#Tainted Miracle au

[queenofthedisneyverse]

My version of the Tainted Miracle Au

Isabela, she started out as the tomboy of the family, loved playing in mud, pulling flowers out from the root to give to her mama, reading about all kinds of plants, etc.

Alma, however, wanted the girl to be more girly so when she became four, she started teaching the girl how to do more feminine things. The miracle didn't know that was going to be a problem but knew what her gift was going to be and blessed with the gift of creating beautiful plants of all kinds.

By the time Mirabel came along she was turning into a perfect feminine version of the tomboy she used to be. But being only eleven, she still tried to hold her childish nature and play with her younger sisters and primos.

But whenever she got too rough or messy, she gets scolded.

"Isabela! You got your dress dirty, the seamstress didn't custom tailor it for you to treat it like that."

After Mirabel got her gift, which was crystal, glass, and diamond creation. She was forced into the perfection role with Isabela being tasked to teach Mirabel what she knows.

At eight Mirabel noticed Camilo, Luisa, and Dolores didn't nearly get as much praise as She and Isabela did. so, she started helping them. She started making cute accessories and dresses (or at least attempted it) for Luisa to wear around town. Same for Camilo and Dolores.

She taught her primos and hermana how to walk agile, how to sit straight, and keep a smile. Dolores wasn't really all for it but tried her best. People would often ask for certain types of jewelry or just about anything made of glass or crystal. So, she would have Camilo, Dolores, and Luisa help her mail them around town if they would be in the area.

Camilo would model as Mirabel's manniquin when it came to Mirabel making clothes for the family. Alma saw this and in turn, gave him praise for helping her "Chica Diamante Perfecta"

They would also help Isabela with mailing certain flowers to certain homes or just give them to people when Isabela handed them the flowers to pass out.

They all would get praise for helping Mirabel and Isabela out…but this took a turn. It was expectant for them to be pretty and helpful just like Mirabel and Isabela.

Camilo could no longer slouch over or do boyish things. He was now supposed to help Mira, be a perfect babysitter (in other words mother), respectful, clean, and eat a normal portion of food.

Luisa was now supposed to handle herself with grace when doing chores in town. No running, no dirtying clothes that Mirabel made for you, head up, back straight, swift movements.

Dolores was now actually forced to socialize and "not be seen as rude" because she used to stay in her room too much. Earmuffs (that look like stylish earpieces) are mandatory for her if she has to socialize, luckily Mirabel made her some cute earmuffs for her to wear.

Overtime Isabela wasn't liking the attention being taken away from her and became distant. In her mind, they were all taking away her chance at becoming a Matriarch and making abuela proud.

Oh! New idea! Alma constantly holds the "you might become the future candle holder if you keep this up" trophy over them.

The other grandkids picked up hobbies to appease Alma. Camilo: Baking, sewing, and painting. Dolores: Writing, crafting, and ballet. Luisa: kindergarten volunteer, candle making, and knitting.

"H- Here you go Abuela, strawberry buñuelo's just how you like them" Camilo handed Alma the cookies. In return he got a thank you but he still couldn't help but doubt. Was it enough? should I make more? I hope they were decorated good enough…please be proud

When Antonio is born and grows up, he's still the same shy kid. But Alma, having five other perfect grandchildren, is teaching him how to be just like them after his ceremony.

Antonio (let's say two years after his ceremony), is started to mimic his siblings and primas behavior.

"I have to be mature, sit up straight, don't get dirty, help the town, be polite, become the future matriarch and make abuela proud"

Everything was fine, until Isabela's wedding day. just before she walks down the aisle, her whole life of suffering flashes before her eyes…and she snaps at the realization that her life wasn't her own.

she ran all the way from the church and to Casita. goes for the candle to snuff it out and fails, ending up getting shocked and scarred by it.

She figured she had enough time to write a letter to her primas and hermanas on what happened. Writing everything she could as fast as she could and left it in Mirabel's room marked as "Hermana's and primo's eyes only."

"To mi hermanas and primos, I'm so sorry I've been so distant with you and mean to you. Alma just molded me into something she wanted me to be since my ceremony day. She told me that if I stayed strong, independent, and perfect that I'll one day be a matriarch…like she told all of you. She stole my youth, stole yours, and is going to steal Antonio's youth if we let her…get the candle. It gave me scars but maybe, if you bide your time and plan correctly, you'll get the candle without it hurting you and maybe she'll listen to you. if not…destroy it, it's obviously the only thing she cares about if she doesn't want to hear your pain"

One after one, they all tried to reason with her...and ended up scarred and in a donkey barn...plotting the demise of the remaining madrigal adults, especially Alma's.

Additional info:

What about their parents?

What about Bruno?

What happened to Bruno?

How does Alma treat Julieta and Pepa?

Just a little insight on how messed up the kids really are in the au

Mannerisms

Designs and relationships

Playlist

Battle with own mind

Future outfits

See this version of Isabela's villain song as all the madrigal grandkids villain song.

@toaverse

[imnotadogiswear]

Spin on the Tainted Miracle AU where Mirabel never goes for the candle. She’s still exiled to the barn, but her reputation isn’t as bad and she has several new advantages. Sensing that it’s future keeper is in trouble and given that she never attacked it, the candle secretly gives Mirabel control over all the gifts for safekeeping. When Mirabel discovers this, she decides to take a subtler approach in her revenge. What will she do to undermine the family’s reputation? What will the Madrigals do?

[scarlet-rose22]

tainted trio

So Julieta was done with Bruno,Agustin, and everyone else,somehow Mira got into Casita and broke her down,telling her that she was a disgrace to mothers everywhere, that she was disappointed in her and failed her as a mother, calling her a traitor and a coward. Hammering in that it was her fault she was like this, the broken woman agreed and begged Mira to be her mama again, the teen agreed under one condition "Help me destroy the miracle?" the woman paused because she was scared of the puta that birthed and raised her,but she desperately wanted Mirabel's love plus that dam hunk of wax was the cause of all of this pain, sadness, and madness, so she agreed because nothing else mattered anymore except the love of her hija and making her happy and if destroying the miracle would make Mira happy and love her again then so be it. So Mira goes back to the barn with a bunch of food and things from before she got kicked out, and then Dolores attacked Tio Bruno in self defense, Juli ran to her sobrina and they packed their bags along with Mirabel's, then sent her to the barn telling her that her primita will keep her safe, she goes up to Alma's room to take out the cause of this and gets blasted and scarred along her face, neck, arms, torso, and legs.

[seeyabythemarina]

Mothers Sacrific

tainted au by shyhearted on a03

Instead of asking bruno to kill mirabel Alma goes to do it herself. Pedro sacrific himself against monster and she would to to protect her family. She know isa can be a great holder. She gets killed instead of bruno. I wonder how it would go.

[runningfrom2am]

no drinks, no pools, no molly. (r.c)

summary: five times rafe cameron tried to ask you out, and the one time it worked.

this is an About Time!au (that's is my fave movie of all time and if you haven't seen it i highly recommend it if you like laughing and sobbing at the same time)

tags/warnings: you might cringe (a real warning), soft(ish)!rafe, def fanon!rafe, swearing? fluff! underage drinking

pairing: rafe x reader

wc: 4.6k (yikes)

recommended listening: about time theme, friday i'm in love

note: please please please if you haven't seen the movie at least give the theme a listen, while you read this or on its own but i promise it'll make your heart melt it's so adorable, i listened to it through most of the writing process and it made me want to cry sooo

Rafe Cameron has a flawless reputation. Tainted only by his better-than-thou attitude, as some perceive it- but always kind, always caring. Suspiciously so, to many, considering his semi-popularity, but that has never bothered him. He's a "stop and smell the roses" kind of guy, making him insufferable to some, but not to you.

It's not like you two are close friends, but he's had a seemingly hopeless crush on you for years at this point. He sees you almost every day at the country club in the summers, and lucky for him, you usually have two or sometimes three classes together at the academy on the mainland during the rest of the year. He thinks you're just about the most beautiful girl in the world- if he had to guess. The way the light reflects off your hair in the sun as you lay on a beach chair by the pool with a drink in your hand, making it look so soft and so shiny he's just dying to touch it, leaves him in awe every time.

After much encouragement from his sisters, he's decided it's time to act on this crush. After years, he still doesn't know if he can. Even if he has nothing to lose.

What everyone doesn't know about Rafe and his reputation, is that he has lived two lives. His dad told him when he was eighteen that by some miracle the men in his family could travel back in time, and his sisters could never know. All he had to do was simply stand in a dark, enclosed space and close his fists at his side- picturing the moment he wanted to go back to in his mind. Then, he would find himself there. He didn't believe it at first, believing his dad was pulling the wool over his eyes, but he tried it that night anyways- and was shocked to find himself in yesterday's clothes with his previous day's breakfast sitting on his desk waiting for him.

This changed everything, and he really never had anything to lose- but that didn't make the terrifying concept of talking to you any easier.

One:

"Go, Rafe! Go talk to her. Just be yourself." Sarah is pushing him in your direction and he stumbles a little on his feet, cheeks burning hot from nerves working in tandem with the heat of the hot summer day. He almost drops his drink, glaring at her over his shoulder as she waves for him to move, smiling excitedly. He supposes now is as good a time as any- you're alone, sitting next to the pool on a towel with a novel in your hands and a tequila sunrise at your side. He wonders if that's your favourite as he hesitantly walks up, repeatedly glancing back at his sister who's giving him an encouraging thumbs up.

"Hey, uh, Y/N?" Rafe says, clearing his throat as he stands over you, his shadow blocking the sunlight from your eyes as you lift your sunglasses.

"Hey, Rafe. How's it going?" You smile, settling your glasses in your hair.

"Oh, uh, pretty good," Rafe replies, and you nod with a smile, almost like you're waiting for him to continue. "Can I join you?" He asks, gesturing to the empty chair beside you.

"Of course!" You grin, patting the empty seat.

"Sweet, cool- thanks..." He says, mostly to himself as he steps around you and between the chairs, going to sit down when he stubs his toe on the leg of the reclined sun chair.

"Ow, shit!" He hisses, instantly recoiling and in the process, dumping his drink all over you.

You gasp, quickly sitting up and shaking off your book, hoping it's not too damaged along with your white swimsuit that is now stained red with the grenadine in his drink.

"Oh, oh god- I'm so sorry, Y/N, I-" Rafe panics, the pain in his foot suddenly gone as he looks you over.

"It's fine, Rafe. It happens." You chuckle a little, but he can tell you're not pleased as you desperately shake your book.

"Uh, here, I'm so sorry-" He says again, grabbing a towel from the table next to you to try and help dry you off, but realizes too late that your drink is balanced on the edge of it and he spills it, once again onto your lap.

You fly up out of your seat, jumping a little at the cold and brushing the ice cubes off your lap. Now your bathing suit and book are most definitely ruined and you groan at the thought of having to repurchase your favourite book, which you've read no less than seven times now. "Shit.." You mumble, more to yourself.

"God I'm so sorry, I just-" Rafe is absolutely humiliated, he doesn't even know what to say as his cheeks are red hot from having most definitely blown any shot he's ever had with you. He gets up and quickly takes off towards the clubhouse, running out of the situation as fast as possible. You watch him in confusion, laughing a little as he leaves you awkwardly standing by the pool with a newly tie-dyed bathing suit.

"Ouch..." Wheezie grumbles, sipping on her own drink as he watches Rafe run away.

"Where is he going?" Sarah says, wincing a little as she looks at you as well, giving you a quick awkward wave since your eyes landed on his sisters, hoping for any answers.

"No clue, but after that trainwreck, I'd be running too." Her sister answers with a slight laugh.

When Rafe gets inside, he slows to a quick-paced walk since he knows he's not allowed to run inside. He's got a firm destination in mind- the broom closet in the locker room.

Two:

Rafe is standing on the back porch at one of Kelce's parties, admiring the way you hold your drink with both hands as you stand by the pool with some of your friends, talking over the music. They scare him, sure, but not as much as you do. Even though he knows you're not a mean person, at the same time he has to acknowledge that they, your friends, will be his harshest critics if he tries to make any moves on you.

"Dude, just go talk to her, this is ridiculous at this point," Topper says to him, nudging his shoulder. "It's hard to watch, honestly. Just, here, take this- then go talk to her."

His friend is holding a shot glass up to him, holding some nondescript clear liquid. "Liquid courage, man, what's the worst that could happen?"

Rafe nods, trying to hype himself up. He glances over your way again, sighing to himself at how pretty you look. How pretty you always look. He swallows his pride and takes the shot, shivering at the bitter taste and handing the glass back to Topper as he wipes his mouth, coughing in the process.

"Okay, now, go ask her out, the worst she can say is no." His friend is encouraging, but Rafe isn't worried about what you'll say, so much as what he'll do to embarrass himself this time. He's lucky he's the only one who remembers the country club incident that happened just a week prior.

Rafe smiles nervously at his friend and adjusts the collar of his shirt, walking down the stairs of the porch and heading in your direction. He stops halfway and abandons his half-finished drink on the stairs. He's not risking that again.

"Hey." Rafe clears his throat as he walks up to you and your friends, but it seems that no one heard him over the music. "Uh, hey, guys." He says again, slightly louder this time and grabbing their attention.

"Rafe! Hi." You smile, seemingly excited to see him and you quickly give him a hug. He's shocked, but hugs you back. "How are you? I haven't seen you around this week!"

"Oh! Uh, yeah, I've been pretty busy." He lies, smiling at you nervously. He tries to relax as he takes in your intoxicated state, knowing you're having fun, and not taking much seriously.

"Sarah said you've just been locked up at Tannyhill all week." Your friend laughs a little, making him blush.

"I mean, yeah I wasn't feeling well. Had a bad cold." He pats himself on the back for the quick save, but that is cut short as you take a subtle step back, smiling at him awkwardly and shifting your body language after having just hugged him. Shit, he knows how anxious you are about getting sick. "I mean, not bad, I think it was probably allergies. Nothing contagious, I don't think." He scrambles to backtrack.

"Well, I'm glad you're feeling better." You say, carefully eyeing him up and down. God, now you must think he's gross. Great.

"Thanks." He smiles. "Uh, can I grab you another drink? I'm empty-handed; at Kelces parties that's a sin." Rafe chuckles, trying to change the subject as he notices your almost empty cup.

He's hoping to get you away from the watchful eye of your friends, and it seems to work as you smile and nod. "I'll be right back." You say to your friends, stepping back to squeeze past them as he joins your side. Now is his chance.

"So, uh, I was actually wondering if-"

"Rafe! Buddy!" He hears someone yelling at him excitedly, their tone getting louder as they approach quickly.

"Kelce, h-hey!" He says, just as his friend reaches his side, shoving into him as he suddenly comes to a stop at the edge of the pool. He wraps an arm around Rafe's shoulder and uses him to steady himself- but unfortunately, Rafe is the wrong person for this.

He stumbles back with the weight of another teenage boy against him, bumping into you and you lose your balance. "Oh, shit- Y/N, be careful." He laughs a little, turning to make sure you're okay, slamming his elbow into your side and pushing you into the water by accident. He didn't realize how close you were still standing to him.

Rafe freezes, his jaw-dropping as suddenly everyone in the vicinity is watching. "Oh, shit!" Kelce laughs, nudging Rafe again as he stands there slack-jawed. He looks briefly over to your friends who are crouched down at the edge of the pool now, shouting your name and ready to pull you out. You gasp as you come out of the water, frantically pushing your hair out of your face. Your makeup is ruined, and no doubt your hair as well. Rafe could tell you put time into how you would look tonight.

"Y/N! Oh god, I'm so sorry!" He says, finally snapping back to reality. He crouches down as well to try and help, but you look at him only briefly before swimming over to your friends.

"That's rough, bro." Kelce laughs quietly at Rafe, who's standing back up, defeated now. "Hope you weren't trying to hit that."

"Do you have a walk-in pantry?" Rafe quickly asks him.

Three:

No pool this time. That's for sure. They seem to be bad luck for Rafe, and this time, as he looks at the small gift bag he hid under the table of other gifts for you on your birthday, he knows he just has to get you alone to open it. Your friends were throwing you a big party at Molly's house, and invited everyone on your side of the island. It was big, after all, you were the kook princess- but Sarah seems next in line for the title.

It's proving to be difficult, though, since there are about fifty other kids here- and you're the star of the show. As always. This doesn't bother him, though, not at all. You deserve it, and he can't wait to be on the planning end of all your birthday parties for the rest of your lives.

"Y/N/N! Let's do presents, yeah? I can't wait for you to open mine." Molly smiles at her best friend, guiding her over to the firepit area next to the gift table. Rafe is all ears, confident with his hiding place as he makes his way over too, sitting a couple of seats down so you'd have room for your friends as well. Not everyone wanted to watch you open your gifts, that seemed like a childish thing, almost, so the party just continued around you.

"Rafe, how are you?" You asked him with a smile while your other friends sat down. "I'm glad you could make it."

"I'm good, yeah. Happy birthday, by the way." Rafe replies, fiddling with a stray thread on the hem of his shorts. "Thanks for inviting me."

"Of course! It wouldn't be a party without you." You giggle, about to speak again when Molly is thrusting a box in your lap, wrapped with pink paper and a glittery bow.

"Here, this one first- it's from Ava and Maya." She explains, even though you're already reading the attached tag. You nod, looking over to the two girls.

After about forty minutes of Rafe watching you open gift after gift, he's getting nervous. He didn't get you anything extravagant, only a small bracelet with a little note. He didn't want you to think he was crazy, or weird.

He looks over just as you help tuck away the last of the garbage into an empty bag, not wanting to leave a mess on your friend's lawn. He's sure that the whole time you were opening gifts, you didn't let a single piece of stray wrapping paper or tape hit the ground. You were so considerate.

"Hey, wait- Y/N/N, here's another one. I think this is it." Molly says, walking over and dropping the small bag into your hands.

No, no- god, you can't open this in front of so many people. Rafe's hands start to shake as he watches you helplessly, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees as you carefully pull out the small box. You smile softly as you turn it over in your hands, and maybe, Rafe thinks, it will be fine. Maybe you'll open it and then love it and read the card and nod at him with that beautiful smile he knows so well, and then he'll finally have his chance.

"Who's it from?" He's pulled quickly from his daydream as he watches you open the now unwrapped box, smiling wide and placing your hand over your chest. "That's beautiful, Y/N/N." Molly smiles, crouched next to her best friend as she stares over the delicate bracelet as well.

"It is..." You sigh softly, placing it back down gently in the box.

"Yeah, who is it from?" Molly asks again, taking the bag and digging out the card. Rafe wants to speak up but he can't, knowing that would incriminate himself further. He's frozen as she opens it, his hands getting clammy as she starts reading it out loud without scanning the intention of the letters first. 

"Dear Y/N." She smiles, confident as she continues reading and Rafe sinks back in his seat, pulling his shirt up to cover his nose. "Happy birthday to the most beautiful girl on the island. I wouldn't doubt it for a second if someone told me you were the most beautiful in all the world." She reads and you pout, blushing as you clutch your hands to your chest, all your friends going "aw" along with Molly, who's taken a pause in her reading to gush over how sweet that is. "Anyway, I'm hoping you'll let me take you out for dinner later this week, I'd really love to get to know you better." She continues, pausing a little before quietly reading off the final line. "Love always, Rafe..." She trails off, looking back over her shoulder at him.

Not everyone heard his name, but even her looking at him was enough to send everyone else watching the signal nonetheless. "Wait, Molls, why would you read that out, that was meant to be private, I think..." You whisper to her, guilt crossing your features as you look nervously between her and Rafe.

"Oh... oops." Molly replies, looking back at Rafe again apologetically. "Rafe, I'm sorry, I didn't know."

"It's fine, uh, yeah it's cool. I, Uh, I've got to- yeah..." Rafe says, getting up quickly and heading for the door of the house.

"Rafe! Wait!" You call after him, handing the box and the note back to your friend and getting up to follow him quickly. You get inside just as you hear the bathroom door close, sighing a little to yourself. You'll wait here for him to come out so you can talk, and this will give you time to think over the best way to apologize.

As the light flickers off in the bathroom, Rafe knows he can't face you after that, quick to clench his fists at his sides and think of that morning- wishing that the whole thing never happened.

Four:

"How much do you know about Y/N?" Rafe asks his friends, watching you tee off on the hole ahead of them. The way your tennis skirt matches your headband makes his head honestly spin, you're so intentional with every outfit you wear- he thinks it's adorable. No one on the island dresses as well as you, in his opinion.

"What do you mean, like, how she is in bed? You'd have to ask her ex." Kelce laughs, taking a sip of his beer.

"No, obviously not." Rafe blushes. "Like, what kind of guys does she even like?"

"Why, you gonna ask her out?" Kelce laughs a little, stopping as he sees that Rafe is serious. "Oh- I mean, her ex was a total douchebag, so that's a good place to start. Apparently, she likes assholes."

Rafe nods a little, watching you drive off in the golf cart with your friends. He knows that so far trying to be himself has had a zero percent success rate, so maybe it's time to try a different approach. He can be more of the guy he is when he's alone with his friends, emulating a much more masculine, fuckboy vibe. The worst that could happen has already happened, twice.

On the last hole, with a few more drinks of what Topper called "liquid courage", he flattens the creases out of his jeans and jogs up to catch up with you. "Hey, ladies- can I borrow Y/N for a sec?" He asks your friends, not waiting for a response before continuing. "Thanks- 'preciate it."

He strides up to you as you and your friends look between each other in confusion. This isn't the Rafe you normally know, who you've grown to have a crush on. You take a few steps away with him, but not enough to be out of earshot from your friends, they obviously know about your secret feelings for the boy, and would love to listen in.

"Hey, so, uh," He stammers a little, quickly trying to get back on track with his attitude. But the way you're looking at him with your big, beautiful eyes as you smile at him expectantly, nervously almost, is throwing him off. He's never been this confident around you. "My friend really likes you, but I told him I'd ask you out first to see if you're worth it." He smirks, shifting his weight on his feet.

Your face falls- and you look hurt. He feels a pang in his chest. He did this to you, maybe Kelce's advice was bad after all. Your friends gasp, obviously hearing everything. "That is the rudest thing I have ever heard!" Your best friend, Molly, yells at him, quickly stomping over to you while you try and figure out what to say.

"Is this some sick prank?" Molly says, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and looking at you closely as you can't fight back the tears.

"I- wait, wait, no! I- I'm sorry I just-" Rafe tries to defend, shaking his head quickly and holding his hands up to the two of you.

"Get out of here, you prick!" She says, accentuating her desires by throwing her drink in his face.

Rafe wipes the drink out of his eyes, turning quickly and making a break for his friends. He can't save this situation now- he just had to escape.

"That was unbelievable!" Your other friend says as you get back to the golf cart, sitting down and wiping your tears.

"What a fucking loser." Molly adds, shaking her head as she watches him run away.

Rafe is met with his friends laughing hysterically at him, taking in the sight of his soaked polo shirt up close. "Dude- what did you say to her?" Topper laughs and Rafe grumbles as he sits in the cart, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Let's just go back to the club." He mutters, that same broom closet calling his name yet again.

Five:

No drinks, no pools, and now, no Molly. Rafe figures his best move at this time is to just text you. He doesn't have your number, not yet, but he does have your Instagram- and the DM feature seems like his most viable option, at this point.

rafecameron: hey, how are you?

yourinstagram: i'm good!! how are you?

Rafe is surprised he gets a response back so quickly, sitting up straighter at the kitchen island, where he's sitting eating his lunch.

rafecameron: i'm good. enjoying the summer so far. the weather has been perfect for wakeboarding.

God, the weather? Could he bring up anything more boring? He scolds himself mentally as he sees that she's typing, his leg bouncing a mile a minute on the stool he's sitting cross-legged on, his bowl of cereal left forgotten in front of him.

yourinstagram: that's awesome :) i haven't got much surfing or wakeboarding in this summer yet unfortunately, just haven't thought about it much i guess

At least she's trying to make small talk, Rafe assumes that's a good sign. It's perfect, actually- he can offer to take you out boating, especially if you haven't had the chance yet.

rafecameron: i have the boat tomorrow if you're free? we could grab drinks or something at the club after

Rafe sends the message and quickly places his phone upside down on the counter, but he can't resist lifting it again as soon as his phone buzzes.

He furrows his brow as he's seen you sent a photo. He opens the text thread, blood draining from his face when he sees the screenshot of this exact conversation pop up along with a message.

yourinstagram: *photo* yourinstagram: OH MY GOD MOLLS- I THINK RAFE IS ASKING ME OUT???

Clearly, that wasn't meant for him- but that doesn't make it any easier to read. He has to assume that's a bad thing- that you're trying to figure out, with the help of your best friend, how to let him down easily.

Rafe groans and tosses his phone back onto the counter, leaving it to go up into his windowless walk-in closet and take back that he texted you at all.

Six:

At the annual bonfire, Rafe is just wandering around looking for someone to talk to. His friends are busy throwing random things into the flames, seeing how high they could make the fire go. He lost interest very quickly. He's feeling down on his luck, after his five poor attempts at getting a date with you, even if no one else knows about any of them- not even you. Its embarrassment not fading, despite the summer passing quickly. Maybe it just wasn't meant to be, everything happens for a reason, surely. That doesn't mean he wouldn't really like a chance.

He's standing at the keg, pouring himself another beer when he sees you. You're off, a little in the distance all alone, walking along the shore and occasionally crouching down. He's confused for a moment as to what you're doing, but then he realizes- you're collecting seashells. Of course you are. It makes him smile a little to himself. Everyone around him is so concerned about getting drunk, high, whatever their vice is- but you just want to do your own thing.

He hands his cup off to a kid standing nearby who gratefully takes it, and starts his way down the sand to join you.

"Finding anything good?" He asks as he approaches you.

You're quick to stand up, turning to face him. "Oh, Rafe! Hey." You smile, looking down at your now long empty solo cup, filled almost to the brim with small seashells and pretty rocks. "Yeah, here." You hold out the one you just picked up, dropping it gently into his hand.

He cups the small shell in his hand and smiles, looking up at you again. "It's beautiful." He agrees. "Can I help?"

"Sure." You smile, nodding as you look up at him. The light from the distant bonfire falls right behind him, shining through his hair and his unbuttoned striped shirt. "I don't have a lot of room left, though." You show him the cup.

"Well, you're probably better at finding them than me. I can hardly see anything." Rafe chuckles, shrugging a little as the two of you continue down the beach, the music getting more and more quiet with every ten steps. You can only really hear the waves crashing beside you, despite the water being mostly calm.

You're both silent for a minute or two, scanning the ground for more shells. Rafe's mind is running a million miles a minute. Now's his shot, he's doing better than before- he hasn't offended you, spilled a drink on you, or pushed you into the ocean, everything is calm and there's no one around. Maybe he should make small talk first, bring it up later if you still want to talk to him by the end of the night.

"How's your-"

"So, I-"

You both start talking at the same time, making you both laugh. You count yourself lucky that he can't see how red your face is.

"You go first." Rafe insists, ready to listen to whatever you have to say. He could listen to you talk about anything, for hours; he's sure of it. He could never tire of the sound of your voice.

"Okay, well," You giggle, looking down and picking up a shell you catch a glimpse of in the moonlight. "I was going to ask if maybe you wanted to hang out sometime. Go for coffee, or something like that."

Rafe stops walking, staring at you and fighting back smiling like a crazy person. You wanted to hang out with him? After all this time, after all the energy he's put into trying to ask you out, you would have said yes this whole time?

"Like... like a date?" He asks, mentally slapping his hand against his forehead and trying to remember where the nearest bathroom or closet might be.

"Yeah, I mean, if you want." You reply, turning to face him fully.

He looks over your features as you smile at him, how the ocean breeze has pushed your hair over one shoulder and how a few shorter strands fly around your face. He nods, mouth dry as he tries to find the words. "Yeah, yeah I would love that." He agrees. "I, uh, I was actually going to ask you the same thing." He says, looking down as he kicks away some sand.

"You were?" You giggle. God, the sound of your laugh alone makes his heart beat faster.

"I only tried about five times over the course of the summer, could never make it to actually talking to you, though." Rafe admits, laughing slightly.

"Why not? I don't scare you, do I?" You laugh, tilting your head at him and brushing some hair away from where it's gotten stuck to your lips in the wind.

"Not anymore." Rafe grins, continuing to talk past you and you turn with him, joining his side again as he turns the seashell you have him over in his palm. This time, he wants to relive this night for all the right reasons.

taglist: @bookishbabyyyyy @madelynie, @mutual-mendes, @slut4drudy, @winterrrnight, @totalswag, @sadfury @fullfledgedemo @rafemotherfuckingcameron, @urfaveluvr, @chenslucy, @hxnnah-397, @s-we-e-t-t-ea, @tahliac11, @ragingsammie, @ietss

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐈𝐎𝐀𝐃𝐊

Pairing: FEDRA!Javier Peña x firefly!reader

Genre: slice of life, smut, romance, angst, enemies to reluctant friends to lovers, TLOU AU, minors dni

Summary: Javier, a former member of the Federal Disaster Response Agency in Kansas City, is haunted by the guilt and violence he indirectly caused by not taking action when he should have. After fleeing Kansas City in the aftermath of Kathleen's violent overthrow of FEDRA, you and Javier seek refuge in an abandoned train in the middle of a forest.

As you and Javier turn the train into a living space and learn to navigate the dangers of a post-apocalyptic world, you gradually overcome your differences and form an unlikely bond. But when your pasts catch up with you, you must confront the demons that haunt you and make a choice that could mean the difference between life and death. Will you choose to protect each other and find a way to build a new life together, or will the ghosts of your pasts tear you apart?

word count: 4.5k

chapter summary: you and javier get off on a rocky start.

warnings: canon typical violence, arguing, a brief reference to Ellie and the main TLOU plot, no y/n

Deadhead - A railcar or locomotive that is being transported empty, typically to be used for future shipments.

The day was warm, the sun bright. Small petals flew further away from the green grass, colorful flowers moving left and right with the soft caress of the wind. The vest Javier wore dug uncomfortably into his chest, his rifle slung over his back and pistol snug on his hip. The lovely weather mocked him, taunted him. It was a lie. A facade. The color, the white clouds, the green grass— all of it seemed muddled now. If he tried hard enough he could see specks of blood, tainting the visual that could as well be a spitting image of a Van Gough painting. 

But despite it all. Despite knowing it’s a lie, despite knowing the horror, he still wore the letters; F E D R A— Federal Disaster Response Agency. He liked to think that they were doing some good. At least they drove the wretched infected underground, right? They did one good thing, so that made the killing, the rape, and the torture okay. 

Right? 

“Fuck me.” he muttered into the wind, hoping the words, later on, would be carried back to him, reminding him that hey, at least I knew something was wrong. 

He noticed someone walking up to him. He was expecting it, really. Micheal Coghlan. The man who by some goddamn miracle still carried goodness inside of him. The type of goodness that would radiate through the cracks of skin and bone, the type that would bring light to a person’s face. 

Micheal had a limp. 

It was caused by someone Javier knew but didn’t particularly like. He saw it happen. He still heard the bone snapping into two when he closed his eyes at night. The man stood next to him and Javier observed him from the corner of his eye. Once upon a time, he could call his face roguishly handsome. It wasn’t a sharp face, round around the edges, with a bit of stubble; shaved by his sister no doubt. His eyes were kind, a darker shade of brown compared to his own, lips thin and chapped. Thirsty. 

Javier cleared his throat, hand going to his waist, he pulled out his flask and offered it to him. 

“Water?” 

He took it without an answer. Drank it in a way where water droplets would stream from the corner of his lips, his gulps loud. It made Javier feel awkward. Micheal stood a bit straighter when he offered the flask back. It was empty. 

“So what did you want to talk about?” Javier asked. 

Micheal smiled and crinkles appeared in the corners of his eyes. “The people.” 

It’s a bird violently flying into the window that wakes you. 

Your eyes open fearfully, your heart beating a mile a minute. Your breathing is uneven. Dust clings to both the inside of your throat and skin. Eyes still wide open, you stare at the ceiling of the train. The seats you managed to sprawl yourself upon are uncomfortable, jagged metal sticking into your skin, making ugly marks and dents. When your breathing calms, and body relaxes, you slowly get up. 

The weather is hot, yet gray clouds decorate the sky. The heat of rain, you like to refer to it as. You can barely see the sun, the light of it filtered through the gray, painting the world into a muted color. Fitting. 

You hear a snore and direct your gaze toward the sound. You see the boots that belong to a man that’s sleeping a couple of rows ahead, too big to truly fit and get comfortable. Javier Peña. You heave yourself up by grasping the heads of the seats, your legs aching and stumbling like a newborn doe’s. His shirt is unbuttoned from the top, revealing golden, scarred skin. Your eyes trail further down, and they don’t stop until you see the gun strapped to his waist. You think about how easy it would be to just take it, to shoot him and try to find your people. 

Then you remember. They’re all gone. You have no people. Marlene’s words were clear;

The girl’s gone. No more soldiers, no cure, no nothing. The fireflies are dead; you’re on your own now. 

A chill crawls up every inch of your skin. Why are you even here? Why are you with him of all people? You’re not sure yet. It’s much easier to dislike him when he’s not speaking and his eyes are closed. 

You hate that when they are closed, the only memory of them is him being struck with fear, the flames behind you mirrored in his eyes. Kansas City quickly became a place of destruction and death. It was unexpected and with every fabric of your being, you wished you had never seen it. 

“Why are you watching me?” his voice startles you; it’s deep with sleep. “It’s creepy.” 

“I was thinking about taking your gun and shooting you.” 

“I’ve always loved an honest woman. What stopped you?” 

“I have no place to go.” 

“Neither do I, as you know,” he says. He finally opens his eyes, but only to stare at the ceiling in a similar way you did not moments ago. “So where does that leave us?” 

You don’t understand what he’s asking you. The air is still.  Javier takes a sitting position, his elbows pressed into his knees and hands hanging loosely between his legs. 

“I say we stay here,” he says, voice firm.

“The train?” you ask, confused.

He shrugs. “Why not? It’s covered pretty well, it’s far enough for people to see and close enough if—god forbid—we want to head back into the city.” 

“You want us to live together?” 

“I want us to turn this into a living space. After that leave, if you want,” he rubs his thumb into the corner of his lips. “Though I wouldn’t really advise leaving, and I definitely need your help.” 

“So I should stay because?” 

“Safety. Security.” his smile is bitter. “What else can a person want during the end of times?” 

“Someone they can trust.” 

“You can trust me.” 

You look him over. He must’ve sensed your immediate hostility because his gaze slowly moves to you. He returns your suspicion in like, contemplating what to say. You don’t trust him. He doesn’t trust you. Javier’s fingers twitch and his hand moves to clap over his pocket. He lets out a sigh of relief when he feels the familiar shape of a cigarette box. 

He licks his lips again. 

You gaze out the windows. They’re thick with dust and vines, the outside seems a tad bit brighter now, the gray clouds clearing up a bit. 

“Being addicted must be hard,” you mutter. “What are you going to do when you run out? Sacrifice yourself for a box of Marlboros?” 

He chuckles. “Maybe. Who knows. I’m not out of stock yet.” 

“Not a very comforting thing to hear from a man that’s arguing that I should trust him.” 

“It’s not like I said I’d trade you for a pack of cigarettes.” 

“Who knows. That’s what you said, right?” 

He sighs and gets up. He walks down the narrow hall of the train, hands brushing over the headrests. You follow him outside, and just like you suspected, the weather is grossly warm with no light. The dry weeds crunch under your boots. Javier pulls out the crumpled pack and offers you one; you shake your head. You’re surrounded by trees, with little to see except the sky.

“Wouldn’t want to dry out your stock faster.” 

“That scared of what I’ll do if I run out?” he smiles, placing the butt of the cigarette between his lips. “I’m trying to figure out if you’re paranoid or smart.” 

“Paranoia works.” 

“I guess that’s true.” he mutters, lighting a match. “So what are you going to do? Stay or leave?” 

Javier inhales deeply, his lips not too tight not too loose. A soft groan vibrates from the back of his throat and he lets go of the smoke. Your eyes follow the dance of it, twisting and dissipating like the vapor on the first exhales of winter. He places the cigarette back between his lips and tucks his hands behind as he leans back into the metal surface of the train.  

He waits as you think. It’s ironic really, the fact that you’re actually contemplating staying with him. Needless to say, FEDRA and the fireflies don’t have the best relationship, but you guess that’s all behind you now. There are no organizations at this moment, no rebellions. Just him and you; two people looking for a way to survive. 

You turn to stare at the train. It’s nearly completely intact— there are six cars and the locomotive. If you stare hard enough you can spot the tracks buried under the moss and grass. It would take a lot of work, but indeed it was possible to turn it into a living space. 

“Give me a gun,” you say and he smiles. 

“What makes you think I have more than one?” 

“Then give me the one.” you press. 

“The first thing you said to me this morning was that you wanted to shoot me.” he pushes himself away from the metal surface. Pulling his cigarette away from his lips, he stands an inch away from you and holds your gaze. His smile disappears as smoke fans across your face, making your stomach churn. “Are you going to stay?” he asks. 

“If you give me the gun then sure.” you tilt your chin up. “I don’t trust FEDRA.” 

“I’m not FEDRA anymore and you’re not a firefly.” 

“You were once. I think you can see why I have my reservations. You weren’t just any FEDRA soldier, you were a part of it in Kansas City. I heard horror stories about that place.” you rub your eyes, trying to erase what they had seen. “And I actually witnessed the fables.”  

Javier takes a step back then, admitting defeat. Something horrific seems to cross his face, a series of violent images perhaps, or maybe it was the loss of his “friends” whatever it was you don’t pay much mind to it. Everyone has pain. Even children who are meant to be carefree and happy. You’re surprised when he suddenly hands you the gun, cigarette loose between his lips. You take the weapon. It’s heavy in your hand, cold between your fingers. 

“Satisfied?” 

“Very much so, yes.” you don’t smile, but you pull an expression very similar to it. He exhales another breath of smoke, and you push the gun under your waistband. “Where do we start?” 

“You can’t be serious, Carillo.” 

It was dark and he could barely see the figure of his colleague. Javier had the intention of stepping forward and taking the gun from the other, but he stood there instead, heart beating in his throat. His stomach churned, bile thick on his tongue. Carillo didn’t bother to look at him. There was a man that was on his knees in front of the captain, his head bowed, shaking like a leaf. Carillo aimed his gun at him, his jaw tense. 

“You rather them kill us?” 

“I rather none of us kill each other.” 

Carillo finally turned to him then. Javier would expect the captain’s eyes to soften but they didn’t. 

“You heard what happened in the other QZ’s,” he spat. “Soldiers being killed, murdered. The people rioting. We can’t let weeds grow free Peña, he already killed one of us. You heard the rumors to overthrow FEDRA.” 

Before Javier could say anything a gunshot echoed, a body fell lifelessly to the concrete. He didn’t move. He didn’t even twitch. He just watched. Carillo placed a hand on his shoulder and the skin under Javier’s shirt burned—his stomach trembled then. 

“Ya no vivimos en un mundo de misericordia. Elige un bando.” 

Pick a side. 

Carillo left, Javier followed. Without thinking, his hand went to his empty flask. The cool metal under his fingertips did little to soothe him.

It’s odd being here with him. You feel trapped by nature, by circumstance. Nothing is the same and nothing would ever be the same. You lean over and sweep out the glass into a tattered bag. Javier had decided on burying the glass or anything else you might find and have no use for down into the dirt. You didn’t have any objections to that. When you lean over to pick up a piece of a broken wine bottle, you feel the gun Javier gave you pressing into the skin of your hip. 

You always hated cleaning before the outbreak. Now it was a soothing thing to do. It felt normal. A reminisce of the past. Still, you can’t help but feel sick from being at ease. Change has to happen. But with the immune girl gone, and the fireflies basically disbanded (at least that was what you could tell from Marlene's massage) there is nothing you can do. 

You see Javier approaching, a sheer amount of sweat coats his skin, his shirt clinging to his body. Surprisingly, he’s silent. You had expected him to talk, to pry into your past life. But he seemed to be content with just cleaning for now. 

“We should scout the area,” he says when he catches your gaze. “Look for abandoned houses, supplies. Maybe we can find a fruit bush or something and plant some here for food.” 

“You do know there’s no way this is going to be like…a peaceful suburb residence right?” 

“A man can only dream.” 

He wipes a bead of sweat from his brow and your curiosity gets the better of you. 

“I need to ask,” you say and he piques with interest. “Why FEDRA? No offense but you don’t exactly look the type.” 

“I remember you saying that the first time you saw me.” 

“Still surprised you didn’t shoot me then, considering who I was.” 

“No offense but you didn’t exactly look the terrorist type. I didn’t know who, or what, you were.” 

“We weren’t terrorists.” 

“So you guys didn’t plant bombs?”  he asks sounding amused. “You didn’t kill people?” 

You narrow your eyes, heat pooling under your skin. “Only pieces of shit like you.” 

“I thought I didn’t look the type?” he sighs and shakes his head. “Look I’m not going to argue the ethics of it all and you’re definitely right. The things they—we did, FEDRA, It’s inexcusable. But don’t come here and tell me the fireflies were squeaky clean.” he takes the broken bottle from you and throws it into the bag. “I don’t want to fight about this. I don’t want to argue with you all the time. I’m not telling you I’m a good person, I don’t understand why you have to remind me. I know I’m not.” 

Silence follows. Your anger shifts into guilt and you push those feelings down. He gives you one last stern look before turning his back to you. 

“But neither are you so let’s stop bulshitting ourselves. And if you’re going to start interrogating me about my decisions—about my past— I recommend you not cuss me out a minute later.” 

His steps are loud as he leaves. You notice he left the bag behind, meaning that you managed to rile him up enough that he just had to get away from you. You probably deserved that. You don’t understand how he can shove the past aside so carelessly, how he can just forget what he’d done, what you’d done. But he was right, you aren’t a good person. Unlike him, you enjoy believing that you are. Joining the fireflies…it made you believe that you were doing good, that you were better and more noble. The killings you did were for the greater good, the people that ended up under the rubble of explosions were just a sacrifice that needed to be made—you told yourself that, again and again. 

Maybe you aren’t as bad as FEDRA but you aren’t that above it either. 

You contemplate going after him. Apologize without actually apologizing. You remember a time you used to break the tension by making a joke, how did you do that again? You can’t quite remember. 

You shake your head and continue to clear out the debris. He’ll come back. You can think about what to do then. 

Javier does eventually come back, but not before the sun had set. 

The stars appear one by one, and you hate to admit that you’d worried about him. Being alone is worse than being with someone you hate. 

Dirt and dust sit uncomfortably on your skin. After an entire day of work, you managed to clear out the broken glass, rust metals, dead insects, and rodents (you shudder at the memory). Now all of it lays outside, waiting to be taken further away from the train. 

“Where were you?” you ask when he arrives, you notice a bow strapped to his back. “And where did you find that?” 

“Careful, it almost sounds like you were worried about me.” he grins as if he hadn’t stormed away from you when the sun was at the very top. You decide to let it slide. He lifts two rabbits and your eyes go wide. “I went looking around a bit. Found this in an abandoned cabin, then did some hunting. Assuming you’d be hungry.” 

“Thanks. I…actually forgot that we need to eat.” 

“Help me build a fire?” 

You answer. “Sure.” 

The process of building a fire has become as natural as breathing air. If it were a couple of years ago, most people wouldn’t know how to build a fire but that wasn’t the case now. You doubt that anyone who had survived in this world did so by not knowing how to create flames from scraps of wood and dried leaves. Even the children know. That’s just the world they grow up in now. 

Your eyes constantly follow him whenever he moves and you can’t decide if it’s due to old habits or is it because of something else. He has a bizarre aura about him. Something that you can’t quite read. He’s soft. You’ve met a lot of FEDRA soldiers back in the day, have argued and fought against them, but you never met someone like him. He has a bite to his words, but you see the kindness swirling in his eyes, suffocating him from the inside out. It’s an odd contrast and makes you feel uncomfortable. 

He’s a man that has been beaten down by the world and the system. Him asking you to stay here is his way of giving up on everything he wanted for the world. You can see it as vividly as you see the stars. Just glimpses of his backstory winking down at you. 

The flames come alive, roaring and eating the rabbits whole. Javier had taken the job of cooking for himself, patiently watching the fire, he pokes the sizzling meat from time to time. 

“You like cooking?” you ask, and your eyes water when the wind blows the ashes into your face. 

“I did,” he answers without looking. “I wouldn’t really say I particularly enjoy cooking this.”

You cross your legs as Javier hands you a branch, skewered with rabbit meat. You take a moment to examine the branch, noting the rough texture of the wood and the way it's been stripped of any leaves or twigs. The delicate slices of meat have been threaded onto the branch with care and precision, each one spaced perfectly apart.

He takes his own portion and sits across from you, the flames curling into the air in between. He doesn’t say a word as he takes the first bite. You watch him chew. The flames lick his face, the tip of his nose a dusted red. Javier swallows and when he does you bring a piece to your lips and slowly chew. It’s gamey, slightly sweet. Overall, tastes pretty damn good. 

Your lips twitch up to a small smile. Biting into it more eagerly this time, your stomach growls as you swallow. 

“This actually tastes pretty good,” you mutter, feeling the fat from the rabbit coating your lips. 

“Well, don’t go overboard.” 

“It’s the truth.”

When you lower your gaze back down to the meat, you don’t miss the way a smile curls at his lips. The night grows louder and you two finish the rest of your dinner in silence. You hear crickets, the leaves rustling with the wind. A sweet scent touches your nose, something like newly blossomed flowers. You look into the distance and all you can see is darkness. 

Your eyes play games with you, shows you shadows of people, tricks you into thinking that you and Javier might’ve been followed by Katleen’s resistance. 

You blink. 

No. 

There’s no one there. 

Your pulse skyrockets, your heart beating in your throat. Vibrating, you turn back to Javier only to see that he’s already staring at you. His look is one of understanding, his lips relaxed as his eyes flit around your face. 

“Are you alright?” 

“Yeah,” you breathe out. “I just thought—” you look back to the silhouette of trees. “I thought I saw something.” 

“The curse of the forest,” he answers, placing a cigarette between his lips. He realizes he doesn’t have his matches with him so he leans forward and lights it from the source. Javier’s face illuminates, and you see splashes of blood, of death. It lingers over his skin, curls around his throat, stains the white of his eyes. “It makes us see things we don’t wanna see.” 

“There was this girl,” you suddenly say, swallowing down the gasp that threatened to slip from your lips. He raises an eyebrow and sits back, listening. “Marlene told us that she was immune. I was supposed to meet up with them in Boston.” 

“Immune?” he scoffs. “Immune to what?” 

“Cordyceps.” 

“Bullshit.” 

“No, it’s true,” you answer with a sudden need to convince him. You’re not sure why. “She got bit and never turned.” 

“Did you actually see it?” he exhales a puff of smoke when you shake your head. He believes he made his point. “So what about this girl? Is there a reason why you’re telling me this or are you just that afraid of the dark?” 

You bite into your bottom lip, the sting offering a fleeting relief. “It’s not that I’m afraid. It’s just too silent. It feels…naked.” 

“Naked?” he asks, grinning, he steals the cigarette from between his lips and evens his gaze with yours. “We’re covered, cariño. Nothing to worry about.” 

“Famous last words,” you tease, ignoring how his tongue rolled as he mumbled cariño. “I guess I’m not used to it yet. There’s always something to fight. Someone is always lurking in the shadows.” 

He voices out the rest of your thoughts, “It’s like all the noise and chaos of the world has disappeared, leaving you with nothing but your thoughts.”

You take a deep breath of the crisp forest air. 

Emotionally, you want to lean into him. There’s a need in your chest that doesn’t go away but it’s tainted with the anger and the hatred of the organizations that tear you away from each other. He might’ve wanted to do good once, but he chose the wrong side. He thought fireflies were terrorists, and maybe to some you were. However, at least you weren’t fascists and tried to help the people. For better or for worse.

“It doesn’t hurt does it?” he says, guiding your attention back to him. Javier looks up to the sky, takes a deep inhale of smoke. It spills from his lips as he continues. “To have someone by your side.” 

No, you think as you get up and head into the train, it doesn’t. 

You don’t know what it is this time that wakes you up. There’s no noise. The only thing that convinces you that you’re not in a soundproof cell is the moonlight filtering through the dirty windows. You watch as the pine leaves move together, you’ve always enjoyed the smell of it. The sound of it comes like an afterthought, slowly gaining and getting louder. 

You get up when you feel the train shake. 

Javier is in the same spot that he always sleeps in, only a couple rows ahead. You move past him and you sneak a glance. His lips twitch and move as he sleeps. 

Stepping outside, you take in the same sight as before. It’s still eerie. 

Interestingly enough since the fire was gone the darkness seemed lighter somehow. A shimmering blackness. The moonlight probably helped. 

Dry earth cracks under your boots. The sound of the trees now mixed with something else, something violent and cruel yet beautiful. You feel the gun on your hip and travel deeper into the forest. The scent of pine and flowers that only bloom during the night stronger. The train is still visible so you don’t worry much about the distance in between. Your fingers brush over the tree trunks, you feel the moss, the sticky resin. 

You hear a click. 

Click. Click. Click. 

Just ahead there’s a clicker, moving with its arms bent and dragging its feet through the soil. Swallowing, you take a slow step back. Then another. And another. 

The chill of the night stings your skin, sticky from sweat and burning. The clicker turns in your direction and you stop moving, your one foot suspended in the air. It gains momentum, head twisting and turning. Very slowly you lower your foot, and your heart beats loud in your chest. Surely the clicker hears it. 

Fuck. 

The sound of the branch snapping underneath you was like a gunshot, reverberating through the stillness of the woods.

You don’t even get the chance to pull out the gun on your hip. 

You’re slammed into the dirt, all air forced out of your lungs. You struggle against it but it’s too heavy, too wild to be pushed off of you. The clicker screams into your face, the stench horrid. Bile builds in your throat and coats your stomach. You’re helpless. 

It makes a move towards your hands and you pull them away, its full weight suffocating you. Killing you. You can’t breathe. 

Tears flood your eyes. You know you’re about to die because you see your life flashing before your eyes, snippets of the past and possible future. You think of the fireflies, of Marlene. You see earth cleansed from the virus. 

You see Javier. He’s smiling, leading you in a dance around the wilting flames. You don’t push the thoughts away. You take them as a blessing in moments of lingering death. 

A gunshot echoes. You hear the bullet cutting through the air, whistling in the night. It sinks into the clicker’s shoulder, you hear another one, this time the bullet strikes its head.  The clicker collapses. Before you can shove the lifeless vessel away, it’s being lifted. 

You can breathe again. 

Javier is standing before you, his brows creased with worry. His lips are parted as if he’s about to say something but you beat him to it. You’re still gasping for air when you speak. 

“You had a gun.” 

“Yeah,” he heaves, sweat clinging to his chest and moonlight trickling down his skin. “I had a fucking gun.” 

Oh man, you guys have no idea how excited I am to finally be sharing the first chapter. I hope you guys enjoyed it, I'll probably be posting a new chapter every Saturday (the first 3 chapters will def go up and Saturdays, after that, if everything goes well, I'll continue it the same way)

A few thank you's are in order; @pedrito-friskito , @inklore , @fuckyeahdindjarin and @pedrorascal who listened to me go on and on about this and for their endless moral support ♥︎ and thank you to @laters-gators who beta'd this.

[ghouljams]

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

I LOVE LUCK

First of all pairing Gaz with Luck was genius

But the way you told the story??????

Luck being so enamoured for Gaz that they would risk everything and rationalising it as their selfish demon nature even as every act of luck they perform is above and beyond

I know that all the demons are slightly yandere-esque stories but the way Luck is besotted with this man gives the vibes of those cheesy supernatural media where the fem mc has a bad boy swooning over her that would burn the world down for her - except Gaz is the mc!!!!

It's perfect! Let him be a damsel!!!!

Idk how much he knows about Luck's influence BC he's not stupid and once he knows their powers there's only so much "oh whoops looks like they have bad aim" you can rationalise away, he might not know exactly when he started getting more luck tho if (from how you described it) the powers of the universe seem to let him absorb the natural well of luck that exists.

It might be harder for him to pinpoint exactly when if Luck is the type to take credit for stuff just for the possibility of praise and attention - which they clearly adore coming from him. "A miracle - your heart swells, that's you!" And "he jokes about a lucky streak and you beam with pride"

I just wanna make him my baby girl. I wanna protect him, let him give me his little neck tie thing like a Princess gives her Knight a favour

I truly love the demon au bc it somewhat feels like a role reversal from the fae au where now the characters are the darlings

(also I think I've sent asks before as myself or as anon I can't remember but Tumblr likes to eat my asks for some reason)

Gaz as the damsel lmao yeah kinda. Gaz gets a demon handbook, and reads it, but I don't think he fully understands how Luck's powers work... Luck isn't hiding from him, let's be clear on that, but it's very much the sort of vibe of "luck isn't really a power, I'm not trying to win the lottery" while Gaz figures out how to make Luck useful.

Anyway here's Luck performing some truly spectacular magical luck and Gaz trying to explain it away because he's not supposed to tell people he has a demon looking out for him.

Little things are easy, you don't really need to exert any energy for them. An enemy comes around a corner before Gaz can spot them and you make their gun jam before they can take a shot. Someone throws a knife at Gaz, you make sure it flies over his shoulder and lodges into another AQ's head. Extra bullets in a mag, extra mags in the rubble when he's running low, passwords on paper next to computers, unlocked doors, keys left in cars. All of it is lucky, but nothing spectacular. Nothing combat worthy. Then again you're not technically a combat demon.

"Certainly make life easier," Gaz mumbles as he slinks through the tunnels under the city.

"I know, but-" You're picking up bad habits, draping yourself over his shoulder as he moves, "-I guess I just want to give you a miracle, y'know."

"You've given me plenty already," He tells you. You suppose you have, but nothing that deserves any praise. You want him to tell you, you did something spectacular. Not that you can tell him. It's already heaven enough being able to sit and talk to him like this, you don't want to taint it with false compliments.

You sigh and content yourself with just touching him, something you never could've enjoyed before. Every breath he takes is a small reward for your work. You could never regret contracting yourself to him, not when he's so warm and sturdy under you.

"Tell me about that book you've been reading," Gaz whispers when you've been silent too long. You smile, and duck your head against his shoulder, shy even though you know he can't see you.

"You'd like it," You tell him, murmuring the most recent plot points you've read until you see him smile in the low light. You like how well Gaz seems to have adjusted to you, you hope that means he likes you too.

He holds up a hand and you quiet down, sinking into the shadows so he has full range of movement. You can hear the buzz of radio in his ear. He and Soap are supposed to be sweeping the city for weapons caches, sabotaging what they can before they meet in the middle. So far Gaz has been lucky enough to destroy the caches he's found without being detected. More easy luck, nothing worth kicking up a fuss over.

Gaz keeps his gun at the ready as he goes up a flight on concrete stairs. Back to the fresh air of the city. The night is thick with dark silence.

You're starting to get a little itchy, things are going almost too well. You've been keeping enemy combatants away from Gaz, eager to not have a repeat of the IED that bound your contract. You think it's starting to make him a little nervous, because he lets out a held breath when he spots Soap. It's a short reunion, a solid bump of knuckles between the two men.

"Easy," Soap tells him, "Barely saw a soul."

You frown, you don't like the sound of that. That was supposed to be your luck. Unless those caches were meant to be found. A spotlight clicks on, marking Soap and Gaz's position. Around them guns raise, and safeties flip off.

They both freeze, surrounded and in open air. It's lucky they haven't been shot yet. Must be looking to use them for intel. Soap swears under his breath. Gaz grits his teeth, you can see his jaw clench tight. Overhead a helicopter hovers, the spotlight on the back focused on the two sergeants, keeping them visible.

You feel yourself tremble a little, such a clear and serious threat to Gaz's life making you uneasy. You're really not used to combat, it's unfamiliar to you, a thing you used to watch with no dreams to ever experience it yourself. You don't know what to do, all you know is that you have to protect Gaz. You can't shoot knives out of the shadows, or remove organs with surgical precision, you can't do anything that would make you useful to a soldier. What you are though, is lucky. Miraculously so.

One of the enemy's guns misfires, knocking them off balance. They bump into another combatant, who's itchy finger pulls the trigger on an automatic that swings its spray of bullets skyward. Gaz glances up and watches a few stray bullets hit the helo with precision aim he wouldn't even dream up. Making the hovering chopper smoke and spin out, crashing into a church steeple.

The helo explodes, the noise loud enough to draw the attention of the men who still have their aim on him and Soap. Suddenly, miraculously, the blades of the helicopter fly from the explosion and spin towards the AQ agents. Gaz grabs Soap to duck just as the blades chop off the head of every man still standing.

"Steamin' hell," Soap breathes, as the blades thunk into a wall and stick there.

"That was-"

"A fuckin' miracle." Soap finishes for him, standing back to his full height.

"Luck," Gaz grins, "You are a fuckin' wonder." You preen as he glances down at his excitedly bubbling shadow. You can't help the little popping hearts that rise to the surface, quick bursts of your affection before you can rein it in. He presses his fingers to his lips, then to the dark shadows at his feet before standing.

"No one is going to believe this," Soap looks around at the carnage, blissfully(luckily) ignorant of the demonic activity at Gaz's feet, "Shit I don't even believe it."

"Gonna be a hell of a report," Gaz tells him. He glances around the scene as Soap radios position back to Price. The absolute absurdity of the entire situation making him laugh a little. "Bloody hell," He shakes his head, lets out another bark of laughter, "How'd you even manage this love?"

"Just lucky I guess," You mumble, trying to keep from blowing out every light on the block in your excitement. Love... You could scream.

[jeonstellate]

in the dark: dusk

you ask the moon for an impossible before your inevitable marriage to an utter stranger.

๑彡 hong jisoo x afab!reader

๑彡 strangers-to-lovers!au, arranged marriage!au — angst(?), fluff

๑彡 paragraph format — 1.8K words

masterlist | in the dark: dawn

[gif’s full credit belongs solely to its owner]

๑彡 title is taken from bobby’s in the dark.

๑彡 this is the first half of the two-shot, in the dark. you can find the link to the next part above :]

You had always known your marriage would be arranged by your parents. In a time where marriages were used as a form alliance between clans rather than a form of union between lovers, you never dared to hope that your marriage would be bound by love.

However, that particular knowledge didn’t prevent you from craving to experience how genuine romantic love feels like.

Hence your decision to sit by a tree just behind your village long after the sun had set. You weren’t waiting for a miracle, but you’d be lying if you say you weren’t hoping for one.

Under the pale moonlight, the cloak of darkness concealed the tears that the sun could not shine upon. Under the pale moonlight, you wordlessly wish for something that can never be.

But never did you expect for the moon to answer.

"May I know the reason for your tears, my lady?" A voice, soft and careful, suddenly filled the silence of the night. Although its appearance was unexpected, it miraculously didn’t startle you — as though, somehow, you had known.

You kept facing the moon as you answer, almost as if you were conversing with her rather than whoever just arrived. "Just trivial matters."

"Perhaps so, but you obviously care about it a great deal." The presence behind you felt closer, but still remained at a respectable distance.

"But I shouldn’t," you sighed. "There are dangers in dwelling on matters that are out of my control."

"But there are also dangers in bottling your feelings in, my lady," the person gently reminded you.

Silence then engulfed the two of you — which felt comfortable despite not knowing who exactly you were conversing with. The voiced words settled between the two of you, gradually creating something that could either build or destroy any relation that might form.

"I don’t know if I should trust you with my thoughts," you thoughtfully said after a while. "I don’t know who you are."

Your companion hummed in acknowledgment, "You can think of me as a shadow, if you wish."

"Why so?"

"You cannot confirm my existence until you look at me."

You started laughing. "I can very well just turn and confirm it promptly, my lord."

"Respectfully, my lady, but I advice against it," he replied almost immediately. "Please take comfort in knowing I am a stranger that cannot judge you based on anything you do not personally share — as I will with you."

You thought his advice through. Although you were concerned about revealing too much to an utter stranger, you couldn’t deny that he had a point. You live in a small village, after all — one way or another, everyone always hear about one family’s business and discuss them freely like it’s their own.

Every family in your village has their own reputation — which ultimately decides the esteem people regard each family with. If he doesn’t know how you look like, nor what your name is, then he can’t judge you based on the reputation of your family — nor can you have the fear of tainting your family’s reputation with each information you choose to disclose.

"Perhaps you are right," you agreed after a few moments of silence. "Though I do think you should just address me as Night from here on forward."

"Wonderful. Then, you can call me Suho."

You and Suho continued conversing the night away. Although he eventually chose to situate himself near you (after asking for consent), neither of you faced each other. You remained facing the sky, with your left arm millimeters away from the tree trunk and your back facing your village. Him, on the other hand, had his back against the tree trunk, his body facing your village, with his left arm inches away from yours.

"So what brings you in the dark like this?" Suho started the conversation after having enough of the silence.

"I wanted to make a wish to the moon," you replied eventually after pondering upon how you should indulge his inquiry.

"You must’ve wished so earnestly that tears spilled down your cheeks."

His comment earned an almost soundless chuckle from you. "On the contrary," you started, "those were desperate tears from wishing the impossible."

"I’m afraid I don’t follow, my lady," you heard him shift his position, but the sound of his voice remained in the same distance.

"My parents have found me someone to marry," you said slowly as you thought about whether or not saying so would give away your identity, "but I wanted to experience having a lover first before I’m bounded to someone I have yet to meet."

Suho, in contrast to your obvious hesitancy, was quick to react. "I can be your lover, my lady, if you will allow me."

"I beg your pardon?" You stuttered in disbelief. "You shouldn’t utter words you don’t mean, my lord."

"I do mean them," he quickly insisted.

"How can you?" You expressed your doubt, "Surely there must already be a lady waiting for you back home?"

"I assure you, my lady, you shall be my only one."

You couldn’t reply right away — not because you were thinking his reply over, but because his response made you flustered. "Then, I suppose you would not mind courting me?"

Just like he had been doing throughout the night, Suho’s response came almost immediately. "I would court you as long as you wish."

You and Suho continued to meet with the moon being your only witness. During those nights, you would converse about anything your hearts desired. Slowly, but surely, then, you both learned parts of what composed each other’s constellations.

True to his word, Suho did court you every night that you met. He would alternate between telling you compliments, giving you flowers, writing you some poetry, or a combination of acts.

In return, to show your appreciation, you reciprocated his efforts in ways you knew how.

"Yes," you agreed out of the blue on the night of a full moon.

"Pardon?"

"Yes," you repeated, "I am now accepting you as my beau."

You and Suho had an agreement, beginning that first night when your peculiar arrangement was made. You both agreed, under no circumstances, would you try to catch a glimpse of each other’s faces. Thus, whenever you two met, you both ensured that you two were positioned in such a way that no one wouldn’t see the other’s face.

And somehow, you two still found a way to bask in each other’s warmth without breaking your agreement. "Thank you," you heard him murmur by your ear. "Thank you for trusting me."

You shook your head in denial, a smile ghosting your lips. "Thank you for coming into my life."

The word ‘bliss’ wouldn’t be enough to describe how you felt the following nights. Suho had always been sweet, but he became even sweeter after he became your beau.

Like he had already done, Suho had brought you flowers, written you poetry, and showered you with words of affirmation. On top of all of those, he occasionally brought you handmade gifts as well.

Despite already being your significant other, Suho still went out of his way to court you — even after you told him that he could stop. He claimed that it made him happy, as it never failed to make you happy, so you just let him do what he pleased.

"Have you ever thought about children?" You asked Suho one night as you lie on his chest, facing the moon.

Even with your improved status, you and Suho came to a consensus that you should uphold your previous agreement of keeping your true identities a secret from one another. Especially with your deepening relationship, it was crucial not to display any awkwardness nor unusual behavior if ever you two meet under the sun — to keep the eagle-eyed gossipers of your village from talking.

"Well, I am now," he answered before resting his hand on your hip, by your stomach. "Why?"

You two often talked about whatever came to mind, especially if you had finished filling each other about any shareable events that happened during the day. Albeit you both had nothing against silence, you liked to spend your limited time getting to know each other instead.

"As I look into the sky, I suddenly remembered how I took inspiration from it when I was unentertained enough to think of baby names."

You heard Suho let out an intrigued sound, "Let’s hear them, then."

"Hyewol for a girl, Hyeseong for a boy," you answered nonchalantly. "I also thought Chaewol, Seonghwa, and Haneul could be good to use as well."

Suho started murmuring to himself. Despite your proximity, you still couldn’t quite catch the entirety of what he was saying. However, you could’ve sworn that you heard the names you just mentioned being mixed in.

"What are you—?"

"Just testing how the names sound with my last name," he replied as nonchalant as you were then. However, with such simple words, you couldn’t help but to feel your cheeks flush. "So, five kids?"

"I," you stopped, suddenly not trusting yourself to speak. Nevertheless, after a moment, you managed to collect yourself. "Only if it’s with you."

You both knew, with your looming engagement, that that was a future out of your reach. It was a someday that could only exist under the cloak of the moon’s light, never to be touched by the sun’s rays.

And yet, despite that, you and Suho still dared to dream.

You knew this day would come, even before you crossed paths with Suho. In retrospect, this day was literally the reason why you met Suho in the first place. Had you not been crying that pivotal night about this particular day, you probably wouldn’t have him by your side at all.

Unfortunately, even your set up with Suho did nothing for the dreaded day.

"[First name], dear, come here for a minute," your mother called you over from your little corner with your cousins.

Today was her birthday and, to celebrate, she held a banquet in her honor — only inviting those that she truly got along with to keep the event drama-free. Not even her side of the family was in complete attendance, as some — if not most — of them clashed with one another over trivial matters.

It was your mother’s day, so you never thought it would double as the day you finally met your fiancé.

"[First name], this is Joshua," you mother started with an abnormally large smile etched on her face, "your fiancé."

You tried not to visibly freeze. As much as Suho was supposed to assist you to get ready for your married life, you weren’t ready to meet the person you were expected to spend the rest of your life with. Especially not when you already began wishing that your husband-to-be was Suho instead.

Joshua reached for your hand and kissed the back. "It’s my pleasure to be your acquaintance, my lady. I am Joshua Hong."

[almamadrigalfanclub]

Hello, I have an Alma AU that may interest you. In the AU, Alma houses a dark secret that she masks by keeping up a perfect image of her family and being a helper to the Encanto. Truthfully, she is trying to atone for killing some of the raiders that the miracle missed by hiding among the villagers of Encanto. The miracle was born from her heartache, anger, and thirst for revenge, hence the reason some of the gifts are concealed weapons, though she tries not to see her family that way due to the sacrifice of her beloved. (Note: none of the family knows about the murders or aided her in committing them knowingly.) What she does not know is that outside the Encanto, Pedro survived the attack with his own miracle represented in a dagger/machete similar to what nearly killed him. With it, he managed to hunt down the rest of the raiders in his revenge arch. Due to this, Pedro finds his way into the Encanto by chance after he sees the split in the mountain, which pauses him in his task of joining his family by way of the machete after hunting down the last raider that took his family away from him.

Now reunited with his family, Alma and Pedro must contend with their dark pasts and tainted souls all in the name of their love for their family and thirst for revenge.

It's a thought that has bounced for a while, but I am not a writer, just an artist. What do you think?

WOAHHHH REVENGE...WOW...

Nah but Alma wanted all the smoke. She wasn't gonna let that slide and honestly I'm here for it. AND THEN PEDRO??? ALSO WAS RUNNIN FADES??? But like at least they get back together. Course they never tell the family.

Do they ever find out tho??? Tbh, the fact that their gifts were initially meant to be means of. Combat in some way. Alma just took that and turned it around, I guess for the greater good cause we can't have a whole family throwing hands with everyone.

Gotta love Alma and Pedro tho, they really not giving up on the other. Like that is so real.

[usamamoweek2024]

UsaMamo Week 2021 Works

To give some inspiration and give readers some additional stories to check out before official entries for UsaMamoWeek 2023 start to get posted, we thought we would do a few posts highlighting some stories and works from prior years.

Stories:

Crisis - @moonchildoh8

"Mamoru is desperate to remember his past. Just when he felt that he could almost grasp a fleeting memory, it would dissipate like a snowflake melting at the first touch of warm skin. And then there were tainted moments that threaten to pull him under. He is particularly haunted by his memories of Wicked Lady. Can Usagi and Mamoru face this crisis together?"

Do you remember the first time? - @sailormoonandme

"Perhaps against their better judgement, Serenity and Endymion spy on Helios and their daughter at the end of a date. The experience stirs up some nostalgia in both of them and prompts Serenity to ask her husband an important question… Written for UsaMamo Week 2021 Day 4: Children and/or Pets AND to celebrate the Miracle Romance in general."

All I Ever Think About Is You - @daikon1

"A series of bite-sized UsaMamo stories written for UsaMamo Week 2021. Read on for reveals, confessions, sexual tension, and plenty of mutual pining! Rated for Day 5 (Free Day)."

"Oh, Is He Your Brother?" - @riverlethe

"This tall high school girl with sleek brown hair and fancy school uniform was gearing up to confess to Mamoru, and Usagi found herself awkwardly caught up in the middle of it."

UsaxMamo Writing Diet - @billyjbradshaw

"These are bite sized stories, basically a diet form of my writing"

Eclipsed - @floraone

"Endymion sat with the portrait in his great-grandfather's chambers so often that he felt he knew her. A silmil AU short written for Usamamo Week 2021, inspired by a doujinshi by Nari20."

Miraculous Musings: Vignettes of a Miracle Romance - @goddessalthena

“Do you ever wish I was more like her?”

UsaMamo Week 2021 - @idesofnovember

Collection of stories based on prompts. (Including personal favorite of @random-mailbox - To have and to hold)

Moodboards:

@flourishfox - Day 7 Hugs, Day 2 Home , Day 6 The End

[m0ther-of-p3arl]

every dead-end street

(robert aeor high au p12)

masterpost

*bonks this on you in a rush cuz imma be outta town the next 5 days or so*

He hears the door swing shut behind him, and turns to find Owen, pulling on his coat and jumping down the steps. Scott follows, the aching familiarity of the situation tainted by the gap that’s somehow grown acres between them, stifling the cool breeze that tosses Owen’s hair this way and that.

or, owen and scott reunion!!! also im not sure but this is possibly the longest chapter yet so :3

(5913 words)

Scott wakes in a cocoon of yellow feathers. 

His face is pressed to someone’s chest, his arms wrapped around their middle and his hands pressed into their hair, legs intertwined with theirs, so familiar his heart aches.

Jimmy.

His eyes flash open as he realizes it’s him, the events of last night coming back to his mind in full, blazing technicolor. Lips and hands and warm, warm skin against his frozen exterior. Whispers and promises and episodes of goddamn High School Musical: The Musical: The Series.

He doesn’t want to move from his entangled position, it’s warm here, it’s safe. He doesn’t want to give it up, he’s so sure it was just a lapse of judgment on Jimmy’s part, but maybe if he stays still for a little while longer he can keep living in the fantasy. He clutches Jim tighter, nestling his face into the avian’s chest, breathing in the citrusy scent that he carries everywhere.

A pair of hands cup his chin and soft lips kiss his forehead. “Morning, Scott,” Jimmy’s familiar voice whispers, quiet and low, against his brow. Scott makes a muffled noise of protest, squeezing his eyes shut again, vaguely muttering something about how it’s too early and can they please just stay laying down for a bit longer.

Scott honestly can’t believe that he and Jimmy are, like, an item. It wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t a mistake. Somehow, by some miracle, Jimmy likes him. Jimmy kissed him last night, something he never thought would happen from anyone, much less the boy he was so sure he’d ruined things with such a long time ago.

 Scott thinks he might have a boyfriend. And as much as he wants to stay wrapped up in Jimmy’s wings forever, his anxiety will never let him settle down into the comfort if he doesn’t get a few things straight.

“Jimmy,” Scott says, pulling himself up and immediately regretting it, because now he’s vulnerable and exposed to the world, upright under the blankets in his favorite blue nightgown.

“That is my name, yes,” Jimmy says sarcastically, yawning as he sits up as well, his wings floofing out behind him, somehow wrapping around Scott yet again.

“So are we dating now?” Scott’s hands irrationally shake as he asks this, it’s such a stupid question given the circumstances-

“I mean. We literally spent last night making out? So I would hope so, yes?” Jimmy answers, affectionate confusion leaking into his voice.

“I was just- you know- making sure,” Scott rolls his eyes, trying to presume his comfortable icy exterior, and from the look on Jimmy’s face, failing miserably.

“Mhm. Sure.” The avian pats Scott condescendingly on the shoulder, his face the worst facsimile of seriousness Scott has ever seen.

“I hate you,” Scott grumbles, pulling his face into a mock pout and crossing his arms with a huff, which just causes Jimmy to snicker even more.

“Love you too,” Jim smiles, what Scott thinks to be a genuine tone hidden underneath the snark . “So what’s the plan for today?”

Scott looks off into the distance, out Jimmy’s window at the rows of trees crossing through suburbia, his hands wrapped around each other so tightly he can see the knuckles turning even paler than his natural skin tone. “I… actually, I have something I need to do before anything else, but after that I’m free for whatever.” He can hear his voice shaking, and he’s sure it’s even more obvious to Jimmy, who plops back down and rests a hand on his back- which does calm him, though admittedly not much.

“Want me to come along?” Jim asks, his tone soft and unforceful.

Scott shakes his head. “Not this time.”

Jimmy nods. “I get it.” And the thing is, Scott can tell that he does.

--

It’s a long walk up the familiar neighborhood streets, all the turns imprinted permanently in Scott’s memory from years and years of walking the same routes around this stupid city. His feet scuff along the pavement, the sun shining down from a cloudless blue sky. The leaves are just starting to turn for autumn, tinges of yellow and orange peeking around the corners of imposing maple trees, the wind combing through branches to create a cacophony of rustling sound.

It’s been a while since Scott’s been in this part of town, and there’s a good reason why. It’s honestly terrifying, being so close to where it all happened, and Scott doesn’t even notice he’s shaking until he wraps his arms around himself for comfort. A part of him, and not an insignificant part either, wishes Jimmy was here to make things easier- and most of the time, that’s exactly what the avian does. But right now, with what he’s about to do, he knows that having Jimmy there would absolutely ruin any chances of reconciliation.

He’s been so lost in his thoughts that he walks right past his destination, before doing a double take and turning on his heel, walking back and standing right in front of a tan-colored, two-story house. It’s been so fucking long since he’s walked up these steps, knocked on the paint-peeling door, a familiar orange tiefling grin peeking out at him from behind him. It’s been so fucking long since he’s seen Owen at all, and he misses him more than he’d care to admit. He stands there, rooted still to the sidewalk, swallowing nervously, for what feels like hours, the seconds dragging by with every beat of his heart.

It’s not too late. He could turn back, head home and spend a quiet, uneventful day with Jimmy, forget this ever happened.

For a second, he almost considers it.

But he knows he can never live with himself if he gives up, he’ll curse himself for the rest of his life if he lets himself walk back home. So instead, he steps up the decaying wooden stairs, the porch leaning heavily beneath his weight as he trods across it and raps his knuckles loudly against the door. Paint peels off beneath his touch, joining the first fallen leaves in the wind and tumbling across the street. Scott turns idly to watch it blow away, his neutral face hopefully not betraying his rabbiting heart.

And the door creaks open behind him.

His head snaps back quickly, meeting a familiar pair of eyes as they peer through the crack of the door at him.

“...Scott?” Owen asks, confusion lacing his voice, and, Scott hopes, a little happiness too.

“Hi.” Scott tries for a smile, but it doesn’t quite land, and he’s certainly not about to force one if it won’t come. “Would you care to join me on a walk?”

“Sure,” Owen mutters, glancing behind him into the house. “Let me grab my coat, I’ll be right with you.”

Scott nods, taking long strides over to the side of the porch and leaning up against the railing, as he’s done so many times before. This whole house, this whole street, gives him deja vu, the memories almost tangible around every corner. But with the nostalgia comes a deep, crunching anxiety; he can barely contain his fear that he’ll see Father walking down the road, snakes hissing forebodingly and that familiar sneer that’s somehow even colder than Scott’s skin. In fact, he can just make out the roof of his old home, the Major Mansion, from here, and even the simple sight gives him shivers down his spine.

He hears the door swing shut behind him, and turns to find Owen, pulling on his coat and jumping down the steps. Scott follows, the aching familiarity of the situation tainted by the gap that’s somehow grown acres between them, stifling the cool breeze that tosses Owen’s hair this way and that.

They walk in silence for a little, neither daring to speak, following the well-tread routes they’ve known since they were young, before they’d met; when the orange tiefling had just been a question living right down the road from Scott.

“So. Uh. How’s it been?” Scott asks, trying to keep his voice light and utterly failing, breaking quietly before he’s finished the sentence.

“How do you think?” Owen answers, for once not a trace of mirth on his face, his eyes full of annoyance and sadness and hope and loss, pointed stubbornly down at the pavement.

“I mean, you’ve kind of been ignoring me lately, so I wouldn’t really know,” Scott says, tone breezy enough to hide the anger simmering underneath. And that, that subtle, ignorable undertone, is enough to set it all ablaze.

“I’ve been ignoring you? Are you fucking kidding me?” Owen stares shocked, eyes wide and offended and more than a little bit angry.

“What else would you call” (Scott gestures to the space between them) “all this?”

“Pray tell, what would you consider ‘all this’?” Owen mocks his hand motions, making them seem wild and erratic, a judging, aloof expression blanketing his usually-smiling features.

“You know what I mean, Owen. You know me well enough to know what I’m talking about. The distance! The way we can’t even talk anymore, you ignore me all the time, don’t you know how hard my past many months have been?!” Scott seethes, dimly aware of the rims of his shades frosting over in the corners of his vision.

“What about me?” Owen grabs his shoulders and spins him around until their eyes have met, brown glaring into piercing cyan. “Have you asked even once, since you met Jimmy, how I’ve been doing? My parents are getting divorced, Scott, and I can’t even talk to my best friend about it.”

Scott’s struck momentarily speechless, because oh god, he didn't expect Owen to have a valid response, but quickly recovers, spitting, “You didn’t even try!”

“I did, though,” Owen sighs, kicking at the pavement. “I attempted to contact you about it on many separate occasions. But no, we always had to talk about you, you, you. Scott, you never even left me any room to get a word in edgewise!” He yells the last sentence, and Scott can see hints of tears in his eyes. Again, he’s slightly taken aback, he can remember maybe one time when he’s seen Owen cry, in all the years of them being best friends.

Maybe he doesn’t know the tiefling as well as he thought.

“I- How was I supposed to know, Owen? My dad kicked me out of the house and I had to move in with my crush. I had a lot on my plate, okay?” Scott fumbles, trying to find the right words, his confidence crumbling down rapidly.

“Apparently not enough to listen to your best friend’s problems in addition to talking about yours. I had my own shit going on, Scott, still do- and you couldn’t even be bothered to listen to it. And here you go again, talking about you. Like, I get it, okay? You’ve been through a lot and I’m sorry. Genuinely.” Owen pauses, turning around to face Scott. “But that doesn’t give you an excuse to neglect your duties as a friend. For a little bit, sure. But it’s been seven months.”

“Well, you didn’t-” Scott pauses midway through his sentence, breathing in deeply. “You know what, this is a stupid argument. Can we just forget about this? It doesn’t matter.”

“Yeah, Scott, actually, it does matter,” Owen hisses, broken and full of rage, his voice echoing across the neighborhood streets, earning him some nasty looks from passersby. “I love you, Scott, so much. You’re my best friend and I miss you. But I’m also your best friend, so sit down, take a second to think, and then tell me that you’ve been in the right here.”

“But-”

“Nope. Sit down by this tree and think.” Owen points authoritatively to the roots of an old oak sprouting out of the tree lawn, his mouth pursed, not giving room for an argument.

Fuming, Scott flops down, staring angrily through Owen’s knees. He’s not in the wrong. He’s had such a fucking tough time, nothing could possibly compare, his life has been tossed into the ocean and swallowed by a shark that was then gutted from the inside, its intestines held high for all to see. 

But that doesn’t diminish Owen’s suffering. 

Scott’s past few months have been hell, they have to be so much worse than whatever the heck’s going on with Owen. Like, Scott’s sure it’s been hard for him, but it can’t possibly have been as bad as Scott being kicked out of his house by his abusive father.

But that doesn’t mean Owen hasn’t had a hard time lately as well. 

Scott has been in such a dark place, such a terrible headspace, such a just generally horrific time in his life, Owen’s not allowed to pretend like everything’s been all diddly dandy for him when it’s been the polar fucking opposite.

But Owen is his best friend and Scott’s supposed to be there for him. 

Owen’s supposed to be there for Scott too, though! Scott and Owen are supposed to be a package deal, they’re supposed to stick by each other, Owen’s supposed to support Scott unconditionally. Isn’t that what friendship is? And yet, lately he hasn’t even been answering Scott’s texts.

Did Scott have time to respond to texts when he was being kicked out of his house? 

It’s different, though, it can’t have been as bad as that-

That doesn’t mean whatever Owen’s been through wasn’t still hard for him. 

Scott’s pain-

Pain is not a contest. 

It was worse-

Both of their different experiences are allowed to coexist. 

Owen’s been such a bad friend lately.

So has Scott.

…so has Scott.

Scott stands, his hands shaking.

“You done sulking? Are you ready to talk like an adult now, or-”

Before Owen finishes his sentence, Scott steps forward and wraps him in a strong, tight hug, the tiefling stiffening at first but then relaxing into Scott’s embrace, his arms reaching up to hug him back, his fists gripping the loose fabric of Scott’s dress.

“I’m sorry,” Scott whispers, the words scratching in his throat, something he hasn’t been saying enough recently. “I’ve not been the best friend lately, huh?”

“Neither have I, to be honest with you.” Owen laughs a silly little half-laugh, still clutching tightly against Scott’s back, and it feels so good, so right, to have his best friend pressed against him, the smell of his hair the same pinecone scent it’s always been, since the day they met.

“I thought you were convinced you were so ‘in the right’ here,” Scott teases, pulling away from Owen and poking him lightly in the chest, a clear sign of surrender that they both know well, unspoken but always mutually recognized- Scott can tell Owen sees it too, as he immediately relaxes.

“To be honest, I knew the only way I was going to get you to realize what was going on was if I acted like you were the only one who’d done anything wrong. Everyone just always has to go the extra mile for you, Scott S-smajor.” Owen’s trying to stay chipper, but Scott can hear the cracks in his voice, the raw emotion leaking through after months of holding it back.

And sure enough, just moments after finishing his words, Owen’s lower lip begins to quiver and he breaks down, sinking to the sidewalk and pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes, shaking his head with all the unspoken words, all the hardships he’s endured these past months. 

And this time, his best friend is right there beside him.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Scott asks, sitting as well, and resting a hand lightly atop Owen’s shaking shoulder.

The tiefling nods, rattling sobs escaping from his throat. “Argh, Scott, I d-didn't mean to melt down on you, I’m s-sorry.” The way he says it breaks Scott’s heart, like Owen somehow thinks he’s done something wrong by letting all his emotions free-flow for a bit.

“Don’t be. You’re fine, I could not care less. Trust me, I’ve been there. So what’s the scoop? Also, mate, when was the last time you cried?”

That gets a laugh out of Owen, albeit a half-hearted, shaky one. “I don’t actually remember?”

“Do you want to go somewhere else?” Scott asks, rubbing a hand over the nape of his neck. “We’re kind of blocking up the sidewalk.”

“Sure,” Owen mutters, pulling himself to his feet and rubbing aggressively at his eyes and breathing deeply to steady himself.

“So, what’s going on? Tell me everything, and I mean everything: I want the full rundown, all the details, the whole story.” This time, Scott means it.

And so Owen talks as they walk, ending up climbing the giant pine in his backyard and sitting amongst its branches like they have for as long as they’ve been friends. Owen explains how his parents have been arguing for a long time, really big, yelling arguments, and finally, after leaving the house in a huff and living in a motel for a week, Owen’s mom had finally called home- only to announce that she was ordering a divorce.

“That’s a shitty move,” Scott interjects, wrinkling his nose.

“Yeah, it kind of was,” Owen agrees, sighing and leaning against the trunk of the tree, his tears having stopped for now, though his eyes are still red-rimmed and his nose still sniffy.

He continues on to explain how after that, it’s been weeks of alternating close contact or no contact with his mom, and his sisters, all nine of them, are absolutely emotionally lost. His other mother is struggling to bring home enough money to feed them all, and his mom is just draining all the money from the family bank account.

“It’s been really hard on all of us,” Owen mutters, wiping at his eyes aggressively. “Like, I love Mom and all, but she’s being a real bitch right now- she could have tried to stick it out with Mother, if only for me and my sisters. And that’s not something I say lightly.”

“Yeah, you really don’t like to swear,” Scott comments, stretching and cracking his neck.

“Yeah, no,” Owen laughs lightly, a cautious sound as if he’s afraid to show his genuine emotions, and Scott feels his teeth clench in sadness.

Owen goes on, finishing with the fact that his sisters are going to have to live with their grandparents for a while, and as of now, Owen doesn’t really have much of anywhere to go. His dad’s tried to explain that sending him to boarding school might be the best bet, but Owen’s having none of it.

“I didn’t want to leave you,” he admits, looking down and coughing gently, his feet kicking in wide arcs that stir up the twenty feet of empty air below them on the branches.

“So you can’t stay with your dad right now? Like, there’s not enough money?” Scott asks to clarify, leaning back against the tree, eyebrows furrowed, concerned, in Owen’s direction.

Owen shakes his head, lips drawn tight and eyes looking anywhere but Scott’s. “There’s really nothing to be done for it. I pretend I have a say in the situation, but deep down, I know that there’s really not another possibility at this point.”

“You could come live with me and Jimmy,” Scott spits out before he can catch himself, eyes going wide as he realizes what he’s said. “I mean, you don’t have too, obviously, but I’m sure John and Laura would have you, they took me in, and I know you and Jimmy don’t really get along and you blame him for a lot of things, but maybe give it a chance? Genuinely, Owen, I really, really don’t want you to leave.”

“I don’t want to leave either,” the tiefling mumbles, a thickness to his voice that Scott rarely gets the privilege to hear. “But I’ve genuinely been such a jerk to Jimmy, Scott, like, he did nothing wrong. And I’m- I would love to live with you, and I mean this truly, but I don’t think Jimmy would have me. And if it’s you, him, and Beks now, I don’t know if there’s enough money or space for me.”

“Well, let’s just go check then,” Scott says, a smile growing across his face as he begins to descend from the tree.

“Wha- Scott, we can’t just go up to his house! And aren’t you and him all awkward and stuff? Like, after the whole kissing thing that you wouldn’t shut up about all those months ago?” Owen asks, scrambling to follow.

“No, uh, actually turns out he does like me. But that’s not important- plus, you forget, it’s also my house.” Scott drops down, his feet landing firmly on the hard-packed soil as Owen lands a little less nimbly besides him, taking a few stuttering steps forward before regaining his composure and grabbing Scott’s shoulders, staring him in the eyes.

“What. You’re dating. You and that little scrunkly bird man. Scott, you have a boyfriend?!” Owen yells the last sentence so loud that Scott flinches in an involuntary response, certain that all the neighbors are now listening in.

“Shut up,” Scott mutters, stepping out of Owen’s backyard and onto the sidewalk, turning back the way he’d come, back towards home.

“No. No I will not, when did this happen?” And there it goes again, a perfectly normal conversation turned to Scott’s business. He curses himself inwardly.

“Last night. Can we talk about something else instead? Because you just went off on a huge tangent about me talking about myself too much, so, you know, hypocritical much?”

“Scott, I didn’t mean you can never talk about yourself ever. Plus, we’ve just gone over my problems for like an hour, so I think you’re pretty much clear to rant to me about your boyfriend and how that all happened on the walk over to Jimmy’s… which I’m not quite sure about because we’re really not friends at all, why would he have me even if his parents are able to take me in…” Owen mutters the last sentence under his breath, still very obviously uncomfortable with the whole situation.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Scott soothes. Though, he’s not sure in the slightest, to be honest, but Owen is his best friend and if he needs help, Scott wants to be the one to offer it.

But going back to the tiefling’s earlier comment on the way to his house, Scott tells Owen everything. Every little last detail, every grievance and the high points and the lows. The only thing he leaves out is the weird memory-sharing thing, because he and Jimmy haven’t even really talked about that yet, and they probably should before anything else.

He also doesn’t tell Owen that he’s apparently the reason Jimmy hasn’t-

The reason Jimmy’s not-

He shivers involuntarily, because even imagining Jimmy dead is just- it’s too much, a world where he doesn’t have Jimmy isn’t even something he’d like to theorize about right now. But it’s also none of Owen’s business, it was something told to Scott in confidence, and he’s definitely going to have to bring it up with Jimmy later because he wants to do everything and anything in his power to prevent something like that from happening.

He doesn’t know how he can live with himself if Jimmy confesses to Scott about his suicidal (Scott can’t even-) and Scott does nothing about it.

And then before he knows it, here they are, standing in front of Jimmy’s house. Owen shoots him one last worried glance, and Scott shakes his head, smiling gently. He grabs the tiefling’s wrist, pulling him up the stairs and through the door, until there they are, standing on the foyer.

“Jimmy!” Scott calls, cupping his hand around his mouth.

“I’m in the kitchen,” the avian yells back, and Scott nods encouragingly towards Owen, beckoning for him to follow as he heads into the kitchen. Owen does, albeit quite hesitantly.

“So. Uh. I brought a friend over,” Scott says, entering the kitchen and leaning up against the counters as he always does, Owen’s head peeking nervously around the corner.

“Oh!” Jimmy sounds quite surprised, and honestly, why shouldn’t he be? “Hey, Owen, how’s it going?”

“Um, not- not the best, honestly,” Owen mutters, rubbing his hand on the back of his head. “Welp! Thanks, Scott, for bringing me here, but I really should get going-”

As Owen turns to leave, Scott shoots out a hand to grab his shoulder, shaking his head admonishingly. Jimmy seems completely out of his depth, just standing there in an apron, absolutely covered in flour- Scott snickers silently at the bright smudge of white across Jimmy’s cheek, the powder dusting everywhere from the tips of his hair to the softest cadmium feathers of his wings.

“Owen,” Scott starts, glaring pointedly at the tiefling now stood awkwardly beside him, “has something to say.”

Glancing to his right, Owen bites his lip, breathing in deeply before he speaks. “So. Hi, Jimmy- um. Shoot, I’m no good at this- give me a second?” he laughs clumsily, fumbling for words that aren’t there. Scott rests a gentle hand on his shoulder, silent support that seems to help, as Owen closes his eyes for a couple seconds, before opening them as well as his mouth and beginning to speak.

“Look, before I do anything, I just want to say I’m sorry.” His voice is strong, so much stronger than it was just a couple seconds ago, and Scott is honestly kind of shocked at the sudden switch. “I’ve been a jerk to you since the day we met. You did nothing to provoke my dislike and you didn’t deserve it. You’re a genuinely lovely person, and if I’m honest, I was jealous of you.

“I saw how close you and Scott were getting, how much he very obviously liked you- he still does. And I’m his best friend, I was used to getting the majority of his attention. And if I’m honest, I was worried that he’d hurt you. Scott hasn’t always had it easy, in fact, it’s been much harder than him for most. I was there to witness a lot of that and I won’t speak for him, but I’ll just say that there have been days where even I couldn’t cheer him up.” Jimmy’s listening intently, Scott can tell, his ear feathers are pricked up and his wings relaxed as he leans forward on his hands to hear, nodding along to all the important parts.

“And you did. On the days where I failed, you made him happy. And I was angry and confused and jealous and just… I was worried, I guess, for my best friend. You were such a beacon to him, we could all see it, me and Shelby and even Joel, who’s pretty much the least emotionally intelligent person on the planet. I think we all knew if you hurt Scott, it would be such a genuine blow to him. And I didn’t want that to happen. But I was also really annoyed that I couldn’t be the beacon that you were, I was angry that he was moving away from me.”

Scott’s eyebrows crease, because everything Owen is saying is completely and utterly true. In other circumstances, he would be furious at being spoken about like this right in front of him, but what Owen’s saying is such a complete and utter reading of him that he can’t muster up the anger.

“All he would talk about was you. And I was fed up. So I hated you and I was a huge jerk, and you didn’t deserve any of that. So, I’m sorry. I just need to get that out of the way before Scott reveals his big fancy plan or whatever he wants to call it. Just to clarify, what he’s about to say was completely his idea, I had no say in any of this, he just dumped it on me- and also sorry Scott for talking about you like you’re not there when you’re right next to me. And also possibly spilling all your secrets to Jim.” Owen bumps Scott’s shoulder with his own, and the gorgon shakes his head, rolling his eyes affectionately.

“But, yeah, I’m sorry,” Owen mutters, his tone back to serious, tail flicking gently behind him. “I sucked and I was really rude to you. I hope you can accept my apology.”

Jimmy presses his hand to his face. “You were really rude to me.”

Owen cringes, rubbing his thumb and forefinger together forcefully.

“And…” Jimmy trails off, sighing deeply and staring off into space. Owen and Scott share a quick glance, and Scott has to admit, he has no idea what Jimmy’s about to say.

“And because I’m a nice guy, and you’re Scott’s best friend, I’ll give you a second chance. What do you say? Friends?” The avian extends his hand and Scott can barely believe it, this is what he’s wanted for so long, they’re finally getting along.

“Friends,” Owen agrees, stepping forward to bridge the gap, firmly shaking Jimmy’s hand before the avian pulls him into a seemingly unexpected hug, as Owen’s eyes go wide before he somewhat awkwardly hugs back. 

“So… what now?” Owen whispers, now back standing by Scott’s side.

“Now I get to talk,” Scott answers, moving forward and leaning against his arms pressed against the island.

“Jimmy, would John and Laura be open to taking another person in? Not for long, just for a little bit. We could set up a tent in the backyard or something, Owen just needs a place to stay for a while. There’s some shit going on with his parents and the alternative is him being sent to boarding school. And I know it’s a lot to ask and it was completely my idea, Owen had nothing to do with this scheme of mine at all, he was actually very against it.”

“And for good reason,” Owen interjects, “It’s way too early to ask you anything like that.”

“Anything like what?”

John’s voice intersects into the conversation as he enters the kitchen, Beks and Laura in his trail, heavy-looking grocery bags hanging from all their arms. John plops down his bags on the counter, crossing his arms and looking over at Owen. “Well, who’s this, then?”

“That’s Owen,” Scott reassures, resting a hand on the tiefling’s shoulder. “He’s my best friend- you know about him, he’s friends with Shelby and Joel and all of us.”

“So what do I owe the pleasure, Owen?” Laura’s reedy voice is much calmer than John’s, and Owen’s shoulders visibly relax.

“Oh, um, I was just-”

“I want him to live here,” Scott interrupts, eyes shining with hope. “Just for a short amount of time, but otherwise he leaves for boarding school, and I don’t want that, he’s my best friend.”

Laura sighs and rubs her hands against her temples, leaning back against the wall and exchanging a meaningful glance with John. “Scott, honey, we’re already taking care of three of you, I just- we’re stretched thin enough already, you know? And where would he stay, we have no room?”

“He could stay in the backyard, in a tent, and we could all get jobs to pitch in around the house!” Scott’s not going to let this go, he can’t let Owen leave, not after they’ve just fixed things, he can’t-

“To be honest with you, and this is going to sound really selfish,” Beks starts, “I really don’t need to share my house with another weird boy I don’t even know.” Jimmy flinches slightly, almost imperceptibly, at her statement.

“That’s kind of uncalled for, Beks,” Jimmy mutters before Scott can say anything, his wings drawn protectively around him. “That’s- I dunno, that feels kind of like a terrible thing for you to say?”

“Yes, Beky, that’s out of line. We’re going to have to talk about that later,” John cuts in, his beefy dad arms folded across his chest. “But regardless, Scott, I’m so sorry-”

“No.” Scott’s voice is tiny, shaking and trembling like the leaves he’s seen today, blowing away in the wind, with no power of their own.

“-but Owen cannot stay.”

“No!” Scott runs after John as he makes his way upstairs, brushing the unwanted tears aggressively out of his eyes. “John, you don’t understand, if he doesn’t stay here he has to leave, and he can’t leave, he’s my best friend, he’s one of the only people who understands me and we just fixed things between us, please, you let me stay, why not Owen?”

John sighs, rubbing his temples. “Scott, you need to understand. If we take Owen in, and as much as I wish we could, we’ll have four teenagers to take care of. Do you know how much even one of you hooligans eat? Even with Bek, we were struggling. Then she found Jimmy, alone on the street, and it wasn’t like we could turn him down.”

Scott’s given up trying to stop the tears because he is sobbing now, he doesn’t want to lose his friend he can’t they don’t understand no one understands Owen is the only reason why he hasn’t cut himself off completely Owen is the person he cares about the most on the entire planet and they don’t get it, if he doesn’t stay here in this house with Scott he leaves. Owen has to leave.

“Then you showed up. We were hesitant, I’m not going to lie, but Laura convinced me that we should take you in. Both you and Jimmy were in very vulnerable spots when you came into our lives, both of you would still be homeless if not for us. But in addition to paying for food for all of you, you forget that we also have to pay for your school tuition. And we just can’t do that for another kid. I’m sorry, Scott.” This time when John ascends the stairs, his bedroom door slamming shut behind him, Scott doesn’t follow.

Instead, he runs out the door, his head throbbing and wishes pounding this way and that inside his mind. He doesn’t listen when Owen calls him back, pretends to not hear as Jimmy yells after him, asking where he’s going. He doesn’t know, he doesn’t care.

Scott just runs.

And he’s not surprised when he looks up, all out of breath, and finds himself right back in front of the Major family mansion. Right back to where it all fucking began.

Somehow, Scott’s not surprised at all as he closes his eyes, breathing deeply, and begins to walk down the cobbled path, through the all-too-perfect garden, glaring straight at the white marble building looming before him the whole time.

And not a bone in his body holds him back as he climbs the wide colonnade steps to his old home, rapping once, twice, three times on the “M”-emblazoned door, his knuckles almost vibrating from contact with the stone.

Scott’s not surprised that he came back here.

He is, however, very surprised that his mother, his siren, cult-leader mother, is the one who swings it open.

And it comes as even more of a shock when she wraps him in a strong, warm hug and ushers him inside.

[queenofthedisneyverse]

Oh goodness…

What are the kids’ mannerisms after snapping…? How will they turn out in the end…?

Apart from angry? mostly depressed, distraught, tired, and broken. All of the years being under Alma's iron fist and grip comes back to them. Isabela and Dolores suffered for at least 19 years, Luisa suffered for 15 years, Camilo and Mirabel suffered for 12 years.

Antonio wasn't under her hold for that long, only two years after his ceremony, but being tossed out and scarred because he just wanted to talk did traumatize him.

But they ALL hate themselves because of how they all can't stop talking like her and having her mannerisms. While spending time in the barn, the talk to each other about how they used to be.

Camilo used to be a prankster and theater lover, Dolores a quiet and reserved girl, Isabela an adventurous tomboy, Mirabel a happy bouncy little girl who loved helping, Luisa a strong girl who loved to play games and just be her, no expectation waying her down, Antonio a sweet but shy boy.

It was hard for them to remember those things on their own so the other grandkid would help them out with what they could remember.

All the pretty clothes, sweet/classy behavior, were tossed out. They would keep their manners and cleanliness but that's all. They basically just turned into very wild children, but honestly, with what they've been through, they deserve to be.

Slowly they go back to their old selves, but they still have trauma. Every night in the barn, one of them (or all), have harsh nightmares of Alma forcing them back into that house. Forced back into that perfection role.

So, while plotting for Alma's demise, they bond and get to know each other better. And trying their best to break away from the perfection doll they used to be. And cussing, yeah....they cuss like sailors by this point.

And it's hilarious and cute when Antonio does it.

@reikomizuao3

[ghouletteanon]

Mushy May: Day 11 - First "I love you"

I present to you once again, the Ghoulettes against the world! This is probably the mushiest fic I've written so far during Mushy May. Prompt list can be found here, curated by the ineffably amazing @forlorn-crows.

Relationship: Cirrus/Cumulus

Summary: They were just supposed to be pretending to be bonded for convenience sake, but Cirrus stops pretending. Takes place in the Ghoulettes Against the World universe, aka the Fake Dating AU, but can be read on its own.

Word count: 535

Rating: Mature for sexual themes, fade to black

Cirrus watches Cumulus sleep, her face obscured by the cloud of hair that somehow never got in the way. It’s the early hours of the morning the first night they are back at the Abbey after their first tour together. Cirrus is not sure what woke her up, but she’s grateful to whatever infernal power had granted it as she witnesses the first rays of sun filter through the stained-glass windows. The rays color Cumulus’ white hair a light blue, tainting her skin a blue like the color of the sky during the nightless nights in the Swedish countryside.

How lucky Cirrus is, to share her bed with someone like Cumulus. A beauty who trusts her so deeply that she dares to fall asleep in her presence. She was captivating, her heart and beauty reaching far beyond anyone Cirrus had ever met. Bewitched, Cirrus reaches out and carefully traces Cumulus’ cheek with the back of her hand, watching her bare chest rise slowly under the thin sheet they share as a blanket in the warm summer night.

Their tentative friendship had deepened over the last months. A bond with a beautiful creature like Cumulus no longer felt like an impossibility. Cirrus had tried to ignore the tug she felt towards the other ghoulette. It did not go away, no matter how Cirrus tried to ignore it and push it away. She had denied it, thinking it was simply the pressure of having to act like they were bonded, but it only took one look at Cumulus, and she knew it was just an excuse. She wanted Cumulus as her lover, in every sense of the word. A part of her, deep down in her core, had recognized Cumulus as her intended bond the moment they met in the ritual chamber. Yet she had been too worried to rock the boat to confess to Cumulus how she truly feels.

Cumulus’ nose twitches. She opens her eyes and blinks, a smile spreading across her lips when she sees Cirrus laying right next to her. Cumulus takes Cirrus’ hand, greeting her with a kiss to the back of her hand. “What time is it?”

Cirrus can’t hold back any longer and ignores the question. She needs to say the words before she overthinks it. It’s just the two of them, no worries about the world around them. Nobody pressures them to act a certain way. Just the two of them, naked as the day they were summoned, against the world. “I love you. Bond with me?”

Cirrus had not thought it possible for Cumulus to smile any wider, yet miracles keep happening. Cumulus' smile could outshine the sun, bringing Cirrus’ hand to cup her face. “I thought you would never ask. I love you too.”

Cirrus rolls over, straddling Cumulus as she finally kisses Cumulus for the first time without any other intent than to show the other just how much she means to her. Cumulus responds and they begin moving together, entangling in a dance that is older than any being in existence. They are in the eye of the storm, oblivious to the world outside the walls of their room as they come together as one.

[gamerbearmira]

Sailor Moon AU. Maybe Mirabel being the moon princess/Chibi-moon is the reason she didn't get a door or gift, because the miracle could tell she already had magic and so she didn't need a gift. If that's the case then Antonio won't get his door either, but by that point they might've already made the connection so he doesn't care. Oh, maybe if Endymion, who used to be prince of the earth kingdom, is meant to be their father, then Antonio could still have his ability to speak to animals as part of the earth magic he inherited from Endymion.

Oh???? My gosh??? Your right.

Mirabel did get her moon magic back officially at five (a little after her birthday), it was dormant until the scouts came after her ceremony. So for Antonio it was probably the same thing—he had magic, it was just dormant and didn’t awaken fully until he turned five. Hence why before he usually just stayed on the outlines in the main fights and practiceed more with his sword than with magic. And him having the ability to speak with animals (along with earth magic) would make sense.

Come his ceremony his door fades and he’s already been to,d that he has magic and is just like. “Man that sucks” and moves on. He’s a bit confused on why everyone is so shocked, but the Madrigals never had any knowledge of the scouts and thus never knew the Mirabel nor Antonio had possessed any kind of magic. He kinda already expected it though, but he is a little hurt at the fact that Alma and some of the other family physically backed away when he walked by them when he was going to Usagi. Alma thinks because Mirabel held his hand and guided him that she “tainted” him or sum bs, so his magic just went away or sumn. And the scouts are like 🤨 what do you mean by that?

Him getting a new sword was planned but the suit was not. I just wanted another excuse to design some more clothes because I just like doing that. I’m insane <33 insane in the membrane (insane in the brain‼️‼️).

This thought never crossed my mind, I’m gonna be real, I’m completely forgot about Endymion <\\\3

[seeyabythemarina]

This is my funeral

trained au by shyhearted on a03

When bruno dies the magic keeps his soul to watch over the family. He sees his funeral, how his sister either don't care or are happy he's dead, etc. Happy he'll feel some regret maybe he'll just be angry he died and not mira. Who knows, but he does get some beautiful paternal tough love from pedro.

[reikomizuao3]

Oh, I don't know why I forgot to add this. The way Isabela was being treated in your Tres Oruguitas fic inspired me to make the Perfectly tainted miracle au. I was thinking of having them be at battle for their own minds while in the barn like how Isabela was at battle with her own mind her your story.

But honestly, it's only a suggestion

I inspired you?! Like for real for real?!?!

Oh my God that's so cool, I love the ideas you came up with