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amintyworld · 5 years

Note

HI I HAVE A PROMPT FOR YOU! Can You Do “I know it hurts, honey. Just stay still.” Blood With Royality Please? I’m A Sucker For These Two Sunshine Boys, But Alas, They Must Suffer

Hi! Thanks for the prompt, and I’m sorry it took so long! This is pretty angsty, as you requested, and it’s an idea that was floating around in my head for some time now. Hope you enjoy! Also, if you can submit a prompt with the list here! -Minty

Broken Heart

Summary: Remus has had enough.

TW: Blood, threat of death, fear of death, Remus, hypothermia, gun, being shot, pain, EXTREMELY unsympathetic Remus. (Let me know if I missed any!)

Remus had a sadistic smile that curled a little too unnaturally. “Hello, brother.” Remus forced out with slight intensity. “What are you doing out in my part of the forest? I thought…you didn’t like it here.”

“Remus, where’s Patton?” Roman asked, holding up a piece of his torn cat onesie. “I saw these on the brambles separating everything, if you hurt so much as a hair on his head-” Roman said, his voice rising in volume as he continued.

“You’ll what?” Remus snapped. “Kill me?!”

“I’ll…I’ll…” Roman said, his heart burning in his chest. Would he really kill his own brother? Killing a side, even bad ones, could endanger Thomas. But…more than that…

Would that really be how everything ended?

“That’s the difference between you and me, brother.” Remus said, keeping his unnerving smile. “I’m not afraid anymore. Being here, all alone, for years and years…” Remus cocked his head to the side, rain beginning to fall as thunder sounded from the distance. “But you never noticed, did you? You forgot all about me all too quickly.”

“Remus, I-”

“Didn’t you?!” Remus sneered, as a lightning strike flashed behind him.

“Where’s Patton, Remus?” Roman asked, trying to be calm and just get back through the hedges. “Give him over, and…and we can forget this ever happened.”

“Even now, you’re still thinking of everyone else. After all, the hero never does anything wrong, do they? It’s always the villain.”

“Remus, please -” Roman was nearly begging, trying to ignore the vivid images from the night, the heartbroken look on his brother’s face. That night refused to leave him, and Roman didn’t want to think about it. Not now.

Remus’s smile vanished, if only for a moment. His eyes sharpened with a new flicker of hatred at Roman’s words, as if fueling his unsettling rage. With a quick backflip, Remus jumped in the roof of his dark castle, his smile growing wider, laughing hysterically. Remus quickly went out of sight.

“Remus, come on…” Roman said, uneasy, slightly afraid at this. The rain came down heavier, and a lightning strike startled him. Roman stepped back slightly, looking around for his brother desperately. “Remus, let’s just… talk.”

Suddenly a roll of thunder and lightning strike illuminated the darkness as Remus, smiling, jumped down with a thud, someone falling to the ground in front of his twin…

“Patton!” Roman yelled, rushing toward him when Remus pulled Patton up and quickly put a gun to Patton’s head. Remus’s head snapped up at his twin, smiling and laughing sadistically at Roman’s expression.

“Not. So. Fast.” He growled.

“You freaking bastard! Let him go, he’s got nothing to do with this!” Roman yelled. “This is between you and me. Not him.”

“Oh, brother… “ Remus laughed slightly. “Spare me your pathetic sentiment. Thanks to your actions, Patton here plays a key role in tonight’s festivities!” Patton, through bound by his wrists, kicked him and tried to run before Remus’s eyes turned dangerously cold as he punched him across the face. “Nuh uh uh, little rat…” Remus said, sickeningly sweet. “You’re staying RIGHT there until your boyfriend and I sort out some issues, GOT IT?” Patton gulped, shaking as he slowly nodded. Remus smiled all too sweetly. “Good, good…”

“What do you want, Remus?!” Roman yelled. “Just let him go!”

“I want…” Remus said, looking to his brother. “To even things between us, brother. I want to be just how we used to be - the two princes of Creativity. I want to be your brother again, Ro.” Remus’s expression softened a moment, and Roman saw a flash of heartbreak in his eyes.

“We will! I promise!” Roman said, begging. “Just let him go and I promise we’ll be together again… brother…”

“Before we reach our happily ever after, however-” Remus’s eyes turned cold. “A few sacrifices have to be made, brother. After all, it was you who’s just taken and taken and taken all these years… all starting on the day we were dragged away from each other… all starting with THEM…” He growled at the last word, pushing the gun harder against Patton’s skull.

“Remus, what did I-”

“OOOHHH!” Remus smiled, giggling. “Do you not remember when you didn’t hang out with me anymore? When you destroyed the treehouse to put up that STUPID barrier!? When you choose those…those haughty LIGHT SIDES, over ME?! When you decided you were afraid…afraid of your own brother…?”

The gleam in Remus’s eyes did make Roman’s heart beat faster, and the gun - is this some trick? Or… is he actually going to-? Roman breathed, looking at his brother. Roman couldn’t ever forgive himself for what he’s done, Remus didn’t deserve this. He closed his eyes for a moment. “I’m…I’m not afraid of you.”

“LIAR.” Remus spat. “I can hear your heart beat faster, brother. I can smell the sweat that’s running down your back, and can practically TASTE the terror in your mind.”

“Maybe…maybe I am… afraid. But I know you, Remus. I know you better than anyone…” Roman said, inching closer. “I know you’re not going to do this. I know you’re not going to pull that trigger.”

“How can you be so sure?!” Remus said, pushing the gun harder against Patton’s head as Patton silently whimpered.

“Because you are many things, Remus… but you are NOT a killer.” Roman said. Remus looked like a scared child, and his eyes softened as his brother’s words. Remus’s hand shook, and Patton saw this as his chance to run. Remus quickly pointed the gun at Patton’s back.

“I’m sorry, brother.” Remus said softly. “You broke my heart, now it’s time I broke yours.”

The gun fired, and Patton fell to the floor in a heap, screaming as the bullets ripped through his stomach - his blood splattering the ground. Roman yelled, rushing over to his boyfriend as his heart felt like it was ripped into pieces. He moved Patton slowly into his arms. “Pat? Pat, please…”

He looked around, but Remus was nowhere to be found, like he had completely vanished in thin air. He felt like he wanted to punch him, kick him until he bled, but Remus was gone now. Roman silently swore that if that rat bastard showed his face again, he’d make sure he regretted it. Patton coughed, bring Roman’s attention down to him. Three bullets were lodged in his chest, gushing out blood rapidly. Drops of blood seeped down from Patton’s mouth. “R-ro…man…”

“Patton! Thank god!” Roman said, tears blurred his vision.

“H-hurts…” Patton whimpered. “It…it h-hurts…”

“I know, honey. I know.” Roman said, taking off his princely uniform, ripping it up. “Just…just stay still, okay?” He carefully wrapped Patton’s chest to help with the blood loss. Patton’s eyes were filled with tears from the overwhelming pain, which seeped down his cheeks. “We… we gotta get back to the Mindscape, okay? Just… just hold on, okay?” Roman said, whistling to call his horse, Daisy. They didn’t have any time to lose. The horse galloped towards them and stopped, looking carefully over the scene. Roman picked up Patton, who was shaking and shivering, wincing in pain, in the front. He climbed up and placed his boyfriend almost delicately back in his arms.

“Okay girl,” Roman said, holding the reins, “I need you to run faster than you ever did before. Mindscape, h’yah!”

The horse whinned as it galloped past the barrier and towards the entrance, heaving from exhaustion but not stopping for one second. Patton nearly nodded off before Roman jostled him awake. “Just a little further, honey. No going to sleep, okay?”

Roman kept looking head towards the entrance, hoping that Patton would make it, he had to make it, he had to. His emotions made a snowstorm, which only complicated things. Without his shirt, he was getting hypothermia, and shivered, but kept Patton close for warmth. Snow covered his body, and seeped into his blood, a cold bitterness that numbed him; but his mind was only focused on one thing - Patton.

Patton was all that mattered right now.

It felt like hours, Roman almost falling off a couple of times, but he didn’t give up. He couldn’t - the picture of Patton’s cold, limp body - he would never make that a reality.

Roman would say that seeing that white door was the biggest rush of relief in his life. He jumped off Daisy quickly, holding Patton, and rushed to the door.

They made it, they made it, they really made it-

Roman’s legs could barely move a few feet inside the door, but that was enough. He fell to the floor, Patton still in his arms. But heard quick movement as he fell.

“Roman, you better have a good explanation for being so late- OHMYGOD!” Virgil yelled as he turned the corner and found them leaning against a wall. Roman tried to stand, but only could shuffle on his knees a few feet. Virgil was already rushing towards them.

“P-patton… g-gun… needs…help…now-” Roman managed to say, his world becoming dizzy, as he used practially all his strength to shove Patton into Virgil’s arms.

Logan hurried in after, a bit annoyed. “Virgil, I was just reading a book, what was so horrific you had to-?!” He took in the scene - a blood soaked Patton, a nearly frozen Roman, and Virgil, who looked to be on the verge of a panic attack. He calmly put down his book and walked swiftly over to Virgil. “Virgil, I need you to breathe for a few seconds, okay?” Logan said calmly. “Please keep an eye on Patton and bring him to the couch with my emergency kit, okay? I’ll be down in a little bit, just keep putting pressure on his stomach.”

Virgil breathed deeply, giving a shaky nod as he rushed out of the room, Patton in his arms. Logan turned to Roman and began to walk over when Roman’s world slowly faded, his body shivering with cold. Cold in his bones, in his head, in his heart. Cold his body couldn’t fight so much anymore. “Lo…” Then, he drifted off.

Patton was safe. Patton was home. That was all that mattered.

#prompt #sander sides #sanders sides #ask #royality #tw unsympathetic remus

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notalwaysthevillian · 5 years

Text

Lost and Found (A Sanders Sides Tangled AU)

Warnings: anxiety, manipulative/abusive deceit, feeling of abandonment

Word Count: ~1.5k

Pairings: Romantic Prinxiety

Chapter 8 | Chapter 10

Masterlist

Chapter 9

Roman led Virgil down to the edge of the water, Maximus following close behind. Grabbing one of the public boats, they set off, gently floating into the bay.

A soft whinny had them turning back, seeing Maximus looking sad, standing on the edge of the dock. Before Virgil could say a word, Roman pulled out a bag of apples.

“Hey Max!”

He tossed the apples at the horse’s feet. Virgil couldn’t help but giggle as Max gave Roman a questioning look.

“What? I bought them.” Max began to dig in as Roman started to paddle them further into the bay. “Most of them.”

“Why are we going so far out?” Virgil asked as Roman continued to paddle. He pointed to all the other boats. “They’re all floating just offshore.”

“Virge, it’s the best day of your life.” Roman stiffened slightly as Emile climbed onto his shoulder. As the chameleon settled in, he smiled. “For something like this, you need the best seat in the house.”

The sun began to set as they reached their destination, casting the two of them in a soft golden glow. Roman glanced over, finding himself mesmerized as the light hit Virgil’s hair. And while the man looked positively stunning, something was off.

“Virge? You okay?”

Pulling his cloak tighter, Virgil shook his head. “No...I - I’m terrified. Ro, I’ve been staring out of a window for eighteen years. Seeing those lights rise in the sky...it’s something I’d always dreamed of. What if - what if it’s not what it’s cracked up to be? What if -”

“Virgil.” Roman’s voice was soft as he reached over and took Virgil’s hands. “I promise you, it’s everything you’ve ever dreamed of.”

Some of the tension left Virgil’s shoulders, but there was still something he wasn’t saying. He bit his lip for just a moment before it spilled out. “If it’s everything I ever dreamed of...then what? I go back to my tower and remember this moment?”

Roman shook his head. “No, Virge. After this, you get to find a new dream.”

Trumpets sounded at the castle, the music echoing out over the kingdom. Virgil watched intently as the doors to the castle opened and two figures walked out.

“Those are the kings.” Roman explained, shifting in order to wrap his arms around Virgil. The younger man leaned back into his touch. “Once they lift the royal lantern, everyone else is allowed to set theirs off.”

The figures moved and a single lantern made its way into the sky. One followed, then another, and before Virgil could gasp the night sky was filled with light coming from all angles.

As Virgil watched, he couldn’t help but let out all the emotions he was feeling.

“All those days, watching from the windows. All those years, outside looking in. All that time never even knowing just how blind I've been.”

Careful not to rock the boat, Virgil made his way to the front, gripping the wood so as not to fall off. The lanterns were as bright as the stars, bathing the kingdom in their yellow glow.

“Now I'm here blinking in the starlight. Now I'm here suddenly I see. Standing here it's all so clear! I'm where I'm meant to be.”

Tears started to drip down Virgil’s face. He hastily wiped them away, not wanting Roman to see. A strong pair of hands gently pulled him down onto the seat. Virgil swung his legs over Roman’s lap as he continued to watch the sky.

“And at last I see the light, and it's like the fog has lifted. And at last I see the light, and it's like the sky is new. And it’s warm and real and bright and the world has somehow shifted.”

Reaching back, Roman pulled out two lanterns. Warmth filled Virgil’s heart as he watched Roman light them before guiding one of them over.

“All at once, everything looks different, now that I see you.”

As the words left Virgil’s mouth, Roman blushed. Together, the two of them lifted the lanterns into the sky.

“Ro...I have something for you.” Rummaging in the bottom of the boat, Virgil moved a blanket to uncover the satchel. “I should’ve given it to you before. But I was scared that you’d take it and leave me to the wolves...or something so much worse. But I - I’m not scared anymore. Do you know what I mean?”

Reaching out, Roman lowered the satchel. “I’m starting to.”

“All those days, chasing down a daydream.” The song flowed out of Roman as he matched the rhythm Virgil had been using. The other man grinned. “All those years, living in a blur. All that time, never truly seeing things the way they were.”

Taking Virgil’s hands once more, Roman continued, baring his feelings for Virgil to see. “Now you’re here, shining in the starlight. Now you’re here, suddenly I know. If you’re here, it’s crystal clear, I’m where I’m meant to go.”

“And at last I see the light.” A shiver ran up Roman’s spine at how well their voices blended together.

“And it’s like the fog has lifted.”

Like magnets, they started to shift closer together.

“And at last I see the light.”

“And it’s like the sky is new.”

A lantern began to float down toward the water. Both of them reached out, lifting it back toward the sky before rejoining their hands. Virgil moved completely into Roman’s lap, both of them leaning in as they sang.

“And it's warm and real and bright, and the world has somehow shifted. All at once everything is different, now that I see you.”

Cupping Virgil’s cheek, Roman pulled him in closer.

“Now that I see you.”

Their noses brushed and Roman’s eyes started to close. Before he could finally kiss Virgil, a green light on the shore caught his attention. He peered into the darkness, recognizing the Stabbington brothers immediately.

“Ro?”

Virgil looked confused and upset. He glanced back to where Roman was looking, but the thieves had vanished. “Is...is everything okay? Did I do something wrong? I’ve never, um…”

“What? No, Virge, you didn’t do anything.” Roman promised, feeling horribly guilty. He picked up the paddle and started to row them towards shore. Pain shot through his heart as Virgil slid off his lap and yanked his hood over his face.

As they neared shore, Roman jumped out and pulled the boat into the sand. He grabbed the satchel, not missing the look of hurt in Virgil’s eyes. “Virgil, I’ll be right back, I swear. I just...there’s something I have to take care of. And then we can continue where we left off - if you still want to.”

There was a beat of silence as Virgil stared him in the eyes. “Okay.”

“Just...two seconds!” Roman called back as he ran off.

Emile climbed onto Virgil’s shoulder, making a buzzing sound. Virgil reached up, stroking the scales. “It’s alright. He’ll - he’ll be right back. He said so.”

After a few minutes, Virgil started to get antsy. He climbed out of the boat and began pacing in the sand, making sure he could see where Roman had disappeared at all times.

A shadow loomed in the distance, making Virgil sigh with relief. “I was starting to think you ran off with the crown and left me.”

The shadow morphed into two. A gasp fell from Virgil’s mouth as he recognized the two brothers.

The taller one smirked. “He did.”

“What? No, he said - he wouldn’t do that!”

The other brother chuckled, the sound raising the hairs on Virgil’s arms. He waved a hand toward the open water. “”See for yourself.”

Turning, Virgil covered his mouth. He could see Roman, clear as day, steering a ship toward the castle. “Ro? Roman!”

“A fair trade.” Virgil whimpered as a heavy hand landed on his shoulder. “A crown for the boy with magic hair. How much do you think someone would pay to stay young and healthy forever?”

Tearing himself free, Virgil backed up toward the water. “No, please. No!”

One of them pulled out a sack. Fight or flight kicking in, Virgil took off along the beach, tripping over a few loose stones. He vaulted over a log, only to be yanked backwards as his hair got caught. Tears poured down his face as he tugged, desperately trying to get free.

He heard a few distant thuds.

“Virgil!”

“Father?”

Less panicked, Virgil freed himself before moving back toward the beach. Dorian stood over the brothers, a branch in his hand. When he saw Virgil, he dropped it. “My precious boy.”

“Father.”

Sobs wracked Virgil’s body as he all but dove into his father’s arms. Arms that wrapped around him immediately, stroking his hair. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“How did you -”

“I know what I said, but I was worried about you.” Dorian said as he continued to check Virgil’s hairline. “I saw them attack you and...oh, let’s go, let’s go! Before they come to, I can’t take them on a second time.”

Virgil gave one last glance toward Roman’s boat. He wasn’t sure how he had any tears left, but he sniffed as they began to fall. Crying harder, he tightened his arms around Dorian’s waist. “You were right, Father. About everything.”

“I know, darling.” Dorian picked up his lantern. He turned away from Virgil, a small smirk making its way onto his face.

“I know.”

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#lost and found #tangled au #romantic prinxiety #manipulative deceit #ts deceit #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #roman sanders #virgil sanders #emile picani

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riverdalepoet · 5 years

Text

ALL I EVER WANTED (part 2)

PAIRINGS: Sweet Pea and OC (Emma Carter Wilson), Kevin and Fangs, Toni and Cheryl, Betty and Jughead

Warnings: language and suggestive themes

WORD COUNT: 3052

A/N: I own nothing.

The first few months after bringing Carter home were disastrous. Our tiny cottage, that barely managed to support the two of us, was bursting at the seams with our new addition. Piles of dirty burp rags and onesies threatened our sanity daily, no matter how many loads of laundry we battled. Nights of mindless shushing and swaying and begging our little boy to sleep for longer than twenty two seconds left us weary. But sweet gurgles and drooly grins from our son kept us going with dreamy smiles ever present on our faces.

Slowly, we find our flow. Out of the blue, Carter blesses us with a manageable sleeping schedule, giving us all the fuel we needed. The mountain of laundry becomes less intimidating, as our home adjusts to our new family of three.

Sweet Pea, notoriously recognized for being hard as stone, was a puddle of mush when it came to Carter. I spent much of my mornings, admiring them both as Pea has our little guy tucked carefully in his arms. Today is no exception. My place in the bed provides a picturesque view of my two guys cuddled up in the living room. My husband lays sprawled out on the couch in his sweats, with Carter curled up against his bare shoulder, both facing the television set. Sweets shared his love for Saturday morning Westerns from the very beginning with our baby. When I was pregnant, and getting kicked and attacked from the little boy inside, Pea would turn on Bonanza or whatever he could find, and Carter would calm down immediately, giving me instant relief.

“Listen here, little guy, if anyone ever tells you that John Wayne is overrated, you just hit them. No questions, just sock em right in the jaw. You don’t want to befriend anyone with those standards,” he spoke eagerly to a very attentive four month old. In response, Carter giggled and flailed his little fists, swiping Sweets in the process. Pea turned Carter around and lifted him in the air before peppering his cheeks with noisy kisses. “Easy now slugger, you don’t get to hit me. I’m on your side.”

I couldn’t stand it any longer, and pulled myself out of bed. I padded swiftly across the floor and stole my baby from Sweet Pea’s arms, twirling him around. “Are you fighting with Daddy already? Huh? Don’t worry, Mommy likes to fight him, too.”

“Mmm, yep. And that’s how you got here, buddy,” he responded, lifting himself off the couch to kiss the top of my head.

Carter gurgled happily from my arms, and I turned my attention back to my little dark haired, dark eyed clone of my husband. “Daddy thinks he’s funny.”

He laughed and slapped my butt before making his way to the kitchen to start the coffee pot. I grabbed the outfit I laid out for Carter and started to wrestle him into it. “Em?” Pea called

“Yeah?”

“What time is everybody coming over today?”

“Oh, well, Betty said she and Jones were going to come around three to help us set everything up.”

“Really?” he asked, reaching for two mugs and for my favorite creamer. “They don’t have to do that.”

I was having a hard time wrangling the wiggle worm into his little pants, but managed to reply. “Yeah well, it’s Betty. That’s kind of her thing.” He nods as he sets my cup on the table beside me. “Toni and Cheryl will be here at four, and the rest of them around five, I think. Oh, except Fangs. He text me this morning, and said he’d be a little late. You think he’ll bring Jonathan?”

“Oh Christ, I hope not. Didn’t you say Kevin was coming too?” He reached for the remote, and clicked off the t.v. before starting to fold the laundry.

“I mean, I invited him, obviously, but I honestly don’t know. I hope he does, I miss him. And he hasn’t met Carter yet.”

“Maybe he’ll show up. If not, we’ll hunt him down tomorrow. I know Betty will help us corner him.” He threw me a wink and a fresh bib from the pile of clothes. I fastened the bib and set Carter down gently in his swing so I could get a few things done to prepare for tonight’s dinner.

Sweet Pea may have marked our son with his love for older movies, but I passed something other than my fair complexion to him, as well. He loved my old records, and often fell asleep swinging happily along to Jimmy Reed. Hoping he would get a good nap in, I turned on the record player. Before “Ain’t That Loving You Baby” was over, he was out, and I breathed a sigh of relief, slipping off to take a shower while I could.

It wasn’t long before the door creaked open, and Sweet Pea slipped in behind me. “Can I help you?” I laugh when he yanks the bottle of shampoo out of my hands. “Yes, you can. Turn back around.”

“Truly, I don’t know why you insist on doing this these days. I can wash my own hair, you know.” I joked, but hoped that he wouldn’t stop massaging my scalp.

“Remember that time you had my baby?” He hummed, continuing to lather the shampoo.

He had me in such a trance, I had to remind myself to respond. “Oh yeah, vividly.”

“That’s why.” That was a good enough answer for me, so I shrugged, and let him continue. Much too soon, the water turned cold and the list of everything we needed to do popped back into my brain. Reluctantly, we dried off, got dressed, and started bustling around the house as quietly as possible.

Keeping the records playing as Carter slept worked wonders, buying us two hours of uninterrupted work. By the time, he started moving around I had the food prepped and ready to go. Sweet Pea had finished with the house, and had it smelling as fresh as lemons. However long that lasted was up to our son.

He played happily on his mat with a few of his favorite toys in front of him while we got ready. I had a hard time picking out what to wear. My post- baby body was nothing like it used to be, and none of my clothes looked right. I was starting to panic when Sweet Pea wrapped me up in his arms, and told me to stop. A few kisses and sexual innuendos later, and I was, surprisingly, feeling a little better. With his help, I finally settled on something that didn’t make me feel entirely uncomfortable. If Sweet Pea, had it his way, I’d walk around in one of his t-shirts 24/7, but he knew how important tonight was to me.

Feeling a little nervous, I laid back against the pillows and watched Sweets get dressed. The crinkle that formed between his eyebrows while he was trying to decide something always made me giggle. He wasn’t always the careful one. In high school, Sweet Pea was notorious for his short fuse and quick reflexes. As the years went on and a few bits of rage bit him in the ass, he mellowed out and learned something I never thought he would- patience. These days he’s very meticulous and intentional with each decision he makes, no matter how small. That’s not to say he’s no longer useful to the Serpents. Anything something needs to be handled, Sweet Pea is calculated and lethal in every situation.

Soon enough, there was steady knock on our front door. Sweet Pea pulled his shirt over his head and ushered our guests inside. Carter squealed when Betty scooped him up and bounced him around. Jughead handed me a bottle of wine before taking his usual seat on the couch. After Betty had her fill of cooing at Carter, she dropped him into Jughead’s reluctant arms and turned to me, clasping her hands together. “Where do you want me, Em?”

“I hate to spoil your fun, but I think we’ve just about got everything ready.” I looked around the kitchen and remembered, “Oh, we can go ahead and get the table set, and maybe plate some of the finger foods. I know our dudes are probably already starving.”

“Right,” she replied militantly, and went straight to work. I squeezed her into a one- armed hug when the work was done, and all that was left to do was relax and wait for people to arrive. “Thanks, Betts, I couldn’t have done this without you.” She smiled in response, and went to join the boys in the living room.

“Does anyone know if Kevin’s coming tonight,” I ask pointedly to Betty.

She hesitates, stealing a glance at her husband before answering, “Have you heard if Fangs is bringing Jonathan?”

“Unbelievable. He told you to check if the coast was clear, didn’t he?” She avoided my glare, picking at a loose thread on the hem of her skirt. “Okay, no, I don’t know. I have no earthly idea. I just know that I want Kevin here. I know he’s still upset, and I get that, but Carter is four months old. He hasn’t even tried to come meet him,” I huff, trying my hardest to let it go…and failing. “You know what- enough is enough! You tell Mr. Keller that if he doesn’t have both feet on my porch by 5:15 pm, I will come to his house, and I will drag him out by his teeth if I have to, got it? Fangs and Jonathan be damned.”

Jughead and Sweet Pea exchange nervous looks, but Betty nods and immediately types my message out to Kevin. Her phone dings in reply almost immediately, and she chuckled. “Done and done. He says he’s hopping in the shower now.”

Sweet Pea shakes his head and leaves to grab drinks for Jughead and himself. “If that one can’t light a fire under somebody and get them moving, nobody can. Freaking drill sergeant, I swear.”

Just as I wave my middle finger at him in retaliation, Cheryl and Toni walk in.

“Geez,” Toni laughs, “Parenthood has no peaceful effect on you two, does it?”

“No, no. We still fight like cats and dogs, it’s just now we do it with a baby on my boob or in my arms.” I smile and stand up to hug them both. “How was the trip?”

Cheryl sets a pile of presents on the table by the door, and gushes. “Tres bien, per usual. Now where’s our little nephew?” She looks around our living room before zeroing in on him bouncing on Jug’s knee.

Toni follows suit and crosses the floor to snatch Carter up. He grins as she holds him high, looking him over. “Well, aren’t you the spitting image of your bone-headed daddy.”

We both ignored Pea’s “I heard that” from the kitchen. I nodded in response, expecting as much. “It’s insane, right? They’re identical.”

“Wait until he pouts,” Sweets interrupts, pulling me to sit on his lap. “His bottom lip pokes out, and if you pay him attention right then, he throws a full on fit. That’s all his mama.”

I heave a sigh, and melt into his strong hold. “Why are you the way that you are? I earn a few laughs with my Office reference, and we all fall into comfortable conversation. I notice how eager and attentive Sweets and I both seem, and chalk it up to us both missing the excitement of adult conversations.

Soon enough, more people pile in. The buzz of friendly voices and the savory scent of our dinner that’s nearly done makes me smile. Having our friends here- basking in the cuteness that is Carter James, and filling every bit of our home and hearts makes me feel whole. I fight back the happy tears that the hormones are supplying, and go to open the door, when I hear a timid knock. As promised, Kevin Keller stands at my door with flowers in hand, and a guilty expression heavy on his brow. All my resolve melts at the sight of him, and I burst, pitifully, into tears.

Sweet Pea, not able to see who was standing on the other side of the screen door from his place on the chair, was on his feet in second flats. He hesitates, seeing Kevin scrambling to calm me down. Fighting every instinct I know he had, my husband merely crosses his arm, and fixes his hard stare on Kevin’s nervous face. Kevin merely nods at Sweet Pea, and ushers me out on the porch with him and into a chair.

“You’re mad at me,” he says softly after a few moments.

I choke out a small laugh through the tears and swallow the remaining sobs. “I’ve missed you…and I’m hormonal. So this isn’t all you, I promise.”

He leans back against the house, and stares out towards the road as I calm down. Kevin and I got really close when he and Fangs were together. Having boyfriends that were attached at the hip didn’t really leave us much of a choice. Kevin was there when Sweet Pea proposed, keeping my soon- to -be husband from hitting the bottle too heavy to fight his nerves. He was beside me at my wedding, managing, miraculously, to keep an unruly group of groomsmen in check. He was the third person we told when I got pregnant, and was just as excited as we were.

Sometime in my second trimester, he and Fangs decided to go their separate ways, and Kevin quit coming around. Shortly after the split, Fangs introduced us to Jonathan. I remember that day pretty vividly. Sweet Pea tried his best to diffuse the situation, knowing by my shaking leg that something was about to happen. I kept my composure, right until Jonathan mouthed off something about ‘that tragic ex of Fangs’’. I ignored the sharp hiss of Sweet Pea’s warning, and whirled around quickly.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” There was no stopping me. I let him have it, banned him from my home until he learned how to act like an adult, and even gave Fangs a good cuss-out by the time it was over. During my whole tirade, Sweet Pea sat at the kitchen table with wide eyes and his fist resting against his chin, knowing that it was better for all of us to let me get it all out. It took a few months for Fangs to come around after that. I regret nothing.

“I haven’t been doing so well, Em,” Kevin muttered, pulling me back from the flashback. “I know that’s no excuse, and I will do better. It’s just, I don’t know what to do at this point. I still feel so stuck.”

I took a few steadying breaths, and stood up to loop my arm through his. “I can’t tell you what you need to do. I can’t fix it for you, and I hate that, because I wish that I could. But what I can do is make sure you know that this house is open anytime you need it to be. I have a comfy sofa, a cuddly baby, plenty of comfort food, and a pot of coffee that can be ready in five minutes flat.”

He smiled, and ran his hand through his hair, “I like the sound of that.”

“I hoped you would say that. Now can we please go inside and eat?”

“Yes, let’s go, hot mama,” he chuckled and pulled me with him into my house. Carter and Kevin were fast friends, and they stayed glued together until dinner was ready. Around six, Fangs did show up, finally. I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw that Jonathan was not at his side, and pretended not to notice the bashful glances he threw at Kevin for the most of the night.

Our evening was winding down, our child was passed out, and our friends were slowly making their way out the door. I made sure to pack leftovers for those that thought that a burger from Pops was a home- cooked meal, and threw a few extra helpings in the bowl that would be leaving with Fangs. He reached over the counter to take it, but I quickly grabbed his hand, effectively catching his full attention. “Where’s Jonathan?”

He laughed nervously and shrugged, leaning against the cabinets, “Who knows, who cares.”

I quirked my eyebrow, considering what that might mean for a possible reconciliation with Kevin. “Noted… I packed enough food to feed you for two days. This is not to be eaten in one sitting, Franklin Fogarty, ok?” All he offered in response was a half- hearted ‘yeah- yeah’.

“Also, I saw you.” With that, I cleared the rest of the counter top, and breezed past him into the living room. He followed me, clearly caught off guard by my accusation.

“Saw me what?” I reached for the remote only to have it ripped from my hand by my leather clad pal.

“Well that was rude.” He pursed his lips and waited. I let his agitation stew before a small, mischievous grin spread across my face. “I saw you looking at Kevin.” To my surprise, he didn’t deny it. In fact, he provided no response except for a sly wink and a quick hug goodbye.

My mind was racing with the possibilities when Sweets dropped on the couch beside me, resting his feet on the coffee table, despite my constant begging for him not to do that. “Little man’s in bed. I don’t think he’ll be waking up too much tonight.”

I grinned, sleepily, and cuddled into my husband’s warm side. “Yeah, he’s all played out. We should have people over every night.” Sweet Pea placed a kiss on the top of my head and agreed. We fell asleep that way, not bothering to make the short journey to our bed. I was scared if I moved a muscle, I would disturb this incredible feeling of gratitude that was pulsing through my body.

I meant what I said wholeheartedly. If I had it my way, nights like these- gentle reminders that we were loved and in good company- would be plenty.

#sweet pea fanfiction #riverdale #fanfiction #sweet pea and oc #southside serpents #sweet pea imagine #all i ever wanted sweet pea and emma

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chaoticneutralwriter · 6 years

Text

The Grinch Who Stole New Year

You no longer like Christmas, you love Christmas. But perhaps it was still your heart that grew three sizes before the end of the year.

guardiandemon!Jimin x reader

genre: slice of life, supernatural, fluff, comedy

word count: 4.4k

A/n: You know me, I never get stuff out on time LOLL But to make up for it, I tried to do a mash up of the two big holiday/season into this one drabble. Hope everyone’s had a great holiday and a happy New Year! 2019, let’s get this bread. Forewarning; it’s half unedited so....asfsdkgh

December 31st

“You look awfully happy.” Jaehee comments from the kitchen threshold. You glance up only briefly, not bothering to hide the dopey, wide smile you currently have. It makes Jaehee laugh before she asks, “Is it the guy you told me about?”

You sputter, nearly knocking out the lone ear bud you’re wearing with how you jostle your laptop to indignantly squawk, “As if!” You take a hold of your laptop and turn it just slightly to show her your paused screen, cooing affectionately as you say, “It’s my boys.”

“Oh.” She drags out the sound and rolls her eyes playfully, “Should’ve known.”

You grin back at her before continuing where you left off. Curled up on the sofa with the fluffiest blanket, sipping one of your favourite white wines, you’re watching your copy of BTS’ Seasons’ Greetings 2019 on your laptop. Sure buying it might’ve put a rather large dent in your wallet but in your defense, it was deemed to be your Christmas present to yourself. Plus, in your opinion, it’s worth every penny.

“So what happened to the guy then? Did you ghost him or something?” Jaehee calls out again, coming to settle on the other end of the sofa where your feet haven’t reached.

“Oh… him.” You reply offhandedly, paying more attention to the conversation the group was having on screen but at the thought of…. him, you can’t help the snort that comes out of your mouth that isn’t entirely because of BTS’ antics.

Oh, Jimin…. Well, your demon version of Jimin….

You can’t say you feel completely sorry for him because ever since the season to be jolly had crept closer and closer, he had become more and more like a mixture between the Grinch and Grumpy Cat and while it should’ve made you a little apprehensive of his temper, you were absolutely loving it.

12 days before Christmas

“On the twelfth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me…” You find yourself singing as you work on stringing the Christmas lights up so that they frame your living room windows. You stand back to admire your handy work, still humming the song and you can’t help the giddy wiggle when you see how perfectly the lights twinkle in rhythm.

“You bought more lights?” A begrudging voice sounds from within the darkened depths of your room. You turn and the grouchy mood your room invader has does nothing to dampen your own high-spirited one. In fact, his appearance looks too much like a certain grumpy house cat that even his glowing ruby eyes doesn’t detract the image. It makes you choke back a giggle, which seems to make him bristle (much to your delight).

“Don’t you know that you can never have enough lights?” You make show of reprimanding him as if you’re an over-enthusiastic grade school teacher, hands on either side of your hip and head slightly tilted. He glares harder at you and you think this is the perfect chance to rub it in his face more. “And guess what else I got?”

You whirl around to reach into your shopping bag and pull out your two additional purchases, shaking them excessively in both hands with excitement and a shit-eating grin stretching so wide you feel your cheeks starting to hurt. “Santa hats!” And they’re not just any old, normal looking ones. They’re red sequined and they jingled.

“You’re disgusting.” is your only response before he promptly slams the door shut to your room. But you can’t be bothered, too busy cackling to yourself from his reaction. You’re honestly living for how much your demon guardian is loathing the holiday season. Before, you can barely get him to stop popping up at the most inconvenient times, claiming it to be ‘watch duty’ (when really it’s just to annoy you and give you a heart attack for his own amusement) but ever since Christmas started to loom around the corner, he’s gone reclusive, avoiding the outside world like the black plague was on the loose.

Needless to say, you were ecstatic. You could finally meet up with your friends without having to look over your shoulder or become too distracted because he thinks it’s funny to do outrageous things under the invisibility spell (you’ll never forget the time he decided to make balloon animals two seats away from you, all the while keeping the most stoic face you’ve ever seen).

So it’s no surprise that you’ve decided to take full advantage of this new discovery, going to lengths you never had before in a way to get back at him. To be honest, you weren’t even that big on Christmas, doing the bare minimum in the past to celebrate the holiday but thanks to him, you’ve gone all out in the decorating department and it only seems to fuel your enthusiasm (so no, you wouldn’t call it being completely petty; just more festive).

A most wonderful time of the year indeed.

You toss the Santa hats onto the couch, taking the moment to step back and admire your entire setup. The tree was up and filled with ornaments on nearly every branch you can hook, standing in a corner by the sofa, blinking prettily with it’s many lights, complete with a faux fur lined tree skirt. More lights were pinned just above the sofa and along the small bookshelf while garlands and wreaths were placed on your front door, above the kitchen threshold and the railing outside of your entryway. The magazines on your coffee table were tucked underneath in favour of the poinsettia candle-holder centrepiece, complete with faux self-lit candles.

And although you don’t have a fireplace, it didn’t deter you from buying stockings to hang just below the TV stand (I mean, if you turn on the fireplace channel, it could still work right?)

Overall, you’re quite happy with your little home makeover. Your place looks exceptionally decorative and you get a kick out of annoying your demon house cat for once. Two birds with one stone.

2 days before Christmas

“What is that?”

“What’s what?” You ask innocently, biting your lip to hold back a snicker as you pretend to busy yourself in fixing the holly you’ve got in your hands. You can practically feel the temperature drop behind you from the sofa but you’re perfectly warm in your oversized ugly Christmas sweater.

“That!” He hisses. You spare him a glance but his gaze is so fixated on the little ceramic figurine on the coffee table that you actually think he might set it aflame.

“It’s Mary and Joseph and the newborn king, our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ; gosh I thought you of all beings would know them?” You flippantly reply, having to turn away again to hide the smile that’s starting to creep up on your lips.

“I do but I also know for a fact that you’re not even Christian. So why do you have this here!?"

“Jesus loves everybody and it’s not exactly them, it’s a very abstract depiction of them. And besides, it’s a nice candle holder that says Noel so calm down.”

You hear angry muttering and then a huff, making you sneak a peek only to nearly burst out laughing at the pout he’s sporting. You have to admit, it’s adorable but only because he looks like Jimin. He turns to you and you can’t help the corner of your mouth from twitching. Your Jimin clone raises a finger, pointing at you as his expression turns accusatory, comically so.

“You did this on purpose.”

“Did what?” Your voice comes out in a higher pitch because you’re trying so hard not to laugh but also because you’re clearly lying through your teeth.

“All of this!” He finally exclaims, like his week long pent up frustration is coming to head. “I can’t believe you would go along with the capitalism of this holiday, just to get back at me!”

“You’re a demon! I thought you’re supposed to encourage this sort of thing?”

“There are many things I encourage…and this is definitely not one of them!”

“Oh c’mon, don’t act like you totally hate the holiday season; I’m not the one sneaking gingerbread cookies at two in the morning."

A pause.

And you smirk; gotcha.

Yeah, there was no way you wouldn’t have noticed that every time you decided to bake some holiday treats (for the household and your workplace), the portion left for home would mysteriously disappear at an alarming rate. You knew for sure you didn’t eat any because you literally had your fill when they were fresh out of the oven. Jaehee didn’t really like gingerbread cookies nor sweets for that matter but she indulged you and had the bare minimum.

So doing the math for that wasn’t too hard and if the deep crimson blush Jimin had on was anything to go by….

“So what? I had like two…” He says defensively, crossing his arms. You let a snort go, turning back around to fiddle with the fake holly berries.

“Sure…whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“Demons don’t really sleep.”

“Ugh, you know what I mean.” You roll your eyes, finishing up and stalking back towards the kitchen again. “Anyways, I’m gonna go make some cookies since someone keeps eating all of them before I can leave any out for Santa.”

“He’s not even real!”

“I don’t want to hear it!”

Safe to say that your chewy chocolate chip cookies turned out fantastically, you think they’re good enough to open your own bakery even. Once the tray cooled, you take three for yourself and a glass of milk, heading back into your room. You take a quick a glance in the living and find that your demon guardian has vanished. You shrug, kicking open your door and get settled in for a little movie night in bed.

The next morning, you find the tray more than half empty.

“Oh wow, chocolate chip cookies. You should really open up a shop, Y/N. You’ve got a knack for baking.” Jaehee comes up from behind you, peering over your shoulder. “Why’d you make so little? Just had a craving last night?”

“Yeah…” was the only thing you can say in utter disbelief.

That bastard.

He could’ve saved you some to last the week.

Christmas Day

Oh boy, you probably should not have drank that much. You’re regretting it deeply now as you stumble up the stairs after thanking your Uber driver and wishing them a happy holiday. The Christmas party your friend held was super fun, something that wasn’t too rambunctious like a frat party even though you're totally sloshed right now. It was a gathering of close friends and their dates but friends who definitely know how to party. The night started off rather tamed with the exchange of presents and pleasantries in catching up, eating and light drinking before the games started.

That’s when the drinks started pouring because games are fun but they’re even more fun when alcohol is involved (and anything can be turned into a drinking game if you tried hard enough). Coupled that with your fairly low tolerance and it’s no surprise that you’re about ready to fall asleep in the closest corner you can find. But no, you’re a trooper and you held on, even when Jaehee (who was no less sober than you), insists on going home with you. So after ordering you an Uber she deemed trustful (cancelling around five of them), she saw you off, not without demanding that you text her when you’ve arrived safely at home.

You’re almost inside, fumbling with your keys and checking thrice to make sure it’s the right one before slotting it into the keyhole. As the door opens, you let out a loud noise of relief like you’ve just finished a marathon.

“Goddammit….” You slur to yourself as you shut your door and nearly topple over in removing your boots. You fling them off after finding your balance on the wall, heaving yourself to the living room where you promptly collapse onto the couch, energy spent. Your head is pounding already as if your hangover is beginning to form even before your body has a chance to sleep it off but you still have so much to do; take off your jacket, text Jaehee, change your clothes, wash your makeup off, brush your teeth, drink some water, the list was endless but all your body and inebriated mind wants to do is to close your eyes and just rest here for a bit because this couch was so comfy…man, investing in those throw pillows and blankets sure was a good ide—

“I don’t remember letting in a hobo.”

Through your curtain of hair, you blearily make out a shadow looming over you. Tossing your head back a bit more, you find an infuriatingly handsome face staring down at you, one that you want to punch but kiss at the same time.

“Jimin…?”

“Yes, but not quite darling.”

You frown, muddled mind sifting through information like dial up Internet before you make a noise of affirmation. “Not Jimin…English too good.”

You hear a breathy laugh as your heavy head lops to one side, too tired to hold it up any longer. A clicking sound, the kissing of teeth in a way you can only imagine a mother would do when scolding her child.

“Someone’s indulged a little too much in the blood of Christ.”

In your head, you think you’ve formed words that sound something like ‘You don’t even like Christmas’ but in reality, it comes out half way before dying in a mumbling, incoherent mess. Your head continues to pound to the rhythm of your heart and as you close your eyes, trying to will it to go away, you very nearly drift off when you feel a tug at your arm. You make an attempt to swat at it but fail miserably, giving up because you don’t have the energy to care.

“I don’t get paid enough for this….” You faintly hear as you’re suddenly lifted into strong arms and the familiar scent of vanilla and lavender invades your nose.

“Mm…So strong…” You giggle drunkenly, head burying against the soft cashmere sweater he’s wearing. A groan rumbles against your ear before you’re unceremoniously dumped onto the fluffy comforter of your bed. You whine loudly at being jostled, blindly rolling to your side in an attempt to sit up. A firm hand stops you from straight up falling out of bed.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Mm’face is dirty…”

“Don’t worry, you rubbed half of it off on my sweater anyways.”

“Jimin…!” You whine petulantly, a hand stretched out as if you could summon a cleansing wipe if you thought hard enough. Even drunk you refuses to go to bed with makeup still on your face; imagine the mess it’ll leave on your pillows!

A loud sigh and before you know it, you feel the dampness of one of your cleansing wipes in your outstretched hand. You take it with a grunt of appreciation before slapping it onto your face and begin rubbing it in the best way you think you can get the makeup off. You try to be strategic about it, going by sections of your face but eventually, you keep forgetting if you’ve went over the area or not. You end up wiping your face for a good fifteen minute straight.

“I think you missed a spot.”

You let out another grunt, loudly, tossing the wipe in the direction you hear his voice coming from, “Shuddup.”

The wipe doesn’t come close to reaching his stupid handsome face like you wanted it to, it lands rather pathetically at the edge of his knee, right where the rip in his jeans were. Still, he takes it and effortlessly sends it flying to your trashcan.

“Finished?”

“Mm.” You hum, snuggling into your pillows before letting out a content sigh through your nose. You feel the covers tuck a little closer to you, the weight lifting from your bed and your hair being brushed out of the way.

“Now stay, and sleep.”

“Mm…Merry Chris…Nn—Merry Holiday, Jimin.” You mumble sleepily, drifting off finally though for a split second, you could’ve sworn you heard a “Merry Holiday” in return.

The next morning, you wake up with a splitting headache that renders you incapacitated for half the day. When you did have enough strength to get up, you’re pleasantly greeted with a steaming mug of peppermint tea (the one with cute little snowflakes on it) and a pack of painkillers.

Jaehee’s door was still shut, no doubt she’s either still passed out in sleep or she might’ve spent the night with her date so it’s with a half-hearted reluctance that you accept who could’ve done this. Nevertheless, you gratefully take the tea, cradling it in your hands as you make your way over to the couch. Settling down on the plush seat, you go to reach for the remote on the coffee table, only to notice one minor detail.

Your little Noel candle holder was missing.

You could only let out a sigh. In truth, you’re not even mad.

Present day

“You sure you don’t want to head over to Jisoo’s? We can stay only until the countdown is over.” Jaehee asks once again as she straightens her sequin dress.

“Nah, I think I’ve maxed out my social metre for the year in just this past week alone.” You laugh, stretching your arms over your head before settling back down again, cradling the laptop perched on your knees. You’re halfway done the season’s greeting DVD and you’re thoroughly enjoying yourself where you are.

Jaehee acquiesces, adding a couple of finishing touches to her look, giving you a twirl and you giving her your seal of approval in return. She throws on her jacket just as her phone goes off, signaling her dates’ arrival to pick her up. Jaehee bids you farewell, wishing you a happy new year beforehand as she slips through the door. You brief chill from outside reaches you and you bring the throw over blanket closer to you, resuming your video.

Throughout the entire time, you’ve got a smile stretched wide across your face. You can’t help it; BTS does that to you. Even when the DVD comes to a finish, you’re still left with the faint feeling of happiness and utter adoration for them and honestly, it kind of makes you care even less that you’re spending your New Year by yourself.

So with a content sigh, you eagerly fill your glass again, wiggling happily as you settle further into the cushions to continue perusing the Internet. Now this is what you call self-care.

“You look crazy.”

You resist the urge to groan aloud.

“Well, look who decided to crawl out of their bat cave.” You decide to shoot back sarcastically as you glance up just in time to see him emerge from the darkness beyond your living room. The way he strides towards you makes it look like the shadows had melded to his form and given shape to his clothing as well; all black but looking rather cozy to your surprise; a simple black hoodie and sweatpants, the comfiest and most casual you’ve seen him. The change is startling and makes your heart palpitate a little, though you brush it off as the wine working its way into your system.

“And I see you still have those obnoxious decorations up.” He looks disdainfully at the numerous Christmas lights still strung up and around the space, crinkling his nose a bit. “When are you gonna take it down?”

“When I feel like it.” You deadpan, going back to search up the latest performance video.

“Do you want me to burn it down for you?”

That causes you to snap your gaze up, eyes narrowing in warning. “Don’t you dare.”

All you’re met is a devilish smirk, eyes challenging before he turns and seats himself on the opposite side of the couch, preening. You only puff up in annoyance but then forgo getting worked up over the light bantering. It’s a common occurrence between the two of you now; a strange, love-hate, dynamic that though you may yell and complain about how much you find him absolutely irritable, a very, very, very deep part of you admits that he’s grown on you…. like a rash.

“So are you really just going to spend the remaining part of your year binge watching BTS related content, drinking wine?” You hear him ask. You spare him a glance over the top of your laptop, finding him doing the same except he’s scrolling through his iPhone X (which you have no idea how he even got). He’s got the judge-y eyes but you see the underlying teasing glint in them that only causes you to roll your own.

“We’ve been over this; the only thing that can melt my glacial heart now is seven beautiful and talented Korean men whom one of which, might I reiterate numerous times now, you stole their identities to.”

“Details, details.” He says unconcernedly, making show of stretching his neck and working out the kinks. “Ever heard of how there are actually at least six people in the world that look almost exactly like you? So it’s not that big of a deal.”

You could only shake your head (because low-key yes, he’s right but you won’t admit it), opting take a generous gulp of your wine.

“Careful darling; wouldn’t want a repeat of six days ago.”

“Hey at least I didn’t throw up on you.” You say defensively, cheeks heating up slightly when you recall what he said you did after getting home from the Christmas party (as payback, he made you hand-wash his sweater). You set down your glass to pour yourself more wine, feeling him watching with eyes piercing though that does not deter you at all (you will assert your dominance here). He scoffs but does nothing to stop you from filling your glass three-quarters of the way and taking another sip so you take it as a small victory in proving that you’re right.

It continues on like this; a comment made here and there, some back and forth before you both settle rather comfortably, just sat across from each other in actual companionable silence. You’re halfway through your bottle before you had the conscious to stop, feeling the buzz hitting you in growing waves. By then, you’ve settled onto browsing through your phone, much like how he’s doing right now but even after a few minutes, you had to rest your head against the back of the couch, too tired to keep it up. The strength in your hands is the next to go and soon, you had to resort to taking mini breaks in between.

It gives you the chance to really look at Jimin, or more like this entity that has taken the form of Jimin. You take in the way the lights bounce off of his face; all soft yet sharp angles at the same time, the way his lashes flutter at the tops of his cheeks when he blinks, and the dainty mole right at the edge. You see how the dangling silver earring catches the light at the slightest movement of his head, but also notice the helix stud that is shining as well. It’s such a small detail, however one that you find most profound; the real Jimin doesn’t have a helix piercing anymore.

Now, as the more you look, you’re starting to find other things that the real Jimin would have that the one in front of your doesn’t; like the faint dusting of freckles you would see when real Jimin isn’t wearing makeup and when the Jimin in front of you brushes his hair back from his forehead, you don’t see the moles that should’ve been there.

Half of you thinks that this shouldn’t be that big of a deal, given that a major difference between this Jimin and the real one is that he’s fluent in English (and you have a sneaking suspicion other languages too), but there’s just something about actually seeing the differences physically now with your own eyes makes you feel….

“Your eyes are going vacant darling; is it way past your bedtime?”

His voice snaps you from your thought and the familiarity of it in contrast to what you have discovered seems all the more jarring. You blink to focus, the spitting image of the idol coming back into your view.

“I’m not old enough to start falling asleep before the countdown happens.”

“But you are old enough to miss it completely.” Jimin’s voice is laced with hints of laughter bubbling at the edges but his remark makes you whip your phone up to your face, checking the time to see that indeed it’s 12:01.

Well, damn.

The laugh he’s no doubt been holding back finally bursts out, a raspy sound that’s just the slightest bit airy. It’s probably from the look of utter disbelief on your face but you don’t really care, eyes too transfixed on the way he’s thrown his head back, Adam’s apple bobbing and after he calms down to just grinning do you see—

That his teeth are perfectly straight.

“I guess we should say, 'Happy New Year’ yes?”

He’s smiling at you so brilliantly, eyes almost turning into crescents as they twinkle at you with this boyish charm, cheeks rounding a little more the same way that Jimin had made your heart stutter. It makes your own smile tug onto your lips, and you have half the mind to marvel at how easily swayed you are by him.

This Jimin, that is so like him—

Yet not at the same time….

The feelings tug at your heart again, except this time you think you might be able to pin what it is.

You feel…. relieved.

But for what?

Your smile falters for a split second at the revelation, but you swiftly pull yourself together, covering up by reaching for your forgotten wine glass. It’s empty, however you raise it all the same to him.

“Happy New Year.” You breathe out softly as if you’re afraid to disturb the peaceful atmosphere between you two, all the while the words have you feeling like a small weight has been lifted from your shoulder.

He smiles in response and for a split second; his face softens almost endearingly as he replies to you with an equal softness in his voice, “Happy New Year.”

In the quiet of your living room, with only the twinkling lights of Christmas past, you find you're less alone than you would be welcoming in the New Year.

And somehow, you don’t quite mind that it’s thanks to him.

Bonus

“You owe me a new Jesus candle holder.”

“…How about no?”

New Year, and he’s still insufferable. It was worth a shot.

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asras-eyelashes · 5 years

Text

Book 0: The Fool

Full AO3 Fic // Previous || Next

Chapter 6: Caught

Having Asra sleep over was the best decision you had made in a long time. The first morning together was admittedly a bit getting used to.

You had woken up with your arm wrapped around something that you thought in the middle of the night was a pillow. But the pillow was certainly warmer than any pillow you had held before...and bonier? Opening your eyes, you found yourself latched onto Asra’s arm...with Asra’s amused face looking down at you, his eyes still hazy with morning drowsiness.

“Good morning,” he said softly, still very much amused.

Realization breaking through the morning fog, you jolted up, dropping Asra’s arm like it had been on fire.

“Asra, ohmigoshI’msosorryIdidn’tmean--” You’re cut off with the sound of his laugh.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s kinda funny.” After a good yawn and a stretch, he asked you what was for breakfast.

From there, the two of you had developed a nice schedule. After waking up, you had breakfast together before setting up the shop to be ready for the day. Then, the two of you would get lunch once the morning rush of customers died down after the heat set in. Usually Asra came to get you, setting his things inside the shop. Full from lunch, you two would go off to your respective posts until the sun set and the crowds meandered back home. Then a late dinner would sate your growling stomachs before reorganizing the shop after the day’s work. When the shop was finally clean, you would wash up before finding your night filled with chatter between you and Asra. Luckily the two of you would fall asleep before the sun rose, but it came close for a couple of nights.

From your late night chats, you learned a lot of things about Asra that you always wondered about previously. You had been disheartened to hear the circumstances of Asra and Muriel’s start to their friendship, but hearing how Asra met Faust, and her hatchday, was definitely uplifting. You in turn chatted with him about what little you remembered of your parents, how you met Oberon, and how your aunt taught you magic for potions and charms. You also learned how Asra learned magic.

“You were taught by what?” you blurt out

“Yeah...I remember my mom teaching me magic, and I was drawn to the cards. When I made my own deck, I...I spoke with one of them. The Magician.”

You stare at him, in shock. Was that possible? You only have an elementary knowledge of the Arcana and reading tarot, and while you understood that the Arcana use the cards to speak to you...but actually meeting them? And being taught magic?

“After my parents, they pretty much taught me all I know...maybe you can meet them one day,” Asra says hopefully.

“H-how would I be able to do that?” You couldn’t imagine that just anyone could communicate so easily to the major Arcana.

Asra’s hopeful mien drops to a puzzled one. “Hm...I...I actually don’t know...I just...kinda just speak to them,” he murmurs, stumped. His brows furrowed as he gazed into the ground, as if it held the answers.

A yawn from you breaks Asra’s thoughts, and he giggles. “I guess it’s time to sleep. I’m tired too.”

You smile. “Yeah. Maybe you’ll find your answers in a dream.”

You hear a hum. “Maybe…” He yawns before exchanging good nights with you and the familiars. Feeling his warmth beside you, you feel at ease and protected. You mumble a soft “good night”, before sleep embraces you.

~ ~ ~

Before the two of you knew it, the moon had reached the beginning of a new cycle. Tomorrow, your aunt was sure to come home. Neither of you said anything out loud, but both of you knew that it was time to go back as it was before.

Trying not to be too despondent, you keep your chin up throughout the day and do your best to help customers. To your pleasant surprise, you actually hadn’t gotten too many difficult orders. Granted, a few potions your aunt never explicitly taught you, but you are confident that your production of them are just as good as your aunt’s. But still, a small list sits behind the counter for your aunt when she returns.

Your mind wanders as the day creeps along. The new moon - making a basic panacea could be beneficial at the beginning of a new cycle. Maybe you and Asra could make one together, before your aunt comes…

The ring from the front door’s bell tugs you out of your daydreaming. You’re about to greet the customer, but stop in the middle of your words, laughing.

“Asra, what are you doing here?”

The boy grins playfully. “Nothing, I just wanted to see how you greet a customer. Didn’t know you laughed at them.”

You giggle some more. “Oh stop it, you. There’s still plenty of the day left, I thought you’d still be in business?”

He shrugs as Faust slips out to come out on the counter. “There aren’t that many people out right now. Besides, I thought it’d be nice to chat.”

It has been a rather slow day, not unusual after a big event. You smile, happy to have his company. “Alright, I can multitask while I put away some of these ingredients.”

Asra follows you into the back and proceeds to ask about several rarer herbs that he can spot. Some ingredients he says he’s seen Muriel forage, which only fuels your desire to meet his mysterious friend.

You walk back to the front of the shop to tidy up, but stop dead in your tracks. Dread makes your stomach drop to your feet.

Asra bumps into you as your aunt closes the front door. Your fear freezes your legs, and your hands clammy.

You can see your aunt turning red with anger as she does a double take between you and Asra.

“WHAT--WHAT IS THAT STREET RAT DOING IN THE SHOP?!”

“Asra, run!” you yell at Asra, pushing him towards the back.

Your aunt grabs the broom and furiously chases the two of you. Asra makes it to the door, despite almost tripping on his feet. He fumbles with the handle before swinging the backdoor open and jumping out into the street. You keep yelling to run as he runs out before feeling the shop broom slam into the back of your head. Letting out a sharp cry, you fall as you feel painful tears well up. Even though you had fallen, your aunt continues to berate you verbally and physically. You can’t register what she says through the pain, so you just curl up and cover your head, praying it’ll be over soon.

After what felt like an hour, she finally lets up. You can still feel anger flowing off of her like ferocious waves. The air is heavy with silence. Slow and cautious, you unfurl yourself and dare to look up at her. You quickly look back down to the ground, wishing you hadn’t. You were in so much trouble.

You hear the back door open, and your aunt mutters angrily, “Get to bed. No dinner.”

Still scared stiff, you try to get up without saying anything. But evidently, it wasn’t fast enough for your aunt.

“Now!” she bellows. Adrenaline kicks in and you race into the shop and up to your room.

~ ~ ~

The silence is deafening as you run up to your closet of a room. Making sure not to slam the door (your aunt hated that), you collapse down and feel hot tears. Why are you crying? You honestly have no idea, but you let your tears fall anyway.

Not after long, you’re pulled out of your thoughtless weeping when you hear...a voice? No, that couldn’t be -- there is only the occasional breeze and crickets in the air. But you heard something...in your mind?

Help!

Help? Who needs help? Was it Asra?

Who...who is this? You project your question in your heart and mind.

Friend!

Friend…?

Then it clicks.

Faust.

There was no time for him to get her when you forced him to run. Frantically thinking back, you last recall seeing the snake in the back room.

I...I can’t leave my room. But I can tell you how to get up here!

Ok… Your heart clenches. Her voice sounds so small, she must be worried, especially after the terrifying display downstairs.

You have to be careful of Lyra, my aunt’s familiar. She’s a pretty stubborn cat who’s always looking for trouble. There should be plenty of room under the cabinets for you to travel to the stairs. If you make it to the stairs without being caught, you should be ok.

Rather than a verbal confirmation, you feel Faust’s determination as she gets ready to head out.

You wait with bated breath. Should you send Oberon to help? Or would that attract more attention?

Ultimately, you decide that if she needs it, you’d send your familiar.

Faust -- if you need help, I can send Oberon. Just let me know, ok?

You feel her acknowledge your offer, then radio silence. Waiting with bated breath, you feel sweat trickle down your temples. Imagining the path up to your room, you try to imagine where she could be.

Here.

Immediately, you crack open your door and see her lavender scales slide in. Relief filling your body, you close the door and let out a sigh you didn’t know you had been holding.

“Faust, I’m so sorry,” you whisper, stroking her head. “I-I should have tried to get you to Asra...but he was in trouble.”

You feel her in your mind, saying it’s ok.

“How can I hear you…? I guess I’ll have to ask Asra...but we have to get you to him.”

You think to yourself now. Your aunt is probably going to have you work tomorrow, that was for sure. She’ll probably work you to your bone...you aren’t looking forward to that. But she’ll have to give you time to get lunch. There really isn’t much in the shop other than a quick bite for breakfast. Will she follow you to lunch? No, she usually works while you go eat…

Feeling the day’s fatigue get to you, you let out another sigh. “I guess we’re going to have to play it by ear. But I will say, I don’t usually return up here once I start work downstairs, so you’ll probably have to stick with me until lunch. Is that alright?”

She nods.

Resigning to leave it at that, you get ready for bed. Oberon curls up next to Faust in comfort. As you lay in your bed, the last thought you have before falling asleep is how empty the spot next to you felt.

#yikes #book 0: the fool #book 0 #the fool #the arcana #asra alnazar #asra x mc #asra route #it's pre-prologue #asra x apprentice #who wants that asra/apprentice fic

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sparkesink · 5 years

Text

Chapter 14:

Such Is, The American Dream

How Does One Write…

(When One Has Nothing To Write Upon?)

No Desperate Tragedy…

No Thrilling Woe.

My Rains,

(My Snout…)

Never Forced,

(Still Out.)

The Most Difficult Task,

(Writing Upon A Wim…)

Not Which Becomes A Light Source,

(Discarded Amongst The Gray…)

But That Of The Smiles Which Roll Astray.

The Memories That Stay,

Through A Drought-Full Snow…

Never…

(Really,)

Mattered…

We Always Destined…

(Take Such Blow.)

I Had Never Imagined,

(The Difficulty…)

“Catch What You Sow…”

I Really Just Hope,

I Did Not Catch The Bow…

Allow Intellect,

(Power To Tow.)

Slow,

Sweet Ebb And Flow.

Only One Little Thing:

(Keep My Mind Low.)

This Internet Shit Is Much Harder Than It Seems…

Seamless Integration,

Flawless Digital Frustration…

Hours Upon Hours Of Choices To Feed…

How Many Algorithm Marketing Targets Do I Need?

Constant Change,

(A Living Thing…)

Creating A Robot,

(Behind Your News Feed.)

Good Money Spent:

(Just One Moment Of Your Time…)

Try Being More:

Sensible,

(Simply,)

Speaking In Rhyme…

There Is No Easy Feet,

While Introducing Something New.

There Is No Target Audience,

(Per-say,)

In Lieu.

There Is No,

(One,)

Industry We Fall Within.

Shall We Write Code?

(Leaving Artistic Voice Shackled And Thin?)

Maybe The Camera Feel Cold?

While Contracts Come Tackled,

(Spattered Upon Tin.)

How Can So Many Things,

All Come Shining Their Rings…

And I’m Expected To Succeed…

(You Don’t Know:)

Not A Single Itch Of This Presentation…

Is Procured By Any Other…

(Than Me.)

One Little Girl,

Four Personalities…

All Separate In Their Beautiful Talents.

How Could Anyone Know…

(She Performs The Full Trapeze.)

Not A Building,

No Projects…

(Between Groups…)

Just Me;

(Here,)

Trying Not To Cry.

Pushing A Project:

(I Never Got To Practice.)

I Didn’t Go To College For Computer Science…

A Whole Degree Dedicated:

(The Science Of Marketing…)

I Didn’t Ask For This Work…

As It Laid It’s Beautiful Head Upon My Chest.

I Was Given This Burden,

To Think And Create…

To Reach The Stars:

Give Them All Back…

(Sensibly Late.)

Heaven Forbid,

We Use Our Word,

To Speak…

(To Talk.)

Create Conversation,

(Substituting Reaction To Mock.)

We Are Forced Language Of Societal Choosing,

From The Moment We Enter This World.

Here,

(Upon This Earth…)

Within This Reality,

At This Exact Moment In Time:

We Grow,

We Forget How To Talk…

We Let All Of The Bullshit Hide,

(Who We Really Are Inside.)

That Happy Child,

Giggling With Your Mother…

She Raspberries Your Little Baby Belly.

She Kisses Your Forehead:

Promising Beauty Within Life.

Unconditional Love,

(Regardless Societal Strife.)

Though,

(At Some Moment…)

For Some:

Brief…

A Loss At Happenstance…

(A Loss Of Seconds To Breathe.)

For Others:

An Extensive Span Of Trauma And Fear,

Acceptance Washed,

(Blatantly Clear.)

Do You Understand Fear?

Months Turned Years,

Consistent Fears:

Fear To Open The Front Door,

Fear Of Anything,

(Aside The Shore.)

I Broke Myself.

I Ignored Myself.

I Allowed Others To Abuse Me,

(Shamed The Woman I Could Be.)

I Feel Sick,

Consistently At War:

I’ve Fought My Whole Life,

(My Truth Resides Within My Lore.)

Do You Think I’m Privileged?

(I’ve Been Given A Hand Up?)

Could You Realize It All Came At A Price?

Do You Understand Manipulative Narcissistic Strife?

It Flows As The Waves Within The Sea,

(Maybe This Is Why It Consistently Captivates Me.)

Though I Have Only Begun To Live This New Life:

One Of Health,

Truth,

Integrity,

(And Dignity…)

All Those Dark Memories:

Transparently Vibrant Through Stained Glass.

I’ve Been On This Emotional Ride Since Birth,

I Am Their Narcissistic Supply,

(Second Class.)

“My Worth”:

Highs And Lows,

“You’re Impressively Bland,”

“You’re Intelligently Stupid,”

“You’re Non Like The Rest,

As Soon As She Breaks,

Make Haste:

Take Her To The Test!”

Round And Round,

I Tumble Through Sea Foam,

An Eternity Caught,

(A Weightless Tomb.)

Little “B”,

So Soft And Sweet Was She.

She Crawled Beneath Her Bunk Bed,

Just A Moment To Breathe.

Forced To Obey,

Shunned If She Don’t Stay.

She Just Did Not Want To Play,

(With That Little Girl,)

A Girl Who’s Cousin Fondled Her,

(Post Six Years From A Six Year Old Twirl.)

She Moved Each Toy,

All Those Soiled Clothes,

She Placed Herself Perfectly…

Between The Mattress And The Floor.

She Only Six At The Time…

She Didn’t Understand,

(Emotional Manipulative War.)

She Didn’t Understand,

She Deserved Her Respect,

Her Heart Under-defined:

(“Sore”.)

She Hid Under That Bed,

Gasping For Breath;

Rocking Back And Forth,

Both Hands Entangled Her Head.

She Sat There Crying,

Though Silent She Must Be…

For If Anyone Found Her,

(Emotional Scrutiny.)

She Learned To Sob Silently:

(No One Let’s The Girl Just Be.)

She Tucked Her Tears Within A Sock,

Bit Her Lip And Listened,

Counting The Clock…

Curious How Long She Could Disappear,

Before They Even Noticed,

“She’s Not Here.”

One Hour,

Two?

(None Hadn’t A Clue…)

Till Finally Her Mother Came Ringing Through…

She Heard Her Panic,

Thirty Minutes Gone By…

Is It Fucked Up,

She Enjoyed It?

(Hearing Mom Cry.)

They Called The Police,

Worried She Had Been Taken;

She Finally Wiggled,

(Mountains Of Emotion Shaken,)

Out Of Her Room,

(Snot Encasing The Entirety Of Her Face,)

Why Couldn’t You Understand,

(She Isn’t At Home In This Place.)

She Was Escorted To The Side Walk,

Directly Affront Her Claim.

She Sat Silent As The Officer Explain,

“You Cannot Hide From Your Parents,

This Is Bad.”

So What If She Is Sad?

So What If She Has No Name,

So What If She Is Human,

So What She Lives In Shame?

She Is Six,

(Just Her Parents Property.)

Never Hit,

Welted Below The Belt…

(Emotionally Scarred.)

Never Bled,

(Controlled,)

“The Person She Is…

(Must Be Discard.”)

“She Is Not Allowed To Be,

(The One She Is Meant To See,)

She Only Allowed To Be,

(The One I Want To See!)”

Her Desires Shot,

Her Goals,

‘Just Silly Dreams…’

(Even Early Graduation Wasn’t Satisfactory To Thee.)

Her Dean’s List Scholars,

Scholarships At Sixteen…

“She Could Have Done Better,

Had She Only Listened To Me…

Had She Only Let Me Direct Her Life,

(Listened As A Sheep,)

Maybe She Would Be Normal,

Maybe She Wouldn’t Be…

(A Fucking Head Case,)

Maybe She Would Finally Sleep.

She Could Live And Become ‘Normal’,

If She Would Only Just ‘Play The Game’…

Since She Refuse,

We Mock Her In Exasperating Blame.”

Forward To Twenty-one Years,

(Now Enthralled Within Devine Game:)

A Rabbit Called,

His Eye Yellow Amongst A Brunette Mane.

He Scurried Diligently Amongst My Toes,

Furry Innocence Disregard Hidden Foes.

I Offered Him My Guidance,

A Compass Found,

(Hanging Amongst The Fir…)

The Rabbit Shook His Tale In Great Exuberance,

My Third Eye Cringed Within Prominent Clairvoyance.

I Had Been Wandering For Days Amongst These Trees,

(I Hadn’t Expected To Find Creatures Such As These.)

The Rabbit Was First,

He Spoke Aloud,

(Whispered,)

Follow Me,

(I’ll Show You Around.)

All This Time Rummaging From Within The Trees,

Consistently Trudging Muck,

(Seeping Between The Leaves.)

He Turned Timid,

Around And Around,

Figure-eights Between Each Tree:

Before A Days Pass,

He Guided Me,

Beyond The Forest Entrance,

(Amass.)

I Forfeited Precious Time Progressing,

(Before Encountering You!)

“I’m Back Where I Fucking Started!

You Beady Eyed Fool!”

The Rabbit Appeared Different,

(His Eye Gold Sprouting Orange:)

“Don’t You Get It?

I’m Not Here To Help You.

You Should Have Taken Interest,

(Within Prior Warn.)

Enjoy Trudging Back,

Dusk Covers Within Mist Until Morn.”

Then Out Of The Muck,

This Yellow-eyed Rabbit Disappear.

Leaning In Close With One Ear…

“FUCK!”

Kicking The Mud,

My Heart Sweltered Within My Chest,

My Knees Buckled,

(Demanded Rest.)

One Should Never Follow The Rabbit:

(Fuck That Rabbit.)

Forgive My Language,

I Was Never One To Censor…

(I Should Have Procured A Sponsor.)

Here,

Returned Upon The Beginning.

(Happy Anniversary To Me;)

3/14,

Another Beginning To Be.

I Suppose We Shall Try Again:

Follow My Heart,

Close What That Yellow Eyed Rabbit Left Tart,

Sever A Clean Part.

Keep The Soul,

Sponge The Rest.

Remain Hopeful,

(This Is Not A Final Test.)

I Suppose,

(To Me,)

It Seems Unbearable:

To Pull Myself From The Muck,

A Constant Reminder,

Slivers Of Luck,

(Fuck.)

Purchased Clothing To Tuck,

To Be Taken Into Success,

Without A Harvey Weinstein Conclusion…

(Business Fueled By Your Sucking Skills;)

I Digress.

No One Ever Talks About Modification Discrimination:

A Projected Judgmental Temptation,

Toward Self Expression.

Sighted Within The Way The Eyes Glaze,

Creases,

(Between The Sinus,)

Laze.

Projecting Yourself As A Business Cog:

“Don’t Quit Your Job.”

Bouncing Baby Blue,

Upon One Hip Or Two?

Can You Meet Next Wednesday?

Let Us Print Money For Few,

Don’t Mind The Toddler Fingers,

Find Purpose For My Mouth,

(En Lieu.)

Don’t Mind The Baby Babble,

(Mommy Wears Twenty Hats, Too.)

What Shall It Be Today?

Manning Landscape Stats?

Emotional Abuse?

(Milk Toppled By Stray Cats.)

Mommy And Me,

Climbing Counters,

(Refuse To Leave Be.)

Business Woman Performance:

A Joke,

(Scuffing Down Toke,)

Gaining Courage To Speak…

(To Other Folk.)

When Does This Feel Good?

When Does Satisfaction Creep My Soul?

(As I’m Told It Should.)

Such An Interesting Observation;

(In Which I Stand Alone.)

Expressing My Soul…

To Feel Sensation:

(A Cold And Lonely Tone.)

Choosing Printing Paper,

Juggling A Tired Toddler,

I Hold Her For Hours While Yawns Taper…

Which Ink Can Finally Coddle Her?

Could I Choose To Become A Cloud?

I Would Never Become “To Loud”.

I Would Never Drag Myself Through Sharpened Glass,

No Results Within My Mass.

I Could Be Beautifully Gazed Upon For All To See,

(While Remaining Far-away…)

Intact,

(With My Dignity.)

Removing Myself From Toxicity,

(Festering Within Such Simplicity.)

I Dream Upon Days,

(Lost In Daze,)

With Him…

Fizzled Out Of Adolescent Faze.

Fingers,

(Twirling My Hair Up Within Them.)

Coffee In Bed,

Date Nights In Red,

Laughing,

Exuding Such Needed Encouragement Said.

“Good Morning Beautiful,”

Every Morning.

A Hazel Eye That Never Projects A Bore…

A Look That Never Dies,

Such Relationship,

(Containing Exclusive Polite Lies.)

Weekends In Adventure,

Dreamer Talk Of Tenure,

Clouds Positioned To Lend An Ear…

Speaking Of Peace And Beauty,

Without A Reminder Of The Muck…

Gaining Momentum…

(Circling Near.)

Appreciation Of The Highs,

Consideration Of The Lows,

(An Anchor Lent Each Time It Shows.)

Walks Along The Beach,

Ability To Intellectually Teach…

A Woman,

(Who Is Anything But What She Wants To Be.)

A Smart Ass,

(Behind An Extended Vocabulary.)

Something Equivalent,

(Capable In Loving What Cannot Become Seen.)

Am I Lost?

Naïve?

Exclusive Denial Of What My Soul Is Screaming?

My Tower Leaning,

My Foundation Feening…

(Freely Poured Concrete…)

In Which Will Not Crack Under Pressure.

A Sentiment Of Force Capable To Hold,

(A Collapsing Infrastructure,)

Containing Such Vast Weight,

(Others Incapable Of Supportive Toll.)

A Crumbling “Eighth World Wonder,”

Supporting It’s Self Under Continuous Richter…

Acknowledging Important Features,

Cracking Off Remaining Seizures…

(Demolishing Pertinent Structures…)

Praying To A One-way Conversation…

(Within Myself.)

I Am Sick Of Being Sick.

Left Alone,

(Head Filled With Ideas Of “Home.”)

Just Let This Pressure,

(Excruciating Weight From Within My Chest,)

Dissipate…

Allow “Sensibly Late” To Mark Date…

I’ve Only Ever Desired Peace,

(Within Myself.)

Countless Influential People Project The Same Bore:

“Follow Your Dreams, Determination Hangs Sore…”

When Does A Lifetime Of Unfortunate Events End?

When Will I Be Given Time To Mend?

What Is Time But A Linear Bend?

If There Is No Beginning…

(Subsequently,)

There Is No End.

All Versions,

Within All Realities,

Upon All Timelines:

(Alive And Vibrant,)

Simultaneously Thrive.

Amongst A Paradox,

(Created Within Such A Reality,

Accepted Through Current Consciousness…)

Somewhere,

Along Some Timeline,

Within Such Reality,

Procured Through Such A Paradox…

In Which I Have Made This Work Worth Something.

At This Very Moment,

In A Linear Timeline,

Upon A Parallel Paradox;

I Have Succeeded.

The String Of Unfortunate Events Severed…

The Curse Lifted From My Ora.

I’m Left Staring Within This Same Pacific Ocean,

(Washed Away With The Sand.)

What Does This All Mean?

(Why Me?)

Why Have I Been Chosen To Endure This Strife?

Why Must A Devine Test Be Inflicted Upon This Life?

Why Am I Here?

(A Breeze Guided Me Near.)

Why Hasn’t This Happenstance Become Clear?

When Will This Trepidation Recede?

Will I Remain Humble If Encased Within Greed?

Eight Years Of Sorrow And Woe,

(Why Does This Fucking Novel Breed Such Daunting Tow?)

WHY AM I HERE?

WHY CAN I NOT SEE CLEAR?

AM I FACED TO ACEND WITHIN THE MIRROR?

WHY AM I FUCKING HERE?!?

What’s This Ship Got To Do With Anything?

Why These Sands?

Why This Bay?

It Felt So Natural,

(Before We Came To Stay…)

The Cosmos Were Ringing,

Guiding Me Amongst This Shore,

Now Enthralled In Silence,

Saturated Within Thirty Days,

(Blood And Pain,)

Payment For This Lore.

I Peer Amongst These Ruins,

(Sunken Deep Within Our Sands…)

What Does This Old Ship Have To Do With Anything?

What Am I Doing?

I Moved My Family,

Upon Premonition And Happenstance:

Guided Transition With Ease…

I Just Cannot Find My Purpose…

(Amongst These Seas.)

It’s As Though I Should Just Call It;

(Wave My White Flag And Surrender.)

Live Within Death:

Pull My Life Together,

(Ascender.)

I Cannot Seem To Convince,

Which I Am Meant

A Fruit Gathered,

(From Purposeful Quince.)

Am I Writing In The Wrong Direction?

(I Cannot Seem To Find My Way.)

What Could I Become?

In Such Case Of Succession?

This Lore Is All I’ve Ever Known…

My Key To Contentment Unknown.

How Could I Continue This Dream?

(My Work Greatly Unseen.)

I Came Here Upon This Day,

To Wave Goodbye To My Bay.

To Kiss My Waves One Final Day:

I Kiss The Earth Which This Tattered Ship Lay.

I Cannot Continue This Silly Nonsense,

I Must Learn To Become Practical;

Build A Wall Around My Heart,

Coated Kevlar Tactical.

The Coroner Always Gets His Way,

(Impractical To Believe I Could Stay…)

Something Happened:

(I Have Black Chunks Re-written Within My Memory…)

A Night Called An Instance…

A Body Arrested Through Our Back Gate…

I Couldn’t Recall The Melody…

A Tiny Girl,

Standing In Our Backyard So Late.

I Saw The Police Escort Him,

(From Back Through To Front,)

Why Was I There?

Did I Come Out To Confront?

I Was Told Our Chow Chow Bit Him…

(That Couldn’t Become Correct?)

For Had This Been Truth,

My Jazmine Girl Would’ve Become Laid To Rest…

Were We Victim To Common Burglary?

Or Maybe…

I A Victim Of Something Grotesque.

Why Are All Other Moments,

(Surrounding This,)

A Blackened Mess?

Just One Slide,

Seared Within My Psyche…

Just One Man,

Blood Dripping Down One Pant Upon A Lichee.

Two Officers Restraining Each Hand…

Walking Through My Back Gate;

My Mother Weeping Amongst The Blue And Red,

Authoritative Lights:

(Illuminating A Common Cul-de-sac…)

Why Was I In Back?

How Did I Get There?

Where Is The Archive;

(These Memories In Which I Lack?)

This Chapter Is Shit, Any-who.

Written From Within The Desperation:

An Unemployed Failure,

Female,

Tattooed,

(And Equally Discriminated.)

I Don’t Think Many Realize,

I Manage Traffic Analytics…

Do You Know What It Is Like?

Working Diligently Upon A Project;

Simultaneously,

Nineteen Months Only One…

One Single Human Came To Visit.

Do You Know What It Is Like?

Explaining Brilliance:

To Pinheads In Suits Of Murk?

Endless Determination,

Anxiety Loaded,

(Maximum Pulsation.)

What Would The Common Human See?

If Only To Look Past This Cover,

Do My Tattoos Cause Anxiety To Flee?

Could It Be?

For What Purpose Could You Possibly Leave?

Pretending To Understand,

When I Prove Fact:

(You’ve Never Even Ventured One Page Through This Land,)

Though,

You’ve Graciously Provided Patronize,

(Enveloping Strength In Which You Lack.)

Such A Shame,

A Vortex Cannot Become Undeveloped,

(Once Given Life To Breathe…)

This Story Cannot Become Untold,

(Reaction To Mature To Leave.)

Could You Evaporate Within The Fog?

Lending An Ear Amongst This Slimy Log?

Maybe It’s Just Ahead Of It’s Time…

Maybe,

(One Day…)

My Words Will Not Become Overlooked…

Maybe You’ll Investigate;

(A Thorough Understanding Of This Song.)

I Make Others Feel Uncomfortable?

(Speaking My Truth Is Unavoidable…)

How Can You Possibly Judge?

(There Has Been No Company Enthralled Within My Work.)

This Story Lay Stagnant:

Tattered Memories Of A Warrior Lurk.

Then Again,

Who Ever Cared About The Survivor?

Veterans Homeless,

Left Within Insanity Amongst The Street…

A Jungle Few Understand,

Portraying Images Of War,

Within Survival Upon Distant Land.

Have You Been Without Shelter?

Do You Understand The Terror?

Sleeping In A Tent,

Praying For A Lucky Start…

Sleeping In The Back Of A Festiva,

(Two Lovers Between Two Dogs Is An Art.)

Have You Ever Woken Up On a Stranger’s Floor?

Thanking The Sun For Another Day Of Lore…

Have You Experienced A Soul Saturated In Blood Stains?

(Those Chosen For Greatness Are Greatly Maimed.)

Do You Understand What It Could Feel Like?

The Pain Of Hunger Outweighs Pain Of Plasma Donations,

Joining Medical Research Studies,

Finances Supplied Only A Few Brief Moments To Breathe…

And You Look At ME?

“Don’t Quit Your Day Job…”

I Should Petition The Gods In Which I Dedicated My Soul,

But Then…

That Would Become Wrath…

And In Doing So I Endure Disown,

From This Pursuit Of Becoming “Whole”.

I Ponder Amongst My Thoughts:

How Dare You?

Patronizing Something,

(You Never Even Gave A Chance.)

A Research Experiment In Sloth And Judgment:

Could One Become So Busy?

Not Even A Seconds Chance?

Before Discarded?

(Lousy?)

There Will Become A Day,

Where Those Whom Shunned,

Come Flowing In Throughout Our Bay…

They Will Pretend To Believe In Divine Things,

(I Know They Only Bare Steel Woven Strings…)

I Shall Look You Within The Eye,

Plant My Courage As I Say,

“Please, Walk On By.

Your Money Is No Good Here,

For I Had Plans You Could Have Received…

Instead?

You Left Me,

Here To Bleed.

I Cauterized My Wounds,

I Had No Assistance From Greed-written Fools.

There Will Become A Day:

One Glorious,

Relieving Day…

In Which I Will Have Gained This Courage,

Take My Stand,

Show Off This Pearl-Glass Spine,

The One Abandoned Upon Needful Time.

I Will Build This Myself,

I Will Become Relentless…

I Will Show The Judged:

I Cannot Be Rendered Senseless.

You Cannot Break Me:

I Am The Mother Reaper.

“What Exactly Are You Doing?”

There She Was:

Vivian,

(In The Flesh,)

Sitting Amongst That Moss Covered Log,

(Before Me.)

“Didn’t I Explain?

Blatantly Clear?

Your Swimming Within Muck…

It Will Devour You,

You Foolish Buck.

No One Wants To Drown Within Your Quicksand,

Where Is Your Land?

You Sit Around Here,

Swimming In Mud And Blood…

He’s Fucking Waiting For You!

Get Your Ass Up!”

She Held No Consequence,

(A Royal Demeanor:)

I Stop To Acknowledge My Current Surroundings,

Listen To Logic…

Internalize Her…

“How Are You Here?

I Mean, How Are You Within This Chapter?

I Am Alone Here,

Left To Retrospect…

A Blackened Cell Within A Writing Table…

Expected To Secure A Sable Label.”

“You’re Past That, My Love…

You’re Swimming In Muck.”

My Eyes Jaunt Aside,

Then To Beneath…

My Skin Consumed In The Sticky Black Tar…

The Skulled Outlines,

Consuming Me Full…

They Paralyze Your Senses…

Construct False Locations…

“Don’t You Get It?

You’ve Never Left This Lost Forest.”

“For Which Do You Mean I Never Left?”

I Already Pulled Myself Up Out Of The Muck,

Stuck,

Undeniable Quicksand…”

“The Faster You Pull The Quicker They Tuck…

You Must Be Cunning,

Haven’t You Learned Anything?

You Have No Receipt For Luck.

You Must Will It Off,

It Shall Cling To Your Soul If Not.”

Returning Her Casual Ignorance With Scowling Stare:

“That’s All Your Advice?

‘Will It Off’ While You Just Fucking Sit There?”

“Yeah, You’re Being Weak.

Should I Spell It Out For You?”

She, Sitting Upon Her Log:

Joint Cherried Upon One Hand.

She, Lounged:

Weight Shifted Left To Mock,

Legs Crossed Amongst The Dew.

Stiff Fingers Find Smoke Inhalation:

Kissing Fingerprints Along Each Solemn Drag…

“You Saw The Rabbit?”

She Leans In Close,

(Three Inches From My Thigh…)

Whispers:

“It Hurts To Climb High?”

“No,

How Are You Here?

This Breaks All The Rules…

I’m Not Near…

It’s A Black Coated Fear,

This Chapter Is Within Me,

I Cannot Be Within This Lost Forest…

This Is Not Real…”

Within Blinking Seconds:

The Scenery Flicker…

A Dark Interrogation Room,

One Light With That Writing Table Central:

Drowning In Blacked,

Living Tar…

The Mud-blood Creatures Sleeking Upon My Mind…

Gasping For Breath;

One Eye Opened From Between This Slim Kind,

Vivian Kissing Her Joint…

Watching Me Suffer…

The Slime Covers My Mind,

Desperate,

Desperation,

Within That One Table Cell…

She Whispers:

“It’s Coming…

That Dream…

It’s Your’s To Capture,

Doll-face…

You Want Your Salvation?

Your Dreams Turn Reality?

Disregard Temptation?

Just Get Up,

Find Your Way Through This Lost Forest…

The Galaxies Owe You Reciprocated Payment,

You Already Succeeded…

Just Wake Up!”

Devoured Within Blackened Tar,

Jade Sit Within The Corner Of My Cell,

(Right Far.)

Sobbing Amongst Herself…

“I Have A Forest To Navigate,

I Cannot Save Her Here…”

An Unseen Sensation,

A Delicate Hand,

Index And Thumb Clenching My Conch…

Ripping My Ear,

Out From Within The Clear.

“Find Your Will To Walk,

My Subtle Naive Friend…

You Better Prepare:

The Land Beyond This Is A Living Jungle,

The Circus Will Lead Your Final Test…

It’s Coming For You,

All Those Passionate Desires:

Pleads For The Best…

Living Light,

Past The Circus…

Glorious Wonders You Could Never Imagine,

Endless Salvation…

Gifted To Those Suffering Temptation:

You Must Finish,

You’re Meant For This.”

“I Don’t Know If I Am:

My Shoulders Can’t Take Anymore Weight…”

“You Silly Fool,”

Vivian Snarking From Between Strings Of Muck,

(Spiderwebbing My Appearance:)

“Remove The Toxic Parasite Upon Your Luck!”

Sure Enough,

I Straighten My Spine,

Stand Within The Blood,

(Two Vertebrae A Time…)

His Smile Grin Beyond This Blackened Muck…

The Corner,

Disguised In Luck…

His Sweet Face Shift,

Those Green Bifocals Lift…

“You Have No Power Over Me!

Return To Where You Came, Be!”

Within Astonishing Grace,

I Remove His Toxic Control,

Willing Him The Size Of A Rabbit Face.

I Gently Place Him Back Within The Muck…

“You Cannot Control Me,”

I Kiss His Forehead In Empathetic Laze,

“I Cannot Continue As Your Puppet,

Tethered To Abusive Greedy Strings, Ablaze.”

This Little Toy Man,

In This Little Toy Boat…

Evaporated,

Taken Amongst The Creatures,

(Within The Quicksand: Despair.)

Dripping In Toxic Goo,

I Straighten My Spine,

Now Three Vertebrae A Time…

“Ahh, Now You Understand…

The Brave Of Heart,

The Relentless Conquer This Land…

Here,

Wipe Yourself Off,

Inhale This Toke,

Find Relaxing Enjoyment Within Your Cough.”

Vivian Lent Me A Silk Handkerchief,

(From Within Her Brassiere.)

“Now Listen Here,

I’ve Willed Paths Within This Forest:

Three Guarded By Rabbit,

One Left Free And Clear.

Just Follow Your Heart,

You’re Intelligent Around Here:

Wait For Your Moment…

It’s Coming Near.”

She Evaporated Within This Forest Mist,

A Fine,

Black,

Shear,

Delicate,

Smoke Dissipated Before My Iris.

The Handkerchief Now Sizable,

(Equal To That Of A Blanket Towel.)

I Remove The Blood From Amongst My Skin,

Watching The Remanence Dance Amongst The Fabric:

Alive In Devaluation,

Desperation,

(Despair.)

I Look Back Amongst The Muck,

One Final Time:

The Corner’s Greed-Colored Bifocals Sink,

Accompanied With A Porcelain Grin…

I Sat In Grief,

(Watching Them Slip Beyond The Blood, Water Thin…)

“I’m Sorry,

I Am The Mother Reaper…

You Cannot Break Me:

I Must Live Beyond This Mud,

Tasting Of Tin.”

Grief Stricken Relief.

1 note · View note

lena-in-a-red-dress · 6 years

Note

Kara raging at Lena and Alex. Because honestly? She gets blamed for everything. She kept herself secret to protect Lena and Alex is kinda responsible for her being Supergirl in the first place. "If making Kryptonite is okay if it's for a good cause then why not me keeping my identity secret? Killing my aunt, Alex, was okay as long as it was for a good cause, but I'm a monster if I so much as twist someone's arm too hard!"

Kara ignores the knock on her door.

Alex lets herself in anyway.

She meets Kara’s unhappy gaze, takes in the suit she still wears, and offers a grim smile. “Didn’t go well, then.”

“She hates me,” her sister mutters thickly. Her eyes are dry but her voice is thick from recent tears. Alex joins her on the couch, wrapping her arms around her shoulders. Kara leans against her, shrugging helplessly. “She didn’t even let me explain, Alex.”

A moment later, Kara pulls away, vibrating with anxious energy. “What was I supposed to do? I couldn’t tell her! She made Kryptonite for Rao’s sake. Which, was I supposed to thank her for making the one substance on Earth designed to hurt me?”

Kara gestures sharply, then falls still, waiting for Alex to chime in. When she doesn’t, Kara’s eyes narrow.

“What?”

“You don’t agree with her, do you?” Kara accuses. Again, Alex hesitates. “Alex!”

“Maybe I’m not the right person to weigh in on this,” Alex hedges.

“You’re my sister! You’re the only one who gets to weigh in!”

Alex shrugs. “What do you want me to say Kara? Last year I had Kryptonite armor! And it worked!”

Kara scoffs, shoving to her feet to start pacing. “Unbelievable.”

“Kara…”

“You defended me in the dark forest. So, what– were you lying?”

“You’re my sister, Kara, of course I defended you. And I didn’t lie– it is personal. I just don’t know if there’s one right or wrong answer here.”

“No,” Kara argues, “there is, because Kryptonite– it kills me!”

Alex pushes to her feet. “I understand that, believe me. But just a few years ago you were training under Kryptonite radiation, sparring with me. It helped you learn how to fight. And since then, we’ve faced multiple threats who could only be stopped by Kryptonite–”

“Yeah, I remember!” Kara cuts in sharply, voice lifting in rage. “I was there! I was there when they pumped my aunt full of Kryptonite to torture information out of her. I heard her scream for hours as it burned her from the inside. I remember when you put a kryptonite blade through her heart!”

Kara’s shout rings in the silence that follows. Alex freezes– she can hardly breathe for the reminder of the heartache she caused Kara. For the loss that nearly drove them apart. She thought they’d moved past it– days of working towards a new normal and countless nights spent talking for hours, trying to heal. Maybe they did heal. But Kara will never forget.

“It’s not just a tool, anymore,” Kara continues, reduced to a whisper. “It never was. It was the DEO’s reminder that I answer to them. My reminder that they could end me if I ever stepped out of line.”

Alex shakes her head. “No, it was never–”

“And now my best friend has found a way to not only make it, but make it more deadly, and all you have to say is that maybe she has a point?”

The air suddenly feels thick around Alex, pressing close against her. Her throat locks tight, and she has to swallow several times before she can summon her voice.

“Kara, I–”

“You should go,” Kara says flatly. She folds her arms around herself, suddenly small under her cape.

“Kara.”

“Either you go, or I will.”

Alex presses her eyes shut. She nods. “Okay.”

She collects her purse and lets herself out without another word.

Kara knocks her fist against the door and freezes between a grimace and a giggle when it splinters with a crack. It opens a moment later to an angry Lena, who glares at her warily.

“Sorry,” she says. “I’ll– I’ll replace that.”

She staggers inside, belatedly spotting the gun in Lena’s hand. Oops. She turns to offer reassurance that she isn’t going to hurt anyone, but loses track of that thought when she nearly unbalances.

“Are you drunk?” Lena asks. Her brow knits with reluctant curiosity. “Your metabolism–”

“I can with Aldebaran Rum,” Kara tells her stoutly, “and guess what? The corner market carries it now. We’re coming up in the world.”

Lena’s jaw tightens. “You should leave.”

“No, you should leave.” Kara pauses. “Actually, don’t. You should sit. We need– to talk.”

“I’m not interested in talking.”

“Then don’t! You can listen, like I did when you called me fucked up.” Kara waits, but Lena doesn’t move. “I’ll yell at you standing up if you want.” Lena still doesn’t move. “Okay, fine. I’m fighting with my best friend and my sister– why would this be even a little easy?”

She paces unsteadily, wading through murky, sluggish thoughts. Her cheeks feel a little numb but this time it’s not from smiling. It just is. It’d be easy to drink just a little more, and let that numbness spread to the anguish roiling around in her guts.

But not yet.

She needs that anger.

“You don’t know what it’s like,” Kara declares.

Lena only rolls her eyes. “Yes, we’ve already established that humans are unaccustomed to the pain of near-invincibility–”

“No!” Kara shouts, whirling to face her. “No, you made me sit there and take everything you said. Now it’s your turn to listen.”

Lena’s eyes widen, then narrow. But she remains silent.

Good.

“You don’t know what it’s like, to have to hide who you are. You project all of yourself into the world, for better or worse, and whether they love you or hate you, it’s you. Do you remember what you said to me? The day you met Supergirl? You said, we can’t live in fear. Well, I do! I live in fear. Every day, I’m afraid that someone will learn who I am and use it against me– that they’ll use it to target my friends, my family! I’ve been so afraid that my best friend will find out, and that I’ll lose her too.”

Lena scoffs. “You distrust me that much–”

“Oh, don’t even!– try to lecture me about distrust!”

“I have always been open with you–”

“Yeah, I remember! You were so proud to show off your fancy new alien detection device last year.” Lena freezes, and Kara feels a small trill of triumph. “Yeah, don’t think I’ve forgotten how gleefully you explained it to me, completely unconcerned that it would ruin lives. So long as you turned a profit, you were happy.”

Green eyes sour at the accusation, but she doesn’t say a word. Suddenly, Kara deflates, losing some of her righteous anger as hurt crept in around the edges.

“Did you?” she asks, plaintively. “Did you really think I’d forget that my best friend created a device that would allow businesses to deny me service? To kick me out of my apartment and leave me homeless?”

This time, Lena has the decency to look away, cheeks reddening under the criticism. Instead of fueling her fury, Kara blinks away tears.

“What would you have done? If I hadn’t damaged it? If it confirmed I was an alien?” Kara’s throat closes painfully. “Would you have turned me out right then and there? Would you have requested a different reporter the next time CatCo asked for an interview?”

She blinks, and the wavy figure of her best friend sharpens as her tears fall free. Maybe she imagines it, but she swears Lena’s eyes are shining too.

“Would you have ended the best friendship I’ve ever had, before it even started?”

Lena inhales sharply. “Maybe, I could swallow the secret identity easier,” she grates out, “if it didn’t mean that my best friend treated me like a villain for daring to create the one tool that was able to stop a Worldkiller.”

But Kara shakes her head no. “You didn’t make the Kryptonite for Reign, Lena. We both know it.”

For a long moment, the truth hangs heavy between them. Quiet lingers, before Lena finally takes a shaking breath.

“The threat is there, Kara,” she says. “Whether you want to admit it or not. Less than a year ago, Superman was ready to kill, even if it meant leveling the city to do it. And you– you threw Cat Grant off a balcony. Maybe you weren’t in control, but you still did it. Are we just supposed to sit back and pray you’ll take mercy on us the next time it happens?”

Kara stares at her. Then she laughs. It starts slow, bubbling in her throat before spilling out of her. Soon she’s doubled over, guffawing so hard her sides start to ache. Lena looks truly unsettled, and only that serves to curb her mirth.

“Sorry,” Kara wheezes, still grinning as she wipes her eyes. She flops onto Lena’s couch, breathless. “Whew!”

Lena swallows. “Good to know you find that part of my concerns hilarious.”

“Oh, pfft. Don’t be stupid. What’s funny is that both those examples you mentioned? The two times Supers have been a danger to humanity in the decades since my cousin started protecting the planet?”

She pauses, meeting Lena’s gaze as a fresh giggle tickles her throat.

“Was because of kryptonite! Because Maxwell Lord tried making Kryptonite, screwed up, and turned me into a monster, and because Queen Bitch Rhea waved some silver Kryptonite to turn my cousin into her personal attack dog. And your solution is to add more Kryptonite to the mix. That’s what’s funny.”

Instead of looking cowed, Lena’s jaw tightens. “And why did Max need to make Kryptonite in the first place?”

Kara sobers in an instant. The face of her aunt flashes across her vision, green-veined and twisted in agony. Then Reign’s face, chased by the phantom image of the dark priestess.

“Are you and Superman the only Kryptonians left?” Lena asks.

Lena knows they’re not. She knows about Argo, has given them the means to survive.

“Are you and Superman even the only Kryptonians on Earth?”

A lump forms in Kara’s throat. “No.”

“And can you guarantee that none of the other Kryptonians on Earth or elsewhere will never try to harm humanity?”

She doesn’t think they will. Those on Earth have spent decades hiding, even when Clark became Superman and their refuge planet fell under attack by alien threats. But she can’t guarantee it. She can’t.

“No.”

“Then I have a responsibility to ensure humanity has the means to defend themselves if the need arises,” Lena tells her. Her voice is calm, devoid of the emotion that gave Kara hope they could salvage even a small fragment of their friendship. “If you can’t understand that, then… I don’t think there’s anything left to say.”

Kara stares at her. Her heart throbs in her chest, like the space around it suddenly turned hollow. Words– the very thing she’s supposed to be good at– fail her, leaving her throat painfully dry.

Finally, she slowly pushes to her feet, struggling not to stagger as she pulls her puse onto her shoulder. She licks suddenly dry lips, grits her teeth, and meets Lena’s gaze.

“Fine,” she says stiffly. “Nice knowing you.”

Kara pushes past her, and escapes into the safety of the night.

226 notes · View notes

huffle-dork · 6 years

Text

Grand Finale (Part 10/End)

Part 9.5: [x] More Magnificent: [x] Read from the beginning!: [x]

Marvin huddled under his cape has he made his way across the city towards the abandoned warehouse district. Anti was strangely quiet in his head, which made the whole journey even worse than Marvin thought it would be. He felt like he couldn’t think about anything at all, because who knew what Anti could hear. Thinking about nothing was hard. Marvin’s mind kept shifting back and forth between all the horrible things that could be happening to his friends. He felt the tell-tale sizzle of panic burning in his chest and he tried to breathe slowly. But the images just kept flashing and flashing, and getting worse and worse until Marvin is leaning up against a lightpost, chest heaving and eyes darting around spastically. He can’t breathe, this was too much, too much. There was no way he could save them, he wasn’t strong enough, he was going to fail. He was going to die. So would his friends. And it will be all his fault.

The magician wheezes and sucks in choppy shallow breathes as his panic seems to swirl out of control. He can feel magic itching to burst out of his fingertips, the ends sparking with green energy.

Then inside Marvin’s head he feels something like a slap that clears his head for a second. Anti growls in his ears, “Whiskers, what are you doing?”

Marvin’s voice can barely rise past a whisper as he tries to answer in between shaky breaths, “A-Anti i-i can’t-!”

Marvin hears the glitch sigh before Marvin feels a tug on his legs, forcing him to stand up straight. His heart beats faster, fearing what Anti was going to make him do. But instead the other figment just speaks.

“Ain’t no use is panicking now Marv,” He says almost gently, despite his rough voice, “You haven’t even seen what we’re up against yet. Panicking will help us none.”

Marvin tries to nod, his heart calming a bit. He focuses on breathing for a second, but it’s still erratic and sparse.

Anti is silent for a second before he groans heavily and grunts out, “Is.. isn’t there a dumb phrase Jack and that hero use all the damn time? P-positive…?”

“Positive mental a-attitude…” Marvin finishes with a stutter. Then a fidgety smile graces his lips as he laughs, “Are you really trying to pull some PMA into here Anti?”

The glitch growls darkly, “Well it’s a stupid fucking idea. But if thinking positively will help you quit whining so we can move on, then just think happy thoughts or whatever.”

Marvin continues to laugh and soon he realizes he can breathe fine again. He looks down at his hands and tries to think about the positive. About how he’s stronger than he was last time he took Phantom on. About how his friends give him the fuel he needs to fight. How their laughter and friendship lighten his world.

“Ugh barf,” Anti groans, “Can you wrap it up now? We got a fucking job to do, kit kat.”

Marvin smirks and lets himself stand tall as he nods to Anti and finishes making their way to the warehouse.

The warehouse they’re led to is, of course, dark as they approach. Marvin pokes his head through the door and can see something through the darkness so he cautiously makes his way in. Then, lights burst forth out of nowhere, revealing a bright red decorated stage that appears in smoke. Marvin looks unimpressed.

“Really?” He calls to the air, “Is that your best entrance Phantom? I thought you were better than this clique mess!” He shoves his hand towards the stage, raising an eyebrow is question.

Then suddenly there’s a whisper at the nape of his neck as red smoke curls around his feet, “Still so easily distracted. Really Magnificent, have i taught you nothing?”

Marvin gasps and trips over his own feet and lands on his side as Phantom cackles. Marvin quickly tries to shove an elbow in his face to cover up his right eye, as if he’s preparing to block an attack. But Phantom just disappears again before he appears on the stage, sitting on the edge with a shit eating grin.

“You sure took your sweet time coming to me, my little magician,” Phantom coos, leaning his head on his hand in a condescending manner as he twirls the scepter in his other “In fact, you took so long, I’m surprised some of your friends actually made it this far.”

Marvin jumps to his feet, his hands flaring with magic and his eyes burning cold and blue. “Where are they?!” He snarls and he feels Anti glitching in excitement for some action. But Marvin wills him to stay back.

Phantom laughs sinisterly and gets to his feet as he continues to spin his cane, “Oh they’re here. But i’m not so sure you’re prepared to see the states they’re in….” He smirks as he snaps his fingers and the stage erupts in red smoke again. Marvin covers his mouth with his elbow against the onslaught, afraid of the possibilities of it getting down his throat.

When the smoke clears Marvin sees his friends lined up on either side of Phantom, their eyes dull and stances stiff. Then almost as suddenly as they appear, Jamie crumbles to the ground in a heap and Chase falls to his knees, heaving and panting heavily. Jamie looks like a ghost with how pale he is, as if he’s close to fading. Marvin can see sheens of sweat dripping down Chase’s and Jamie’s faces and even Schneep’s as he stands stoically at one end. Jackie stands at the opposite end, too still and too stiff for the hero. His red gaze burns holes straight through Marvin’s chest.

Marvin tries to spring forward to catch Jamie before he falls, but Anti quickly takes control of his legs and plants them in place. Marvin tries to fight but Anti hisses at him, telling him to wait now. Marvin feels angry tears well up in his eyes and he shouts up to his nemesis, “What the hell did you do to them?”

“Me?” Phantom asks almost innocently, “I did nothing~!” He sings and grins down at Marvin, “Well besides the obvious.” He starts to make his way around the other egos, kicking his feet and twirling his cane as his face shifts to one of mock sadness, “It just seems that some figments just can’t handle my brand of magic as well as others.”

He stops at Jameson and kicks the mute man lightly with his shoe, his expression turning cold.

“Up,” He commands and Jamie slowly struggles to get up, wanting to obey. But his body gives out and he splats back onto the stage with a pained near silent wheeze. Phantom stares at the display dead eyed before he eyes Marvin.

“Poor Mr. Jackson has so much potential, but not enough energy in his little body. Not enough attention, not enough power… Forcing him to use his talents brought him here.”

Next the con man strides over to Chase, who shakes on his hands and knees as he struggles to breathe. Marvin can see the signature red glint of Phantom’s power flickering in and out of Chase’s eyes.

“Now, Mr. Brody…” Phantom says as he flicks out the tip of the blade inside his scepter and uses it to force the man’s chin up to look at him, “Despite him having no redeemable qualities or abilities… he sure can put up a fight.” Phantom withdraws the blade before he swiftly rotates the staff and slams Chase’s head with the end of the crystal ball. Chase crumbles to the floor with a strangled cry of pain.

“I suppose that’s the will of a father,” Phantom comments lightly before he starts to walk away, “But still useless.”

Then Phantom makes his way over to Henrik, smiling at him almost fondly. “And this one… was quite the fighter too. But once i found the right strings to pull.. He became just the perfect little puppet.” He lifts Henrik’s chin up with the scepter as he studies his face before he smirks down at Marvin, “I believe i have another septic to thank for that, don’t i?”

Marvin glowers at Phantom, baring his teeth at the demon. But he feels something like twisted satisfaction in his head and he wishes he could glare at Anti. How dare the glitch be proud of what he did to Schneep. Marvin shudders slightly at the memory. Henrik’s cold gaze is different from the crazed expression he wore under Anti’s influence, but it’s still not the Schneeplestein he knows.

Phantom makes his rounds landing at last at Jackie and he throws his arms out triumphantly. “And at last my star, Jackieboy!” The con man circles the hero like a predator stalking his prey, “The start of this all. The one individual i knew would break you,” Phantom glances at Marvin with a knowing smirk. “Isn’t friendship just the worst, Marv? Just ruins everything. Makes you too vulnerable. Jackie here was so desperate to keep you all safe, he was dumb enough to think a deal with me wouldn’t cost him his free will.” He finally stands still by Jackie’s side and grabs the ego’s chin in his hands and tilts his head back and forth like he’s playing with a toy.

“Oh and what fun it was to twist his memories and feelings of you. To make him reject and fear you… all so he could find a place with me.”

Finally, Phantom stops his ranting and curls both his hands around his scepter as he turns to regard the magician. “So, Magnificent, are you ready for-?”

But the con man is stopped by the sound of laughter coming from Marvin. Crazed, mad laughter that continues to bubble and raise in volume, until the cat masked man is throwing his head back. Finally, Marvin cracks his neck loudly and stares at Phantom with glowing green eyes, a hint of a slit throat rising above his shirt collar. He grins sinisterly, a grin too big and wide to be Marvin’s as his body seems to glitch in the light.

“Hate to cut you off there pal,” Marvin giggles as his hands burst with green glitching magic, “But us villains really need to learn to hold back on the monologuing, d̨̝̤͈̺̔́͑̌͘o̡͖͖͙͉͒̓̑́̕ñ̩̹͙̣̱͌͊͝͠’̡͖̼͉̗̏͋̂̋͠ţ͉̯̦̜̾͗̈͆̕ ̦̣̜̪̯͒͂̈́͐̓w̡͈͎̞͕̃͑̓̔̚e̡͓͙̲͊͊̄̐̕ͅ?̨̬̼͈͙̂̋̇̎͘”̧̼̼̩̦̂͐͑̽̀

Phantom takes a shaky step back, his eyes displaying fear for a second.

“W-what the hell? Y-You didn’t.”

Marvin grins turns into a more mild condescending smirk as his magic builds more and more. He answers back in his own voice, “isn’t friendship just the worst Phantom? It makes you do the craziest shit.”

Then the cat masked magician disappears in a glitchy cloud of blue, green and purple.

Phantom barely has any time to react before a flash of green eyes alerts him to a knife flying at his face. He just barely manages to throw up his scepter to block the attack and Marvin laughs crazily in his face, sending shivers down his spine. The magician glitches behind him and shoves his foot into the con man’s back and Phantom’s face skids across the stage. He spits and barks at the other septics, “Don’t just stand there! Attack!!”

Jackie flies at Marvin at super speeds and yet the magician manages to grab the hero’s fist before it hits his face. Marvin giggles as he lifts his other hand and a knife suddenly flies into Jackie’s shoulder in a burst of purple glitches. Jackie stumbles back, wincing and struggling to pull the knife back out.

Marvin throws his hand up again and four more knives appear in a blast of purple and green smoke and float in the air and the cat masked magician giggles like a child, “Oh, i like this power!”

Suddenly a hand wraps around the back of Marvin’s neck and a syringe pops out and tries to strike at his vein. But the magician poofs away and reappears so he’s facing forward and grabs the red eyed Doctor by both his wrists. Anti chuckles darkly and tightens his hands tight around Schneep’s wrists as he leans close to his face. He cracks their neck loudly before merely whispering “B̛̹̼̣̩̱͒͒͐͠ȍ̱̦̩̼̫̏̈́̒̉o̢̖̬̤̐͋̋̽͝ͅ!̗͔̦͉̱̅̍̀͑́”

Henrik stumbles backwards, his eyes wide as saucers and cleared of red. He sinks to his knees and covers his head under his arms and he shakes like a leaf, mumbling spazziedly, “No no no, no no!”

Anti smirks to himself and turns back to his next victim, only to have a bullet fly and strike him in the shoulder. Marvin cries out and holds the wound. He sees amongst the blood colorful glitches that buzz around and seem to try to cover the wound. He takes a shaky breath and flashes angry eyes down at the conflicted face of Chase Brody as he stares at Marvin past his gun. The father’s hand shakes so much he nearly drops the gun. His eyes twitch as he tries to stand up. Marvin’s face shifts to one of cold disinterest as he hurls three knives straight into one of Chase’s arms and the man crumbles with a strangled cry.

Phantom continues to back up, holding his scepter close to his chest. Eyes darting around trying to think of something. Marvin chuckles darkly as he summons a green flame and lets its grow to about half his height as he gazes at the con man with crazed eyes. He staggers almost drunkenly towards Phantom, his face darkening as a sick smile spreads across his face. Phantom shudders involuntarily and he shakingly points his staff out towards the magician, pleading for one of the others to keep attacking.

Jackie staggers and tackles Marvin to the ground and the fire burning in his hand sets the stage ablaze. Marvin doesn’t seem phased however, he seems pleased as excited laughter bubbles out of his mouth. Jackie growls and tries to pin him, but Marvin manages to shove his knee into the hero’s stomach and he crumples. Marvin then leans over and grabs the hero’s wrists and heats up his hands, burning him through his jumpsuit. Jackieboy screams bloody murder and kicks out wildly. Marvin just laughs and laughs. Until suddenly, his expression falls and he scrambles away from Jackie with fear in his eyes. He heaves and stares at his hands as if they’re foreign to him.

“S-shit!” He curses quietly,”A-Anti we gotta focus on Phantom! You can’t keep hurting my friends-” Then Marvin grimances and his eyes flash green as he growls darkly, “Quit taking my fun away, Cat Mask! I’ll still get the job done!” Marvin takes a shuddering breath and holds his hands to his chest, trying to get to his feet. He opens his mouth to argue more but he’s blasted away by a teal burst and he flies across the stage. Jamie huffs where he has weakly raised his hand and he slowly grips his fingers together into a fist, trapping the cat masked magician in a blue bubble. Tears stream down his face from the effort but the red glint in his eyes says it all.

Phantom laughs as he gets back to his feet, “Excellent job, Jameson!” The mute man gives a weak smile before his eyes roll back and his hand falls, dropping Marvin heavily to the ground. Marvin coughs as he struggles to get back up but Phantom points his scepter his way and he’s lifted into the air surrounded by red energy, his arms bound to his side.

“That was certainly entertaining, Magnificent,” Phantom muses, pushing back his disheveled hair with his free hand as his expression changes from nervous to confident. Marvin growls, his eyes flashing sickly green again as he tries to flare out his magic. But the red energy around him tightens around his throat and he chokes, letting out a strangled cry.

“Not another move,” Phantom snarls, “I’m done playing games.”

Marvin chuckles madly as he grins down at Phantom, “Aw, already? That’s such a shame… cuz i

l̡̯̫͔̱̇̒̉̀͝ô͈̰̱̠̬͋͌̂͠v̫͍̻̱͎͒͛̓̍̈e̢̢̖̜͇̿̊̆͐͝ ̹̩͕̹̙̌̈́̈̒̕p̡͓͈̙̳͒̂̉̋͝l̡̜̟̳̆̈̇̈͜͝a̡͈͓̱͛̃͛̄̕ͅy̢͇̰͉̲̑̈̚͝͝i̬̲͓̲̠̔͑̆̾̆ņ͖͉͕̲́͌͂͒̇g̢̠̲͔̓͒́̃͆ͅ ̘̥̥̱̯̋̃͋̔͘g̛̮̟̦̥̫͐̈́̑̓ã̛̼͔̦̣̹̆̕͘m̻͖͇̟̲̍̉̋̃͝e̺̹̘̩̲͒̅̆̿̓s͖̥͉̝̘͛̽͛̋̕!͖̪̠̣̫̅́̂̋͝

Phantom reaches out a hand and clutches it into a fist, crushing Marvin’s windpipe more. But the masked magician continues to laugh hoarsely as his eyes glow unnaturally bright. He opens up his palms at his side and a dozen knives materialize in a series of glitches. Phantom barely has time to gasp before each knife drives itself into his body and he screams.

Marvin drops again but this time he lands on his feet like a cat. He giggles as he summons one more knife and tosses it in his hand as he surveys the carnage around him. Slowly, he strides over to Phantom and shoves his foot against the bloodied man’s chest. The con man wheezes and gazes unfocused eyes up at Marvin. Marvin smirks and throws the final knife straight into the crystal ball on his staff, shattering it into a million pieces.

The warehouse fills with the screams of Phantom and his victims as the energy bursts out of the orb. Flashes of scarlet fly into each of the other septics chests as their eyes burn bright red before they all fall to the ground in crumpled heaps. Phantom’s screams stop as soon as their souls return to their body and he curls up on his side, pale as a ghost and wheezing.

Marvin chuckles in satisfaction as he leers over Phantom’s body. But then uncertainty crosses his face as he stares at the defeated con man.

“What are you waiting for?” Anti growls in his head, “Now’s your chance to get rid of him. Prove to him he can never mess with you and my puppets again!”

Marvin’s mouth moves but no sound comes out at first.

“I… I don’t w-want...I don’t need to kill him.”

“Stop being a fucking coward Marvin! This is why your friends always fall into danger, because you never just take the fucking chance! Your hesitation will be either the death of you or of them.”

Tears well up in Marvin’s eyes as his expression turns furious. A strange feeling swirls in his stomach, one he can’t quite describe. He reaches out his hand and readies a snap down at Phantom, speaking in his own voice darkly.

“Say Goodbye, Phantom.”

He snaps, ready to blast the figment into infinity. But before he can he’s knocked off his feet and surrounded by purple mist. Marvin coughs against the smoke and tries to see through it. He sees another figment that looks like Phantom but he has dark shadows under his eyes and lines of purple that run down his face like tears. He flashes his eyes at Marvin with a look of pure hatred before he gathers up Phantom into his arms and disappears into the mist.

Marvin coughs and hacks against the smoke, trying to stagger upward to chase after him. But suddenly he’s surrounded by thick darkness, the warehouse gone. He spins, panic starting to grip his heart.

“A-Anti,” He calls outloud, “What is this?”

Marvin tries to reach out through the darkness, but he notices he can suddenly see through his hands. He gasps and stumbles backwards, falling over. His legs are starting to become see through too and he can’t help but panic now.

He was fading.

He could feel his power shrinking, threatening to shrivel up to nothing. He can barely feel his arms and legs anymore. How had he lost attention from Jack’s fans so fast?

Marvin curls up in on himself, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to breathe, but he’s shaking like a leaf.

“No no no no no no!” He stammers, feeling his magic starting to swirl out of control. But he grabs onto the power, too afraid of it leaving him. He wants it to consume him so he won’t disappear.

Anti is trying to shout at Marvin but the magician can’t hear him, “Cat Mask! Marvin! It’s just fear smoke, it’s not real!” But then Anti feels that burst of chaotic magic radiating out of Marvin and he’s alight with the energy too. It’s more powerful than anything he’s ever experienced. His body seems to growl hungryily for it.

The glitch begins to grin and laugh as he stretches out to take complete control of Marvin’s body. Marvin gasps and feels strings threaten to suffocate him as his limbs become unresponsive. But he feels his magic channeling out of him and his whole body begins to numb.

“Anti! W-What is this? What are you doing?!” He pleads.

Anti laughs madly as he feels himself rise and glitch madly with power.

“Consider this payment for my help, Kit Kat!” The demon cackles, “Who needs a useless host like Jack when i could have access to all of this?!”

The glitch let’s the power rocket out across the warehouse like a sonic boom of green and purple as he throws his head back in crazed laughter.

“Y-you can’t do this!” Marvin cries, trying to do anything to get control of his body back but his limbs seem to flicker in and out of existence and he can’t concentrate on getting his power back to him.

“Aw Marv, you should be happy,” Anti purrs smoothly, “You served your purpose. You saved your friends!” He clutches his hand and revels at the feeling of having muscles that dont threaten to glitch away, “And you saved me from being trapped in that bastard’s head. You’re a true hero~!”

Anti’s laughter threatens to swallow Marvin whole as he feels himself fading away. All his power is draining away from him, he’s going to fade. He’s going to die.

Marvin bows his head and lets the fight drain out of him. There’s nothing more he can do.

Then suddenly, Anti is being thrown out of the air by a flash of red and he splats to the floor, the power sizzling and drawing back into him. He gasps and sputters as he struggles up to his arms and he sees Jackieboy standing over him, wheezing.

“I-I don’t know what the hell is happening,” The hero breathes, “But I know you when i see you, Anti.”

Anti chuckles darkly as he wipes blood away from his nose, “You’re too late Hero! Marvin is spent and his body is mine!”

A blast of teal crashes against Anti before the hero can reply. The magic surrounds Anti and shoves the glitch out of Marvin’s body in a explosion of glitches. The demon crashes against the wall and coughs, his form almost completely disintegrating. Marvin is shoved back to consciousness with a painful burst as the strings snap. He stares wide eyed at the warehouse and shakily looks to see Jameson aiming a hand at him as he’s held up by Chase and Schneep.

Jackie flies at the glitch and slams him against the wall, growling in his face. “You best get out of here now, glitch bitch. Before i knock you into next week!”

Anti growls and flashes his eyes dangerously but another shudder sends his body glitching wildly. He gives one last glance towards the shivering magician before he lets himself dissolve into pixels.

“This isn’t over, Cat Mask.” The glitch’s voice echoes creepily throughout the warehouse. Marvin shivers more and one final whisper slithers into his ear, “See you s͕̣͈̗͛̔͒̎͠ͅo̝̟̘̟͙̾̽̉̑͝o̧̧͉̫͕̅̽̇͊͑n̩͉͉͎͋̾̓̊̚ͅ.”

Finally, a dark energy that seemed to fill the warehouse lifts as the glitch disappears completely. Marvin sags to the ground, gasping. He tries to force something out to his friends but he can’t speak past his still slit throat, the pain suddenly becoming unbearable. All he can see is their concerned faces as the world fades to black.

Epilogue: [x]

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fans-of-fiction · 7 years

Text

F-fuh-Fuck Off, B-Bowers - Bill Denbrough x Reader (IT)

-|| To the anon that requested: tysm ily and I hope you’re having a good day<3 I’m really sorry that the reader walked home from the library in July and not from school in another season. I hope it didn’t tinge your idea. <3 xoxo E ||-

Request: Could you write a bill x reader where she’s walking home from school & the bowers gang shows up and keeps messing with her but bill shows up & just helps her out? I’m a sucker for cliches.

Warnings: Language (haha, oops), Sexual References. Potential bullying triggers (It’s Bowers. I’m sorry)

A/N: Written in both Bill and Y/N’s POV. There are more flashbacks (whoops) but the timeline’s noted. Italics are internal thoughts. ‘Italics with quotes are past quotes.’

Words: 4613

July 1989 - Bill

The warm wind pushed Quarry water across my face as I pedaled home. My hair was plastered to my head, still wet from swimming with the Losers. Silver was kicking up gravel as I rode down Kansas street. As I admired the foliage of the Barrens below I could hear birds chirping in the thick branches. If Stan were there he would’ve told me what bird it was before he could manage to pull out his binoculars. I laughed at the thought as the green street sign for West Broadway appeared on my left. I made a wide curve onto the street and immediately spotted her.

It was Y/N. She was far ahead, nearly at the end of the street, but I could still see the wind sweep through her hair as she made her way south-east, her backpack bobbing with each step. I would have pedaled closer to her, tried to talk maybe, but any conversational topic was water in the desert of my brain, so instead, I rode safely behind her, and with luck she’d turn onto Witcham too. But as I glanced past Y/N, I determined there was no luck on West Broadway street, because where Witcham appeared, so did Henry Bowers.

I could feel anxiety bubbling in my guts like hot, sappy tar. I’d ridden past Bowers before. He–as well as Victor and Belch–had thrown sticks and rocks at Silver’s wheels, trying to get me to fall off. ‘How does it feel to be an ass, you stuttering freak?!’ Henry had yelled. Their laughs echoed in my head as I rode closer to Y/N. A sickening thought emerged from the tar that had made it’s way to my head. What if Bowers does it again? What if he succeeds this time? I thought. What if I eat shit in front of Y/N? The hot tar got hotter. I could feel my feet spinning around Silver’s gears at a slower pace as I subconsciously put off passing him, even if it meant never passing Y/N before she found where she was going.

I was watching the bullies with a concentration I could never muster in class. Y/N was close to them now. Close enough for one of them to reach out and grab her. “You b-better wuh-watch yourself B-Buh-Bowers.” I mumbled to myself, far out of their earshot. I was glad they couldn’t hear me but I was disappointed when I couldn’t hear Henry, who smirked down at Y/N and mumbled something.

It couldn’t have been something nice because Y/N stopped in her tracks and turned to the group. Victor and Belch were giggling to each other, but Henry seemed focused, determined. Like a wild cat studying its next meal. No, I pleaded in my head. No, Y/N don’t stop. Keep moving. God, please. But she didn’t move. She looked up at Henry defiantly as he continued to talk down to her, his eyes dancing over her frame. Something clicked in my head and suddenly I knew what was happening. He must’ve catcalled her. Bowers was trying to get in her pants.

The tar in my stomach was gone. It had bubbled into full-blown fire, fueling my feet which were spinning faster now, around and around the gears. Any trace of fear had vanished, giving way to anger and a longing to protect Y/N. Go ahead, assholes. Touch her, I dare you. I spat in my head. Give me a reason to put you in the hospital. I was surprised by my own courage, but made no effort to stunt it. Y/N was pure, and I’d die before I let those jack-offs tinge her soul.

I was close–within 150 feet at this point–when Henry whipped his arms up and grabbed Y/N by the shoulders. Any confidence that once radiated from her face was gone, leaving behind only fear. She was terrified, and I knew the feeling. She no longer looked like the stunning girl I saw the first day I met her. Instead, she looked like a stunning girl who was afraid. I could remember what she looked like that day. What she felt like. How she made me feel. How she made the world feel right.

May 1989 - Bill

“…and then I said, ‘that’s what your mom said last night,’ and he just wailed on me!”

The Losers burst out laughing at Richie, who was holding the left side of his face. “Well, no wonder he punched you,” Beverly chuckled.

“Hey, don’t trash the trashmouth,” Richie objected before furrowing his eyebrows and looking around. “Where the fuck is Eddie?” Richie turned on the bench in front of Mr.Keene’s pharmacy, still holding his face. With his free hand, he rapped on the glass and yelled inside. “Hey, Eddie Spaghetti! Where’s that ice?!”

Eddie pushed open the glass door and chucked a bag of peas at Richie’s chest. “Hey! It’s cold!” He yelped.

“Of course it’s cold, Einstein. I couldn’t find any bags of ice, but the peas should help. And don’t call me Eddie Spaghetti.”

“You know you love it when I call you that,” Richie chuckled and ripped open the top of the bag. “So how much am I supposed to eat?”

The Losers erupted in laughter again. Eddie threw the palm of his hand against his forehead with a clap. “Dumbass.”

Life felt good as we all laughed at Richie, who was spilling peas all over the sidewalk. The only thing that bothered to interrupt us was the deep rumble of a truck engine making its way down the street. MacPherson Moving Company was printed on the side in big, black letters. We all stared at the truck as it pulled over in front of the pharmacy. It managed to block out almost all of the sun hitting the store window.

None of us knew what to expect in terms of who was going to clamber out of the MacPherson Moving truck, but it wasn’t a young girl, who must’ve been our age, with a dollar bill in one hand and a Walkman in the other. She hopped out of the passenger’s side, gingerly landing on the pavement, then strolled into the pharmacy; and not for a second could I peel my eyes off her.

Ben must’ve noticed because he was giggling. Mike, Stan, and Beverly all joined him. Richie looked over, confused. “What?” He questioned. “What are you dorks giggling at?”

Eddie ducked his head beside Richie’s but didn’t bother to whisper. “Bill’s totally into her.”

Richie’s eyes widened at an alarming speed and he nearly dropped his peas. “Holy fuck!” He turned to me. “Are you into that hottie, Bill?” I could feel my cheeks growing hot. Richie noticed and laughed. “What the shit, dude? Why are you still here? Go in there and talk to her!” The Losers all nodded and mhmm’ed. Anxiety was bubbling in my guts, hot and viscous, like tar, but no matter how much it spat, I couldn’t stop thinking about the girl. She was so elegant. So beautiful. So- “Well, Billy? Are you gonna stand there all day?”

I turned to him. “R-Richie, even if I wuh-w-went in th-there and s-said ‘Hi’, what could I p-puh-possibly talk to her ab-bout?” Richie stood up. The bag of peas was completely empty, tossed on the ground near the bench. Richie put one hand on my back and the other on my chest. He leaned into my shoulder and whispered, “Just go in there, buy her a Dr.Pepper or something, and talk about your massive-”

“Richie!” Eddie yelled, disgusted. “That-That’s enough.”

Richie laughed again but was cut off by Mike. “Just ask her if she’s moving to Derry.”

Ben nodded. “Yeah, that’s a good idea! You can offer to give her a tour of Derry. You know, the big tourist sights.”

“Ha!” Richie coughed out. “Ladies and gentlemen; On the left: the Derry Public Library, on the right: Bassey Park, and if you look over here you’ll find my tasty shorts.”

Richie was howling. Stan wasn’t impressed. “Eddie, would you control him.”

“Me?!” Eddie Bleated. “You think I don’t try?!”

I may have laughed at Eddie but I was still thinking about the mystery girl. Though I wasn’t excited to admit it, Richie was right. If I didn’t talk to her soon I would drive myself batshit. I shoved my hand in my right pocket and rooted around, pulling out three dollars and twenty-eight… twenty-nine… thirty cents. Richie was still laughing when I turned and opened the door. The AC bit my chest as I stepped into Mr.Keene’s. She was directly ahead, just arriving at the cashier, her Walkman in her back pocket. I had taken several steps forward before the door shut and the jingle rung. She looked back at me, her eyes locking with mine. Suddenly the tar returned. It was roaring and churning so badly I almost turned and left, but looking back I saw Richie, his mouth hanging open, shocked that I wasn’t copping out.

Don’t back out now, Bill. I thought to myself. I looked at the shelf to my right. The minute-rices were looking extra interesting. I was within ten feet of her. It was an acceptable distance for a conversation, but I still couldn’t muster up the courage to talk, until she spoke first.

“I’m sorry,” She said softly. “How much did you say?”

Mr.Keene adjusted his glasses. “It’s fifty-five cents per cone, young lady. Plus taxes. So that puts us at… well, we can call it a dollar sixteen.

I knew she only had a dollar. I knew I had enough to cover her cost. I knew what to do. I grabbed the closest item I could find. She shook her head at the dollar bill in her open hand. “I’m afraid I only have a dollar. I-“

I tossed two chocolate bars on the counter and handed Mr.Keene the change from my pocket. “I’ll cover b-both of us, M-muh-Mr.Keene.” I whispered, suddenly hyper-aware of my stutter. What if she thinks you’re a freak, Bill? I questioned in my head. The tar broiled and bubbled up to my throat.

Mr.Keene looked down at me with a smirk on his face. He knew what I was doing. “Why, that’s very kind of you, Bill,” He said with a crafty tone. I glanced at the girl, but apparently, she didn’t value being stealthy. She was staring at me in disbelief. I couldn’t help but chuckle. Mr.Keene opened the register with a metallic clank and breathed out through his nose, frustrated. “Would you look at that,” He puffed. “Fresh out of nickels.” He closed the register. “Be right back, kids.” And with that, he turned and stepped into a back room.

I looked at the girl again. She was still staring, but her face had adopted a look of guilt. “You really didn’t have to do that for me.” Her voice washed over my ears like melted gold.

I wanted to pull her into my chest and wrap my arms around her frame, but instead, I forced a chuckle and shook my head. “It’s f-fuh-fuh-f-” I stopped. The word wouldn’t come out. Brush it off, Bill. Try again. Just try again. “I-it’s f-f-f-fuh-” I could feel the pressure of tears beneath my eyes, threatening to emerge and overflow like a burst pipe beneath the bathroom floor. That’s it, Bill. I was surrendering in my mind. You blew it, you freak.

She put a hand on my arm. It was warm and comforting and very surprising. “Thank you.” She confided. “I really appreciate what you did.” She was being genuine, looking in my eyes and suddenly I was the one staring. The tables had turned so quickly they made my head spin, but looking at her made me feel grounded, like I had found my center of gravity. “Mr.Keene said your name was Bill, right?” I didn’t know what to say–even if I could physically say it–so I just nodded. She chuckled. “It’s very nice to meet you, Bill. I’m Y/N.” Y/N, I repeated. There’s a name to the face. That beautiful, beautiful face.

Her eyes were so captivating that I had a hard time looking away, but I managed to glance off so that she didn’t think I was brain dead. Looking out the door I found Richie–surrounded by the rest of the Losers–gawking in the window. Everyone’s mouth was hanging open except for Richie’s, which only mouthed ‘Holy fuck’.

I chuckled, having found security knowing that the Losers were practically there with me. I looked back at Y/N, who was taking in the sight of the group of dorks. “Your friends?” She laughed.

I laughed too. “Y-yuh-yeah.”

She smiled ever so softly and looked at my lips. The tar had given way to pleasant heat. “How long have you had a stutter?” She asked. Her tone shocked me because it wasn’t demeaning or sarcastic. She was being legitimate.

I never had to answer that question to anyone that wasn’t a doctor, and it was odd, but not unpleasant. “E-ever s-ss-since I w-w-wuh-” I was struggling again. Shit.

I looked at her to see if I should just stop and let her finish the sentence herself–Knowing when to stop was the biggest lesson my stutter had taught me. That, and don’t open your mouth around Bowers–but she just smiled and said “It’s ok. Take your time.” It was as if someone had shone a new light on Y/N. In addition to the warm glow she gave off, being a genuine soul, this new light allowed me to see her in her purest form. A kind, soft, beautiful girl, who truly cared, and I could hear wedding bells.

“S-since I w-was y-yuh-young.” I managed to croak. Despite my struggle, I felt a sense of accomplishment in completing the sentence, and in knowing that Y/N didn’t think I was a freak. She was like my favourite sweater and a good book, a source of absolute comfort. A cozy hiding place. I could feel the struggle wearing off my tongue. “Thanks for l-letting me f-fuh-finish.” I managed. “M-most puh-people just think I’m a-an ass.”

She threw her eyebrows up in surprise, then let them down and chuckled. “Well, if they’re dumb enough to bother to tell you that then they’re the real asses.”

Suddenly Mr.Keene appeared with shiny new coins. He handed me my change and my chocolate bars. “Here you go, Bill.” He gave Y/N her ice cream cones.”Miss.” Then he smiled like he had single-handedly saved the world. “Have a good day you two!” And with that, he walked off again.

Y/N chuckled and shifted both packaged ice cream cones to one hand. With a soft precision you could only find in the most talented artists, she raised both arms, gently wrapping them around the tops of my shoulders. Her hug took me by surprise, so it took a second for me to hug her back, though I had no problem doing so. She radiated warmth, like the sun on a perfect summer day. “Thank you again, Bill. I’ll repay you someday.” She cooed into the crook of my shoulder. Fuck, she smelt like happiness. “And if it means anything,” She said, turning and starting for the storefront. “I like the stutter.” She reached the door and smiled back at me once more. ”I think it’s cute.”

I could feel my heart melting, sending waves of heat up to my cheeks. It stopped me from leaving the pharmacy for a few seconds, but I managed to toss the bars in my pocket and step out, just as the truck was pulling away.

All the Losers were in shock. All except the trashmouth. “So, Billy.” Richie chuckled. “You gonna-” He was laughing so hard at himself that he could hardly finish his sentence, but he managed to spit out “You g… bone… new girl?”

Stan scoffed and Eddie wailed but I couldn’t take my eyes off the truck. I realized that I never actually asked her if she was moving Derry. You may never see her again. I cried to myself briefly, before abolishing the thought. She could live across the world… it wasn’t going to stop me. “No, Richie,” I mumbled. “I’m gonna marry her.”

July 1989 - Y/N

You had walked home from the library using West Broadway countless times, but not once had you ever been faced with Henry Bowers. Not once had you been reduced to getting catcalled by a kid with a mullet. Not once had Bowers ever actually scared you… until today, which you figured just wasn’t your day.

You had seen Bowers parading around school like some hillbilly king but never paid him any mind. You knew the stories of things he did to scrawny little kids, but you figured it was all a show, like expensive clothes on a broke kid, or a brave face on a coward. You knew that’s all Bowers was. A coward, a phony, a paper man.

In all the days you passed him getting shit from the principal, or brushing his ratty hair in the window of Belch Huggins’ Trans-Am, you realized that not once had he ever seen you. This realization dawned when you tried to make your way past the group of guys, not far from the junction of West Broadway and Witcham. You figured they wouldn’t give you trouble. You figured you’d be fine at your current distance of seven feet, but as Henry scanned you up and down while Belch Huggins joined Victor Criss in whistling and cawing beside him, you got anxious. Not fine, You thought to yourself. You felt like hot tar was burning and bubbling in your guts. Just let me make it to Witcham, You pleaded. Just let me make it home.

Bowers had waited for the right moment to make his move, and now that you were directly in front of him, he had found it. He smirked down at you from his height and mumbled, “Hey, babe. Penny for a piece of your shorts?”

Just a paper man, Y/N. You reassured yourself. Give him his own medicine. Stopping in your tracks you looked up at Bowers with defiant eyes smeared on fake confidence. “I’ll give you a nickel if you jump in the barrens and never come back, Bowers.”

Belch’s jaw dropped and Victor made a sound that resembled an injured owl. Both were staring at Henry, neither had any clue how he would react. They viewed Henry like a time-bomb under Derry, waiting to blow a hole in the small town without any warning, but Henry knew himself. He knew he wasn’t about to be stood up. Not by anyone. “What,” he spat. “You don’t think could handle a little work like you?”

You forced a chuckle. Another layer on the canvas of fear that you desperately tried to cover with false confidence and various splotches of bravery. “I don’t think you could handle your own little work, Bowers.” That’s good enough. You babbled to yourself. Now’s the time to leave.

Henry threw his arms up and clamped them down on your shoulders, causing you to squeak out in surprise. You quickly became hyper-aware of your surroundings. You could feel the wind pulling on your hair, you could hear the trees rustling in time with the wind-chimes that hung from the porch of the house across the street, and you could see the hatred buried deep in Henry’s eyes. You knew he was leaving red patches on your shoulders where he refused to let go. “You know what, bitch?” He spat. “You should know not to fuck with me. I think you need a lesson on who you’re messing with.”

You had no motivation to throw on the tough-girl act again. They knew that wall had crumbled, and Henry was feeding on it like a starving animal. You caught a look at Victor, who looked a little pale. He had no idea what Henry was about to drag his ass into and it made him antsy. At that point you figured you had two options; The first was delivering a swift kick to Henry’s little work and bolting for it, praying the whole way home that you could out-run them. The second was staying and getting the shit beaten out of you by Bowers. The first option was surely the better of the two, but Henry was still fixed to your frame, and fear had made your knees weak. You knew you couldn’t outrun them. Please, God. You prayed. Please help me out of this. Send a guardian angel to take me home. Please, God just let me get out of this.

As if he heard your plea, God filled your ears with the sweet sound of rubber scraping gravel. He had sent angel on a bike to rescue you, and craning your neck to the side you found your savior; Bill Denbrough. You could remember the first day you met him. You were short on change and swooping through the cold Air Conditioned pharmacy on his golden wings he had rescued you then too. Bowers didn’t let go but you couldn’t feel him anymore. The memories of Bill flooded over you like a warm shower on a cold December night. You remembered how sweet he was, how selfless. You remembered how red his cheeks got when he stuttered. You remembered how he felt like sunshine and smelt like happiness when you hugged him. You could still feel the regret of leaving him in Mr.Keene’s. You could still feel how he made the world feel right.

Bill skidded up to the group. “Hey Buh-B-Bowers,” He struggled. He was nervous but he hid it well. “How about y-you leave h-her a-a-lone?”

Bowers actually let go at that point so that he could turn to the newest challenger. Mocking Bill, he ragged with a bad fake-stutter. “H-huh-how ab-buh-bout y-you fuck off, freak?”

Bill looked at you with concerned eyes. You could see the purity in his face, the worry. Bill genuinely cared about you, and you loved him for it. You made a mental note to kiss him once you were both safely away from these assholes. Henry looked down at you again. It ignited a black fire in the back of your mind. How dare you demean Bill, you scrub. Your thoughts fumed. I hope he tears you apart.

“F-fuh-fuck off, B-Bowers.” Bill snapped.

Not only did it shock you, but it shocked the bullies too. Both you and Bill saw it. Henry–for the briefest amount of time–let fear shine through his unforgiving exterior. Paper man, meet lighter, Bill seemed to say with his stance. He was off his bike at that point.

Belch and Victor repeatedly exchanged glances. They were worried that Henry would do something beyond his usual raging threshold and that he would drag them into trouble whether they liked it or not, and for the first time ever you agreed with them. You all wanted to leave and let Henry fume on his own. Bill acknowledged them by making and maintaining eye contact. ‘We’re not afraid of you.’ He chided silently. ‘So you can quit pretending you enjoy this and leave us alone.’

Victor, who appeared to get the message, tugged on Henry’s sleeve. “What the fuck do you want, pansy?” Bowers shouted.

Victor was clearly more afraid of the punishments Henry would bring upon them than he was of Henry. “Dude, how ‘bout we just get outta here, huh?” He whispered.

Belch nodded. “Yeah, Henry. We were gonna hit Costello, remember?”

Henry’s anger shifted from you and Bill to Victor and Belch. You and Bill caught this, and you weren’t complaining. “You two are a bunch of fuckers, you know that right?” He scolded, before turning to you and leaning down. Henry wasn’t all that taller than you, but he still managed to make you feel minuscule. Thought taking another look at his face allowed you to see that he was tired. Being a brooding asshole really takes it out of you, huh, Bowers? You chirped. The fight was over, and with Bill at your side, the two of you had won. “This isn’t over, you shitheads. We’ll be seeing you soon.”

“Yeah,” Belch added. He seemed proud. “Real soon.” and with a final ‘Shut the fuck up, Reginald.’ from Henry, the gang walked off. You and Bill were free.

July 1989 - Bill

The bullies scuffed off, heading the way both Y/N and I had walked down West Broadway. We watched them walk away, with Henry occasionally looking back at us, flipping us off only once.

I turned to Y/N. I could see the fear melting from her face as she watched Bowers walk away. It was reassuring to the point where I finally felt the weight of what I had done. I turned Bowers away in front of Y/N. Is this what Spider-Man feels like after saving Gwen? I pondered. Y/N turned her head to me. Her cheeks were rosy. All the fear was gone, leaving behind her usual sunshine.

I smiled at her and she smiled back. “You shouldn’t have done that, Bill.” She joked. “Bowers is going to be after the both of us. I owe you big time now.”

I shook my head, unable to wipe the grin off my face. “Y-you don’t o-owe me a-a-anything, Y/N.” I managed, but the temptation to reach out and kiss Y/N was growing in my chest, making me nervous. I was close enough to do it, but God she was too beautiful for me to handle. I could barely handle myself and my stutter, much less her. “W-we can c-c-call i-i-it e-” I couldn’t form my sentence. My head was tumbling and my lips were on Y/N’s.

Looking down I found her hands gently placed around the back of my neck. She had pulled me in, her soft lips on mine. I couldn’t help but close my eyes and thank God.

She pulled away, glanced at my lips again, then looked me in the eyes. “Thank you, Bill.” She said softly. “You may have just saved my life.” The only thing I could think to say was ‘Ditto.’ She chuckled. “I swear you’re my guardian angel.”

I wanted to hold her close and say ‘I’m not the angel here’ but instead I just laughed. Then I remembered that she was making her way somewhere. I don’t care where you go. I thought. As long as I can take you there. Reaching down I grabbed my bike off the concrete. “Need a ride?”

Y/N beamed. She was exhausted and whether or not she wanted to show it, I knew. “I don’t want to trouble you, Bill. I live up Witcham and-”

“Don’t w-worry.” I assured, smiling. “Me too.” I took her hand gently, leading her to the bike. “I’ll t-take you to your house on one c-condition.” She furrowed her eyebrows a little, confused. “You have to promise me I can take you to Bassey Park tomorrow, too.”

She smiled again, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’d love that, Bill.” She cooed, sliding on the seat behind me before kissing me on the cheek. Thank God she was behind me because I could feel my cheeks heating up again. She wrapped her arms around my stomach and laid her head on my back as we started again down West Broadway, then Witcham. I yelled “Hi-Ho, Silver. Away!” and off we rode, happy and free.

I adore you all with everything i am and I hope you’re having amazing days, nights and/or work breaks. With love and appreciation: E <3

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devolympian · 4 years

Text

I’ve been working on chapter 4 of my novel for awhile now but I’m not sure if I like it. I was thinking about restarting but would like to hear other peoples opinions first. Please give this a read and tell me your honest thoughts about the characters dialogue and how the chapter feels to you.

Once our houses were in view I pushed down on the breaks and slowly brought us to a stop right next to the curb of Skyes place.

“Attention passengers” I said, while cupping my hand over my mouth for a good muffled effect, “we have arrived at our destination. If you lost luggage on the way or were harmed during travel it was your own fault.”

“You know” Skye stated as she took her helmet off, “when a light turns yellow it does not mean that you should go faster.”

“It does if you’re racing.”

“And who were you racing?”

Exactly on que Clairabell pulls up behind us in her cute, pink, corvette. Skyes new little buddy raindrop wasn’t too far behind.

“What the hell guys” Clair demanded as she stepped out, “why did you go so fast?”

“Cause you gotta go fast.”

Rolling her eyes, but still smiling, Skye shoved her helmet on my head and slid off my bike. It squeezes my head, like a lot, but I leave it on cause it makes me look funny.

Raindrop follows Skye as she walks through her chain linked gate and I offer my hand to Clair.

“Ma lady, shall I escort you to this fine establishment?”

“Only if you wipe the sweat off first” She tells me with a smirk that flashes her long and sharp canines.

“Motorcycle. They make your hands wet.”

“You should put that on a shirt.”

“I actually did, like as soon as I got that thing. The money from that is gonna put Fiona through college and is currently fueling my addiction to carbonated drinks.”

“Wait, soda’s addictive?”

“Probably.”

“Hey” Skye calls out to us, “you guys coming?”

I smile at her and then grab Clairs hand with my moist, sweety, icky fingers and rush towards Skye.

“Ew” she groans, “Zee, I told you to wipe them off.”

“Yep, you sure did.”

“Babe, I love you, but I will break your fingers.”

“Fair Enough.”

“How does your hand get like that any way” Skye asked me as she eyes my hand as it interlocks with Clairs?

“My gloves did it. They get super warm and just wreck my hands.”

Skye and Clair both look at with confused and befuddled expressions. And, yes, confused and befuddled do mean the exact same thing.

“Oh” Skye finally responds, “is that all?”

“Well what did you think the answer was?”

“I don’t know.”

“It’s you” Clair adds, “we just sort of assumed it would be something, a little out there.”

I give both of them a hurt look and let go of Clairabells hand before placing mine onto my chest with a loud gasp. Stepping away I reach into my pocket with my other hand and pull out a small cube with a bright red carving on it.

“You mean” I say, while still holding the heartbroken look onto my face, “something like this?”

I promptly smash the flame rune on top of my head and light my hair on fire.

“I! Am! Ghost rider!”

“Pretty much, yeah” Skye bluntly tells me.

“Oh dang, I need to work on my shtick.”

“Or you could stop lighting yourself on fire” Clair suggested.

Skye then promptly grabbed the hose on her front porch and turned the knob at the tip causing the water to trickle out.

“Undine.”

With the spell word out of her mouth, the hose instantly blasted me in the face, putting out my awesome new hair style.

“ . . .Honestly, you probably should just start keeping water on you at all times. You know I’m just going to light myself on fire again.”

“I really wish you wouldn’t” a very familiar voice states from behind the girls, “it’s getting harder to replace the clothes you burn up.”

I look over the girls shoulders as they turn to greet the woman behind them.

“In all honesty, that could be avoided if you just bought me like fire fighter gear or something.”

As usual for when she’s gardening, her wheat colored hair was tied up into a ponytail and her brown tank top and tan cargo shorts were caked in dirt. In her glove covered hands was a pot which housed a red flower covered in purple polka dots.

“Hello Kore” Clair nervously blurts out as she tries to look not freaked out.

“Hi Zees mom” Skye happily says as she waves.

“Hi Skye” Eema says, intentionally ignoring Clair, “how’s the night going for you kids?”

“I got a worm,” I happily told her.

“I saw. It was on the news. Do not bring it into the house.”

“I make no promises.” I then promptly turn to head into Skyes home, “we’re gonna play vidyer games now. Real pew pew stuff.”

Eema rolls her eyes in response before setting the plant she was carrying onto the ground.

“Oh,” she states jumping back up before calling to us, “Skye, your mom needs your help outback.”

“Huh” Skye stutters out, before getting a look that says she knows what Eema is talking about, “right, sorry.”

With that, Clair and I watched Skye rush to the side of her house, her long curly mess of blonde hair trailing behind her.

“I’ll see you guys inside” she yells to us before disappearing into her backyard.

Her new little familiar, the water pegasus Rain drop, decided to ignore where it’s master had gone and instead began helping itself to the water from the still turned on hose.

“Is it safe for that thing to drink from there” Clair questioned as the horse gorged itself on hose water? “Aw no worries” I answered, “there’s only like a 75% chance it’ll get lead poisoning. Now, to the mind numbing rpg!”

“Send your sister home when you’re done,” Eema told me as I opened the door.

“Will do.”

Stepping into Skyes home Clair and I were greeted by the sight of three eight year olds riding around on a giant black cat. Her name’s Sheba and she’s a good kitty.

“Hi Zee” one of the kids happily yelled at me.

“Hello young travelers” I responded with my best old english accent, “art though off on a grand adventure to slay the wicked monsters that plague this kingdom.”

“No” the boy sitting behind the first child answered, “we’re just riding our kittie.”

“Stop being a dork” the girl on the very back demanded of me.

Now, if you will allow, I am going to describe these three little gremlins to you fine readers in hopes you will have a clear visual picture of what they look like.

The two upfront were basically little Skyes, but with dark brown hair instead of blonde and one was biologically male. These are her little baby brother and sister, Nina and lucky little Luke. And, if you looked hard enough, you could see a few freckles decorating their dark skin.

The smaller girl on the back had straight red hair with her bangs cut flat so you could perfectly see her lightning blue eyes. This was my adorably pressase little sister Fiona Green, who adored and worshiped her super cool and talented big brother like the god he is.

“Move” Fiona yelled, “Sheba wants outside!”

I responded to my loving sister's request by sitting down and petting the panther on her head.

“Who’s a good girl” I ask the cat as she purrs from head scritches, “Sheba is, yes she is.”

“No” Nina objected, “he’s stealing the cat.”

“Counter attack” Luke yelled.

The three small children jumped off the giant cats back and leaped at me with all their combined power.

Naturally, they knocked me to the ground with ease.

“We got him” they all cheered.

However.

“Bwahahaha” I laughed as I rose from the ground, the children clinging to me, “did thee truly think that would be enough to slay thy! For I have no weakness!”

“Got ya” Clair cheered as she wrapped around me from behind.

“Ahh, my one weakness!”

Turning around, and making sure the kids and Clair were safe from getting hurt, I fell onto the heavily cushioned couch with all four of them giggling.

“What’s going on out there” a man's voice called from the kitchen nearby.

I sit up slightly on the couch, with Clair and the kids still holding onto me, and see a tall man step into the frame of the kitchen entrance. He had deep dark skin, curly brown hair which bordered on black and thick glasses that covered his blue eyes.

This is Skyes dad, Stanley Right. He is also a writing teacher and will straight up give you homework if you spell anything wrong.

Silver Lining, I is a rally good at the spolling of words now and gramericals.

“Oh” he said, taking note of Clair and I, “hey guys, what’s up.”

“Daddy” Nina yelled, leaping off of me and over the couch, “ Zee’s trying to steal Sheba.”

“I stopped him,” Luke stated, proudly standing on the back of the couch. I had to hold his shirt collar to make sure he didn’t fall to the floor.

“Did not, I did!”

“No” Fiona added in, as she stood on my stomach, “he’s my brother, so I did!”

“I’m sure you all did a great job keeping Sheba safe,” Stan assured the kids as he petted the cats head, “now please stop playing on the couch and come eat, dinner’s ready.”

“Ok” they all said at once.

Luke and Fiona both leaped off the couch, with Fiona making sure she dug her feet into my gut so she could jump high enough. She honestly should be in football with how hard she kicks. Also, I should probably see a doctor.

I won’t but I should.

“Are you guys hungry” Stan asked us as we started sitting up, “it’s meatball night?”

“Oh I can’t” Clair said, “I ate too much already.”

“I’ll take some balls in my mouth” I happily told Skyes dad, “you got rice with it?”

“Mashed potatoes” he told me, “but we used rice to make the meat balls.”

“Ooh, nice.”

I followed Stan into the kitchen while Clair chilled out on the couch and started messing around on her phone.

In the kitchen, the kids sat at an oval shaped table with plates in front of them that were filled with fluffy garlic butter mashed potatoes, two large meatballs with bits of rice in them, all of which were slightly covered with pork and mushroom gravy.

All three, thinking they were being sneaky, shared with Sheba who was begging at their feet.

“Here ya go” Stan said as he finished making a similar plate and held it out to me.

Naturally, most likely sensing that there was food with her food sense, Skye opened the nearby sliding backdoor and stepped into the kitchen. Her sweater and skirt had dirt sprinkled all over them and her glasses looked way more smudged then normal.

Close behind her was a slightly taller woman who honestly could have passed as Skyes twin sister if it weren’t for the fact that she was of a much lighter skin tone.

She had her ankle length blond hair tied in a tight bun and wore red gardening shorts with a tight white tank top which Skye has repeatedly begged her not to wear in public because of the tingly feeling it gave people when they saw her in it.

Apparently Skye didn’t like the fact that her mom, whose name is Trina, was the current crush of half the people in the neighborhood. A fact which I personally found hilariously.

“Skye” Nina yelled as she turned in her chair to greet her big sister. “Look!”

The little girl promptly reached into her pocket and held out a small, slightly yellow, tooth.

“Is that your tooth” Skye asked, a slightly worried look on her face.

You might think that’s a dumb question, but those twins tryed to set up a tooth ponzy scheme by tricking other kids into giving them their teeth. They made about 40 bucks before their mom put a stop to it.

“It is” Trina assured her, “but the way she got it out is a bit-”

“I punched her in the face,” Luke proudly stated.

“He did,” Fiona stated, “there was a lot of blood.”

“It took us five trys,” Nina happily added, clearly unbothered by the fact that her brother repeatedly bashed her face in.

“We’re going to get it traded in tomorrow” Trina sighed, “and until then neither of you are going on the computer. Are we clear.”

“Yes mommy” the twins said in unison, clearly not wanting to upset their mother anymore then they already had.

“I was uninvolved,” Fiona argued, “I’m not being punished too right?”

“You were there,” Nina stated.

“Yeah,” Luke added, “that makes you an accomplish, an accompouly, an accompert. . . you’re guilty!”

“Ok” Skye said, as she tried her best to understand the logic of seven year olds, “why did Luke even punch- are those meatballs?”

“Yep” Stan said as he walked a plate over to his wife, “here you go hun. Fresh warm balls.”

“Ew” Skye stated, “dad, don’t make jokes like that.”

“Thank you Stanny” Trina stated as she gave her husband a quick kiss, “I just adore your BALLS!”

“Mom!”

“Oh baby,” Stan told his wife, clearly picking up on the fact that they were tormenting their eighteen year old daughter, “these BALLS are all for you!”

“Please stop!”

“Oh come on” Trina stated as she sat down with her other two children and Fiona, “I need to praise your dad's BALLS, he has great BALLS!”

The three kids, and myself, promptly burst into uncontrollable laughter at the repeated shouting of the word balls.

“Okay, gross, ew, gross” Skye stated as she walked over to me, “can I please just eat.”

“You can still eat” I asked as she got her plate ready?

“I’m a growing girl.”

She finished stacking a few meatballs on top of her giant pile of mashed potatoes before opening the fridge and handing me a can of soda.

“Oh” she stated, two more sodas balanced in her filled arms, “can we eat in my room? We wanted to play games.”

“Sure” Stan said, “just bring your plates down when you're done.”

“Okay, thanks guys.”

“Don’t stay up too late,” Trina yelled as we exited the kitchen.

“Yo” I said to Clair as she reclined on Skyes couch, her phone in hand, “we heading up.”

“Dibs on the red controller” she said as she leaped off the couch and followed after Skye.

Jokes on her, I wanted the pink controller anyway. It has pretty flowers and sparkles on it.

The upstairs of Skyes house was made up of a short hallway with a closet at the end of it, one master bedroom on the left side and Skyes room and a bathroom on the right. The twins made their room in the garage which honestly was a pretty cool deal with how much their parents renovated it for them.

Other than which side they were on, the best way to tell which room was Skyes was by the pokemon stickers and cut out anime characters taped onto the door and the sign she hung on the door knob that said “welcome to the dungeon”. I have the same sign hung on the door to my basement if anyone was wondering.

With a quick turn of the knob, Clair and I were greeted by the scent of rosemary and lavender which filled a room decorated with a string of lights hung across the sealing, anime posters on the wall, and a few cute stuffed animals resting on the shelves a neatly made twin sized bed.

Over on the right side of the room were two large book shelves filled with books, manga, and comics which we have spent years repeatedly reading together. It also had a few toys and figurines strewn about it that added a bit of flare.

I make a mental note to stock up my personal collection of action figures and anime toys because they are awesome and everyone should have them decorating their living areas.

A little to the right of the book shelves was a tall entertainment stand with a TV set on top of it and two game systems hooked up on the bottom. Several games sat next to the consoles, just begging us to play them.

Skye walked in first and switched off the string of lights so she could use a more simple overhead light.

“What do you guys want to play” she asked before setting down her food and the two drinks, “oh, here Clair.”

She handed Clair one of the drinks as we sat on the two of the three cushions set directly in front of the TV.

“Thank you gorgeous” Clair said with a smile.

She opened it and took a quick sip before leaning forward to check out which video game would catch her eye.

Skye, meanwhile, started stripping off her dirt covered clothes while I enjoyed a nice helping of balls and white stuff in my mouth.

“How about soul calibur?”

“Naw” I said through bites, “you two will just get pissed off at me.”

“That’s because you constantly spam the same gosh darn move,” Skye said as she slipped her tank top off, “how about Isac?”

“That’s one player,” Calir said.

“Blondie” I asked, “why don’t you have a bra on?”

“None of them are fitting” she grumbled, “they shrunk in the wash or something.”

“Yeah you keep telling yourself that.”

After slipping her stockings and shoes off Skye tossed her dirty clothes into a small laundry basket at the end of her bed and headed to the restroom she had between her bookshelf and TV, a fact which I find weird as hell because no room, other than ones you vacation too like hotels, needs a bathroom in it. That is an unnecessary luxury and I stand by it no matter what you say.

“Here” Clair practically screamed.

She happily sat up and showed me the game she had chosen for us.

Quest, original edition. A fun little JRPG from way back in the old times of the 1970’s that got relaunched last year. The game is basically your run of the mill save the princess story from an evil lord while playing as either a mage, warrior, or rogue with two friends.

Combat is fun, original japanese diolage is translated in stupid english, and you can murder an old man for a magic pumpkin. What’s not to love?

Granted the original version is a little dated, what with it’s casual display of several racial stereotypes, rampant sexism, and dated social political views on several races that aren’t human.

But it also had an awesome mini game where you fight in a giant robot so I guess you need to take the good with the bad.

“Sounds good” I tell her before yelling at Skye, “blondie, we found a game.”

“Kay” she yelled back, “just let me get my contacts in and jammies on.”

“Dude, why do you keep your clothes in the bathroom closet?”

“Why don’t you?”

Fair enough.

Before Skye could leave her, completely unnecessary, bathroom Clair was already turning on one of the consoles and putting the game in.

With calming harp music playing the, name of the game, spelt with sparkling golden letters, slowly materialized against a brick red backdrop. The words “press any button” flashed at the bottom of the screen.

“Here you go” Clair said, handing me my favorite controller as she held hers firmly in her other hand.

Taking my pretty pink controller I readly tap a random button.

“New game” I ask the girls when our options show up.

“Yes” they both yell.

An epic trumpet sound erupts from the TV as soon as I hit the new game option before the screen goes to a deep black and the word loading flashes on the lower right.

Skye stepped out to join us and was now dressed in a white tank top and dark blue bike shorts. Her curly mess of blond hair was undone and fell to the floor of her room and her green eyes were no longer covered by her glasses.

“Why hello girl who desperately needs a haircut” I teased as Skye took her seat, food and drink in hand, “glad you could join us on our epic quest to slaughter the innocent demons caught in their king's political scandal.”

“It’s still kind of weird that they took out the human characters people were mad about but left the demons as is” Skye said as she took her controller, “also, I will never cut this mess. I have been growing it for way too long to turn back now.”

“Game’s starting” Clair informed us.

Starting at the bottom of the screen, bright yellow words began to slowly slide up.

“Why hello young travelers,” an old man's voice said as the words appeared, “I welcome thee to thine-”

“Skip” I state before repeatedly tapping the X button and skipping through the dialog.

“Alex” Skye exclaimed, clearly annoyed that I was trying to get to the game as soon as possible.

“Dude, this intro is like five minutes long and we’ve seen it like a hundred times now.”

“Yeah but it’s still a fun story. The introduction’s the best part.”

“And thus” the old man continued, “the king spread his seed throughout the line, hoping to father an heir who would raise-”

“Okay skip it.”

“Was that in the Japanese version” Clair asked as she switched from sitting on the pillow to laying on her stomach.

“No” I informed them, “the original had his son banging all the prostitutes and abandoning all his bastard children.”

“Oh wow that’s so much better.”

“Now tell me heroes,” the old man finished, “whom are you?”

On the screen appeared a cute young girl with braided white hair and dressed in a red robe standing between a large man in golden armor and a person in a dark brown cloak, whose gender is still being argued about to this very day.

“Dibs on the warrior” Skye yelled before instantly clicking on the hulking monster in armor.

“Cute girl” Clair screamed as she selected the red mage.

“And I will screw with everyone” I proudly state right before selecting the best character, the rogue who can steal from any npc, set traps, and gives Skye and Clair a headache because setting the traps right in front of them is really fun.

Which I did the moment the game started and inflicted both of their characters with poison.

“. . .Why do we let him be the thief again?”

“Cause neither of us want to be the thief.”

Mwahahaha.

#fantasy novel #feedback #send help #writing #original novel

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dontshootmespence · 7 years

Text

The Set Up

A/N: Another JJ request from @marvelfanlife because Ish is so in love :D This request was for JJ and the reader to have a relationship like Garcia and Morgan. Flirty and amazing basically. When the other isn’t around, both confess to the rest of the team for their feelings for each other, and let’s just say the team wants to do something about that. ;) @coveofmemories @sexualemobitch @jamiemelyn @unstoppableangel8 @iammostdefinitelyonfire26 @lukeassmanalvez @amarislestrange @obsessed5sosfreak @sonhadoraativa @1enchantedfantasy1 @ace-and-rosey @ssamango @twelveyearoldchildprodigy @offbrandcursewords @entelechysymphony @milkandcookies528 @pugs-cats-bb-8 @davidr0ssi

-----

As you did every morning, you walked straight into the bullpen and found JJ at the coffee machine, bumping your butt against hers and of course being careful not to make her spill her coffee. JJ without coffee in the morning was actually pretty scary. You’d been at the bad end of that deal once or twice before and you had no desire to be there again. Scary. Imagining JJ as scary was not fun. For a tiny, blonde federal agent, she could kick some serious ass that was not to be trifled with. “Morning sexy,” you said after she’d had her first sip.

Sleepily, she smacked your butt. “Nice outfit,” she replied. You were wearing a tight navy blue pencil skirt and a gray silk halter-top. “Hot date tonight?”

“Nah,” you replied honestly. “Just had to dress up for you.” You actually did dress up for JJ - a lot. It probably would’ve been easier for you to just ask her out, but it was easier said then done, so every day you dressed to the nines hoping to catch the attention of the object of your affection. God, she’s so dreamy.

“Always appreciated,” she smiled, her eyes glowing as you walked toward your desks. Of course, JJ was always dressed impeccably. Today, she was wearing a pair of tight black jeans, a red, silk tank top, which was dressed up a bit for work with a leather jacket that hugged her frame perfectly. There was a little bit of skin sticking out at the bottom of her shirt, as if she’d dressed quickly and ran out of the house without taking a glance in the mirror. Reaching down, you pulled at the hem of her shirt and blushed slightly when your finger slid touched the hem of her pants. Shake it off, Y/N. The last thing this office needed was a confessed love that turned into nothing and then ruined the dynamic of the team. “Now get that sexy ass to work before Hotch kills us.”

“Hotch would never kill us,” you laughed. “He loves us too much. He might give us a death glare though.”

“I think that might be worse.”

-----

“Alright,” Y/N said as the entire team poured over paper after paper trying to come up with a break in the case. “I need fuel. I’m gonna grab us some pizza because we haven’t eaten in eight hours. What does everyone want to drink?” JJ had just left to use the restroom, but Y/N knew what she wanted anyway. From the pizza place, it was always Sprite. Always.

Everyone rattled off their drink orders and Y/N walked out just as JJ was walking back in. She didn’t even check in with JJ to ask what she wanted because she already knew. “Hot stuff!” JJ called out, to which Y/N responded immediately.

“Yes, love?”

“Can I get a Sprite?”

“Babe, I already knew that. That’s why I didn’t ask.”

JJ beamed at Y/N, her head thrown back in laughter. “You know me so well.”

As she walked out of the room, JJ found herself staring at the way Y/N’s hip swayed. It was actually kind of hypnotizing. When she turned back around to get back to her papers, everyone was staring at her. “What?”

Emily cut her eyes at her best friend, dumbfounded that she would even try to evade that kind of a question in a room full of profilers. “What do you mean what? You were staring at Y/N’s ass.”

“What? She has a nice butt,” JJ said, a minuscule blush tinging the dimples of her cheeks as she tried to hide her smile.

“You like her don’t you?” Garcia asked excitedly. She clapped her hands at the myriad possibilities. “You two need to go out on a date. You’d be like the most beautiful power couple in the world.”

“She’s not into me like that.”

Rossi exclaimed from just outside the room, where he was getting a drink of water from the cooler. “Are you kidding? Yes, she does.”

“You’re out of your mind,” she said, waving off the rest of her friend’s insistences that Y/N would in fact date her. She couldn’t get into that. If, in all likelihood, their relationship was just a flirty friendship, she couldn’t risk losing her. No matter how much JJ was into her, it wasn’t worth the risk. Her friendship meant too much.

-----

JJ’s morning had not gone well, and neither had Emily’s so the two of them had already taken a lunch break, but now your stomach was in desperate need of food. From across the aisle, you heard Spencer’s stomach growl too. “You sound hungry too. Want to go grab something to eat with me?”

“Sounds good. Let me just grab my coat.” As he stood up, JJ passed to walk into Hotch’s office. Your eyes lingered on her body for a moment and then Derek walked up to you and Spencer, smiling like he knew something you didn’t.

“You two going to lunch?”

“Yea, you wanna come? I desperately need food.”

Morgan waved you off. “I had something a little bit earlier, but if you do pass the deli and they have those fresh chocolate chip cookies, I wouldn’t hate it.” Again your eyes gaze backwards, giving JJ a small glance before you left.

Once you headed into the elevator and outside in the direction of your favorite deli, Spencer asked you something you never expected of him. “Do you like JJ? I mean, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but you seem to like her. As in you’d want to date her. I think you would make a great couple.”

“You do?” You did too, but you never entertained the thought for long. It hurt too much to think she didn’t like you in that way.

Spencer blushed. This wasn’t the usual thing he talked about. “I do. The two of you are two of my best friends. You’d make an amazing couple.”

“Oh, Spence, you are quite the charmer. I do like JJ. But I don’t think she likes me like that, so I haven’t taken the risk. I don’t want to lose her if she doesn’t see me in that way, you know?”

“Yea, I get that.” It looked like he had an idea, but he immediately changed the conversation, so you didn’t push it any further.

-----

“Okay, thanks to Boy Wonder, we now know that Y/N likes JJ and JJ likes Y/N. Are we all set? Is the plan ready to go? Are we all ready to watch the beginning of one of the most beautiful love stories of our time?” Garcia was just a little overly excited. On a particular street in town, there was a pizza place, a park, and an ice cream shop in that order. Spencer, Emily and Rossi were taking JJ to get pizza, and Morgan, Hotch and Garcia were taking Y/N to get ice cream. At least that’s what they thought. JJ would have to walk in Y/N’s direction to get home and vice versa so they’d both end up at the park and they’d talk and feelings would be spilled and they’d live happily ever after. According to Garcia. She had high hopes.

Later that night, both groups of friends told Y/N and JJ to meet at 8 PM. Prompt as usual, they both arrived on time. After about 20 minutes, Y/N texted Morgan, Hotch and Garcia, who said they could make it, but they’d be late. Meanwhile, Emily, Spencer and Rossi all bailed on JJ for one reason or another. “Another night?” JJ said, a little disappointed. “Sounds good. See you all on Monday.”

As she exited the pizza place and headed toward home, she saw Y/N leave the ice cream place, a vanilla soft serve cone in her hands. “Y/N! Hey beautiful!”

“Oh, my love,” she replied with a smile. “I am just headed home after Morgan, Hotch and Garcia said they were going to be late. I asked if they wanted to reschedule.”

JJ’s gaze went back toward the pizza place and then toward Y/N again. “That’s what just happened with Spencer, Emily and Rossi.”

“That’s...weird,” Y/N said confused. “Since we’re both out, you wanna hanging the park for a little? Be big babies for a while?”

“Only if you let me have a bite of your ice cream cone,” she said, extending her hand for the cone. It was a given that Y/N was going to give her a bite. That’s just how they worked. As they approached the slide, Y/N climbed up and slide down, falling on her butt and nearly knocking JJ on her feet at the same time. They took turns for nearly 15 minutes going down the slide until JJ wouldn’t get up and Y/N went on while JJ was still seated. Y/N knocked her right off the slid and they ended up on the grass together. “Nice. Now you have dirt all over that gorgeous ass of yours.”

Something took over Y/N. She had no idea what it was, but she couldn’t stop herself until it had already happened. Soft lips met soft lips, lingering just slightly before JJ brought her hand to the back of Y/N’s head and brought her in for a more fervent kiss. “Where did that come from?” she asked.

Y/N blushed and pushed onto her knees, ready to run at a moment’s notice. “I’m sorry. It just...I’ve been wanting to do that for a while, but I didn’t think you were into me like that so I didn’t say anything. Didn’t want to risk our friendship.”

“I get that,” she said, her eyes downcast before her gaze lingered on Y/N’s dirt-covered jeans and up toward her face. “But I do...I do like you like that.”

“Really? Maybe we can give this a try?”

JJ leaned in and kissed her passionately before pulling away. “What’s wrong?” Y/N asked. Maybe she was second-guessing herself.

“Don’t you think this is convenient? You and I had things to do with the team and then we both get blown off?”

You fell backwards into the grass and laughed. “Those fuckers set this up, didn’t they?”

“I think they did.” She giggled into her shoulder and soon they were lying in the grass in a fit of laughter.

“We should thank them.”

“Yea, I think we should...” JJ hesitated. “Sneaky bitches.”

#jennifer jareau #jennifer jareau x reader #jennifer jareau fanfiction #jennifer jareau fic #dontshootmespence #the set up

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lovelawactually · 7 years

Text

Heart And Soul

The garden was much larger than Law would have imagined, it was located in the center of the sensei’s home, rather - it seemed that the home was built around it. Law sat on a simple wooden bench, his back leaning against the railing of the deck - it provided a walkway across the water that flowed into the small pond located inside the garden. The first thoughts that came to his mind when he was ceremoniously evicted from the dining room were fueled by curiosity - as to what the sensei would need to do, to ready herself for the task ahead of her. He deduced the process was much like a surgery, he had read that the tools and methods used were similar in nature - he too, preferred to prepare in the solitude of a quiet theater. He would kick out all of the crew so that he could work alone, if he had the luxury.

Law closed his eyes and inhaled the crisp, clean air of the autumn morning - the only sounds to be heard were chirps of the birds nearby, or the occasional splash of water from the koi that swam in the garden pond. He crossed his arms over his chest and tucked his chin into his chest, making himself more comfortable on the bench - stretching his long and lean legs out in front of him. The space of the garden was peaceful, calming - he thought to himself that he would like to have a similar spot, should he ever find himself settling into a home somewhere. The thought of settling somewhere had never crossed his mind before, he never imagined his life after Dressrosa - until very recently, he had not given much thought to his future - shared or otherwise. He still wondered if, after all that he had done - how he had failed - if he should even dare to imagine living in peace. If he deserved it. Law set his jaw and furrowed his eyebrows, remembering what the sensei had said to him - telling him he was a good man, that he was good for Tori - treating him as if he were a decent person. She barely knew him - what did she know?

The internal dialogue that played in Law’s mind was interrupted by something brushing against his legs - he opened his eyes to see a small cat with glossy black fur and large yellow-green eyes - it sat down beside his feet and blinked slowly at him. Law sighed and closed his eyes again, pulling his arms tighter against his chest - thinking that if he ignored the animal, it would go away. The cat bumped into Law’s leg with its head, rubbing itself against him - meowing over and over again. Law opened one eye to glare at the cat, as soon as he did - the cat sat down by his feet once more, staring at him. “Oi. I don’t have anything for you to eat. What do you want?” As if the cat understood what Law was saying, it jumped up onto his thigh and proceeded to position itself comfortably in his lap - it rubbed its head against the back of his hand. Law smirked and chuckled, moving his hand to stroke the top of the cat’s head with his fingertips. “You shouldn’t just jump into strange laps - it’s dangerous.” The cat closed its eyes and purred loudly, it seemed pay no heed to the warning - enjoying the attention that Law was giving it.

Sachiyo quietly watched the scene unfold through a small gap in the doorway - she intended to to only observe Law for a moment, she was curious as to how he would choose to occupy himself while he waited for her to come fetch him. She smiled, surprised to see her cat sitting on Law’s lap - he was not the sort of cat that would normally give or receive affection - from anyone, including her. Sachiyo opened the door, calling out to Law. “Kame - you can come back inside. Hisoka has to stay out though.” Law shook his head, he was not sure how he felt about the nickname that Sachiyo had given him - he had certainly been called worse, and he did not think that his thoughts would deter the sensei from using it - not in the slightest. Law picked up the cat, looking it in the eyes. “Hisoka sounds much more cool than Kame. Want to trade?”

Law walked inside, through the dining room and into Sachiyo’s studio - Tori was laying on her back, eyes closed - a white cotton sheet draped over her, pulled over her chest - her arms and shoulders exposed. Sachiyo directed Law’s attention to a cushion that had been set up in the corner, “You can sit there to observe -“ She looked at him over the rims of the round glasses that sat on low on her nose, “But before you get comfortable - I need to have a look at the reference material.” Law scrunched his eyebrows together in confusion, “Reference material?” Tori giggled and opened her eyes, she pat the floor next to the futon she was lying on - to request that he sit beside her. “Sensei needs to see your tattoos - the ones on your shoulders - and your chest.” Law’s eyes widened in surprise, he inhaled sharply at the realization - that Tori had chosen to not only mark herself for him - she intended the image that would be inked into her skin be something that was also symbolic of him. He sat down slowly, in a crosslegged position - his eyes glazed over, he was not sure how he felt about the idea exactly. On the one hand, he was deeply touched - on the other, he was uncertain if it was something that he should agree to allow. He did not think that he had the right to make the decision for her - it was her body, so it should ultimately be her choice but Law questioned why Tori would want to do such a thing - for him.

“Tori - I - are you sure that is what you want to do?” Tori smiled, she was not surprised at his reaction - it was the primary reason she had chosen to wait to share the details with him. “I’ve never been more sure - of anything.” She placed her hand over her heart, “This is where I choose to carry you today, and always - I can think of no other image or placement that would be more fitting.” Law sat very still, his face blank - as he absorbed what Tori said to him, he smirked in the way that Tori had come to know meant he not only accepted her decision - he was pleased with it. Given his expression - Tori knew that once they were alone, he would assuredly tease her about the reasoning for her decision - like only he could. “Since it seems that you have no objections - sensei was not impressed with my illustrations, so she wants to see the source for herself.” Sachiyo nodded and smiled at Law - she kneeled beside him, “No need to be shy, Kame - I’ve seen more than my fair share of bare flesh.” Law looked into Tori’s eyes, one eyebrow raised - he pulled open the lapel of the kimono he wore, sliding his shoulders and arms free without a word - allowing it to fall down around his waist, held in place by the obi sash tied around his waist. The expression that Law wore while Sachiyo took sketches of his tattoos further indicated that Tori was in for an interesting evening.

Tori lie back and closed her eyes as Sachiyo began to apply the design onto her skin - the feel of the brush gliding across her chest - the dye left behind cooling in the breeze from the fan, marked the lines that the sensei would follow. In the past, she had used this time to reflect on the part of her that she would give up, the pain that she would leave behind. As the sensei began to etch the ink into her skin, she smiled - the act of the tattoo signified the permanence of the love she felt for Law. She had known that she loved him - she knew that she always would - she had told him as much, showed him in the only way that she knew how. In this moment, Tori was not sure if Law would be able to accept just how much she loved him - the one thing that she did know that he understood now was that she was his. Forever.

Sachiyo’s voice came, soft and serene - as it always did. “Have you found peace yet, child?” Tori smiled, “No sensei, it found me.”

#trafalgar d. water law #trafalgar law #one piece fanfiction #op fanfiction #one piece oc #op oc #my oc #yashimatori #shambledsurgeon

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zexxcandell · 7 years

Note

Kathreine made her way to the winery to check in on Zexx. It'd been quite a while. She walked into the shop and smiled to see him standing at the counter and going through papers; crunching numbers it seemed. "Hey, Zexxy! Pull any accidental murder jokes on any more lovely, unsuspecting women lately?" She smirked as she walked over to the counter and hopped up to sit down not giving him a moment to answer, "Tell me the worst thing you've ever done. I'll take it to my grave, I swear."

Blinks as he looks up from his clipboard, surprised at seeing the young woman coming into the shop. He smiled and had to laugh as he shook his head, "No afraid that terrible joke is only for you."

He would lay down the stack of papers as he felt her brush past him and land on the counter. A slight disapproving look crossing his face before her rather abrupt and personal question. "The worst thing I've ever done? I'd think a life time of fighting would have its littering of widows and orphans to amount to the worst I've done."

A slight frown still on his face as he reached back behind the counter for a bottle of Rogue and a couple of glasses, being the manager had it's perks now and again. Setting the glasses down he filled them up and thought back on his life for a few moments. "I think you're more looking for something shameful from my younger days which I assure you there's plenty of."

Lifting the glass to his lips he would stare off for a few moments and leaned his hip into the counter, "When I was young guy and the portal had just reopened I had a run in with a mask..."

•

It was raining again in Shattrah, and by again meant that it never stopped. The broken slums of the once jewel city of Draenor teemed with refugees of every race, creed, and lot. Among these came the stumping figure of a dwarf, clanking forward through the growing mud to stop before the famous World's End. The smells and sound of the tavern causing his wide brimmed hat to lift up and stare in past the flimsy blue cloth curtain door. A growl would rumble from deep inside him, "Boy ya bettah be here."

Plated boots clanked heavily against the stone steps as he passed the entrance into the bar, his hand coming up to pull the hat from his head and shake the water off. Horgast Stonefist was as terrifying and impressive as a dwarf lord could be. His body wrapped in the plate armor of his forefathers like a second skin, the rain water falling away in beads from the steel shone with an otherworldly craftsmanship. A mat of bright red hair collided with the thick long beard that tucked into his massive belt around his mid section, the hard black eyes of a warrior scouring the near empty common room before finding the blood elf behind the bar. "Where is eh?" He growled to the elf who stood still as stone for a moment before pointing to the back private antechamber near the stage. A grunt was all that was given in thanks to the long ear before he stumped to the private room.

Even before reaching the glossamar curtains a wretched scent wafted through to his bulbous nose, a hard grimace and narrowing of his brow into a hard look. Blood. Death. Using his hat he would push aside the curtain and step in, his rumbling voice tolling forth, "Zexx, ya here lad?"

A soft husky chuckle would be the answer from the dimly lit corner of the room, a pair of dirty fel iron boots resting on the table in the center of the room. "Horgie! Of all the dirt bars in Outland, how'd you find me here? Pull up a cushion! Take a seat."

Horgast remained standing, the hat tossed aside to land with a wet flop on the stone floor. His black eyes staring hard into the shadows as he spoke again, "Nah lad, sat loong nuff on tha journeh ere. How ya oldin ep?"

"Oh I'm just dandy there Horg, just doing the good work on these traitorous asshats." The husky chuckle became an excited giggle, as the boots clanked back the floor the remnants of mud and a sticky red where they once sat. The following clank of gauntlets hit the table as the grinning face of Zexx leaned forward now. The man looked...unhinged to say the least. His one blue eye blood shot and wild to match his beard and long hair, his other eye stared sightless from its socket hazy and milky as it rolled in his socket.

"Ya dunnae say? Cause ya knew yer communin stone been on tha lass few ours. Wut ya baen doin here?" Horgast didn't have time to waste with cat and mouse games with his friend. There was a sickness in the man and he had to clear it out of him, his hands tucking into his belt as he let the weight of his words land on Zexx. One way or another.

The grin faltered a bit as he shrugged the green tinted mail creaking as he clenched and unclenched his hands. "My part in this war! Making those pointy earred bastards pay." Zexx breathing was growing shallow, his one eye darting back and forth for a moment.

"Bah butcherin blud elfs en thar behds?! Ya been usin gain havant ya? Gahdam et Zexx, ah tol ya ya donnae nehd et! Ware is et?" And the dwarf would step forward, Stonefists never being a clan known for their patience as he advanced on the swordsman. His strong hands grasping the ends of the table to toss it aside with a clatter, cornering his mad friend.

Zexx sprang back from the dwarf into the corner, his grin pulling into a salivating snarl. Like a trapped animal the armored man would steady himself looking for a way to get around his friend. "Get away from me ya stunty bastard! You don't know what's going on out here! None of you do. None of you!" His voice roared back at the angry dwarf, spittle flying in the air as reached for his something hanging from his sword belt.

Horgast grimaced hard beneath the blanket of beard he kept, his hand reaching down to his own belt and pulling out a heavy baton a hiss of steam as it sprang forth as locked into place. The dwarf's eyes flashed as he looked to the belt of his friend, a heavy step taken forward. "Zexx don do thes. Come hom wit meh, Bea es waitin an worrid bout ya."

Trembling with need the human would pull the leather strap free and lift up the object to his head. A half hearted laugh bleeding out as he tugged on a wolf mask, the empty eyes flashing and pulsing with soft red light. His mouth stretching into a grin as he screamed, the rage smothering with a blanket of madness, "I'll do what I want!" His hands flashing to the pair of short blades at his belt as he dove across the chamber with a roar engaging the other warrior with a flurry of blows.

Horgast would counter most of the blows, noting the savagery of the motions and strikes but also the clumsiness of Zexx as he pressed the attack. Steel struck back and forth as shouts of terror and surprise rang among the midday professional drinkers, most doing their best to steer clear of the pair. Horgast grimaced as he batted away at that sword blows, disheartened by his friends apparent need to kill him. Giving ground to the wolf masked hero as they traded blows back and forth through the taverns common room. Zexx seemed to only grow bolder as they continued their fight, his mouth agape in a silent laugh as the eyes of the mask continued to pulsate with otherworldly rage.

A hard over head strike would expose Horgast's middle to a savage kick to his plate protected midsection as Zexx did his best to throw Stonefist off balance. It had its effect as they had reached the door Horgast had entered earlier, falling back his boot stepped wrong on the wet stone and began to topple back with a yell into the rain and mud addled street. By now someone had been smart enough to run off from the tavern looking for help, the peacekeepers soon arriving on the scene of the street fight.

Horgast laid stunned tor a moment as the rain struck him in the face his earlier angry faltering at how his friend could fall this deep into the pit. A shadow falling over the dwarf as the shaking swordsman stood over his fallen lord. A harsh guttural voice would stalk forth from the masked human,"Yield."

For all the bloodlust that Zexx had shown, Horgast was no stranger to his own rage or the fact that he was not prone to lose. Reaching to the side he would scoop up a handful of the muddy street and throw it at Zexx's face the wet muck splattering across his chest and neck as dropping a step in surprise. All the time Horgast needed as he sprang up with his baton and dealt a healthy crack to the side of the human's helmeted head. A sharp inhuman whine and cry would fill the street as Zexx fell to a knee, one of his blades sent bouncing away into the filth. Horgast pulled himself back fully to his feet as he approached his fallen thane, his eyes hard and voice just the same, "Enuff ya stop this ma-Urk!"

Zexx's blade sunk deep between the steel plates of the dwarf lords armor as he snarled up at him, blood leaking from behind the wolf facade just as much from the side of Horgast. A bellow of a warcry issued from the dwarf as he cast the baton aside and brought his gauntleted fist down on Zexx. The crunch of metal to metal mingled wth another cry of pain, the first punch followed again by another and another as the human fell to the onslaught of blows. Breathing heavily, the human was on his knees before him now swaying softly from the beating he had taken. A pang of regret struck Horgast heart seeing his friend and confidant a mess of drug and raged fueled insanity, blinking away the rain as he reached to the mask on his face, "Away wit thes!" The mask holding firm as if by some other force as Horgast began to pull at the piece of leather and iron visage Zexx had adopted.

Whatever loss of coherence was cast aside now as panic and survival instinct kicked in. That same whining cry of pain now became a howl of agony of beastial proportions. Zexx's hands flew up and clawed at the dwarf as he floundered about in agony as if the mask was tearing at something deeper to stay with the warrior. His iron coated hands would grip and tear at the armored dwarf, eventually finding the blade still sticking in his side as gave it a hard kick. The air sucked out of Horgast's lungs at the pain of the wound his hands releasing the mask and letting Zexx fall back with a splash to the ground gasping for air.

Horgast bent over in agony as he reached to his side and gingerly touched the hilt of the short sword sticking out of him at awkward angle. "Ya daft fuckar, this ends noew!" And with that the assault began again, his gauntlets shook off with heavy clanks and splatter of mud as he pried his thick fingers beneath the edges of the mask. The human would thrash about below him as own long arms grasped and tore at his beard for anything to get a hold of. A heavy boot lifting up to slam down on the stomach of his friend for better leverage. Gritting his teeth, Horgast would lean in close to pull already seeing the mask begin to release with red tendril strings grasping at Zexx's head. Then darkness would fall on one of his eyes as the madman had reached his face.

A weakness a way to escape, he had to get away, he had to be free. His hand reached the craggy face of Horgast, a scarred tapestry of a history of violence. It was the purchase he needed. He ground his fingers into flesh and skin scrapping and pulling to be free of the stronger dwarf, pain filling Zexx with each tug as the mask was falling away from him. His thumb found a soft spot, there as he felt the body of the dwarf flinch and try to draw away but there would none of it as he gripped and pressed with all his might a wet feeling spilling over his hand as a scream matched his own as the tendrils of the mask weakened and loosened completely.

Rain splashed over his bare face as the pulsing and burning agony faded, Zexx lay on the street beaten and bloody but free. Slumped nearby sat Horgast blood flowing freely from his side with his head bowed, shoulders shaking softly as held in one hand the cracked and docile wolf mask. Gasping for the thick humid air he could hear the accented voices of the Draenei peacekeepers moving in to disperse the crowd and see to the combatants. Lifting his shaking left hand he would see the plaster of crimson being washed away by the sky, his gaze shooting to the dwarf lord who was being loaded up on a stretcher by the authorities. "What have I done..?"

•

He blinked again as he took a final drink of the wine in his glass, "Turned out I had been issued a cursed reward for some work I'd done in Taladoor. A troll with a vendetta against the the clan chose me as his instrument, my past indiscretions easily manipulated." He stood up straight again from his spot against the counter, stretching some to pop his lower back with a welcoming crack.

"I took my best friends eye that day, damn near killed him in my drug induced thrall. He said it was alright and we'd get the troll back for what he'd done. But I knew I had taken something that was so similar to my own loss. Like living the day all over again." Shaking his head sadly, he would make his way back to the bottle and poured a bit more wine for himself.

@kathreine

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