tshirt she’d borrowed in the car, her girly boxer briefs with love hearts covered by the material, and a towel wrapped around her hair. Bianca finds it near to impossible to look anywhere that isn’t the svelte legs, glistening with the few beads of water sliding down her skin. Courtney’s face now fresh and pink, with just a trace of mascara caught under her eyes. She’s divine, walking toward Bianca and shyly offers her a coy smile.

“Made you a coffee.” Bianca gestures to the lonesome cup, and Courtney skittishly takes it, mumbling a thank you before sipping the drink. Bianca resists the urge to roll her eyes. How was I ever with someone like this? She thinks.

“Thank you for the lift. I don’t mean to be an imposition.”

“You’re sat on my couch in your panties. You’re already some what of an imposition, but it’s fine.”

Courtney chews on the corner of her lip, avoiding eye contact as she tucks her legs into the excess of the top. In the absence of conversation, she looks around the apartment and admires the cosy decor. Clothes thrown wherever they balance, more than often brightly coloured and fitted, shoes discarded wherever the day ended for the owner, and run down, tacky furniture. Not styled or desired by anyone, but affordable and comfy, and good enough. The decor was exactly that: good enough.

Bianca groans, putting her mug down on the table and leaning forward. The look on her face makes Courtney nervous. “Can we just address the elephant in the room?” She gruffly asks, barely waiting for the other girl to interject. “This is weird. You, being in my apartment. Me, picking you up. This is all a little too fucking coincidental if you ask me, and I’m not into it.”

Courtney blinks a couple of times before clearing her throat. “Wh-what do you mean?”

Bianca raises her brow. “Are you messing with me? You know what I mean, Courtney, don’t play dumb-”

“I’m not! I just,” She gently places her coffee mug down and repositions herself, taking a deep breath. “I don’t know what to say, Bianca. Not many people get this kind of opportunity, to be reunited with their ex. We didn’t exactly end on good terms after all.”

“I know. You stopped talking to me, and then you became a bitch.” The statement punctured Courtney. The many shades of red pouring out like the accusations that left peoples mouths all those years ago when they dirtied Bianca’s reputation; dirtied their relationship status.

This girl in front of her, this stranger she once adored, made her angrier than anyone ever had in her whole life. To even dare insult her, after the intense admiration she once held for her- at least she stayed faithful in their relationship. There was no frolicking with other girls and completely destroying the relationship they had both cared for.

She crossed her arms and glared wickedly at her, hoping flames would burst around the scene. “You have some nerve to call me a bitch after what you did! You didn’t even come down from Chicago to break up with me! You were too busy galavanting with other girls weren’t you?!”

“Woah, what?”

“Yeah!” Courtney shouted unexpectedly, recoiling back into herself and looking around embarrassed. She hoped none of Bianca’s roommates were home. “I know you were cheating on me, Bianca. Some little floozy, I can’t even remember her name, but a bunch of people told me.” She lied - Courtney remembers the girl was called Adore, and she knew Bianca ended up very close to her, according to all the photos on her Facebook.

Bianca stayed quiet, her face completely shocked and her eyes flickering back and forth as she racked her brain for any name she might have meant. After too many silent seconds, she finally snickered, which escalated into proper laughter, and soon she was cackling. Courtney glared at the girl in fits of laughter till she couldn’t take it and shoved her.

“It’s not funny, Bianca! You cheated on me-”

“No I fucking didn’t.” Bianca tittered, sitting up. “I didn’t cheat on you. I would never cheat on you, why would I?”

Courtney opens her mouth to speak but stops herself, taking in the statement. She’s not sure how to take it, as a good thing or a bad thing given how long it took to even process at the time. The heart ache she endured, took as nothing but the truth- at the time it felt like someone had reached into her chest and poured acid over the wounds of her heart, squeezed it till it popped, and left her to survive with the damage done. At the time, love seemed like the most important thing in her life. It overpowered every other aspect of her being, warping her understanding of unity and strength, and she became accustomed to needing Bianca. No matter how many times she talked about wanting to sell albums, wanting to be a successful singer songwriter, her girlfriend would trump everything else on the table. Courtney could have died for Bianca, and it felt like she did when they were over.

Now she was older, sat in her ex’s living room, half naked, learning that what they threw away was for nothing. Childish insecurities and fiendish whispers, all acted as the fuel behind the out of control flames, setting their tender affections alight. Courtney’s mouth dried up, her chest collapsed, and the weight began to reopen the stitches on her poor, beaten heart.

“You…you’re lying?” She hoped, as peculiar as it seemed. To imagine she’d thrown away the best part of her teenage years all because of pathetic hearsay. Sitting beside Bianca, looking into her hypnotising eyes, she felt the familiar weakness that was once so pampered by her impulse to please her love. Bianca’s lips curled, and the dimples punctured more holes in her, deeper and more painful.

“I’m not lying, Court. Who even told you that?” Bianca asked, the undertone of chuckling still sewn in her voice. Courtney felt like heaving, but remained calm. She had no choice- how could she freak out after two years of no contact (especially in a situation where she wasn’t even wearing any trousers)?!

“Alaska, and Bob…even Chi Chi said she suspected something-”

“Why the flying fuck would you believe Bob and Chi Chi?! Those two have the biggest mouths around! Alaska I don’t fucking know what her damage was, but I can assure you…Never listen to Bob and Chi Chi.”

Bianca’s smile use to bring such comfort to Courtney. Now she just wanted to throw up.

“Well, what about Detox? She came to the studio when I first started working there. She told me you had your eyes on someone else?”

Bianca sighed, rubbing her forehead in annoyance. This was the conversation they should have had so long ago. 2015, pigtail, crop top obsessed Courtney. Flared jeans, brown hair Bianca, trying to contain the fireworks off entering adulthood, both separately and together.. This was a conversation that was well overdue.

“Detox is an asshole.”

“Because she told me the truth?”

“No. Because we had a huge fight when we were drunk. She visited me in Chicago and I wouldn’t let her sleep with my friend…” Bianca pinched the top of her nose before letting out a drawn out groan. “My friend Adore had just gotten out of a pretty serious relationship and she was going a little off the rails. Detox wanted to sleep with her and I called her an inflatable fuck buddy-”

“Bianca!” Courtney playfully slapped her, giggling nevertheless. Bianca faked being shocked, holding her arm as if she was in agonising pain, and then they laughed in sync.

What a sound, the harmonies of their happiness.

“If she’s gonna pump silicone in her ass and tits, I’m going to mock her for it! Anyway, she was so drunk and accused me of keeping Adore all for myself. And so, I’m guessing, as soon as she got home she decided to tell you some bullshit as pay back for me preventing her from getting laid.”

“Hmm. Sounds a little contrived if you ask me.”

“Well that’s the God’s honest truth. You know Detox has a sneaky side. She’s all bark no bite.”

Courtney pursed her lips, eyes falling to her drink. It had stopped steaming at this point. She thought about their conversation, the implications it had, and the stupidity she felt.

“So you…you never slept with Adore? Or, anyone?” Courtney timidly asked, feeling the size of a mouse the second the question left her lips.

Bianca scoffs. “Of course not! For fuck sake, Courtney, I thought the sun shined out your ass I was so in love with you! How in the name of Bob Mackie could you even believe I would dare ruin what we had?”

“I mean…you did break up with me.”

“You were ignoring me!”

“Because I thought you were cheating on me-”

“Which I wasn’t!”

They stayed stuck on one anothers gaze, before bursting into laughter. Lovely, light laughter like soft violins or flutes, floating through the air, singing along to the tunes of morning birds. Bianca rubbed her temples, being the first to stop laughing. Courtney still did the cute snort when she laughed- the one she despised, that Bianca always adored.

Honestly, Bianca did have fleeting feelings from time to time of great saudade. There was no English word to do it justice, the empty space left when they broke up, with the attempt to fill it with passing flirty gestures and sheets stained with faked moans. There was the occasional nights, when the moon was full or a star finally burnt out, that she remembered how she use to be a beatific vision when in the company of her love.

When she stopped laughing, their eyes met under a whole new context. It was strong and overwhelming, like a tornado. They felt sucked into the power of this feeling. Bianca now knew that Courtney worked at a studio, that she at least had a reasonable excuse to have been a bitch all those years ago, and she still possessed the easy-to-read hunger in the corner of her eyes.

“I’m sorry.” Bianca whispered, afraid to scare the moment.

“I’m sorry too.” Courtney whispered back, even quieter.

Bianca caught Courtney’s gaze flicker between her eyes and her lips. Usually she wore red lipstick- she cursed herself for not wearing red lipstick, it was always a winner, but it seemed the shade still had an effect on Courtney. Still staring, lustfully, her thin, pink lips slightly parted so Bianca could see the pearly sparkle of her front teeth.

God I missed those teeth.

What a strange thought? Bianca didn’t pounder on it for too long though, because soon she was reminiscing on all the things she missed; the freckle between Courtney’s collarbone; the light scar that defined when her frown lines rose; the bruise on her right knee that seemed to always return unbeknown to how it got there. Looking into Courtney’s eyes, Bianca was reminded of all the wonderful memories they shared together before the great storm-

“Shit.” She pounced from her seat, making Courtney jump, and she ran to the window. The weather had let up, and now it was only mizzling, a pathetic excuse for dampening the streets. “The storm’s stopped. Well, that’s…” she turned back to face Courtney, scratching the back of her neck. “Good.”

Courtney forced a smile. She unwrapped the towel from her hair and got up to rest it on a radiator. “Yeah, that’s great.” She combed through the wet strands of her hair, wincing as she caught a knot, before throwing it all back and looking at the other girl. “I’ll go put on my dress and uh, get out of your way-”

“Wait, Court.” Bianca interrupted, overly eager, rushing toward Courtney. They stood a few centimeters apart, not enough to lean forward and kiss, but enough to feel the wires connecting them tense. “There’s no rush. I mean,” She shrugged, “it’s been so long, you and I. We have a lot of catching up to do. Don’t you…” Bianca’s breath fell from her, the nerves rattling her bones. “Don’t you think?”

Only fools rush in, wise men recite, like a grand law. Yet, Courtney couldn’t help it. She was undeniably drawn to the magnetic force that ran through Bianca’s blood. Only fools rush in, wise men warn, but what other tragedies could fall upon Courtney when she’d already lost Bianca once? She looks into the other girls eyes, and all the anger she’d stored up from two years ago melts away beneath her feet, and she’s filled with a fizzling warmth instead, intimate and dear like how it once was.

Maybe it was stupid, but when her gut was telling her the same thing it was when she was barely 17 at Bianca’s birthday, she knew to listen. In a sudden spur of the moment, Courtney grabs Bianca by the scuff of her cardigan and kisses her, deep and passionately.

Her lips are still the same. Pillowy, smooth, and the best damn sensation a person could feel on their own. Courtney doesn’t let go of her cardigan in fear of falling through the floorboards, losing this feeling to the adrenaline. She wants this to be the kiss that repairs the scars on her heart- the kiss that transforms the apartment into the darkest corners of the galaxy, soaring through the stars trying to capture the beauty of light. She opens her mouth just enough, to seem sensual, and keeps kissing her like there was never a two year silence between them.

Bianca relaxes, and smiles against her lips. She links her arms around Courtney’s waist, and the dent of her back is so cold where her hands have been gone so long. Courtney’s lips still taste like cherries. What working girl in her fucking 20s wears flavoured lip gloss? She thinks, though never complains. It was like sleeping in a bed you haven’t been in for weeks - all too familiar, and cozy, but strangely surreal. Her tongue slips past Courtney’s lips, and she lets loose a low moan, pulling the girl into her more as if there was any space left between them. Courtney’s body melted against Bianca’s, and she was lost for power in the situation, completely surrendering to the will of Bianca’s lust.

She pulled away, for just a minute. Courtney whimpers, resting her forehead against Bianca’s, panting. The world around them has been put on mute, and the picture is but dark static. They are the only colour in the room. They exudes the importance of second chances, as their hearts beat in sync, racing to make up for lost time.

“You agree then? We have a lot of catching up to do.” Bianca said, kissing Courtney on the tip of her nose. Courtney blushed, biting her lip and letting a content sigh escape.

“Is this weird? It feels so normal but, it’s weird, isn’t it?”

“Maybe a little, but who fucking cares. I’m fine with weird if you are.”

“Oh definitely, without a doubt! I’ve always been fine with weird, from the very second you threw that dodgeball at my face…to the time you coincidentally drove through my neighbourhood and picked me up in the pouring rain.”

Bianca snickered. “I certainly know how to charm ‘em, don’t I?” She pulled one of her hands around from Courtney’s back and tickled under her chin, guiding her back to her lips. Hungry with the desire to never end, a kiss that left them breathless with such simplicity. They both smiled against the others lips.

“I don’t even know why you’re back in New York, and here we are kissing in your living room.” Courtney purred, resting her full weight on Bianca so she was forced to sit on the edge of the sofa.

“I finished college. It was a compressed course, remember. I could have stayed on but me and Sasha were done, too much to deal with.” Bianca flicked the earring dangling from Courtney’s ear, making her flinch and jerk her shoulder to hide her ear. “How about you, big spender? Where are all the expensive brands coming from?”

Courtney clicked her tongue. She was thrilled to be in Bianca’s arms- even if an hour ago this was the furthest thing from her list of known desires, but she knew not to reveal everything to fast. Once a secret is out there, it’s no longer a secret. She had to keep some parts of her life a mystery.

For now.

“Maybe I’m just so good at my job, they over pay me!”

“At an internship?”

“I’m not interning anymore, I’m the real deal! I mix records, I sit in on the production for radio stations…I, Bianca Del Rio, am a real working woman. I’m even working on an EP.”

“You are?”

“Sure am. I already have a single, so an EP is the next step. I don’t know, I just got lucky with money I suppose.” Courtney put her arms around Bianca’s neck, playing with the strands of hair that fell at her back. “That’s not important right now.” She bit her lip, eyes fallen dark and the black blown wide with lust. “We should really talk about whatever this is we’re starting.”

Bianca takes a deep breath through her nose, and lightly pushes Courtney off her. It all feels surreal, even kind of overwhelming now that she’s not swimming in Courtney’s perfume, distracted. “We did sort of jump the gun there, didn’t we?”

Courtney’s smile fades. She feels her nerves stiffen, watching the strangely despondent expression on her face, and she tries to recoil the sudden thrill of a moments ambitions, rather than let her imagination run wild like when she was a teenager. She puts her arms down by her side, and scrunches her hand in a ball, pinching her palms. “That’s not a bad thing.”

“No. No I guess not. We never exactly did things conventionally anyway, did we? I mean, remember our senior leavers do, and you wore the pin stripe suit, when all our friends thought I’d wear one-”

“Oh my God yes! And you wore the bubble gum pink dress! You were so cute.”

“And very out of my comfort zone, but I would have done anything to make you happy.” Bianca smirks, taking Courtney’s hand. “So…you and me against the world, part two?”

Courtney could count on one hand all the moments in her life she felt this ecstatic. The release party for her single, when her parents renewed their vows, and the first time her and Bianca said I love you to each other. Truly happy moments, where she was left a little breathless and dizzy, but drugged up on the thrill of that moment. She couldn’t let this slip away, no matter how unexpected.

She squeezes Bianca’s hand, cheeks practically burning at the pain of her stretched smile. “And to think I had a date tonight.”

Bianca raises her brow. “Well, that’s an interesting way to say yes, but I’ll take it.”

#bitney #zeezee #lesbian au #bianca del rio #courtney act #rpdr fanfiction

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