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goblininawig · 9 months

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Red Dwarfcember: Presents

Summary: Lister scavenges gifts for his crewmates.

Prompt: Presents

Rating: T (no warnings)

Words: 1,239

A03 link or keep reading below.

Lister wanders through the refuse of ghosts long gone, scavenging another derelict vessel. This one, though, stands out from most he’s seen. Usually space vessels had seen commercial use of some sort, but this one was a billionaire’s private pleasure vessel.

Unfortunately, he and his many companions seemed to prefer silk, so all of the beddings and clothing had fallen apart over time. The once-fresh food, neither canned nor irradiated, had long since rotted, even what had been in refrigeration units. There were no large stockpiles of supplies, either mechanical or medical.

It seems that there isn’t actually much of anything worth salvaging. But Lister is going through all the rooms and storage spaces just once more. In case he missed something worthwhile. He doesn’t want to go back empty handed, especially since Rimmer and Holly’d already told him it was a waste of time.

In the expansive kitchen, he paws through the objects beneath the sink. He’d ignored most of them before, after seeing that none of it was edible. But now, he looks more carefully, and selects a few likely-looking cleaning products and an unopened packet of sponges. He shoves them all in a duffel, and moves on.

In the master bedroom, he steps into the spacious closet, and sorts through the scraps of clothes, plucking ornate buttons off their rotting threads, and shoving them in his pockets. By the time he’s gone through all the piles, he’s got enough that they clink against each other as he walks.

At the back of the closet, he stands, swinging the duffel up on his shoulder. It hits the wall panel, knocking it loose. Curious, Lister peers into the dimly lit space. It seems to be a secret compartment. Putting his duffel back down, he pries the loose panel away. Lister kneels, and peers at the object inside what appears to be a hermetically sealed plexiglass display box.

“Oh, no smeggin’ way!” he exclaims to himself.

Sat inside the box, on a plush crimson pillow, is a bicorne black beaver felt hat. A faded red, white, and blue cockade is affixed to the top right. It’s Napoleon Bonaparte’s hat. Right there for the taking. So take it, he does.

Back on Red Dwarf, Lister finds Kryten in the Drive Room. “Hey there, Krytes. Found ya somethin’.”

He unzips the duffel and pours out the cleaning products. They fall in a heap on the carpet. Lister drops the bag and scoops the bottles and packet of sponges up in his arms. Clumsily, he passes them over to Kryten. The mechanoid’s lipless mouth turned up into a smile.

“Oh, Mr. Lister, sir! I haven’t seen this brand of cleanser since I was on the Nova 5. This does bring back memories. Oh, thank you, sir!”

“No prob, Kryters,” Lister grins. “Enjoy.”

He leaves the duffel on the floor for Kryten to pick up, and returns to the trolley he left in the corridor. Lister pushes the trolley with the hermetically sealed box to the service lift.

On the way, he spots the Cat, curled up on top of a vending machine, napping. He pulls the handfuls of buttons from his pockets and leaves them in a heap beside the Cat, for him to find when he wakes. Then he keeps on towards the lift.

Lister stops the trolley outside his sleeping quarters and enters to find Rimmer sat at the table with a magazine in front of him, a skutter beside him.

“No, no, no, you moronic mess of metal! Turn the other page! I’ve already read this one.”

Rimmer’s nostrils flare as the skutter makes a rude gesture with his clawed head. He kicks at it in frustration, but his projection, of course, phases right through the skutter, who takes this as its exit cue.

“Sorry to interrupt your fascinating day, Arnie,” Lister smirks, drawing Rimmer’s glare to him. He holds up his hands, placatingly, “I got something to show ya from that ship.”

“Why did you even bother, Listy?” Rimmer tuts, standing and striding closer. “The scans showed there wasn’t a smegging thing worth salvaging.”

“Yeah, well, it wouldn’t be the first time Holly made a mistake, would it?” Lister returns cheerfully. “C’mon, this might make up for your toy soldiers.”

“I hardly think bringing that up will put you on my good side, squire…. Oh, my god,” Rimmer stops just outside the bunkroom, eyes locked on the tricorn hat in its case. “You didn’t – that couldn’t be – it isn’t –”

“Napoleon’s hat, yeah,” Lister taps the small museum-like information card affixed to the front of the case, which identifies the hat’s original owner, and dates the relic to 1815.

Rimmer takes a knee. He shoves his fist into his mouth to muffle a whine of overwhelming fanboy glee. Then he gets up, jogs down to the end of the corridor and back again. He stops in front of the trolley, trembling with excitement. He phases one hand through the case, and mimics touching the black beaver felt. “I’m touching Napoleon’s tricorne!” he whispered.

Lister rolls his eyes but doesn’t argue. The poor smegger hasn’t been this excited since he mistook a garbage pod for an alien vessel.

Lister is starting to regret giving Rimmer the stupid hat. He’s become obsessed. He whined and fussed until Holly gave him the white and blue uniform worn to command the Grande Armée, complete with knee-high boots, golden epaulets and white waistcoat. He won’t let anyone else use the cinema, insisting that he’s got weeks worth of Napoleonic War documentaries to binge. And now, he’s found the git trying to actually put the thing on.

Of course, there’s no way for Rimmer to wear it, but he’s got four skutters holding the case above the chair he’s sat in. When they hold it steady, it looks, for a moment, as if the hat is actually on Rimmer’s head…above a pillow, surrounded by a large case, and likely not the grand effect the hologram had been hoping for.

“Hold it steady, you worthless mechanicals,” Rimmer snips, adjusting his white sash. “It was working there for a moment.

Lister draws a hand down his face. “Rimmer, this is low, even for you. You’re being ridiculous. It’s just a hat.”

Rimmer makes eye contact with him in the mirror. “I’ll have you know, miladdo –” he begins.

But then he stops, as one of the skutters loses hold of the case, causing it to swing wildly through Rimmer’s projection. Everything seems to move in slow-motion, but even still, Lister can’t get to the case before it crashes to the metal deck, breaking off a large corner. He watches, horrified, as the hermetic seal breaks, the felt is exposed to air for the first time in millions of years, and it disintegrates. Rimmer staggers to his feet. There’s a moment of utter silence, and then Rimmer starts to scream.

“You utterly smegging worthless skutters!” he hollers, face turning red. “I’ll see you all disassembled for this! You’ll be used for parts! You’ll never work on this ship again!”

Taking advantage of his frothing tirade, the skutters head for the door. Rimmer growls and rushes after them.

Left alone with the remains of the hat and case, Lister kicks it out of his way, and shrugs. “At least he can’t blame this one on me.” He climbs up into his bunk, and settles in for a nice, quiet smoke.

#red dwarf #reddwarfcember #dave lister #arnold rimmer #kryten #the cat #red dwarf fic #goblininawig

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manxden · 2 years

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I know it's been way, waaaay too long since I released some writing, but BAM, here we go! @alkturos the art wizard and I are on the same discord and we're part of a gift exchange. Alkie was my secret gift guppy this year, so here we go, Modern-Hyrule AU goodness with a healthy dose of Zelink! Grow strong on these nibbles, you sweet Sidon-simp! >U<;!! Summary: Zelda is nearing her wit's end as she prepares for the coronation in modern Hyrule. Her dearest friend and grandmother has sent her for relaxation therapy to help handle the stress, but it's a delicate balance to find someone to work out the knots in her shoulders without adding the stress of being a princess in the conversation. Note: The current rating for the fic is M for mature, and may change rating. FairWarningHmmmmmkay.

----- Hold My Hand on AO3 ------

(preview for chap 1)

For the third time in just as many minutes, Link blew the corner of his bangs up out of his face. His eyes were focused on the curve of her spine and how her flesh was dimpling under his thumbs; the sweat had threaded a line down over his brow, clinging in an increasing droplet that he just couldn’t let fall for professional pride. The sudden shift of his weight pushed a breath of surprise from her when he brushed his forehead against his shoulder - he could feel her sides flex to bear the small heave.

When he straightened, he began to pull and slide the sides of his thumbs soothingly into the depth of the firm muscles hidden under her softness. The modesty-towel he had draped over the line of her backside had begun to shift under the course of the massage, but for the moment Link ignored the migration, working along the small of her back, towards her strongest vertebrae.

Sometimes in the lighter moments of their increasingly cozy sessions Link would fill the air with light banter, but today the sashay of bossa nova from his radio set the rhythm for his rolling pushes and pulls. Perhaps, if he had taken a different path and followed some of his more realistic ambitions he would have this morning been patting and pressing a fine roll of dough, but Zelda’s svelte form was… certainly much more intriguing than a loaf of bread in the works.

She shifted, thighs tensing and knees squeezing closer together further down on the padded table; Link pulled a deep breath. In another year he could boast of being a masseur for a full decade if one added in the first year of working during his studies. There had certainly been several points at which the squirms and sounds of his clients were hiding notes of arousal. Perhaps for just this one exception, he had begun to have issues steering his mind straight.

She wore her hair long; after the second session she had chosen to simply let the strands spill over the edge of the head of the white-leather table. On the third visit she had, with several flushed glances, called him in without the troublesome straps of her bra under her shoulder blades. Later he had chosen to tug tufts of hair forwards from his normal ponytail in the mirror before she had arrived. A well-coiffed appearance went miles for building a good clientele of course, but she was quickly becoming the one client he added that little extra for.

The track on the radio shifted to a more up-tempo number, and Link straightened, his hands lifting away for a small break. Zelda looked up from resting her head on the table, turning a gaze over her shoulder in the relaxing warmth of the office. Link was wiping his face and neck with a small towel, so she snuck a drink from her mug at his sidetable. She had suggested turning the radiator up several degrees since the morning’s window panes had been frosted at dawn with fine patterns.

She could not find a way to thank her grandmother nearly enough for suggesting the visits. Her responsibilities in the past few years had begun to ramp up while her father’s mental acuity was waning; life in the public eye had been troubling enough during college, but her graduation had lost some of its vibrancy when dear Impa had drawn her aside to discuss the likelihood of a coronation. The wizened shekiah had birthed her son at a shockingly early age when Hyrule was shedding the nobility-governed monarchy, and Zelda suspected that her grandmother had played a more important role in the transitions of power than she let on.

Of course when Link had asked if perhaps Zelda was referring to the Impa who had visited his office a few weeks before her arrival, she’d hesitated before risking an answer. Her handsome masseuse had proved pleasantly ignorant of her social standing and very public family life, so it caught her by surprise that Impa had not given him a pseudonym. His easy going nature was part of his charm; if she had been forced to give up her secrets early, her massage sessions wouldn’t have gone from half-hour to two-hour slots on the calendar.

----- Read more on AO3 ----

#legend of zelda #botw #fanfiction #zelink #zelda #modern hyrule AU #kissyface business abounds #ya-ha-ha!

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amberfaber40 · 2 years

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49 Chevy

Top 10 Lifted Chevy Trucks Modified for Off-roading and Desert Racing

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songofsilentechoes · 11 months

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Noelle snipped the scissors twice before she cut the loose ends of the thread she tied between the two feathers. Two clamps held the line taught as she put the tool aside. She plucks the line and the stellacorn feather makes a faint hum.

It was always heartening to hear it work. She would need to give that little creature more treats for his kind gift to her.

Satisfied that the experiment was in place, she cracks her knuckles and runs her fingers along the thread. It had been soaked in an alchemical mana solution for a couple days until it absorbed all it could. It took only the faintest effort to awaken the infused magic.

She runs her hands towards the two feathers, adjusting the flow of magic towards them. Soon, the feathers took on a faint glow, resonating with her own mana. Naturally her own feather took to it readily, being one of hers, but the stellacorn's feather was naturally magical and took to the process well, too. Nova's feather begins to hum with accumulated magical energy.

Noelle then places her fingers in the middle of the thread and pulls the taught string down into another clasp that was half submerged in a dish of dark viscous liquid. Once the clasp was holding the sting, Noelle adjusted a small crank that submerged the clasp and the energized thread into the liquid. The surface shimmers as if it's alive for a moment before it seems to settle and resemble the night sky.

She observes it for a few moments, making sure things are stabilized. Once satisfied, she lifts her hand and a spectral thread rises from the V shape and bridges the space between the feathers again. Raising her hand higher, the ghostly thread is pulled higher, mirroring the energized thread and forming a glowing diamond of arcane magic. At the apex, a small mote of magic forms.

An image forms in front of her. Bright sky and imposing structures that no longer exist. The view shifts away, leaving the heavenly buildings behind and delving into the city. The vision enters a building and goes into a backroom before descending some stairs marking with a sigil. The sigil burns itself into her mind. Her hand reaches for a pen and sketches it on a scroll without taking her gaze off it.

As the vision reaches the door, there's a backlash of magic. However, this experiment was much safer than her prior one. The surge of magic runs up into the spectral thread, causing it to tear and vanish. The mote of energy drops down into the dark liquid. Noelle releases the clamp on the lower thread. She takes the dish of liquid and pours it into a flask using a funnel, corking it. Noelle then proceeds to disassemble the apparatus and gently stores the feathers.

She had a lead and had the source saved. She could review it in greater detail later.

#drabble

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cindibarr · 1 year

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Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: HELIX Women's Nova Snowboard Pants Winter Ski Black White Paisley Floral S.

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rishikaroy95 · 1 year

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Understanding different thread lift methods

NovaThreads and Outline InstaLift strings have both been supported by the FDA to lift facial tissue. In any case, while these techniques depend on a comparable system of activity and both produce superb outcomes, there are vital contrasts between them that patients should know about. Underneath, we’ll investigate how these two techniques contrast with each other.

NovaThreads

NovaThreads are stitches that are produced using a biocompatible material called PDO, which has been uncommonly intended for safe re-ingestion by the body. Patients can, notwithstanding, hope to continue to see the consequences of their Nova threads lift in Bangalore for a year or more after their treatment.

NovaThreads come in a few distinct assortments: Spiked stitches, which are great for social occasion skin (and subsequently delivering serious lifting activity), and straight or bent smooth stitches. Smooth stitches produce to a lesser degree a lift, however, they are fantastic for collagen feeling. Patients frequently have smooth stitches put in essential areas around their face (like the edge of the mouth or along the foreheads) to target normal pain points where the indications of maturing become especially clear. Spiked stitches, then again, are submitted close to the hairline in request to pull back the skin and lift the cheeks and cheeks delicately.

Having NovaThreads put in is generally fast and simple for the patient. To start with, nearby sedation will be utilized to numb the regions that will be dealt with, then a little instrument (a flimsy cannula or needle) will be utilized to embed the strings underneath the skin. This whole cycle generally takes only 30 to 45 minutes, and the patient is allowed to get back to work a while later.

Outline InstaLift

Like NovaThreads, the Outline InstaLift depends on the utilization of biocompatible impermanent stitches to lift the face. The Outline InstaLift is more centered around lifting the skin than animating collagen creation (however it will achieve the two targets, obviously), so the strings utilized during this technique are unexpectedly planned to some degree. Instead of being smooth or spiked, they contain various stitches sprinkled with small “cones” that are skilled at snatching tissue. This permits the strings to assemble more skin, delivering a more observable lift to the cheeks and cheeks. Outline InstaLift strings are intended to make genuinely enduring outcomes too; patients can hope to partake in the effect of their Outline InstaLift for one to three years.

Having an Outline InstaLift requires around 45 minutes all things considered and can be performed under neighborhood sedation. An exceptionally planned dainty needle is utilized to embed the strings into the skin, limiting patient uneasiness. Patients in some cases experience gentle irritation and expansion for a couple of days in the wake of having this system, yet it can for the most part be made do with over-the-counter painkillers. All things considered, on the off chance that you have an Outline InstaLift, you can most likely re-visitation of your typical exercises quickly a short time later.

Benefiting from your thread lift

Since thread lifts are so generally safe and gloats such a short recuperation time, it’s feasible to consolidate them with other nonsurgical techniques to make more far-reaching, perceptible outcomes. When your skin has mended around the strings embedded during an “InstaLift,” we suggest matching your thread lift with treatment-like therapy.

Ultherapy utilizes delicate beats of ultrasound energy to warm the connective tissues underneath the skin, accordingly invigorating collagen creation. Ultherapy, which is frequently alluded to as just like a “nonsurgical facelift,” is sufficiently protected to be applied to essentially any region of the face and neck. By joining this method with a thread lift in Bangalore, you can expand the general measure of skin firming you get and make all the more in any event, lifting by regarding the neck as well as the face.

While thread lifts can fix the skin successfully, they aren’t intended to address flaws on the skin’s surface. Thusly, banishing the shallow indications of maturing — like age spots, areas of lopsided pigmentation, and scarce differences — will require a strategy known as “skin reemerging.” During skin restoration, the top layer of the dermis is eliminated, stripping away the previously mentioned flaws. A new, more energetic-looking layer of skin then, at that point, fills in its place.

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#hydrafacial #permanent makeup #threadlift

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102560140swin · 1 year

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Week 7: Digital Citizenship and Health Education: Body Modification on Visual Social Media

In this week’s lecture I found a couple interesting points. I learnt about the idea of pornification on social media as well as online retail stores such as Fashion Nova. It has been argued that women present a highly sexualised version of themselves online to gain more traction and attention. It has been brought to my attention that these are conformances to heteronormative notions of attractiveness – which would essentially be them appealing to the male gaze. I have always noticed how sexualised some influencers pose and present themselves but have never made the link to the aesthetics of commercialised pornography. This does make sense to me now as the notion of ‘sex sells’ has been around for so long.

This does not just refer to the way that they pose, but as well as the body modifications that both men and women undergo to make themselves appear more ‘attractive’. For women this can include

- Bigger lips

- Slimmer jaw

- Higher cheekbones

- Smaller waist and large buttocks.

For men, they find themselves enhancing their lips, as well as enhancing their jaw line to be stronger and more well-defined.

After the big trend of receiving body modifications, I have recently noticed a lot of individuals who had undergone work finding that they regret having it done or had been botched by their plastic surgeons. For women in particular, I had noticed a big trend of receiving Brazilian butt lifts, filler in the face and fox eye lifts, to name a few. Specifically, I had engaged with a user on Tik Tok, @_jessiecarr, who had received fox eye threads but ended up having swollen temples causing her to resemble the alien emoji. She has now had them removed and claims it is her biggest regret.

I do not find this surprising, as stated in the reading ‘Plastic Surgery-Related Hashtag Utilization on Instagram: Implications for Education and Marketing’ (Robert G Dorfman, Elbert E Vaca, Eitezaz Mahmood, Neil A Fine and Clark F Schierle), board certified plastic surgeons are underrepresented amongst physicians posting top plastic surgery related content on Instagram. The most top posted videos are amongst individuals who are not board-certified getting it done themselves and promoting other to do the same. This is unhealthy as there is not much education on the implications and harm that these procedures can cause, resulting in higher risk for patients looking to receive these procedures. It is important to be aware of the risks and lack of safety for patients, seeking these procedures from physicians who are not board-certified.

It is very important to be mindful and critical of the sociological and psychological consequences of social media campaigns that promote a specific body type.

References:

Robert G Dorfman, Elbert E Vaca, Eitezaz Mahmood, Neil A Fine and Clark F Schierle, ‘Plastic Surgery-Related Hashtag Utilization on Instagram: Implications for Education and Marketing’, Aesthetic Surgery Journal, Volume 38, Issue 3, March 2018, pp 332–338

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ekomovers · 2 years

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avengerscompound · 3 years

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The Tower: Happily Ever After - 14

The Tower: Happily Ever After An Avengers Fanfic

Series Masterlist | Character Refrence PREVIOUS //

Pairing: Avengers x OFC, Bruce Banner x Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton x Wanda Maximoff x Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanoff x Tony Stark x Thor x Sam Wilson x OFC (Elly Cooper)

Word Count: 1763

Warnings: breastfeeding

Synopsis: Almost 40 years after Elise Cooper first crashed into Natasha Romanoff outside the library at Columbia University, she and the Avengers are adapting to a near-immortal life together with their large brood of children. Yet things aren’t perfect. Life is moving on without them and they’re starting to discover who isolating being immortal can be.When Angela comes and asks Thor to take the throne of Asgard once more, the group leaves Earth in the hopes that they will find their Happily Ever After there.

Chapter 14: Familiars

“What do you mean they’re family?” Sam asked, sitting up properly. He looked at the two little creatures that were watching us from the edge of the clearing. They looked like tiny foxes, one in black and one in blue and white, both with three fluffy tails each. Threads were connecting me to them the way I had threads connecting me to all my family members. They were wagging their tails excitedly but hadn’t made a move to approach us. “Don’t you need a connection to them to have the threads?”

I shook my head. “I mean, the babies were all born with them. Even Thour and Nova who I was having trouble bonding with had the threads bright as day. Same with the grandkids. But yeah, normally the bond grows. I figured it was about love. But I guess not?”

I held out my hand and made a little clicking sound. The little animals bounced on the spot and dropped down, rolling over to expose their bellies.

“This is weird, Elly,” Sam said. “I don’t trust it.”

“It’s my power, Sam,” I said, tapping the ground. The little foxes flipped back over and took two large leaps towards us, before crouching again and wiggling on the spot. “I can feel them. They’re excited and they want us to touch them, but they’re not used to people so they’re a little scared too.”

Sam huffed but he sat still and the little animals moved closer still, crawling towards us in little bursts until they were at our knees. They rolled onto their backs and wiggled on the spot, chittering excitedly. I put my hand palm side up on the ground and the little black fox wiggled into my palm. I rubbed my thumb over its head and then when I saw it wasn’t going to bite me, I began patting its belly and the noises it made became more like a purr.

The blue fox pounced on the black one and moved under my hand as I was still patting the black one, and then as I was patting them they kept wriggling around and wrestling each other.

“See,” I said. “They’re friendly. They’re supposed to come home with us.”

“You can’t just take wild animals home,” Sam argued. “Elly, you’re a biologist, you should know that better than me.”

“I don’t think this is normal circumstances, Sam,” I said, picking up the little blue fox. “I’m joined with them.”

“El,” Sam said.

I turned and looked at him. “Sam, maybe you’re right, but maybe I am. We can take them back and ask Thor and Loki, and if they say it’s okay we’ll keep them with us. And if not, we can bring them back.”

Sam sighed. “Fine, El. But if they bite you and they end up being venomous, then don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“It’s all on me,” I agreed.

Sam stood up and stretched. “Alright, how are we getting them home?”

I pressed my earrings and the suit bled out, encasing me. “Synergy, can you make me a little pack so I can safely carry those two little guys in?”

“Certainly,” Synergy replied and a little bubble on the chest part of the suit. It had a clear window and slits for air. Sam lifted each one in and it closed up around them. They chittered nervously.

“Ready?” I asked.

“As I’ll ever be,” Sam agreed, as his light wings spread out behind him.

We took off together, heading back towards the palace via a slightly more direct route.

We landed on the balcony and when the suit retracted I carried the little animals inside with me.

Thor, Natasha, Tony, and Bruce were missing, but Loki, Marya, Billy, and Teddy, and their kids were all there. Loki was going through a book with Billy while Wanda and Bucky were walking around with the babies who had started to whine a little.

Wanda looked over as soon as we stepped through the door. “Hey, you got back just in time to feed them - if you want that is. We can do bottles of course. And let me see them.”

“Whoa, Wanda,” Sam chuckled. “That was a lot of words real fast.”

“Here,” I said. “I’ll swap you.”

I went and sat down on the couch, putting the little foxes down and dragging my breastfeeding pillows over. The little animals began scampering around, sniffing everything that they came across.

“So,” Bucky said, putting Thour onto the pillow so her legs were curled around my side. “What exactly did you bring home with you?”

Flynn and Piper both started chasing the little foxes around giggling as they watched them gambol around.

“I told her not to bring them,” Sam said.

Loki got up and approached them, crouching on the ground and holding out his hand. They ran into it and rolled around rubbing their faces on his fingers. “They are vulparev,” she said. “Usually safe - unless you threaten them. But you have to really threaten them. They aren’t easily started. Why would you bring them back here?”

Wanda helped me get Nova to latch on my other breast, though she was a little distracted by the vulparev. “I have threads connecting me to them. Like I do with family members.”

“Are they safe to have around?” Sam said. “I don’t want them hurting the kids.”

Loki picked the black one up and carried it to the couch, sitting next to me. “You’re connected?”

“Yes,” I said. “It felt like someone from the family was walking toward us, and I sat up and there were threads of light connecting to these two. I wouldn’t just randomly bring home wild animals.”

“Tan we keeb dem?” Piper asked as she sat on the floor with the blue one. Wanda went and sat with her.

“Perhaps, little one,” Loki said, as he caressed the black vulparev’s head. “Where did you find them?”

“We flew out over to the forest,” Sam said. “There were ruins.”

Loki gave a nod. “The ruins of old Asgard. The magic is denser there.”

“There was a door,” Sam said and started laughing. “El thought it would open to some nightmare world. So I pushed it open and went through and then snuck up on her from behind. You should have seen her face!”

“Oh my god, El,” Clint laughed. “You dork.”

“What?” I said. “You don’t know. It could have been a gate to hell.”

“You did close the door, didn’t you?” Loki asked.

“No. It was just a door to nothing,” Sam said.

Loki sighed. “Mortals.”

“What?” Sam asked. “What’s the matter?”

“Do we need to worry about anything?” Steve asked.

“I’ll take care of it,” Loki huffed, shaking his head. “I’ll make this part quick while I go clean up after you. Again. Have you ever heard the story about Fenrir being my son?”

Clint started snickering. “Yeah, we heard it.”

“You Midgardians are obsessed with animals rutting,” Loki snarked, rolling his eyes. “The rumor was started because Fenrir and I are linked. Sometimes when someone is gifted in the magical arts an animal will bond with the magic-user.”

“Like a witch’s familiar,” Wanda said.

“If you say so,” Loki said.

“But I’m not magical,” I said.

“Well, perhaps they aren’t your familiars,” Loki said. “Maybe you just see the threads because they’re the familiars of one of your children.”

“How will we know?” Bucky asked.

“It should become clear,” Loki said, standing. “But for now, I should go clean up after you before it becomes an issue.”

“Wait,” Billy said. “You said they’re only dangerous sometimes?”

“Yeah, what did you mean by that?” Steve asked.

“Predators, people trying to hunt them for their tails,” Loki said, putting the vulparev down. “Not to worry, you’re their family, they won’t hurt you.”

“But… Uncle Loki?” Billy said.

“Later,” Loki said and strode out of the room.

“How could they be that dangerous though,” Billy said to us. “They’re tiny.”

“You don’t think they’re venomous do you?” Steve asked.

“Surely Loki would have warned,” I said. “I mean, if it was just us, I’m sure she would have found it hilarious if we got bitten, but she wouldn’t do it to the kids.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Steve said, coming over and kissing me on top of the head. “Did you have a nice fly?”

I nodded. “Yeah. It really helped.”

“Yeah it did,” Sam said suggestively.

“God, dad! Your kids are here!” Marya complained.

“How about we think of names for these little guys,” Steve said, quickly changing the subject and picking up the black vulparev.

“Yeah, Piper. Do you have any ideas for names?” Clint asked.

Piper seemed to think it over and the blue vulparev began licking her face, making her giggle. “Umm… da bwack one is Inky.”

“Inky is a great name,” Bucky said, sitting next to Steve and patting it.

“Ingy, Ingy, Ingy,” Flynn babbled.

“What about the blue one?” Teddy asked.

“Umm… Icy,” Piper said.

“Inky and Icy,” Wanda said, scooping Piper up and kissing her cheek. “That sounds perfect.”

“Dadeski Dej!” Piper squealed, making Icy bounce around and chitter excitedly.

“Looks like Thour is asleep,” Steve said, tickling the infant's cheek. She let go of my breast and her head fell back with her mouth open - a trickle of milk ran down her chin.

“What a charmer,” Bucky laughed.

“Here let me put her down,” he said, taking her as I put my breast back away.

He carried her to the bedroom and Icy quickly pulled away from Wanda and the kids and chased after him.

“Does that mean Icy is Thour’s familiar?” Bucky asked.

“Aww man, I want a familiar,” Clint complained.

“Yeah, what the hell? I can actually do magic,” Billy added.

“Maybe Inky is your familiar,” I said, patting the little black animal.

“That doesn’t seem likely,” Marya said.

“Thanks, Mar,” Billy said. “Keeping it positive.”

I looked down at Nova who was still eating like a champ. Inky had started creeping closer to him and was sniffing him as he ate. “Are you Nova’s?” I asked him and he wagged his tails excitedly.

“You think we need to worry about the door thing?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, that was a little worrying,” Wanda said.

“If it was that big of a deal I’m sure Loki would have rubbed it in more,” Clint said. “I bet he’s not even going there, he just wanted to make you think you’d done something wrong.”

Bucky shrugged. “Guess we’ll find out sooner or later.”

// NEXT

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themurphyzone · 3 years

Text

PatB Oneshot: Crystal Clear

AN: Part of an art trade with @plutonis in honor of her upcoming wedding. She tasked me with writing an introspective piece for a Brinky wedding. The art piece I requested is for the next chapter of Nova, so you’ll see the finished product there.

Prompt given by Pluto: I was wondering if you could do a little fic in which Brain is walking down the aisle on his wedding day, and we hear the thoughts going on in his head. What is he thinking? How is he feeling?

AO3 Link

If Brain had his way, he would’ve taped himself to the table leg with extra strong industrial strength duct tape and remained there for the rest of his life.

But Romy wouldn’t let him attach himself to said table leg, and Wakko already ate the duct tape to prevent him from getting it. All other binding materials, including the shoe strings and gluesticks, had been placed on a shelf mockingly out of his reach.

And since he was already in his wedding dress, he couldn’t even climb the shelf to retrieve the necessary materials.

“Dad, you’re killing the glarb,” Romy complained as he pried Brain from the table leg.

“Unhand me at once or so help me, Roman Numeral One!” Brain shouted, trying to break free from Romy’s grip, but it seemed their son had inherited Pinky’s unusual strength.

Wakko wasn’t any help either. He just watched the spectacle from his perch on the dresser, chomping on a platter of garlic prawns swiped from the catering company. Thankfully, Brain had the foresight to order plenty of garlic prawns for their celebratory dinner.

As soon as Romy’s grip loosened, Brain broke free and reattached himself to the table leg.

Funny, how he wanted this for so long. Yearned for it. And when the time came, even after all the progress he’d made, he was still afraid for reasons he didn’t understand.

It was illogical, he knew. He trusted Pinky more than anyone else, even himself.

But even that wasn’t enough to get him moving again.

“Guess someone’s gotta tell Ma you’re not coming,” Romy sighed.

Brain’s fingers dug into the wooden grooves.

“He’s definitely gonna cry. Probably gonna curl up on the couch and watch daytime soap operas with buckets of triple fudge ice cream or something,” Romy continued.

Sweet, innocent Pinky being heartbroken at his own wedding. Running off and doing who-knows-what, because he could be very unpredictable when he was truly distraught. His simple mind eroding away because of the unhealthy combination of trashy soap operas and ice cream diet.

Brain’s heart clenched uncomfortably at that mental image. With great reluctance, Brain let go of the table leg and marched over to the mirror to smooth out the wrinkles in his wedding dress to keep his hands occupied as he quelled that troublesome idea.

“You’re gonna tell him that Brain’s in here, right?” Wakko asked.

“Sure,” Romy replied.

Wait...everyone knew of his intentions to see this wedding through to the end. And he'd never let the hard work and efforts of their wedding plans go to waste.

It was just a ploy.

Brain took a deep breath. To lose his temper before the ceremony would surely spell catastrophe. He wanted to keep this an emotionally satisfying occasion, for Pinky’s sake.

“Romy, I won’t deny that your tactic was effective. But you will refrain from using my fondness for Pinky against me in the future,” Brain said.

Perhaps Roman Numeral One took after him more than he thought. It was impressive and aggravating at the same time.

"Sorry, Dad." Romy's head dropped as he handed the bouquet to Brain.

Like with Pinky, Brain just didn't have it in him to remain angry once an apology was issued. He transferred the bouquet to one hand and lifted Romy's chin from its downcast position.

"Look alive, Romy. This is a celebration," Brain ordered as he turned back to the mirror. "And Wakko, you're not touching our wedding rings with prawn-stained hands."

Wakko pulled out a kitchen sink from his hammerspace and started washing his hands without removing his gloves. With the soft hum of Happy Birthday in the background, Brain turned back to the mirror and examined himself one more time. They didn’t have long before the ceremony began.

His dress towed the line between simple and extravagant. Ruffles in the right places, but not so many that it would hinder movement. A small hole had been cut to fit his tail, carefully sized so that it was easy to thread the stiff appendage through. His sleeves cut off at the elbow, white fabric giving way to a delicate flower pattern, lending an elegant and dignified quality to the outfit.

It hadn’t been easy obtaining this dress. He’d lost track of how many toy aisles Pinky had dragged him down, and he didn’t want his outfit to come from the toy section of Walmart. Pinky had eventually called Dot for help, and with her connections, she arranged for a fashion designer who specialized in making clothes for dolls to help them out.

And while they eventually put the issue of clothes behind them, they had a fair number of arguments when Brain found a reason to reject all the dresses Pinky suggested. Especially with that gaudy puffed sleeve dress Pinky loved but Brain hated.

“I realize we must’ve been insufferable for the past few months,” Brain said. Planning for a wedding wasn’t anything like planning for world domination, as he learned the hard way. But it was Pinky’s wedding as much as it was his, and after one vehement disagreement, Brain had realized he was pushing out Pinky’s contributions to impose his own.

It wasn’t easy, but he did try to turn over some aspects to Pinky, just to see how he did with them. And Brain didn’t regret that choice, because the results were absolutely wonderful.

“Yeah, you and Ma were ruining my vibes,” Romy gave a lazy smile as Brain nudged him in retaliation.

Romy had said something similar when he’d first run away from home, but mischief had long replaced the anger. Though Brain still didn’t think ventriloquism was a lucrative career, he’d made his peace with Romy’s lifestyle while repairing their relationship. And Romy wasn’t the only one who derived happiness from working with dummies.

“Regardless, we’re grateful that you came,” Brain said.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Romy shrugged. “Better save your sap for the ceremony though.”

“I’m not being sappy,” Brain muttered out of principle rather than true irritation.

It was 2:55 pm. Five minutes until the ceremony began. He was running out of time.

He quickly fixed his leaf crown and attached veil so that it was less crooked. In years past, he never would’ve been satisfied until a golden crown with embedded jewels rested atop his head. But now he found the leaf crown was worth so much more than gold.

Then he made sure the transparent veil covered his face. The thin fabric didn’t hinder his vision, but he felt like he was looking through a lens.

Everyone would be watching him. He wanted that thin wall of privacy between himself and the onlookers. Seeing outside, but concealing his feelings within.

He didn’t have to. He knew he didn’t. But old habits die hard, it seemed.

The clock chimed three. It was time.

What could go wrong?

“Don’t worry!” Wakko exclaimed as he picked up the purple velvet cushion with their wedding rings. “I didn’t mistake these for tiny Ring Pops this time!”

Brain was a fool. A sentimental, lovestruck, starcrossed, and twitterpated fool.

Wakko brought up the lead as they marched through the twisting hallways of the enormous property they’d rented for their Hawaiian wedding. Surprisingly, coming up with a location for their wedding hadn’t been difficult. After a stressful day of making other arrangements, they’d chosen a scenic, relaxing travel documentary to unwind.

As soon as the documentary showed a beautiful Hawaiian beach at sunset, they both agreed on making Hawaii the destination of choice for both wedding and honeymoon. Brain gripped the flower bouquet tightly, careful not to crush the petals between his fingers. Romy’s hand was on his elbow, light enough to not be intrusive but quick to react so Brain didn’t run into a wall.

He’d assigned Pinky to the task of flower selection, and Pinky had researched the meaning of flowers extensively with an unusual amount of focus. If Pinky had his way, he would’ve gathered one specimen of every flower in the world and brought them to the wedding, though Brain eventually convinced him to narrow his list down to a single digit range.

Brain was only familiar with the rose as a symbol of love, and he recalled the meaning of only two other flowers within their wedding. The rest were completely lost on him. The first was the magnolia, which represented perseverance. As such, a white magnolia stood proudly in his bouquet, nestled among the red roses of passionate love. Pinky had chosen the magnolia for Brain, and insisted Brain choose at least one flower too.

Though Brain didn’t place much stock in what the websites claimed, he just went along with it to humor Pinky. But he’d settled on the colorful freesia, just to thank Pinky for his friendship, faith, and trust for all the years they’d known each other.

Their miniature procession stopped at a glass sliding door that separated them from the rest of the proceedings.

Brain gulped and clutched the bouquet to his chest.

Beyond those doors, the wedding guests mingled with each other on the grass. A gorgeous, azure beach formed the perfect backdrop to the ceremony. White, fluffy clouds dotted the sunny skies, and the beauty was rather foreign to him. He’d spent far too much of his life hiding away in the darkness of a sterile lab.

It seemed the entirety of their Animaniacs coworkers had shown up for the wedding. He was surprised by the turnout, but it seemed that everyone had been clamoring for him and Pinky to tie the knot for years.

And while the usual toon antics were prevalent among the guests, Brain’s attention was drawn to the very front, where Pinky was arranging flowers on Pharfignewton, who’d jumped at the offer of being Pinky’s best mare.

Back then, the sight would’ve incited a feeling he’d come to realize was jealousy. Now he was just grateful that Pinky received some physical affection from someone when Brain couldn’t give it to him.

Wakko opened the screen door, causing a stir among the guests in the back, which caused a ripple effect that spread to the front and prompted everyone to take their seats. Pinky slid off Pharfignewton’s back, bouncing on his toes and craning his neck to see Brain.

Even from this far away, Brain saw Pinky’s bright, goofy smile. It made him regret keeping the veil over his face, cloaking his happiness even from his partner.

“Testing, testing!” Yakko said into the microphone. When he’d been ordained to officiate a wedding, nobody knew for sure. He shuffled through the cards for his opening speech. “Alright, everyone. We’ve all been very impatient for this moment, so no more delays, capiche? Dot, start the music!”

A hush fell across the audience, and even the most rambunctious members of the Animaniacs crew fell silent as a soft piano arrangement of A Whole New World began to play.

Wakko proudly held the cushion with the wedding rings over his head and marched to the front. From the aisle, Mindy reached into her basket and threw pink flower petals into the air, and Buttons held onto her so she didn’t fall out of her seat.

Romy released Brain and followed Wakko. Pinky greeted their son with an enthusiastic hug, and Bunny flashed them a thumbs-up from her seat.

All the attention was on Brain now.

He wasn’t sure if he wanted it.

He wanted to flee inside the house. Tell everyone to go home and they’ll get refunded the costs at a later date. Take Pinky to city hall and sign a document to make their marriage official instead.

The audience whispered.

He saw the worry in Pinky’s eyes, a stunning shade of blue that popped out from the beautiful Hawaiian beach. They were too far from each other to speak normally, but Pinky laid his hand on top of the colorful freesia pinned to his white dress shirt, just over his heart.

Trust me, he was saying.

And Pinky had proven himself worthy of his trust long ago.

Slowly, Brain laid his hand on the magnolia, the centerpiece of his bouquet.

I won’t give up.

Pinky smiled that soft, knowing smile of his. Emboldened by his encouragement, Brain stepped out of the house and onto the white, silky path that had been laid out for him.

He took slow, methodical steps to steel his nerves. This was his reward, and he was allowed to have it.

No more electricity, no more fear of rejection.

The happiness of having someone by his side. The sorrow when they were separated either by force or by choice. The surprise of receiving gifts from Pinky when he’d done nothing to deserve them. The guilt that came from upsetting Pinky with morally questionable schemes.

Emotions he’d once derided as frivolous were now precious and dear to him.

All the good, all the bad, and everything in between. And this occasion marked a brand new beginning, a new chapter of their lives that would bring new happiness and surprises. Though they’d be sad, angry, or terrified sometimes, they’d always be together.

That’s what counted most.

The melody of A Whole New World floated gently through the air. An airy tune filled with wonder at a world previously unknown to them.

He and Pinky dueted this song so many times that the lyrics and background instrumentals were permanently etched into his mind.

Only now did he understand what the song was truly about. Leaving behind their defined roles, into a freedom-filled sky. Just the two of them, exploring a huge world together. The burdens of the past and worries of the future left on the ground, and all that mattered was the present.

Being themselves, and experiencing things they’ve never experienced before.

It was terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

He could hardly wait.

Pinky waited for him, taking Brain’s hand in his own. He was absolutely breathtaking up close.

“Narf,” Pinky whispered, and Brain would never tire of that endearingly stupid word. “You did it, Brain.”

“All thanks to you, Pinky,” Brain replied, and Pinky’s tail wagged at the praise.

Together, they walked to that beautiful wedding arch with intertwining pink and blue flowers, stopping in front of Yakko’s podium. Brain gave his bouquet to Romy so he could properly hold Pinky’s hands. Romy gave them a lazy grin, and Pharfignewton lowered her head so Romy could have a good perch. Wakko proudly balanced the cushion on his head, and Dot stood beside her brother, giving him a friendly shove without knocking the wedding rings off.

And Brain realized he was still seeing the world through veiled eyes. Though his vision was unimpeded, he’d barely noticed there was a filter among all his doubts and fears.

He’d kept the veil for a transparent amount of privacy when he walked down the aisle, but now that he was with Pinky…

Well, it just wasn’t necessary anymore.

He brought Pinky’s hands to the veil. Their eyes met, and a silent understanding passed between them.

Then Pinky threw back the veil, and the filter he’d been looking through was completely gone. And Brain saw the...no, he saw his world through fresh eyes.

A bright, happy, silly mouse stood before him, a colorful burst of freesia on his chest, and beautiful sky-blue eyes filled with endless love, promising hope and warmth and companionship forever more.

“You’re so pretty, Brain,” Pinky giggled.

It was the most wonderful sound for his compass, his heart, and his world.

No more tolerating. He fully accepted the undeniable fact of how much he loved Pinky, and Pinky loving him back from this point forward.

Never before had he felt so much happiness, and he was ready for everyone to see it.

Unable to contain himself, Brain leapt into Pinky’s arms and kissed him. Though he heard their audience reacting with shock, it was all just background noise to him. And he’d never been a patient mouse.

Pinky was surprised at first, but his strong arms wrapped around Brain to support him, and he kissed back wonderfully.

Fireworks exploded in Brain’s mind, or maybe the Warners set some off, he didn’t know. But he had to come up for air, and he released the kiss, though it seemed Pinky could keep going for quite some time.

“Technically, you’re supposed to wait until I say ‘you may now kiss the Brain’, but who am I to stop true love?” Yakko grinned.

“Sorry,” the mice chorused, though neither of them regretted the little break in protocol.

The audience burst into cheers, and Yakko led them in a standing ovation for a good five minutes before they all settled down enough for him to start his opening speech.

“Love you, Brain,” Pinky whispered as he put Brain down and took his hands again.

“Love you too, Pinky,” Brain replied, and he couldn’t wipe the smile off his face.

Everything was laid out before them, clear as crystal and bright as day.

End AN: This is cheesy but I don’t care I love it and they’re married now.

The Hawaiian setting is not a reference to the PatB fic Trouble in Paradise, it’s just that the last wedding I went to was in Hawaii and it was so romantic.

3rd time I’ve referenced A Whole New World in these fics. This song is just too perfect for them.

#pinky and the brain #brinky #patb fanfiction #cheesy in a good fluffy way

36 notes · View notes

onlyfreds · 3 years

Text

Chapter 2 - Hard to Hide | TRP

Summary: As the stress of the coronation increases with every passing day, the secret itself becomes hard to hide.

Warning/s: Mentions of food, mentions of eloping

Series Masterlist

I sighed, leaning by the porch of the Burrow, reading the paper my sister sent me under the rising sun.

The press never seem to miss anything, the headlines read: Coronation of First-Born Princess to be Held Soon.

And that was the last thing I needed.

To add to my annoyance, the article kept on stating how excited and happy I am to be crowned when they didn’t even interview me and got my thoughts about the matter.

As if mum and dad would let them interview me anyway.

I threw the paper to the side in disgust, but as I heard footsteps approaching the spot where I sat, I hid it away from view as best as I can.

“What’cha doing here darling?” Fred asked, pressing a kiss to my temple as he sat down beside me.

I gave him a small smile, “Just watching the sunrise.”

He dramatically gasped, feigning offense as he said, “You’re watching the sunrise without me? How could you do such a thing Y/N?”

I laughed at his theatrics, “You’re always so overdramatic, aren’t you?”

He smiled, putting an arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer to him, “But, honestly sweetheart, you seem stressed about something for the past few days. Is there something wrong? Is there anything I could do to help?”

I chuckled, “Don’t need to worry Freddie. Everything’s absolutely fine, like I said, nothing to worry about.”

He raised a brow, “Are you sure sweetheart? You know you can tell me anything.”

I nodded, resting a hand on his chest, “Don’t worry, you’ll be the first to know when I have a problem.”

“Oi Lovebirds!” George’s head poked out from the window, “It’s time for breakfast! The cuddling can wait later!”

Fred groaned, muttering something about wrong timing as we headed back into the Burrow hand in hand.

Snapping my book closed in frustration, not being able to keep the article from occupying my thoughts.

I stood up, walking over to the desk in Ginny’s room and writing a letter in response to my sister’s.

Someone knocked tentatively on the door. “Come in!” I said, sealing up the letter and tying it to Hedwig’s leg as he flew off to the palace.

“Hey Y/N!” Hermione greeted as she entered the room, “Ginny and I were going out for some ice cream, do you wanna come?”

I smiled, “I thought you’d never ask.”

We walked through the alleys of the muggle town near the Burrow, chatting happily with our ice cream in hand, looking around a bit at the stores.

That was until, Hermione and I dragged Ginny to the bookstore.

“Why do I need to supervise the two of you?” She asked, “Y/N is practically of age and Hermione, you’re the most mature and most level-headed person in your year.”

Hermione and I exchanged a look, “Well Ginny,” I started to explain, “we’re in a bookstore.”

“And if you leave us unsupervised in a bookstore, chances are, Y/N and I would be going back carrying stacks upon stacks of books. So, unless you want that to happen, you have to supervise us.” Hermione finished.

Ginny playfully rolled her eyes at us, sporting a small grin, “Fine. Fine. Now, run along before I regret my decision.”

So, thanks to the redhead supervising us, we only came home with four books each.

Dinner had just finished, most of us were gathered around in the living room while Molly had started knitting and Arthur was tinkering with a muggle radio in their shed.

I leaned against my boyfriend’s chest as he threaded his fingers through my hair. George was busy writing a letter to Angelina, the trio and Ginny were settled near the fireplace, talking about Merlin knows what.

I inhaled the familiar firework powder and cinnamon scent of my boyfriend as he had me wrapped in the warmth of his embrace.

I felt like I was being lulled into a state of comfort and peace as I traced random patterns along his arm.

“Freddie?” I asked quietly, looking up at him.

His eyes softened by the light of the fireplace, even though he was looking down at me with worry and concern, I couldn’t help but adore the man looking down at me as the soft glow of the fire seemed to compliment his features.

“Darling?” Fred’s voice quietly rang through the air, snapping me out of my daze, “Are you alright?”

I licked my lips, “I can tell you anything, right?”

He nodded, furrowing his brows a bit, “Of course, and if it’s something that’s bothering you, then I’ll do what I can to help.”

I gave him a grateful smile, “Can we talk somewhere private? I don’t want anyone else to hear about it.”

He nodded before standing up, pulling me up with him as he wrapped an arm around my waist.

“The missus and I will be retreating upstairs.” He said with a cheeky smile, ducking when Molly threw the dish towel at him when he said the name missus. “So, do not disturb and good night everyone!” He added as we retreated upstairs.

“Use protection!” George called after having Molly smack him at the back of the head.

As soon as we entered his room, Fred shut the door behind him and sat down on the edge of the bed, patting his lap.

I sat down in his lap, wrapping my arms around his neck as I was engulfed back into the warmth of his embrace.

“What did you want to tell me?” He asked.

“Well, remember me being the first-born princess and someday I have to be crowned as Queen?” I said.

He nodded, staying silent.

“That day, might be coming sooner than I thought.” I said.

He gave me a confused look, “What do you mean?”

I got off his lap, walking over to my trunk as I took out the paper my sister had sent to me earlier and handed it to Fred.

His eyes scanned over the headlines, then to the article underneath it. Even if he stayed silent, by the way his jaw clenched, I knew he was furious.

“How could they say this rubbish about you?” He said in frustration, throwing the paper behind him, “They talk about your happiness as if they know you. Then they say about whether or not you’re fit to be Queen.”

He then harshly grabbed the paper, “And get a load of this, ‘in an interview with the chief of staff of the palace, he states that, “The Princess has been trained to manage Montenaro ever since she was five. She may not be present at the moment, but we assure you that she will not turn her back on her responsibilities to the kingdom. Though she may have made some friends at the boarding school she attends, she will not let their influences get in the way of what she’s truly destined for.’”

He stood up, running his hand through his hair in frustration, “How could he speak like that about you? Like he knows what you want?”

I stepped forward wrapping my arms around his torso as he held onto me tightly, “And your coronation is happening in three weeks?! You just turned seventeen and they’re already expecting you to rule over a kingdom!”

I bit my lip, “According to the law of Montenaro, seventeen is legally an adult. I don’t know why my parents want to get crowned this early, but I’m actually having some doubts about it.”

“What do you mean by doubts?” Fred asked, resting his chin on the top of my head.

I hummed, breathing in his scent to calm myself down, “My parents have drilled into my head that being Queen is always what I was meant to be. But, deep down in my heart, I know that, it’s not what I want.”

“Then why don’t you tell them?”

I sighed, “If only it was that easy Freddie. Unlike your parents, mine never listen to me or what I have to say.”

“And if I, by any chance, I go against their wishes, the worst-case scenario is I would be disowned. I’m already a disappointment to them, so, why make it worse.”

“Hey.” Fred said gently, placing a finger under my chin and lifting my head up, “You’re not a disappointment, any parent would be lucky to have you as their daughter. If your family is too daft to realize that, then it’s their loss.”

He pressed a brief kiss on my lips, “I’ll support you in whatever path you choose. And if your parents don’t approve of our relationship, then, we’ll run off, elope and then shove our marriage certificate in front of their faces if they even try to put you in an arranged marriage. Nothing’s stopping us.”

I laughed, “You always know what to say to make me feel better.”

He smiled, “No matter what you choose, I’ll always be here for you.”

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mason-knight-retired · 3 years

Text

this is so self-indulgent I want to crawl out of my own skin with second hand embarassment rn (happy father’s day, mase)

+++

It’s only by virtue of his phoenix reflexes that Mason manages to snatch the potato flying at his head out of the air a split second before it connects with this face.

He stares down at it in his hand in the middle of the Morrisini villa’s sprawling kitchen. “What the hell do you want me to do with this, Zeus?”

Nico shoves a small contraption at him, as well as a large bowl and a bulging hessian bag. “Peel it.”

“Peel…? What?”

“Peel it,” Nico repeats. He gestures to the bag. “And all those too.”

“Uh, no. These hands were not made for manual labour.”

“Mase,” Marie huffs, her hands on hips on the other side of the sprawling island bench. “I expect that from Sinclair, but not from you.”

“He’s become too accustomed to the good life. Too pampered,” Maddox says from his perch on a stool nearby. He pops something into his mouth and crunches loudly as he smirks in Mason’s direction.

Mason snorts. “Like you can talk, Ajax.”

Outside, the sun shines across the villa’s grounds and the wind carries in the excited squeals of the children as they race over the lawn and splash in the villa’s pool. It was another one of Nico’s family gatherings, one of the many he insisted on each year and that everyone knew better than to argue about. One year, before they had the twins, Mason and Ethan had been off world and the earful they’d copped had them immediately hightailing it back to Earth from Citadel space to make it in the nick of time.

They all know better than to argue when Nico puts the call out now.

Mason peers through the large windows overlooking the vineyards. It was beautiful here, he couldn’t deny it, and the twins loved catching up with the Morrisini brood but being put to work by Nico in the kitchen was more than what Mason was prepared to take.

“Actually, you know what, I’m just going to go see if Ethan needs any help with the ki-“

“Sit your ass down and start peeling, Huntsman.”

“Better do as he says,” Archer says. He rests on a stool, one leg out in front of him and a lethal looking blade in one hand. There are slabs of red meat on the chopping board in front of him. “Or you might end up having to do something worse.” “Is that what you’re doing?”

“Just putting some long dormant skills to good use.”

“Well, we didn’t all marry celebrity chefs in our youth, Rose,” Mason chuckles just as Luca comes tumbling through the doorway.

“Nic! Marie! I need potassium hydroxide and ethanoic acid and um, like a really big stick.”

Marie frowns. “Well, I can give you two out of those things but what do you need them for?”

“No time to explain, have you got it- never mind, this will do!” he’s gone again in a flurry of wild curls.

Silence drags around the room and there’s a distant squeal and a pop that has them all tensing suddenly. Mason waits with bated breath for inevitable wail of tears that will send them all rushing outside but it doesn’t eventuate.

“What is he doing out there?”

Marie takes a calming breath and pinches her nose. “I… I don’t want to know.”

Nico slides his arm around her and kisses her temple, whispering something into her ear Mason can’t (and probably doesn’t want) to hear. She seems more tired than usual and it’s not lost on Mason that her glass is only sparkling water and not wine. He wonders if baby number five might be on their way for them.

Five. Mason shudders inwardly at the thought. The twins were a handful on their own and that was with help. There had been a long, long period there that Mason wondered if his and Ethan’s sex life would ever recover.

“You’re still not peeling, Huntsman,” Nico warns, turning his attention back to him.

“Make Rose do it,” Mason grumbles, only for Archer to swirl that lethal looking knife over the chopping board in front of him.

“He’s already put me to work, as you can see.”

“Seriously, Mase,” Marie huffs as she busies herself with slicing up the fresh bread. The spread of food was insane, much of it grown on the villa grounds, more of it transported from Cerillo’s farm on Nova Terra. “Who does the cooking in your household if you won’t even peel a potato then?”

“The... Ah… Help…”

Marie’s knife pauses as she looks up at him suspiciously. Maddox goes to swipe an olive from the tray but she swats him away without taking her eyes off him. “How many do you have now?”

Mason doesn’t like where this is going. “Three?”

“Three?!” Marie splutters but he’s pretty sure that might be jealousy in her eyes. He shrugs, nonchalant. “Oh my god, well, aren’t you living the good life.”

“What do you expect? Pampered wardog over here,” Maddox comments, pilfering another olive. Nico snatches his wrist.

“Next time you go for another one, I’m gonna stab you.”

Maddox growls. “Fine. Hurry up already then. I’m going to go check on Mini in the nursery then check on the kids. Who knows what Sinclair has got them up to.”

He exchanges a filthy kiss with Archer before he leaves that has Mason rolling his eyes.

“It’s not Ethan you should be worried about,” he mutters as Archer snorts.

“Huntsman!” Nico barks. “Potatoes!”

The evening is balmy with summer and it’s well into the twilight by the time they all come to eat at the long trestle table piled high with food under the trees of the Morrisni villa. Fairy lights drape overhead, shedding a sparkle over glasses and kids squeal and thread among the adults as they enjoy the meal.

Mason does his best to balance Max on his knee they eat and the entire affair is noisy and chaotic, full of laughter and warmth and old friendships forged in blood and fire. Nico reigns supreme at the head of the table like some kind of benevolent god and he might as well be. It’s Nico that has been the one to draw them all together, year after year, no matter how far they spread across the galaxy. Familiar faces they’ve fought alongside of, faces they love now gone their separate ways now that the war was over. Their time on the Berlin felt like another life, a long ago memory that might have happened to someone else.

Mason never thought he’d miss it, but it’s long been regulated to a portion of his past alongside his early childhood in Sydney and Phoenix One.

He juggles his wine glass over Max’s head and listens in to the conversation around him. He presses his leg against Ethan’s under the table, needing the contact suddenly. Ethan catches his eye and wordless smile graces his lips as he leans in to brush a kiss to Mason’s cheek and lightly ruffles Max’s hair.

“Want me to take him for a bit?”

“No, he’s fine, as long as he stops squirm-“ Mason rescues his wine glass just before it goes flying. Max was almost getting too big for this, but Mason didn’t like to think about that. “Whoa, easy there.”

“Sorry, Dad.”

“You’re okay, mate. Where’s your sister anyway?”

Max shrugs, leaning back against Mason and chewing on a piece of bread but Ethan motions with his head to look down the table. He spies Ben at the other end with Lexi’s arms tight around his neck and she’s giggling as Luca attempts to juggle spoons beside them. Mason smiles then stabs the gnocchi on his plate and lifts it up to show his husband proudly.

“Hey so while you were outside with the kids, I made these.”

Marie pauses her conversation with Isaac and Archer on the other side of the table to laugh. “Mase, you peeled one potato.”

He waves his fork dismissively. “Still counts.”

They all chuckle, Archer’s more muted on account of the small bundle on his chest. It doesn’t feel that long ago that Lexi and Max were that tiny and Mason is about to mention as much to Archer before their conversation is interrupted by Ciara crashing into her mother’s side. Her gold eyes wide as she gushes excitedly about fireflies.

Mason glances back at his own daughter. She’s on Ben’s lap now, trying to feel him with all the grace of a five year old’s giggling and over exuberant enthusiasm. “Does Lex need anything?” he says to his husband.

Ethan smirks as they watch on. Ben has a smear of sauce down one side of his mouth and across his chin. “It looks like Uncle Scoots has it covered.”

Max scrambles off Mason’s lap and latches himself straight to Ciara’s side. Mason protests softly. “Hey, where are you going?”

“Ci says she knows where the fireflies are!”

“Oh, no you don’t. Finish eating first. Then fireflies.”

“Aw, dad!” Max’s whine is joined by Marcello and Enzo’s as they materialize out of the dark and they all groan dramatically. “But fireflies!”

“You’re not allowed to go running around in the dark by yourselves. Someone might get hurt.”

There are more protests before Eva climbs to her feet. “I can take them, if you like?”

Mason looks up at the Fury. If they’re safe with anyone, they’ll be safe with her but he slides a questioning glance at Ethan anyway. “Are you sure?”

Eva shrugs, a small smile on her lips. “Sure. Luca and Ben will want to come too.”

“We’ll all go,” Marie announces. She stands up and motions for everyone else to as well. “It’s about time for the bonfire anyway.”

“Bonfire?!” The kids squeal and take off running into the darkness.

“Wait, kids-“

There’s a wink of blue in the distance when Eva appears in front of them, sending the kids all shrieking in excitement. Mason downs the rest of his wine for fortitude then pulls his husband in for a kiss in case he can’t steal any later.

“Come on, Sabre, let’s go.”

If they find fireflies, Mason doesn’t see them.

The excitement of time spent with their adoptive family and the bonfire have both kids melting down from too much over stimulation and it’s touch and go for a while until they both crash in his arms. Mason watches the flames dance and listens to Luca’s voice as he strums his guitar, Lexi’s head tucked under his chin while Ethan sits beside him with Max asleep against his chest.

They should probably get the kids back to the villa, tuck them into their beds, but he’s reluctant to move and spoil the moment.

Luca sings, his voice carrying clearly over the crackle of the fire, first upbeat songs with words half substituted thanks to the buzz of Nico’s homemade grappa he insisted they all sample. Ciara twirls barefoot, hair streaming out behind her as Maddox takes her on a makeshift waltz around the bonfire and Nico hands out mugs of mulled wine as Isaac and Eva sit with heads bent together roasting marshmallows in the flames. On their other side, Marie is flanked by each one of her sons, both slumped against her, not quite asleep but dangerously close. And Archer, cane discarded by his chair and a baby on his chest, sits quietly beside Ben, staring thoughtfully into the fire.

“You know, if anyone had told me on P1 this is how our life would end up, I’m pretty sure I would have laughed myself out an airlock,” Mason says to Ethan. “Sometimes I can’t believe it.”

“We’re the lucky ones,” Ethan agrees quietly. The firelight catches the line of his jaw and sends his hair shining gold. He’s still the most beautiful man Mason has ever met and he’s all Mason’s.

After ten years, it still hasn’t got old.

“Any regrets?”

Ethan turns to him and leans in. Mason meets him halfway, pressing a kiss to his mouth, mindful of the dual weights on their chests and careful not to wake them. Then Ethan draws back. “Not a single one.”

“Me neither,” Mason murmurs but then the moment is interrupted when Nico shows up.

“Here,” he grunts, handing them each a metallic mug. Something spicy Mason doesn’t recognize wafts up.

Mason takes the mug hesitantly and looks up at Nico with a silent lift of his eyebrow. “Am I going to have to peel anymore potatoes if I take this?”

“No,” Nico rumbles. “Tomorrow we’re going to slaughter a pig and make sausages.”

“We’re gonna what?”

“You heard me. And you can do the honors. Time to earn your keep, Huntsman.”

Nico moves away and Mason stares into his mug. “This is payback, isn’t it?” he says miserably to Ethan. “For giving him all those shitty ops back in the day?”

Ethan’s lips twitch. Mason thinks he might be laughing. “It might be, babe.”

“Well, Fu… Fudge.. me,” he slumps against Ethan’s shoulder as Luca plays his songs and the stars continue to wheel overhead.

#this is so self indulgent oh my god #marie miller #archer rose #maddox gibbons #scooter roosevelt #mason knight #nico morrisini #luca moreno #eva novakov #isaac cerrillo #Post war feels #post war #happy fathers day Mase #another one of the dumbest things ive ever written

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punsandfuturekingsmen · 3 years

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She wipes at his tears with a tissue. That tissue is added to the box.

Arthur feels the tissue blot against his skin. He jerks again, jerks away. It's feeble at best, as the paper soaks in gold-green tears between dabbing each cheek. He keeps his eyes on the key as she leans over though, and he forces his wrist and fingers to move.

He can reach. He manages to unhook the clasp while she's over him. His fingers almost touch the key, but she turns away, setting the tissue in the box with a rustle. He would bite his tongue, except there's cotton in his mouth where the tooth had been. It all hurts too much, too.

Thankfully, pained noises are normal for him right now, like this. She pays him no mind, prepping for whatever came next.

Arthur's eyes flick up to hers. He doesn't say anything, but something cold sinks in his stomach like a stone. What.... else could she take? What else was there she hadn’t already? She had his blood, his tears, his fucking flesh and bone and nail and hair and other things--- what else was there even left that she hadn’t touched.

But she’s leaning closer, over him, stroking his hair like he was a cat. It made him sick, made him burn, but when she did, he could-- touch the key. His finger and thumb grasped for it, and he moved the whole key slow, steady, trying to lift it with his wrist without tugging the hook of the clasp. All he needed to do was get the key over the lip, without pulling on her and letting her know. She seemed busy though, and his eyes flicked between her face, the key, and-- everywhere else.

This was harder strapped down. Next to impossible. But it was almost like fate is on his side. She is practically asking for him to take the key, when she moves a little closer, leaning down. It affords him just enough leverage to slip the handle off the ring. He lays it flat in his palm, angling it by lifting the handle end closer to his fingers slightly with his pinky and ring, and pushing it along his wrist with the rest. His thumb played anchor along his skin, and with a few nudges, he manages to get it pushed beneath his wristband. For safety, he turns it enough to not be obvious, while staying held in place. It isn’t easy, but now that it was under the band around his wrist, the hardest part was over.

And like karma, fate found a way to balance his fortune. The key slips so only a trace sliver of metal peeks out, as she begins speaking, whispered words over him. The rest of his thoughts fly away, and his fingers halt, instead moving to scratch into the table below him, any plans and intents slipping through his fingers.

He isn’t sure what he expected her to do. He hoped--- the worst had been over, with the way the tears and even his blood, had felt like a come down, even if he hated her gentle hands touching him. He didn’t know what there was, but somewhere, deep down, he’d hope the last thing would be something so simple, so easy. A break.

When the magic twisted, when her fingers curled around and began to pull, he understood that everything else had been the calm before the storm.

It was-- an indescribable feeling. Pain came nowhere close. It was something silent, like the ringing in your ears, the paroxysms mute as your body seized. There weren’t words to understand or elucidate or unravel what the moment felt like, having a piece of yourself ripped from you. Agony, excruciating torture-- it all didn’t have meaning. It all didn’t mean enough. It was worse than dying. Dying could be slow, but it was calm, or it was fast. It didn’t expect you to keep living. It was fighting the final rest, and there was a sense of peace, when you knew even if you failed, at least it could be over, to some degree. There was a comfort in the end, whatever it was the end on.

But not here, flayed and torn asunder. Not here in empty ringing ears and strikes lightning and being boiled alive inside your skin as each atom of your being was split, bursting with novas that threaded your core and turned you to dust. Not when you were under the calamity of having what was left of you mangled, having the core of your very being violated by a woman who was still smiling as she razed you, as she ripped you into shattered pieces, as she destroyed what little chance you had to feel alive again.

She didn't care that she was destroying you-- tearing a piece off of your fucking SOUL.

She beamed as her nails dug into the very core of him, and stringing strands of light tore away from the rest from his vulnerable soul, where her hand was in his chest in worse ways than even before. He felt each one snap, and his body went rigid, eyes unseeing. His mouth opened in silent scream-- and then it wasn’t. The house lit, every bulb flickering to life, burning bright, brighter and brighter and then shattering. His scream broke out, but it was-- wrong. His voice split, fractured, glitched and static and broken and overlaying like he was screaming in overlapping rhythms. It was a sound he’d never heard before, like a banshee’s wail, and the candle went out as they were pelted in glass from the lights giving way.

Electricity and pain lanced everywhere as he seized on the gurney, convulsing as lighting arced from him like solar flares, lighting up the room in unearthly yellows. His back ached, burned, strained and strained like it did and tore and ripped and shredded, and-- something snapped. Something broke through.

Wings unfurled, bladed wings with knives for feathers, black tipped in gold. They sliced through the straps, through the gurney and runes and into her skin alike as they passed in an arc, before covering Arthur entirely. The response leaves her with a piece of gold soul in her fingers in the deep dark, and bleeding from deep lacerations along her arm and face. The feathers clanked and clicked with metallic sounds as they stayed raised, a protective barrier.

Thankfully, finally, Arthur slips away, receding from consciousness.

His body continues to move. It sits up. It stands. The feathers shift, wings moving. It can be heard in the dark. The bares of light now reflects, off soft, white wingtips.

It Is Silent.

#answering things #ic #arthur speaks #M!A #Trapped #cw torture #cw blood #cw injury #cw medical abuse #fae sighting #???#:3c #:)#This Is Fine #Visiting Muse

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