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isolemnlyswearpevensie · 4 years

Text

You’re Not Mine | Peter Pevensie x Reader

Warnings: Jealousy ig? A lil angst if you squint

Time/Era: Golden Age

Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: When two foreign royals take interest in Peter and Y/N, jealousy arises.

Requests: 1) hi :) i was wondering if you could maybe do a jealous!peter x reader ?? not enough of those hehe thank u so much

2) If possible can you do a peter pevensie x reader where the reader gets jealous clingy due to another queen from another royal kingdom flirting with him if that makes sense idk if it does but yeah 😂

A/N: Hi! I hope it’s okay I combined these two :) They’re quite similar so I thought they would work well together! Enjoy! Also, the Prince and Princess obviously don’t exist in canon, but they do in this story lol.

masterlist | narnia playlist | read on ao3

It was an unspoken agreement that Peter and Y/N only had eyes for eachother. Their arrangement was never made official nor spoken about but by their actions, it was more than obvious. High King Peter was infatuated with Y/N, and he was wrapped around her finger. Whether it was due to her unbelievably inviting demeanor or her ability to listen to Peter speak for hours, the poor king couldn’t get enough of the girl. Y/N was always there to offer support, without offering advice unwarranted, and she managed to crack Peter’s shell quite quickly.

Y/N wasn’t a royal, nor was she a member of the official staff at Cair Paravel. Rather, she was just a normal girl in her late teens that happened to stumble upon Narnia, much like the royal family. Peter envied that she didn’t have any real responsibility or ties to the Kingdom; she was just a normal citizen who happened to befriend her rulers. What Peter didn’t understand was that she did have a responsibility. And a big one at that. She offered support to her Kings and Queens as normal friends, rather than monarchs who had all of the answers. Y/N kept her friends sane and relaxed. Her job could be seen as one of the more important jobs in the kingdom for that sole reason.

“I’m not too excited about tomorrow, if I’m being honest,” Peter spoke hesitantly, sharpening his blade. The king sat upon a large rock in the courtyard, whereas Y/N was perched on a nearby bench.

“And may I ask why?” Y/N hummed, her hands working on a daisy chain. She glanced up at her friend, unbothered by the shrill sound of the sharpening metal. Taking care of his blades was a coping mechanism Peter had taken up, so anything that helped him clear his mind didn’t bother Y/N in the slightest.

“King Lune is bringing Princess Alexandra and Prince Frederick along to the deal,” Peter’s hands worked on his sword, his brow scrunched in frustration. “Which means more Archenland soldiers in Narnia. The more foreign soldiers in Cair Paravel, the more on edge the entire kingdom appears. I don’t want them to think we fear them.”

“Ah, I see. Hand me that flower will you, Pete?” Y/N pointed at a daisy near his foot. Peter plucks it from the soil and hands it to Y/N. “Thank you. What deal are you trying to make?”

“Ed and I are trying to get them to sign a peace treaty, which may or may not be a good idea.”

“Isn’t there a third Prince? Prince Rub The Rash or something?” Y/N’s voice resembled a giggle.

Peter snickers, “Rabadash, yeah. Apparently he has important matters to deal with and won’t be attending. A blessing, if you ask me.”

Y/N holds her daisy chain up in the light and observes her handiwork. The stems were woven around eachother securely and each flower was on perfect display. She grinned and fastened the ends together so it formed a crown.

“So, a peace treaty. That’s good, yeah? More allies, or whatever.”

“Yeah, that’s a good way to look at it. We’re just not too positive about what they want in return. Something tells me that’s why the Prince and Princess are tagging along.” At these words, Peter makes a sharp movement and the metal of his sword emits a high pitched screech.

“You mean marriage?”

“Yeah, marriage. Susan and I, most likely.”

Y/N sucks in air through her nose harshly. “Oh, I see.” She stands from the bench and stands right in front of her king.

Y/N delicately pulls his crown from his head, placing her daisy chain in its place. His dirty blonde hair smooths against his forehead and Peter looks up with his beautiful blue eyes. Y/N always adored his eyes; no matter how his body language looked, his eyes always displayed his true emotions.

“You look nice with flowers in your hair, my king.” Y/N’s voice was soft, making Peter understand what she was feeling immediately.

“Thank you, but you know you don’t have to address me with formalities.”

The two were extremely close in this moment; just observing the other’s faces. Peter hand a stone-cold look on his face, but his irises were filled with doubt and sadness. Y/N sighed, taking a step back and diverting her gaze.

“Well, you are my king. I don’t see anything wrong with addressing you as such.”

“I’m more than just your king, Y/N. You of all people should know that.”

“What’s her name again?” Y/N had turned her back to Peter. She heard Peter set the objects in his hands on the grass and stand.

“Who’s name?”

Y/N tightened her grip on Peter’s metal crown. “The princess you are set to marry.”

“Why does it matter?” The jagged edges of the crown dug into Y/N’s palm.

“What is it, your majesty?”

“Alexandra. Princess Alexandra.” Peter’s large hand fell to Y/N’s lower back and he guided her to sit on the bench.

“King Peter and Queen Alexandra, that has a bit of a ring to it.” Her gaze fell to the metal between her fingers, her thumb running across a small red jewel.

“Y/N, stop it. If it’s marriage we’re not going to go through with it. Ed and I have already spoken about this with Susan.”

“Peter, I don’t think you understand something very important,” Y/N moved her head in one fluid motion to lock eyes with Peter. “You’re not mine, and you never will be. You’re High King of Narnia. I’m just, well, me. And we can never change that.”

Peter rose his hand and adjusted the flowers atop his head so they wouldn’t fall off. “I have all the power needed to change that, Y/N.”

“But why would you? Why would you risk the safety of Narnia for me?”

Peter sighs. “How about this, you come to the agreement, yeah? We’re holding a ball beforehand so we can ‘mingle’ and scope out their intentions.” Y/N nods solemnly, handing the crown back to its owner.

“Flowers really do suit you, Peter.” And with that, Peter’s favorite girl stands and walks back towards the castle.

“How’s the punch? I heard it’s not very good,” A voice pulls Y/N out of her trance. She was currently watching a very handsy Princess Alexandra feel Peter’s biceps and giggle.

“Pardon?” She looked up to see a very handsome man leaning against the wall. He was rather tall and lanky, with long ginger hair that was swept into his eyes. Atop his head sat a golden crown, very similar to Peter’s, and his face was twisted into a grin. The man was extremely attractive, with his slightly cocky body language and flirty tone.

“Is the punch good? Tasty? Pleasing to the tastebuds? I heard it wasn’t.” In his hand, he held a small clear cup filled with red liquid. He raises it to his pink lips and takes a gulp.

“Seems like you just answered your own question.”

“It was alright,” He smiles. “It would be better if I knew your name, though.”

“Your drink would be better if you knew my name?” Y/N laughs, growing more comfortable in the presence of who she assumed was Prince Frederick.

“Well, it would make my day, night, week, month, year, life better. My drink is just a part of that,” He winked and took another sip. “I’m Prince Frederick, but someone as pretty as you can call me Fred,” The royal held out his hand for a handshake.

Y/N giggled and shook it. “Y/N, I’m a close friend of the Narnian Kings and Queens.”

Y/N couldn’t help but be charmed by the mysterious prince. He was funny and flirty, which was probably exactly how he wanted to appear as. Peter, on the other hand, hated what he saw. He was across the room but watching Y/N’s body language ignited a fire inside his stomach.

“You’re so strong, King Peter,” Princess Alexandra squeezed his upper arm. Peter glanced at her then back at Y/N.

“Thanks,” He responded shortly, tight jawed with his hand on the hilt of his sword. His eyes glanced over the pair and his gaze took in the subtle changes of his love. She was facing Frederick head-on while throwing her head back to laugh at whatever he’s saying.

“Who are you looking at?” Alexandra said, placing two fingers on his cheek and turning his head to face her.

Peter pushed away from her presence and walked over to the pair. “Excuse me,” The two turn their head towards Peter. Y/N’s smile faltered at Peter’s expression; he looked almost angry and was staring daggers into Fred’s skull.

“Hello, my King,” Y/N bowed, acting formal as there were guests in the room.

He ignores Y/N and turns to Prince Frederick. “Who are you?”

This doesn’t seem to faze Fred as he lazily sips his drink. “I’m Prince Frederick. You must be King Peter, I was just talking to your friend.” He moves his cup to gesture Y/N.

“I can see that,” Peter mumbles. A similar look of disdain falls over Y/N’s face as her eyes follow the path Peter took to get to her. At the end stood Princess Alexandra, now speaking to Edmund.

“How is Princess Alexandra?”

“Oh, she’s doing great. Thinks I’m very strong.”

“Oh, good.” Y/N responds passive-aggressively.

“Yeah, it’s great. She was just feeling my bicep. Said it was the biggest she’s ever felt, mmhm.”

Fred looks between the two awkwardly, raising his eyebrows and taking it as his cue to leave. He pushes off the wall and meets his sister in the middle of the room.

“Fred, he said I can call him that by the way, just got done calling me pretty before you got here,” Y/N looked up at Peter, her eyebrow quirked and arms crossed over her chest.

Peter glances over at Edmund and nods before grabbing Y/N’s arm and dragging her out of the room. He pushes her against a wall a little bit away from the ballroom.

“I told you I wasn’t marrying her, why are you doing this?” His breath fanned her lips as he spoke.

“Doing what?”

“Flirting with Princey,” Peter’s body pinned Y/N’s against the stone brick wall. “I saw how you were talking.”

“Why were you flirting with Miss Princess if you weren’t planning on marrying her?”

“I wasn’t!”

“I saw her feel you up, Peter!” Y/N huffed in frustration, her hands coming to push and his shoulder. However, Peter was a wall and held his ground with little to no effort.

“She felt my arm for, like, 10 minutes. Big deal. You actually flirted back.”

“I did no such thing, thank you very much. I was too busy watching you flirt with whats-her-face to even notice Prince Frederick!”

Peter slammed a fist into the brick before pressing a sheering kiss to Y/N’s lips. The kiss was hot and rushed; both parties putting all of their emotions into the one action. Teeth clashed and tongues wrestled until Peter eventually pulled away breathlessly. His lips were swollen and red, and Y/N assumes she looked the same.

“I don’t want to marry her, Y/N. I want to marry you. I am so fucking in love with you,” Peter shook his head, walking in a small circle before returning to his place. “And seeing you with Princey really made me understand that I need you.”

“Then, what are you waiting for, My King?”

“Well, a yes would be nice.”

Y/N giggled, and all tension seemed to dissipate. “Well, I haven’t been asked anything yet.”

Peter’s grin matched Y/N’s. “Well, Lady Y/N, would you marry me and become my queen?”

“Yes, Peter. Took you long enough.”

The two laughed once more before pressing their lips together once more. Unlike the last kiss, this one was feather-light and full of love. Peter caressed the sides of Y/N’s face with his rough hands and pressed his lips against hers with much certainty.

“There you are!” Edmund rounded the corner just as the couple pulled apart. “Good news! You two managed to weird out the Prince and Princess so much that they’re backing out of the arrangement. King Lune was convinced to sign the treaty with no further complications.”

#peter pevensie #king peter #king peter the magnificent #peter pevensie x reader #king peter x redaer #the chronicles of narnia #the chronicles of narnia fanfic #the chronicles of narnia fanfiction #peter pevensie fanfiction #peter pevensie fanfic #narnia #c.s. lewis #c. s. lewis #edmund pevensie #edmund pevensie x reader #susan pevensie #susan pevensie x reader #lucy pevensie #lucy pevensie x reader

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bensboynton · 5 years

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popcorn b.h

word count: 780

warnings: swearing, unedited, soft ben

summary: a lil pizza night w best friend!ben :)

“Y/N love, can you grab the door please?” Ben bellowed through the halls of your tiny apartment.

“One sec!” you responded back, tying your hair back and out of your face. Briskly making your way to the door, you swung it open to reveal a toothy pizza delivery guy from Dominoes.

“Pizza for Y/N?” he asked, his face flushing as you made eye contact with him.

“That’s me,” you mumbled, grabbing a $20 from the back pocket of your jeans, “keep the change. Have a good night!” You closed the door in the guy’s face, making your way to the kitchen where your muscular best friend was standing.

“Goddamnit...” Ben muttered, before realizing your presence.

“Y/N, how do you work this godforsaken microwave? It only heats up for five seconds at a time. I told you to get a new one like... four months ago.”

“Ben, it’s really not that difficult. Just press the popcorn button.”

“It literally says in big bold letters on the popcorn package ‘don’t use the popcorn button.’” Ben let out an exasperated sigh, but the gentle smile dancing across his lips told you he was only kidding.

“Yeah, well what do the popcorn manufacturers know?”

“Probably a lot of things, since they make the popcorn and everything.”

“Yeah yeah yeah. Whatever. Just make the damn popcorn and meet me on the couch.”

Ben jokingly flipped you off, eliciting a dramatic eye roll from you as you took the cardboard pizza box into the living room. You glanced quickly at the large couch, which was decked out for the movie marathon you and Ben were planning on having. There were blankets, pillows, blankets, and more blankets. It was perfect.

You and Ben started a tradition a year prior where you had a monthly movie night, and you two were finally getting together for December. Your schedules were so hectic around the holidays, so you didn’t get a chance to have your movie night until today, which was December 29th.

You heard the microwave beep and another string of curses fall from Ben’s mouth as you settled yourself into the mountain of blankets on your couch.

“I’d like to eat sometime this century, Benny. So if you could hurry up it would be greatly appreciated.”

You were almost positive you heard a “fuck off” in response to your witty comment, but you weren’t sure. You brushed it off though, as you were too focused on tearing into the delectable cheese pizza sitting in front of you.

You grabbed a piece and took a huge bite as Ben sprinted into the living room, throwing the bag of popcorn onto the coffee table.

“Jesus Christ, I think I just gave myself second-degree burns.”

“Ben, you do realize you could’ve poured it into a bowl?”

“I couldn’t find a big enough bowl,” he grunted as he tried to make himself comfortable underneath all the blankets. You giggled at his struggle, quickly cozying up to the blonde man while the both of you munched on your pizza.

After a long ten minutes of arguing over moves to watch, you both turned on some cheesy Lifetime movie detailing Meghan Markle and Prince Harry getting married. You both hated Lifetime movies, but they were so embarrassing and cringy that it was impossible to look away.

“Are you kidding? I think I look more like Prince Harry than that bloke, Christ. Lifetime really needs to get their shit together in their casting department.”

You let out a belly laugh as you glanced over at your best friend, “I’d kill to see you as a ginger, Hardy.”

He let out an overdramatic gasp, grasping his heart through his sweater, “you don’t think I could pull it off?”

You shook your head side to side dramatically, before turning your attention back to the very cheesy movie playing on the TV in front of you.

Your heart was feeling as warm and fuzzy as the blankets around you as you snuggled into Ben’s chest, his arm wrapping tight around your waist. He rested his head against yours, kissing your hair before returning his attention back to the TV.

These were your favorite moments. Living in your own little bubble with Ben, enjoying each other’s company while watching movies that are so bad you find yourself not being able to look away. After a stressful few weeks of flights to and from LA and your family, attending parties, work, and maintaining friendships, you were exhausted.

You finally got to sit down and relax in the oddly calming presence of your best friend. Your eyes slowly drifted shut in complete and utter relaxation. Everything felt right in the world.

#ben hardy #ben jones #ben hardy fanfic #ben hardy fanfiction #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy blurb #ben hardy x you #ben hardy cute #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy x imagine #borhap #borhap boys #borhap cast #bohemian rhapsody #bohemian rhapsody movie #bohemian rhapsody cast #bohemian rhapsody blurb

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ff15trashgoldenslumbers · 6 years

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Hey there!! I love your work and I was wondering if you could do a thing where a chocobro have a nightmare. A friend of the 4 join to help (perhaps like they are pretty much like their lil nurse on the go) but they wake up to the bro in a panic and soothe them back to sleep with a song. On the verge back to sleep the bro realize they are in love with them (I'd probably cry if you used the Stand By Me lyrics. A lot of your fluff ones make me cry bc they're soooo cute. f!friend if that's chill)

I do hope that you don’t mind if I did this OT4+1-ish, the idea sparked and then it wouldn’t leave. At all…it demanded!

~~~~~

You were trained not to panic, you were trained to stay calm in any situation that involved harm to yourself or your companions. You remain calm when you had sprained your wrist after yourself and your mount had fallen during an attack. You remained calm when you had jumped before that needle spray. You remained calm when your right side as pierced in confusion training when you had to assist with taking down a recruit.

So why was your body now attempting to make you cry, and shake?

You knew why you knew exactly why but you couldn’t allow that to happen. You had to brave, you had to be strong, you had to be calm for them.

While out on a hunt, the five of you had been surrounded by a group of deamons. Confusing as it was still very much bright outside. You had managed to dodge the spew that it tossed out, but your friends not so lucky.

They had begun to react to whatever this stuff was almost immediately, and as the healer of the group, you decided to actually put your authority for your position and call a tactical retreat. Nearly halfway back to the campsite, Noctis had passed out, Gladiolus not far after him. They were the ones in the main line of fire.

“Iggy, I hate to ask this, but can you please help with Gladdy.” You called, as Prompto helped you support Noctis.

You wanted to run back to the tent, but both Prompto and Ignis looked even worse. You had managed to get within the ruins before you had lost Prompto, and Ignis managed to help you get Gladiolus in before he fainted beside the big guy. That was fine enough, you could move Prompto and Noctis easily unlike the taller duo.

As your hands went to adjust them better, you jumped back, whatever they were covered in was starting to burn. With quick apologies to their unconscious bodies, you began to strip them, running out to the campfire, as you tossed them in. You’d apologize for the clothes but figured they’d much prefer being alive rather than have serious burns.

As you scrubbed them down with a few water bottles you had lying around, you found yourself starting to lose the tension within your shoulders and hands, as you found there didn’t appear to be lasting damage.

Until you heard Noctis cough.

You pulled out your phone, searching through your Monster Encyclopedia, it was a type of Malboro, the acid was supposed to aid in eating your friends, it had a 99.99% survival rate, but the symptoms lasted 48 hours, and could cause hallucinations and fever.

“You’ll be fine guys.” You cooed, pulling their sleeping bags over them. Leaning forward to remove Ignis’s glasses.

It was going to be a long 48 hours.

“Easy Gladdy.” You called, only 2 hours into this and the sun was just starting to set. The big guy was getting frustrated in his sleep and didn’t seem to enjoy whatever dream he was having. You surrounded your hand with an ice spell, placing it on his head, only to smile as he calmed down. “You’ve gotta keep the covers on big guy, you have to sweat this out.”

“Y/N?”

You turned, smiling at Ignis he was slipping in an out of sleep, the guy never knew how to rest, “You thirsty Iggy? I don’t think you boys should stomach food until your stomachs settle.” You replied, the fresh memory of you shoving Prompto’s head into a bucket to avoid him throwing up over his sleeping bag again. Then again Prompto did have a weak stomach without being sick.

“If you’d be so kind.”

“Anything for you.” You cooed.

Eight more hours passed, as you figured they were out the worst of it, Noctis’s cough had stopped, Prompto managed to force down some crackers and ginger ale, and didn’t cough it back up. Ignis finally slept for more than twenty minutes at a time, and Gladiolus had stopped shiver.

You sat outside the flap of the tent, keeping it slightly unzipped so that they got some fresh air. You knew that you wouldn’t get much sleep tonight and would be up most of the evening to make certain they were fine.

You must have dozed slightly, cause next you recall was your head snapping up as you turned hearing a weak cry in the tent. You slowly crawled into the tent, eyes focusing on Noctis as he gave a slight trash, he was already prone to nightmares, so this poison running through his system more than likely wasn’t helping.

Crawling over Ignis, you maneuvered Noctis’s head to your lap, stroking back his sweat-soaked hair, performing another ice spell to try and get the fever that spike back up. A soft hum in your chest, it often caused the Prince to calm down from his other nightmares. Luckily it was working this time as well, he always liked the song despite how sad it made you feel.

“I won’t cry, I won’t cry

No, I won’t shed a tear

Just as long as you stand, stand by me”

You turned seeing Prompto grasp for something, he and Gladiolus were the biggest cuddlers of the group, which was often why they slept near each other, but having both of them bundled so tightly to sweat out the gunk more than likely didn’t help their urges.

Placing Noctis down softly you moved over to the two of them resting a hand on their chest, rubbing a circle. There was no potion or medication you could provide but you could give them comfort.

Well into the second day, you hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep, but by that evening the boys were able to sit up and actually stomach food enough to eat.

“Here, it’s just chicken soup, I’m not Iggy but you should be able to keep it down.” You replied, handing out bowls.

“It tastes awesome.” Prompto cooed.

You sat cross-legged in the tent, happy to see that they had gotten their color back, and with a good nights sleep they should hopefully be back to hundred.

“Have you gotten sleep, Y/N?” Ignis inquired.

You waved it off, “I’m fine. From what I read, you guys should be fine by tomorrow. So rest up, I’ll take care of everything.”

With fevers down, and stomachs actually feeling fine you laid them back for the night. Hoping that the would get some actual sleep tonight. You moved to sit outside the tent again, looking to the night sky. You felt so silly, but you realized what the problem was and why you panicked so much when they were hurt.

Most things couldn’t drag the Prince from his sleep but nightmares like this could. As of late, they would quickly disappear, still, his eyes were drawn across the tent when he heard Prompto whine. More than likely being cuddled by Gladiolus too roughly, he moved to lay back down, only to hear Ignis huff, and then one from Gladiolus too. Were they having nightmares too?

Y/N did mention that that stuff could do this.

Noctis hummed slightly at that, his nightmares didn’t happen too often now, when things got too bad in his dreams he’d feel a comfort and then the familiar scent of your lotion. He had started to drift again when he felt that comforting hand on his head, and that soft lullaby, only this time it wasn’t the normal one you sang.

What is this hollow kind of helplessness I’m feeling?

This type of terror is new

And the fact that I can hardly breathe is now revealing

How much I’ve changed ‘cause of you

Noctis tried not to show that he was awake, but a soft whine did leave him, as you moved over to Ignis, then Prompto and Gladiolus. Storking their head, as you softly sung the song for them.

You must not have been exhausted as you hadn’t realized that the others were also slowly coming out of their rest to listen to the lullaby.

You light the world for me

You live life fearlessly

Braver than the bravest of us do

You trust, you hope, you dare

You choose to feel and care

I thought that I was strong till I bumped into you

What do I know about love?

As sleep came over the four men it dawned on them.

That was it…

You jumped back as the bacon popped grease, “How does Iggy do this at like 6 in the morning?” You huffed.

You never took the others for granted, but you were honestly missing them right now. Your banter with Prompto and Noctis, Ignis’s actual cooking that wasn’t just toast, eggs, and bacon, Gladiolus being able to help move the heavier items around camp.

“I have it.”

You nearly jumped from your skin, as you felt a hand on your own, “Iggy.”

“Please have a seat, you’ve done enough.” Ignis smiled.

“No, no you just got better.” You attempted to argue.

“Gladio, if you wouldn’t mind.”

You hadn’t even heard the big guy, until his hands were on your hips, picking you up and moving you to the chairs, plopping you down.

“When’s the last time you’ve been sleep?” Gladiolus asked standing before you.

“I got some sleep last night.” You replied, only to find the guy leaning into your personal space, not uncommon for your group of friends. “What?”

Gladiolus gave you a boyish smile, “Never realized how cute you look in the morning.”

The thought hardly register, before you felt him press a kiss to your forehead, something you had done last night to him while you thought he was sleeping. You went to retort but Ignis was already requesting his assistance with plating the food. Only to be brought back to reality when you felt Prompto hug you tightly, also not uncommon.

“Morning Sunshine, hows your tummy?” You smiled, moving to grab his extra pills you held on your person.

“Much better cause of our white mage.” Prompto beamed, as you handed him the pills. “You’re the best, Y/N.”

You froze again, as you felt Prompto press a kiss to your cheek. Hardly hearing Ignis call for Prompto to wake Noctis.

“Here you are.” Ignis smiled, handing you a plate that looked nothing like what you were preparing. “You haven’t been eating the last few days, I hope this makes it better.”

“Thanks Iggy.” You called, he almost always gave you food first, even with Noctis at your side.

“My pleasure.” He replied, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead.

“This looks awesome Iggy.”

“I’m starving!”

You were honestly on autopilot eating your food, you could taste it but why were they exchanging kisses that you gave them last night? Only for you to turn as Noctis muttered walking out the tent, despiting sleeping for almost 48 hours he was still a lump.

“Morning Noct.” You flushed, as he pressed a quick kiss to your cheek, before flopping back into the seat. “Wait! Wait! What is going on here?”

“Is something the matter, Y/N?” Ignis asked, taking his seat beside you.

“I just, what?” You tried to explain, and keeping yourself from getting overheated and dropping your food. “What is going on, I don’t understand…the kisses…I mean I like them…but,”

“You sure you didn’t catch what we had?” Gladiolus chuckled.

“Maybe we should rest another day,” Prompto replied.

“You have not been resting well while taking care of us. You should rest in the car, I’m certain Noct and Gladio won’t mind you stretching out.” Ignis stated. “Besides you deserve a hotel.”

“Yeah maybe.” You replied you had been breathing in the fumes of the bile, and maybe tossing the bile sick clothes within the fire wasn’t your best idea, plus you had touched the bile quite a bit when handling the guys.

Within an hour, you had returned back to your journey, and fine with the fact that your four boys were healthy and ready to roll, your body finally allowed for you to sleep. As your head nodded forward, you hardly heard Ignis’s voice.

“Gladio, please catch Y/N.” Ignis called.

“Here she can use my jacket,” Prompto stated.

You felt yourself be moved across the seat and the soft lull of a heartbeat under your ear as Prompto covered you with his jacket.

“Here.”

“Awe you can be nice.” Gladiolus chuckled.

“Shut up.”

You spared a smile, but just before you drifted off, you knew that you didn’t imagine it, one of them was humming the song from last night.

You’re what I know about love

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sunaprincess7 · 6 years

Text

Isn’t it neat?

Hi everyone,

Another fic here - I know the James/Lily - Eric/Ariel thing has been done before but this is my take on it. Sorry if ‘you're all mermaid-ed out! Very little plot to this thing but I hope you all enjoy anyways :)

Summary: Lily Evans has been playing Ariel the mermaid at Disney World Orlando for six months. She's about to meet her new Prince Eric.

Rated T for language (also so much fluff and cheese you might perish!)

Fanfic link

AO3 link

“Does anyone have any primer?” Lily yelled to the dressing room behind her, “I’m out of my FX.”

“Here,” Mary yelled back amongst the throng of girls, chucking Lily her Smashbox version over the heads of Emmeline and Dorcas who both ducked.

“This’ll work?” Lily confirmed doubtfully, knowing that she didn’t really have any other option as she squirted the clear gel into her palm.

“Nothing is going to work in this heat, Lil,” Mary replied, now slathering her face with foundation. “But it’ll stay on for at least 6 hours. Then you might need to reapply.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, I hate this fucking dress,” Marlene, who was by far the most ready of any of them, moaned as she tugged the bright yellow taffeta monstrosity up around her hips.

“Hey, at least yours hasn’t got sleeves,” Dorcas retorted, from next to Lily, still in the process of pinning an auburn wig with pigtails onto her head.

“Oh please, you practically begged McGonagall to give you Anna!” Marlene replied, now pulling the dress up around her arms.

“It was winter then!” Dorcas said miserably, grabbing a matte mauve lipstick out of her makeup bag.

“Can we all just be happy that none of us is Minnie?” Mary inserted, in between violently attacking her face with a beauty blender.

The group of girls murmured in approval.

“Technically, you should be the happiest out of everyone, Lil,” Emmeline said, running a brush through her black wig as she puffed up the bun. “Sometimes they let you go out in a bikini.”

“Hey, none of you have ever worn that tail,” Lily replied, as she leaned into the mirror to draw on her eyebrows. “It’s heavy as hell. It might be worse than the dress. And they haven’t let me wear it in ages.”

“I think they figured out you were making all the dads a little too happy in that purple excuse for a bra,” Mary said lowly, causing their whole dressing room to laugh.

“Men are such trash,” Emmeline added.

“Speaking of trash, aren’t you meeting your new Eric today?” Marlene asked as she pulled white elbow gloves up over her arms.

“Later on tonight,” Lily said, “after the parade. And if he’s anything like the previous one, I think I might quit.”

Lily’s previous Eric had been the epitome of trash and was exactly who Marlene was referring to when she’d asked the question. Dave, or Prince Fuckboy as he was better known to the group, had spent his entire 6 months with the cast showing up late, being rude and, worst of all, sleeping his way through the Princess lineup.

After sleeping with Marlene, he’d made his way around Elsa, Tinkerbell and Jasmine, which was the unfortunate reason Bertha, Florence and Emma no longer sat with the rest of the girls. That drama had continued for at least a month until Prince Fuckboy realised everyone hated him and had quit.

“Apparently he’s a friend of Hook’s,” Dorcas told them.

“Hook?” Emmeline, who was the most recent addition to the cast, asked. “I don’t think I’ve met him.”

“Sirius Black,” Dorcas replied, as Lily smiled to herself, knowing that Dorcas’s usual rant about Sirius was coming. “And you don’t want to meet him. He’s totally method,” she continued, placing an unusual amount of disdain on the word method, “and speaks in a ridiculous English accent the entire time he’s here, even on breaks, and challenges everyone to duels all day. Fucking idiot.”

Lily couldn’t help but giggle. She was actually rather fond of Sirius’s approach to his work and suspected it had nothing to do with his devotion to acting but rather because he loved pretending to be a pirate all day.

“He is a fucking idiot and you know it,” Dorcas said to Lily when she saw her laughing.

“Well, at least he’s not another Prince Fuckboy,” Lily said, adding a slick of bright red lipstick before spritzing her whole face with setting spray. “And you have to admit, he’s a very good Hook.”

“As long as he hasn’t brought us another Dave to be Eric, we’ll be best friends,” Marlene smiled grimly. “How the hell am I the only one ready?” She asked forcefully, gloved hands on her hips.

“Because you don’t have to colour in your eyebrows to match your wig,” Lily replied, grabbing her long, curly ginger hair and twisting it onto her head.

“I can’t believe they still haven’t asked you to be Merida yet,” Mary observed, now pulling on Tiana’s light green velvet dress.

“Yeah, well in the nineties mermaids existed but not actual ginger people, apparently,” Lily said as she positioned the long red wig onto her head with ease. “That mermaid must’ve had some amazing hair dye down in Atlantis.”

“Hey, black people didn’t exist until 2010 apparently,” Mary added, fixing her own wig on. “And now there’s one black princess, there’ll obviously never be another one ever again.”

“Obviously,” Emmeline agreed, rolling her eyes. “Right, time to tie on this fucking awful sash,” she said before standing and moving to the costume rail, leaving Dorcas and Lily sitting at the mirrors.

“I’m still waiting on the animated world to admit lesbians exist,” Dorcas said to Lily with a wry shrug. “And don’t tell the boss, but I play everyday like I’m in love with Emma,” she winked, referring to their cast mate who played Jasmine.

“Amazing,” Lily laughed, looking around the dressing table for her aqua headpiece. “Does Emma know this?”

“Oh, she knows I think she’s hot as hell.”

Finished with her makeup and hair, Lily stood up to go and find her human dress, which was an unsightly aquamarine colour to match her headpiece.

“Are they ever going to let you back in the tail?” Dorcas asked, moving with Lily to grab her purple cape.

“They’re still working on the Grotto since the break-in,” Lily said, shuffling into her dress. “I think it’ll be open again in a few weeks.”

When she had first started at Walt Disney World Resort in Orlando, Lily’s main role had been to sit in Ariel’s grotto and do meet and greets. She had her own float in the daily parade and occasionally appeared as a human walking around the park (when she was told to) or at Cinderella’s restaurant, but for the most part, wearing the tail in the grotto was her main duty. Then, around a month ago, some boys had broken in to the park, and wrecked her grotto, as well as a number of other attractions. Lily had been in human form ever since, which was killing her, because Ariel’s human dress was puffy, heavy and sweltering in the Orlando heat.

Not that she complained too much. She loved being Ariel and was delighted to be cast as her when she’d first started six months ago. A small part of Lily lived in perpetual fear of being recast. Which was ridiculous because it would definitely happen at some point and they were all warned not to get too attached to any particular character.

Lily had done her best to adhere to this warning but she’d adored Ariel as a child and as she’d gotten older, Ariel had remained her favourite Disney princess. And judging by the response she got from the little kids who came to the park, Ariel was still a very popular princess, even eighteen years after she’d first appeared in animated form.

In truth, Lily had loved every minute of working at Disney. The only bad time had been the appearance of Dave.

“I know I hate this dress,” Lily said quietly to Dorcas, “but I can live with it. I’m not sure I could live with another Dave.”

“Look, I know Black is an idiot, but I doubt he’s friends with jerks,” Dorcas reassured her pragmatically, checking her appearance in the mirror. “Are you nervous about meeting him? Don’t be nervous.”

“Well you spend a lot of time with your prince,” Lily observed, fixing the wig down over her dress. “And the kids freak out when they see you together so obviously McGonagall is always sending you out together. It’d be nice to be paired with someone you can stand. I mean, you get on with Dirk, right?”

“Yeah,” Dorcas responded, “I don’t think he knows I’m gay cause he’s always flirting with me, but we get on fine.”

“Poor Dirk.”

“I’ve seen his sister on Facebook, she’s cute” Dorcas said with a grin. “Maybe he’ll introduce us.”

“Girls!” They heard McGonagall call from the hallway, “it’s 8.55”

“Coming!” Lily called back, jumping up and down a few times to settle her skirt.

“Right,” Dorcas said with a swish of her cloak, “Time to be asked if I want to build a snowman ten thousand times.”

Letting her voice drift higher and adding in her signature Ariel warble, Lily followed Dorcas out of the dressing room, “you’re such a guppy, Anna,” she replied, saying goodbye to Lily Evans as she transformed into the little mermaid just as she reached the bright sunshine of the park.

---------------------------

“I am fucking exhausted,” Marlene breathed, stripping off her gloves as they all trailed into the dressing room at 10pm that night. “And I hate teenaged boys.”

“Yeah, I saw some guys bothering you,” Mary replied, throwing herself down into her dressing room chair.

“Trying to get me to break character. Assholes. They were trying to film the whole thing and put it on Instagram,” Marlene spat.

“What were they doing?”

“Oh, the usual shit. Calling me a furry lover. I ignored them.”

“Good for you,” Lily said, inwardly wondering how soon she could get the metric tonne of foundation she had on off her face.

“At least you didn’t get dole whip spilled all over you,” Emmeline moaned, already taking off Mulan’s dress. “Costume are going to kill me. This is the fourth time in two weeks I’ve needed a new dress.”

“Ariel!” Sounded McGonagall’s voice from outside.

“I think she means me,” Lily whispered to them all with a wink as she slipped off her chair. Wincing as her weary feet touched the floor, Lily made her way to the hall.

When she entered the hallway, Lily saw McGonagall standing with her cherished clipboard and right beside her, a man who was undoubtedly Prince Eric.

All of the guys who played Princes at the park were good looking but Lily felt her stomach clench as she took in her new work husband. She could see why they had cast him as Eric. His black hair was thick and windswept and curled in at the edges of his lightly tanned skin. There was no way he’d be wearing a wig. As his eyes fell on her, he greeted her with a show stopping smile, and Lily couldn’t help but notice his strong jaw and gorgeous hazel eyes.

“James, this is Lily, or Ariel to you,” McGonagall said to the boy, now scribbling on the board. James opened his mouth to say something but their boss got there first, “you can smile, dance, hold hands whilst still and give her a two second hug,” she continued, briskly ticking the board as she listed each item, “but no kissing. At all. Ever.”

“Okay,” James nodded steadily, looking at McGonagall with slight apprehension.

“Make sure he doesn’t get lost,” she said to Lily abruptly before striding away.

“Is she always that scary?” He whispered, leaning into Lily as they both watched Minerva leave.

“I’m afraid so,” Lily told him with a weak smile, “she’s in charge of rules and makes sure we all follow them.”

“And we’re married, right?”

“Yes,” Lily nodded, trying not to stare at him too much.

“Wow. Can’t even kiss my wife. What a bummer,” James said with a deep sigh, causing Lily to laugh.

“Disney is strictly a PG place,” she said, “but waltzing is good fun. The kids love it.”

“They showed me during training,” James replied. “It took me a while to get it but I don’t think I’ll embarrass you.”

Lily laughed again as she leaned against the wall, “I’m a walking, talking fish woman. I doubt you are going to be what embarrasses me,” she smiled, trying not to blush when his eyes did a quick sweep of her outfit. “So, did McGonagall show you around?”

“I came down for the parade,” he responded, pushing his hands into his jeans as Lily noticed his sinewy tanned arms. He was going to look good in Eric’s white shirt. “It was great. You were great.”

“Thanks,” she said, “it’s pretty easy without Eric to be honest. I just sit there and smile and wave.”

“And with Eric?”

“Well, that’s when the hugging and the dancing and the hand-holding comes in,” Lily continued, giving him a little grin. “But it’s a 30 minute parade so trying to keep that going is difficult.”

“Especially when you hate your Eric, right?”

Lily blanched a little as James smiled guilty at her, “Sirius told me about the guy I’m replacing.”

“Yeah, well, he was a jackass,” Lily admitted, swishing her dress about a little. “And what’s worse, he made it really awkward for everyone here. We were all glad when he left.”

“Okay, well I promise to be absolutely nothing like him and then you won’t mind dancing with me for half an hour,” he suggested, his eyes twinkling as Lily’s stomach jumped again.

“Deal,” she agreed, hoping to sound as normal as possible. “So, when do you start?”

“Next week,” James told her happily, “they’re just sorting my contacts and then I’m good to go.”

“Cool,” Lily said, “well, it was really nice meeting you. I’m going to go take off this powder puff before I faint,” she closed, giving him another smile before she turned towards the dressing room door.

“Wait,” James called, stalling her in her step.

“Yeah?”

“You’re my Princess, right?” Lily laughed lightly as James blushed and corrected himself, “I mean, you’re who I’ll be working with? Going forward?”

“Yeah,” She replied, hearing a little shyness creep into her voice, “as long as I don’t get recast, I’m your Princess.”

-----------------------------

James, as it turned out, was an absolute dream to work with.

On Monday morning, he was there waiting for her as soon as she stepped out of the dressing room. In his white flowing shirt, red cumber-band, turned up trousers, boots and blue contacts, he looked both exactly like Eric and unreasonably hot.

They spent the whole day together and as predicted, all the kids adored both of them together. They both signed hundreds of autographs and took hundreds of photos and selfies, and when the parade started at nine o’clock, they had their first dance.

It wasn’t without a hitch, as they both stepped on each other’s toes several times but as long as their smiles stayed on, no one in the audience noticed.

“So, how’d I do?” James asked her, as they moved backstage and walked towards her dressing room.

“Really good,” Lily said a little breathlessly, noticing that they were still walking arm in arm, as though they were out in public.

“Sorry about the feet,” he whispered into her ear as they passed a stream of characters all hurrying to their dressing rooms.

“That’s okay,” she giggled, giving his arm a squeeze, “I stepped on your toes too.”

“Yeah but I’m a lot heavier than you are!”

“We’ll get better with practice,” Lily told him. “Oh and one other thing, next time a kid asks you about Sebastian or Flounder, technically you never met them, so next time just say they’re ‘friends of Ariel’.”

“Right,” James nodded, “and Sebastian is the lobster, yeah?”

Lily stopped walking and her hand fell away from his arm, “crab,” she corrected bluntly. “Sebastian is a crab.”

“Sure,” he smiled uneasily, letting his hands fall to his side. “A crab.”

Feeling very suspicious, Lily eyed James closely.

“They did teach you about Sebastian during training?”

“Yeah, they did, it’s just…”

“It’s just what?” She asked, feeling her eyes narrow.

“Well, it’s kind of hard to remember when…” he trailed off, not really looking at her.

“When?” Lily prompted.

“When you haven’t really seen what he looks like,” James finally said lowly, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“What?” She yelped, so loudly that Donald Duck and Goofy stopped to eye the two of them before moving on. “You haven’t seen The Little Mermaid? James, that’s like day one!”

“It was day five,” he disagreed weakly, obviously nervous due to her reaction. “I was ill so they said I could just watch it at home.”

“And?”

“And…I sort of…never did,” he admitted with a small shrug as Lily cursed him for being so attractive. It would be so much easier to be annoyed with him if she could stop staring at his gorgeous face.

“James, if McGonagall finds out you’ve never seen it, she will lose it!” Lily warned him, not wanting to picture the monumental explosion that would occur if that happened. What was worse: he’d probably get fired and then they’d need another new Eric and Lily couldn’t take the suspense of waiting to meet another new Prince. Plus, she was sort of growing fond of this one.

“Yeah, I got that impression when I met her.”

“I mean, you don’t even know how we met!” She persisted, shoving his shoulder lightly.

“I’m guessing in the sea?” He joked feebly, as Lily rolled her eyes.

“Unacceptable,” Lily said, folding her arms. “I am not letting you get fired over this.”

“Would you miss me, Princess?” James grinned, eyes sparkling.

“If you get fired they might bring Dave back,” Lily observed grimly, ignoring the flutter in her stomach that appeared when he obviously flirted with her, “and then I’d have to quit.”

“Okay, I will watch the movie…” James appeased her, shaking his head.

“Oh, you will watch that movie,” Lily ground out, stepping closer to him. “My number is on the staff call sheet. Text me your address. Next Sunday, I’m coming over and by the end of the day you will know the names, hair and fin colours of all my six sisters!”

------------------------

Of course, Lily hadn’t expected the teasing she ended up receiving from her fellow Princesses when she told them her weekend plans, which was probably quite naïve.

“You’re dating your Prince,” Marlene had giggled, Friday evening as they all de-wigged.

“I am not,” Lily protested ignoring their sceptical smirks. “I’m saving his job. And my sanity. Also, McGonagall changed the rules after Dave. No dating Princes! Remember?”

“Please,” Emmeline interjected dryly, “as if you haven’t noticed how hot he is.”

“Everyone has,” Mary said, saving Lily the trouble of dodging the question. “Did you see Bertha all over him in the canteen this afternoon?” She asked the group, as Lily felt her stomach twist unpleasantly. She hadn’t noticed that, being too preoccupied with the book she usually read at lunch.

“Yup,” Dorcas stated blithely, pulling off her wig to reveal flowing blonde hair with a fuchsia streak through it. “If he’s not careful, this is going to turn out to be another Prince Fuckboy sitch.”

“James is not Dave,” Lily inserted forcefully, taking off Ariel’s necklace and throwing it onto the counter. “He’s not going to behave like that.”

Embarrassed as she saw the girls exchanging knowing looks due to her outburst, Lily fixed an unconvincing smile onto her face. “He knows all about Dave and the drama and he’s aware of how horrible that all was,” she said calmly, “I doubt he’ll put us all through that again.”

Sensing an end to the conversation, Lily continued to unpin her wig, enjoying the wonderful feeling of removing the pins from her head. She undressed quickly and changed into her street uniform, before making her way to the door, saying goodbye to them all as she went.

“Well, we’re all here arguing over him,” she heard Emmeline say lowly to Marlene as she exited, “it sure feels like another Fuckboy situation.”

--------------------------------

Emmeline’s words from Friday night were still ringing in her ears as she walked to James’s apartment on Sunday afternoon. And of course, now she knew about Bertha, she had watched her all day Saturday doing the best she could to get James’s attention.

It shouldn’t have annoyed Lily and it was ridiculous that she felt in any way possessive of James. But watching Bertha flirt, smile and laugh her way through lunch with him stoked an ugly feeling in Lily that she soon recognised as jealousy.

Knowing that she needed to quell this before she herself was the instigator of drama, Lily resolved not to admire James anymore. In fact, as she crossed the street to the grey wooded building that she thought was where he lived, Lily decided that she would not in any way fancy James and Bertha could have him if she liked.

Climbing the stairs and ringing the bell, Lily was happy in her determination…until James opened the door.

He was wearing glasses.

Fuck.

He had never worn glasses before. A bit like every other piece of clothing he decided to wear, the glasses looked unfairly good on him. She didn’t know what it was about them, but they finished his face beautifully – just in the way that she could picture taking them off to get a better look at his eyes. Maybe during a time when they were standing closer together. With as much energy as she could muster, Lily pushed this thought out of her head. She wasn’t allowed to date her cast mate.

Lily was about to apologise for standing awkwardly in silence in his doorway when she noticed that James seemed to be experiencing the same vocal block too, his eyes fixed on her.

“What?” She asked nervously, knowing that this wasn’t the most polite or graceful way to break the silence but she was desperate so it would have to do.

James swallowed, “oh, um…it’s nothing…it’s just…”

“Just?”

“Eh, your hair…and your, um…eyes,” he proceeded brokenly, his right hand slipping into his hair as Lily wondered what it would be like to run her fingers through it, “I’ve never seen you without…”

He trailed off again, his eyes doing another sweep of her face as Lily reminded herself to breathe.

“I can’t believe they make you wear a wig and contacts,” he finally managed after another swallow.

“Well, you know,” Lily shrugged, feeling her cheeks turn red, “I have to look like her,” she said, holding up the DVD box with Ariel on the front. “Ready for your homework?”

With a jerky smile, James brought her into his flat, closing the door after her.

“You know, I had to borrow a DVD player from my mom,” James said as he followed her into the living room.

“Well that’s your fault for getting rid of an essential piece of technology,” Lily scolded him, dropping her bag beside the couch before sitting down.

“Pfft,” James snorted, taking the DVD off her, “we definitely could’ve just streamed it.”

“My fair merlady,” Lily heard a booming voice echo from behind her, “welcome to our most humble abode.”

“Sirius,” Lily grinned, hoping off the couch and running around to greet him, as Sirius performed a deep bow before grabbing her hand and kissing the back of it.

“Captain Hook, Princess,” Sirius corrected politely in his flawless English accent.

“We spent an hour deciding if he could speak to you normally,” James said from behind them, not sounding impressed.

“You should not complain,” Sirius responded with an edge to his voice, “remember, it was I who provided the popped corn.”

“Are you joining us, Captain?” Lily asked.

“Alas, no,” Sirius replied, as James let out a ‘thank god’ over their shoulders. “I am expecting a duel with that wretched boy Pan this week and so must practice my fencing.”

“He’s going to the gym,” James translated as Lily heard the opening tones of the movie echo from the tv.

“Adieu, my dear,” Sirius called as he strode out of the apartment, gym bag in hand.

“I couldn’t live without him, but if I could, I would’ve killed him by now,” James said without prompting as Lily joined him on the couch.

“Shhhhh,” Lily hissed, poking him in the elbow, as the Disney castle appeared on the screen. “I can promise you there will be a quiz after this.”

James surprised Lily by being fairly quiet throughout the opening scenes of the movie, save for the occasional comment: “her father’s a dick,”… “he definitely looks like a lobster,” and various other observations which made her laugh.

“He’s a crab and you best remember that,” she warned.

“As if it matters…”

“Shhhh,” she quieted him again, knowing what was coming as Ariel swam towards the surface and fireworks exploded from the ship. “Oh my god,” she breathed as Eric came into view, his dog Max bounding around the deck. “This is the best part of the movie.”

“You think he’s attractive?” James asked, sounding unimpressed and she could tell he was watching her.

“Eh…yeah, I’m not blind,” Lily answered emphatically

“I suppose he’s alright…for a cartoon,” James retorted and she couldn’t help but smile at his miffed tone.

“Disney have a really random record of drawing ridiculously hot people,” she told him, still enjoying the view of Eric. “Besides, you should take it as a compliment,” she added thoughtlessly, cringing when she realised what she had said.

“Oh, so, because you think he’s hot that must mean you think I am?” James replied, sounding remarkably happier as he turned his whole body to her.

Trying to regain her composure, Lily shrugged, “Eric is generally regarded as one of the better looking Disney Princes…by everyone.”

With a brief grin, James felt silent and turned back to the movie.

“He’s clearly a shit sailor if his ship is sinking.”

“He’s a Prince and there was a storm…what do you want him to do?”

They watched in silence until the moment when Ariel had rescued Eric and was trying to revive him on the shore. As she sang to him, Lily unconsciously started to sing along quietly, as she had been doing ever since she had first watched the movie.

To her left, she heard a soft noise which broke her out of her daydream.

“Sorry,” she said, looking over to James to see him watching her again. “Old habit.”

“Don’t be,” he replied kindly, a crooked smile about his mouth, “you can sing.”

“Thanks,” she said awkwardly, not really knowing what to say.

“Why don’t you sing at work?”

“We’re not allowed,” Lily advised, “we’re specifically told not to sing. Did you pay attention at all during training?”

With a guilty shrug, James replied, “I still don’t get why you can’t sing.”

“I guess they want the kids to hear the songs the way they remember them,” she went on, “which I understand. I know I play her but Jodi Benson will always be Ariel to me.”

“Oh, she’s going to do something stupid to be with the stupid hot Prince, isn’t she?” James winced now watching the movie again.

“Can you blame her?”

The movie continued and James revelled in his correct prediction, yelling loudly at Ariel not to sign Ursula’s contract much to Lily’s amusement.

“There is no way in hell that would be legally binding!”

Now feeling a bit bolder, Lily sang her way through the rest of the songs with James laughing along until they both fell quiet at ‘Kiss the Girl”.

“Noooooo!” James howled when Flotsam and Jetsam overturned the boat Eric and Ariel were sitting in. “Fuck those eels!”

Nearly crying with laughter, Lily patted him on the arm, “I hate those things,” she consoled.

“I have never been so annoyed,” he announced, glaring at the television screen. “Why didn’t they just kiss?!”

“We’re only just half way through the movie, they couldn’t kiss now.”

James sat and pouted unhappily as the movie went on, only making another noise when Vanessa – Ursula’s human alter ego – appeared, “hello,” he let out lowly, his eyebrows dancing, as she slinked onto the screen.

“Hey!” Lily cried, feeling an unwarranted level of outrage. “Don’t you ‘hello’ her! She’s evil! She’s trying to distract you from Ariel. You can’t find her attractive!”

“Oh, so you can think cartoon Eric is hot but I can’t think evil Ariel is?”

“Eric is hot but he’s not evil! If Eric had an evil twin, I wouldn’t be ‘hello-ing’ all over him!”

“Look, you can’t deny she’s good looking,” James placated her, gesturing to Vanessa on the screen as Lily harrumphed, “but will it make you feel better if I say she’s not a patch on Ariel?”

“All I am asking is that you show a little loyalty to your wife,” Lily said evenly. “That witch has her voice!”

“I cannot believe we are arguing over which cartoon is hotter.”

“Well, you work at Disney now, Potter. Get used to it.”

Again, they fell silent as the movie played on and they watched as Ursula was discovered, defeated and Eric and Ariel married in their happily ever after.

“You know, you’re right. I didn’t like Vanessa so much by the end,” James conceded lowly, stretching out now that the film was over.

“Told you,” Lily gloated. “And at least now, if McGonagall asks, you can honestly say you’ve watched it.”

“Very true,” he agreed, “and I now also know the names of all assorted sentient fish and crustaceans. Thanks for taking the time to make sure I don’t get fired,” he smiled earnestly.

“You’re welcome,” she replied, hoping to sound normal as her heart started to thud against her chest.

“Did you do this with Dave?” He asked, fixing her with a look that wasn’t helping Lily at all.

Lily laughed, “no,” she breathed. “But I’m sure Dave watched the movie during training.”

“Bad luck, Dave.”

Her stomach now tingling, Lily knew she had to remove herself from his couch before she found herself in a tricky position.

“I should go,” she smiled tightly, getting to her feet to remove the DVD.

“Okay,” James said, moving after her. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning?”

“Yeah,” she said, walking towards the door. “As long as you can recognise me.”

“As if I’d forget you, Princess,” he winked, making Lily curse herself for flirting with him when she had promised she wouldn’t. “Unless, Vanessa is there, of course.”

She had just enough time to yelp in outrage before he closed the door cackling.

------------------

Working with James was easy. Working with James whilst trying not to fancy him was not so easy.

“Even with the blue contacts in he looks good,” she overheard Mary observe.

“His real eyes are nicer though,” Emmeline replied and all the girls in their dressing room agreed.

“You’re being awfully quiet, Evans,” Marlene cut in, sweeping past Lily’s dressing space whilst Lily was unbuttoning her gown.

“I’m not being quiet, I’m trying to get out of this stupid dress so I can go home!” Lily stressed, inwardly knowing that the reason she was dying to go home was so she wouldn’t have to hear them talk about James.

“Oh, don’t be in such a huff!” Marlene retorted, turning Lily around to do her buttons for her. “No one here actually fancies him. Except you. And Bertha, of course.”

“I do not fancy him,” Lily replied, despising how childish and ridiculous she sounded. “I agree he has nice eyes, but he’s my cast mate and that’s all.”

“Poor James,” Marlene said, giggling along with the rest of the girls, “he’ll be devastated to hear that.”

“Oh, would you stop?” Lily hissed. “You’re just talking nonsense now!”

“You can’t see the way he looks at you up on that float, I can!”

“I don’t know if you’re aware, but being a good actor is one of the requirements to work here. As is keeping your mitts off your fellow employees!”

“Sorry to interrupt what is clearly an important conversation,” Dorcas cut in dryly, “but has McGonagall spoken to you all about this Buzzfeed thing?”

“Yes,” Mary replied as the rest of the group all echoed her. “It’s this Sunday, we’re bringing our own costumes but there’ll be hair and makeup there.”

“And why are we doing this again?”

“More advertising apparently,” Mary told her as she hung up her costume. “Buzzfeed are obsessed with the Princesses so they want some shoot to show us all off to their readers.”

“Sounds wonderful,” Dorcas droned, rolling her eyes. “All I needed was an excuse to spend another day dressed for the alpines.”

“Are the guys coming?” Emmeline asked, now styling her own hair.

“Yes, we are,” a voice sounded from outset the dressing room as they all jumped, “also, can I come in? I need to speak to Lily.”

Eyes widening when she realised it was James, Lily yelled back, “just a minute,” as she started to undress quickly. “If he heard what any of you said, I will put fairy dust in all of your wig caps,” she hissed quietly, eyeballing them all before pulling on her shorts and t-shirt.

“Drama queen,” Marlene shot back, striding to the dressing room door and pulling it open once Lily was dressed. “Enter at your own peril, Potter,” she greeted James, “everyone is feeling very Princessey today.

Ignoring Marlene, Lily walked towards James. “What?” She asked very abruptly, seizing up inwardly at her rudeness but she could feel the eyes of the rest of the group on them.

James watched her a bit uncertainly before beginning, “so, one day, I will manage this dance without injuring you,” he half-laughed, folding him arms, presumably from her forced coldness.

“It’s fine, James,” she sighed, not at him, but because of the total silence in the dressing room as they talked.

“Maybe you guys should practice,” Emmeline put in cheerfully and Marlene exchanged a grin with her.

Lily shot her a look.

“Actually, that was what I was going to suggest,” James replied awkwardly, hand in his hair. “Unless, you have somewhere to be?”

“She has nowhere to be,” Marlene smiled, walking back to her own table. “I know because we have big plans to go home and watch Queer Eye at mine.”

Knowing that she wasn’t getting out of this without a serious amount of effort and really not wanting to offend James anymore than she probably already had, Lily didn’t bother to object. And they did need to practice.

“Great,” James smiled, still sounding a little uncertain.

Walking towards him, Lily let her hands drift upwards, one to his shoulder and the other into his waiting hand.

“We don’t have to…here,” he said to her quietly, as his arm came around her waist.

“It’s fine,” Lily reassured again, giving him a tight smile. At least this way, her cast mates could see there wasn’t anything there.

But as he pulled her a little closer and their chests met, Lily felt her heart start to beat rapidly. Did he always hold her this closely?

“You move forward first,” she said lowly, stealing herself with the hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah,” he confirmed, equally quiet.

After a short pause, Lily counted them in, her eyes on their feet.

They managed the first set of four…and then the second. And then the third. But then James stopped.

“You can do it fine in here,” she observed, giving him a small smile.

“Well, it’s not exactly parade conditions,” Dorcas pointed out.

“Would you…” James started, before stopping.

“What?”

“I need you to look at me,” he told her with a reluctant smile, “I think I’ve worked out that’s where the problem is.”

Lily felt, rather than saw, their audience exchange looks.

“Okay,” she agreed after a deep breath. And as she counted them in, she raised her eyes to lock on his.

After two moves, James stood on her left foot.

“Try again,” Lily said immediately, not wanting to give anyone a chance to comment.

She counted once more and they moved back, side, forward, side…She raised her eyes to his and immediately, James tripped.

“Shit, sorry,” he breathed, eyes and arms dropping away from her as his face coloured red.

“It’s okay,” Lily said kindly, unable to stop the butterflies swarming in her stomach.

“Evans is known for her amazing eyes,” Dorcas interjected pleasantly, “I wouldn’t beat yourself up, Potter.”

“Then how come it still happens when you’ve got contacts in?” James asked lightly, quietly enough that only he and Lily could hear. And then he gave her one of those smiles that made her all her limbs feel weak.

“I don’t have to look at you,” Lily offered as a solution.

James shook his head, “no, we’re in love,” he replied quickly before realisation crept onto his face and he laughed steadily amongst the titters in the room, “Eric and Ariel are in love,” he clarified modestly, not really looking at her. “When you’re in love, you look at each other.”

Their eyes met again.

“Exactly like that,” Marlene cut through and though Lily kept her eyes on James, she could tell her friend was grinning. “You guys are such great actors.”

Between that remark and the thudding of her heart, Lily had to move away.

“Maybe we can practice at lunch tomorrow,” she suggested, walking away from him.

“Yeah,” he agreed, “that sounds good. I won’t take up more of your time now.”

“Bye James,” Emmeline called and Lily heard the dressing room door close over her shoulder.

“Wow, Lil’,” Marlene started, “practice at lunchtime tomorrow. What a great way to stop Bertha from getting anywhere near him.”

Lily chucked her beauty blender at her.

-----------------------------

As it turned out, Lily did not see James at lunchtime the next day.

She had awoken in the middle of the night with a fever which, at the time she had related to the rather interesting dream he had been having about James. But, by the next morning, she had a permanent lump stuck in her throat, found it hard to swallow and felt weak and cold all over.

After she called in sick to McGonagall, she just about made it to the doctors without fainting. Upon hearing the hoarseness in her voice, it took the doctor all of three minutes to diagnose her with laryngitis.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if your voice goes completely,” was her final word as Lily traipsed out of the office. “Should be over in two weeks. Plenty of bed rest, lots of water and no talking, okay?”

It occurred to Lily as she made her way home that she probably still could go into work if she wanted. That’s what Sirius would do. If she was method, that’s what she’d do too.

Unfortunately, her fever and dizziness overtook her before she was able to even progress that thought and Lily was again lucky to make it to her bed in time to pass out for the rest of the day.

When she woke up again on Tuesday night, she found several messages on her phone from Marlene and Dorcas objecting to her sick day and demanding that she return to work tomorrow. Lily let them know she was ill and probably wouldn’t be in for the rest of the week before promptly falling asleep again.

It wasn’t until Sunday morning, when she had progressed to being able to make herself soup and toast, that Lily was reminded of the Buzzfeed article.

She was busy peering over the toaster wondering when it would pop, when her phone rang.

Answering it before remembering that she couldn’t talk, Lily jumped to hear James’s voice at the end of the line.

“Hello?” His voice echoed down the telephone, “hello? Lily? I’m not sure if this is a voicemail…”

Lily was contemplating hanging up and sending him a text to explain when James continued to talk.

“Marlene said you were sick…I’m sorry for ringing you when you’re not well but…well, we’re down at this Buzzfeed thing and McGonagall has assigned Bertha to be Ariel…”

Lily nearly dropped the phone.

“…and well…this is stupid…but it sort of feels like Vanessa is here instead of Ariel. And I remembered what you said about loyalty to my wife so…so I just wanted to say that. And to say it feels weird doing this without you.”

She held onto the counter, nearly breathless to hear what he would say next.

“Anyway, if you can get here…I know you’re sick so don’t if you can’t…but if you can, we could do the shoot with the real Ariel. So yeah. That’s all I wanted to say. Bye.”

By the time the toast had popped, Lily had brushed her hair, teeth and was downstairs waiting on her uber.

---------------------------------

“I thought you were sick!”

Marlene was the first to greet her after she had made it into the photo shoot.

She’d already had to use her phone to type out her issue for the security guard and doorman and so she just handed it to Marlene, note already open.

“You’ve lost your voice?’’

Lily nodded.

“Brilliant!” Marlene laughed, “do you need me to explain forks too?”

Lily glared at her until Marlene relented and took her by the arm.

“They were going to let Bertha do Ariel – of course she was dying to – but now you’re here, there’s no way they’ll go to the bother of changing her from Elsa to Ariel,” Marlene chatted as she guided Lily through the studio.

As they walked Lily observed Dorcas and Dirk, arm in arm in the setting of a snowy mountain.

“I’ll sort this with McGonagall,” Marlene continued as they walked to the make-up and hair area, “you just get ready. They’re doing you and James after B&B so you still have a while to go.”

Marlene brought her up to a man who was in the middle of styling Mary’s hair.

“This is Lily, Fabian,” she announced.

“Lily!” Mary greeted, sounding a bit giddy.

“She’s Ariel. She’s lost her voice,” Marlene said loudly, as Fabian and Mary regarded her with amazement.

“Oh my God,” Fabian said, his hands falling away from Mary’s hair. “Really?”

Lily nodded exaggeratedly, struggling not to roll her eyes.

“You’re not contagious are you?” Mary asked uncertainty, after her smile had faded.

“Benjy!” Fabian yelled, saving Lily the trouble of telling Mary she might be but she wasn’t going to let an infectious disease stop her from saving Ariel from Bertha. “Get over here!”

A skinny blond man in glasses sauntered over to the group, leaving behind the photographer he had been speaking with.

“Yeah?”

“This is Ariel,” Fabian informed him excitedly, clapping Lily on the shoulder.

“Nice to meet you,” Benjy said pleasantly, holding out his hand. “I’m Buzzfeed’s social editor.”

“Ben, she can’t answer you.”

“Oh yeah?”

“She’s lost her voice,” Fabian managed, practically buzzing with the news.

Suddenly Benji’s whole face changed, from slightly stressed young reporter to the same fevered astounded expression that Fabian was wearing.

“No shit,” he breathed, “really?”

Lily nodded.

“You can’t talk at all?”

Lily shook her head, feeling more and more sympathy with Ariel with each passing minute.

“Fucking brilliant,” Benji celebrated, grabbing her shoulders.

“You should film this,” Fabian announced, moving back to Mary and beginning to work on her hair again. “That would be amazing.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Benji agreed, “would you mind?”

“You should probably check with McGonagall first,” Marlene suggested, pointing at their manager who was giving directions to the photographer whilst Dorcas fanned herself.

“Sure, sure,” the journalist noted, not sounding too concerned, “will someone get her into her costume,” he called, as he strode back across the room. “I want to do this asap.”

Thinking that she might hurry the process along by putting on her own wig, Lily erased the note on her phone and simply typed out ‘wig?’ before showing it to Marlene.

“What does she want?” Fabian asked absentmindedly.

“She wants to know where her wig is,” Marlene answered, causing Fabian to swivel away from Mary again in outrage.

“They make you wear a wig?!”

After Fabian had recovered from realising Lily wasn’t allowed to have her natural hair, he decided to take matters into his own hands.

“I’m in charge of the shoot styling, and I say, you’re using your own hair.”

Not really in a position to argue, Lily had watched as they transformed her hair from a curly, frizzy nightmare to long, flowing and bouncing waves that fell perfectly around her face and over her shoulders. She’d never seen her hair look so good. And sure, it wasn’t Ariel’s colour, but it was close.

Whilst her hair was being transformed, another stylist had appeared to apply her make up. Lily was used to wearing Ariel’s make up but she wasn’t used to having it tweaked to suit her own eye colour. It was the smallest of changes to the eyeshadow but suddenly, the make up fit her perfectly. As she watched herself in the mirror, it was as though she was somewhere halfway between herself and her cartoon counterpart.

“You look amazing,” Fabian appraised, still playing with the ends of her hair. “I can’t wait to see you in the tail.”

Not having heard this news before, Lily’s whole face lit up – her eyebrows jumping into her hairline.

“She gets the wear the tail?” Dorcas yelped, appearing out of nowhere and into Lily’s mirror.

“Of course!” Fabian said, causing Dorcas to clap. “We’re doing the scene after Ariel rescues Eric and brings him to the beach. You can’t be a mermaid without your tail!”

Finally pleased with her hair, Fabian moved away to Emma with one final squeeze of Lily’s shoulders.

“James Potter is about to lose his damn mind,” Dorcas whispered into Lily’s ear as they both grinned.

With this thought ringing in her ears, Lily made her way to the costume section to look for her tail. Finding Ariel’s costume wasn’t hard and she found putting on the bra and top part of her tail like slipping into an old pair of pyjamas.

“Ariel! We’re ready for you.”

Hearing the photographer calling her, Lily managed to signal to Dorcas (now in her civilian clothes) and hand her the fin.

“Here, I’ll walk with you,” she said, taking Lily’s elbow to help her balance.

They moved slowly and steadily towards the main stage and in the distance, Lily saw James, in full costume, lying down on the set, eyes towards the ceiling.

Her heart gave a quick thump.

“You really like him,” Dorcas observed quietly, squeezing Lily’s arm. “Your whole breathing changed when you saw him,” she explained, after Lily gave her a questioning look.

Ignoring that, and not really caring that Dorcas was right, Lily continued to wiggle her way to the set.

“Ariel has arrived,” Dorcas announced to the room, shocking Lily and causing all the heads in the room to snap to her.

And just as James lifted his head to see her, suddenly Dorcas was nowhere to be found.

“Wow,” she heard him breathe as their eyes met and she saw the look of pure attraction come onto his face.

“She looks good, right Potter?” Dorcas called teasingly, and Lily quickly became aware that not only were they being watched, but Benji was currently filming with a handheld camera.

“I can’t believe I’m getting paid to do this,” James responded softly, his eyes never moving from hers as the room laughed.

“Oh my god, they’re not together, are they?”she heard Benji say to Dorcas.

“Okay, Ariel, if you could just lie down beside Eric,” the photographer cut in.

Feeling a little ridiculous as she wobbled over to James, Lily just about managed to get to her knees when James’s arms came up to her elbows to steady her. With effort, she placed her body in between his arm and his elbow, head hanging over his. “Hi,” he said lowly to her, in his own sweet tone and Lily could only smile. “Marlene tells me you’ve lost your voice?”

She nodded earnestly and he smiled in response, causing her to blush when he pushed one side of her hair over her shoulder.

“So…was that you on the phone earlier or...?”

Again, Lily nodded.

“Right,” James coughed, “sorry for calling. I just…”

Managing to interrupt him by shaking her head, Lily gave his forearm a quick squeeze.

“Anna, can you attach her tail?” The photographer asked Dorcas.

“I’m on it!”

“Right, so everyone knows the scene. Eric is passed out, Ariel, you’ve just saved him from death. He’s the most beautiful human you’ve ever seen and this is where you decide you’ll do whatever it takes to be with him.”

Lily nodded to acknowledge she’d heard as she held up her feet for Dorcas.

“Just smile, play with his hair…you know – the usual.”

With one final look, James let his head fall backwards and his eyes close.

“Music!” The photographer called and Lily heard the refrain of ‘Part of Your World’ sweep around the room.

Deciding that the only way to do this without her heart beating out of her chest was to be completely method, Lily did her best to pretend that no one else was in the room as her hands moved to James’s hair. The quirk of the left side of his mouth was the only sign on James’s face that she had touched him.

Smiling down at him, Lily flipped her tail and moved her fingers down past his eyebrow, over his cheekbone and down to his jaw, suppressing a full grin when James inhaled deeply.

In the distance, she could hear the sound of the camera clicking furiously.

“Okay, Eric, we’re going to try a few with you awake, so open your eyes.”

Lily’s breathing skipped when her eyes met James’s hazel ones and she almost forgot she was supposed to be acting.

“Heh,” the odd sound he made before swallowing thickly.

Lily looked at him quizzically.

“I’ve just remembered how we get your voice back,” he explained, eyes pouring into hers as the music swelled and his hand drifted into her hair.

She probably should have stopped him, given that they were surrounded by all of their work colleagues, but with absolutely no desire to, Lily’s eyes fluttered closed as their lips met.

He kissed her tenderly and so softly that Lily, wanting more of him, pressed herself down against him as James’s left arm encircled her waist. She revelled in the feeling of his lips against hers, her hair falling down around them and shading them from the eyes of the rest of the room.

It was only after silence rang out around them as the music stopped that they broke apart, eyes meeting each other again. Lily couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto her face when she saw the look James was giving her.

He had just swept her hair behind her ear, when a loud wolf-whistle echoed around the set.

“Well, did it work?” Marlene shrieked, removing her hands from her mouth.

With a quick glance at James, Lily tried to speak…and what came out was a garbled, hoarse cough and the most horrid sound she had ever made.

The entire room exploded in laughter, except for James who was still smiling up at her.

“Oh well,” he said quietly, nudging her nose with his, “guess we’ll just have to keep trying.”

And then Lily remembered that McGonagall was in the room. And oh fuck, James had just kissed her in front of her boss.

Gesturing for someone to come and take the tail and help her up, Lily tried to look everywhere but James whilst also avoiding McGonagall as well.

“I got you,” she heard Marlene say from behind her and soon after her feet were free. “Dressing room?” She asked urgently, as she helped Lily to her feet. “That was the hottest fucking kiss I have ever seen,” Marlene told her quietly, as they stumbled towards the back.

Lily had so many questions running through her head – mainly did McGonagall look like she was going to eat them alive – that she wasn’t able to focus on how great the kiss had been.

When they reached the backstage area, she lowered herself into her seat and tried not to panic.

“Look, don’t freak out,” Marlene reassured her, catching sight of Lily’s expression, “you can say you were just acting.”

Lily was about to respond when she saw James coming after them, jogging lightly.

“On a scale of one to ten, how stupid was that?” He asked, seemingly directing the query at Marlene but looking at Lily.

“Probably a ten,” Marlene answered.

“Can I have a minute to chat with Lily, please?”

“Nope, you’ll need me to translate.”

Lily squeezed her arm and Marlene sighed.

“Okay, fine, but I want all the details later, you hear?”

As Marlene left, Lily felt her heart start to beat rapidly again. Fuck, she liked this boy way too much. Enough that she was endangering her job just to kiss him.

“Okay, it kind of sucks that you can’t talk,” James started, pulling a seat around to face her, “because I can’t tell if you’re mad or not. Are you?”

Not able to stop a smile appearing at his nervous bashfulness, Lily shook her head.

“Good,” he breathed, breaking out into a grin, “because I’ve been thinking about kissing you for three weeks and I really want to do it again.”

Feeling the butterflies swooping around her stomach, Lily’s smile widened.

“I checked the staff rules a couple of weeks ago” James continued, letting his hand come out to fall onto hers, “and apparently, I can’t ask you out.”

Again, Lily nodded.

“So, basically what I wanted to check was if it would be coming on too strong to quit and then ask you out?”

“Yes, it would be, Potter,” a voice said as they both jumped. “I would have at least suggested starting some form of clandestine relationship before resorting to quitting,” Minerva said, glaring down at them both, “or I would have before you kissed Evans in front of the entire cast.”

“Eh, yeah, sorry about that…”

“And stop looking so worried, Evans,” she continued briskly, “no one is going to quit.”

“What?” James asked, his hand still firm on top of hers.

“The rule about dating was put in place after the Dave debacle,” McGonagall explained, “to deter similar behaviour and to prevent us losing half the cast. We’re not going to fire either of you for dating each other. Particularly, when you’ve been driving the entire Park insane with your ridiculous flirting.”

“We weren’t that ridiculous,” James said quietly, looking a bit peeved.

“I’m also assured by Benji that the footage of you both this afternoon is certain to go ‘totally viral’ – it would be illogical for Disney to fire it’s two most popular cast mates.”

“Right,” he noted, his eyes meeting Lily’s. “Does that mean we can kiss in the Park?”

“Not a chance, Potter,” Minerva replied, “you’ll have to help Evans get her voice back on your own time.” And with that, and a wink, she swept away, back towards the set where Jasmine was scolding Aladdin.

“Worth a shot,” James grinned, standing up. Eyes dancing, he leant forward and pressed a quick but meaningful kiss to her lips. “Well that seems to be that sorted,” he said against her lips, pulling back a little to let his forehead fall against hers, “so, what do you think, Evans? Go out with me?”

Still reeling from the surprise kiss, and with her hand clasping his, Lily smiled up at him.

“Yes.”

#jily #jily fanfiction #jily au #Ariel!lily #eric!james #Disney #the little mermaid

210 notes · View notes

so-this-happened-i-guess · 6 years

Text

It’s a Game of Words

[Snily] / [Severus Snape x Lily Evans]

Summary: Lily wants to have her own cool nickname - like her friend, The Half-Blood Prince!

Warnings: None... bad grammar as always, hah?

Author’s note: BIG inspiration from @doodlebat and @snuffles-groovy-doghouse because their cosplays of Sev and Lils are absolutely amazing and I am glad I found their blogs!! (also I don’t like the fact that it is enchanted with the insulting thing against Sev?? It’s just so mean??? I let this thing out)

As the night fell upon the Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry and all students were meant to be in their beds since it was long past their curfew, two young students decided to sneak out of their rooms to meet, one of them hiding a magic map stolen from her friends. They decided on this meeting earlier that day in the morning before they had to get to their classes.

Both had to be very careful not to run into one of the patrolling professors, neither of them wanting to get a punishment. So it surely was a big relief when they arrived at their meeting point just outside the gothic-looking castle without being spotted.

The Gryffindor girl got there a bit faster than the Slytherin boy, deciding to sit under the tree and inspect the map she ‘borrowed’ from her friends. She would return it... in the morning... eventually... maybe... Looking at the blank parchment, long ginger hair falling down her shoulders and making her field of sight even more narrow, the girl had no chance to hear or see her friend approaching. She only noticed him when he was standing right in front of her. She immediately jumped on her feet, smiling happily: “Sev! I’ve got the map!” she beamed. The boy smiled, too. Less enthusiastic than she was. “That’s great, Lils...“ “Aw, you’re boring,“ she giggled. “Let’s see what this map can do~!” “I am pretty sure you already know--“ “Shush it, Sev. Now, what was it?“ Lily pulled out her wand, pursing her lips in thought. “I swear that I am up to nothing good?”

Severus sighed, with a roll of his eyes, after literally nothing happened. “Haven’t you heard Potter say it like, what, thousands of times?” he teased her slightly. She had good intentions, sure, but she could be... unpredictable and she acted before thinking - especially with things she had yet to discover. “And you think I am listening to every word he says?“ Lily Evans, the gentle girl that Severus fell in love with, sneered. Severus had to give this a little thought - he knew she spent a lot--- way too much -- time with Potter and his band. “No, obviously you never listen to anybody,“ he replied in the end. Lily faked a gasp, looking up from the paper. “Says who? YOU? You who call yourself “the half-blood prince”? Are you serious?“ she laughed. “You didn’t listen when I told you that’s a silly nickname!“ she snickered. Severus crossed his arms, giving her a dirty look. “You’re just jealous,” he claimed, proud of this comeback. Lily rolled the map and smacked Severus with it on the shoulder. “Noooo, I am not!” she pouted, a smile tugging on her lips. She wanted to smile but at the same time she wanted to be a bit pouty, sulky - too bad she was too cheerful to even pretend to be angry. “I know you are! What? Want me to give you a nickname, too~?“ he smiled, leaning against the tree under which they were standing. “Only if it’s a good one!“ Lily warned him with the map rolled, ready to hit him again if she didn’t like the chosen name.

Severus raised an eyebrow, smiling mischievously: “Say, if you seem to like my nickname so much---” he started but Lily knew better. “Do you want me to take your last name?“ she laughed. Severus’ face went bright red and eyes wide, his mouth opened and closed - no sound coming out. His hands flew up to hide his blushing face... he probably forgot how to breathe, too. Lily was watching this scene with big amusement, her eyes sparkling. “Why- Why’d I want you to...? Ehm, I-I think I’ve had enough for today--“ Severus finally said, giving Lily a nervous look before storming off.

Lily watched her friend disappear in the building, her laughter died down and she wiped a tear from her eye. “I love him,“ she sighed, going back to her room as well. She totally forgot about the map and the plans she had with it. I mean-- there’d be some other time. ____________________

Lily was surprised when Severus didn’t say hi to her in the morning. Maybe she took it too far with her joke? Nah. Severus was never angry with her - not for longer than a few hours anyways. Deciding it was nothing, Lily carried on with her day as she normally would. She spent her morning with James and Sirius, had lunch with them, attended her afternoon classes and just now she was about to spend her free time with her best friend.

Except he was nowhere to be found.

Lily asked many students if they saw the quiet Slytherin boy. No one satisfied her with their answers. She was sure she looked everywhere she knew Serverus liked to hide after he was bullied or when he simply wanted to be alone - but the boy was not here or there or anywhere else.

It was almost dinner time when Lily remembered she had something useful in her possession. She made sure she was alone when she took the map. She took a deep breath, trying to remember what James said everytime he wanted to use this enchanted map. “I... huh. I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,“ she tapped the map with her wand. It didn’t take longer than a second or two for the map to start revealing what was hidden behind that little spell. A floorplan of the Hogwarts school grounds appeared in front of Lily’s eyes and tags with names, too. It showed everyone and where they were going.

But Lily was looking for one specific name, nearly cheering out loud when she finally found who she was looking for. Quickly she whispered “Mischief managed“ to make the map return to it’s empty-looking version before running where Severus was. _________________

“There you are!“ the Gryffindor beamed, finally spotting her Slytherin friend. She ran towards him, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug. “Wow, I didn’t know you’re this good at Hide&Seek!“ she tried to lift his mood. Severus, surprised by being found at such place, just pulled away from Lily, frowning - more in confusion than being angry. He’d never be mad at his best friend. “W-what? I wasn’t playing Hide&Seek, Lils.... What are you doing here?” he asked her rather carefully. “I was looking for you, silly,“ Lily smiled, patting Severus’ cheek. “Do you think I’d let you ignore me?“ she asked, giggling. “No, I suppose you’d not,“ the boy sighed, a smile finding its way on his face. “Plus--- how else would I be able to tell you what my new awesome nickname is!“ she beamed, putting hands on his shoulders. “Ehm, w-well... what’s your... nickname?“ “From now on, I am the Queen Snape!“ she exclaimed happily, proud of herself. Severus didn’t seem fazed. “Sorry to break it to you, but honestly that’s the worst nickname ever,” Severus snickered. “Oh Shush it!“ Lily laughed, giving Severus a light punch.

The two of them laughed, both happy to be reunited even if it was just half a day without one other. They were sure that they’re going to spend their lives together, forever. Nothing could part them.

Or so they thought.

#harry potter #harry potter imagine #severus snape imagine #lily evans imagine #snily #severus x lily #lily evans #severus snape

24 notes · View notes

wayf1nders · 7 years

Text

11 questions

i was tagged by @vityanikiforova!!!!!!!!!! thank u!!!!!💕💕💕

Rules:

1) Always post the rules. 2) Answer the questions given by the person who tagged you. 3) Write 11 questions of your own. 4) Tag 11 people.

1. How did you learn about YOI?

I’m pretty sure it was through tumblr!

2. What was one of the most embarrassing things you’ve witnessed?

like in person? I can’t remember

3. What was the nicest compliment you’ve been told?

a nice lady once told me I looked very innocent and cute!!!

4. What are some of your favorite books?

dinotopia (bc dinosaurs!!!!!!), Anne of Green Gables, The Birchbark House, the secret of the ginger mice, and Zahrah the Windseeker!!!!! they’re all amazing!!

5. When reading fanfiction, you prefer one-shots or chaptered works?

mmmmmm i mean both are good but I tend to read more chaptered works...the long stuff

6. Worst drink you’ve ever had?

ok well I can’t remember the WORST one, but I really really don’t like dr. pepper and bubble tea.

7. Your favorite quote?

i mean there’s a lot of super good quotes, but im sticking with yoi quotes for now

quote of the day is “I don't know how long Victor will stick around or how long my body will hold up. So please God...give me Victor's time, if only just for now.” - yuuri

i just really like this one, a lot

8. If you could swap talents with someone for a day who would that be and why?

ooooooooo if i switched talents with phichit then i’d be an amazing sociable figure skater with amazing selfie skills!! that sounds pretty good! or victor!!

tbh i think i’d be happy swapping talents with like anyone, bc some people have got such cool talents?? like ok an irl person would be like jin? from bts? bc then i could sing!!!!! i rlly wish i could sing!!!!!!!!

9. What is your least favorite trope in the fandom?

in the yoi fandom? idk....? i guess like the whole thing with the dishes..that wasn’t even funny..like it was made into such a big deal. i don’t think that’s a trope? but it was everywhere. it got annoying. i can’t think of any actual tropes though??

10. What is an AU you’d love to read?

hi i fucking love aus

OK SO ONE i was thinking about like a lil while ago was an ever after high au!!! like ok i know, but i like eah and it was just so much fun trying to figure who each of them would be and what would happen, especially because there’s conflict with like whether they accept their story and follow it or if they rebel against it, especially bc victor might be like a prince and he’s supposed to follow his destiny and be the prince charming of a story, but he loves yuuri who isn’t a part of his story? (he could be like eros or something, the same way that there is c. a. cupid!) and there’s the whole thing about what happens if you don’t follow your destiny (cause raven saw that fake vision that everything would be destroyed if she refused to sign the book and i imagine it’d end up being kinda like that for one of them?) and this whole idea makes me so excited honestly!!!!!!!! idk if anyone would be interested in that though lmao (but if u are...lmk....let’s talk....)

11. Your thoughts on North Korea.

seems like there’s some pretty scary stuff going on up there

i am tagging (if u want to!! u don’t have to!!): @y-uuriis, @reinalino, @katzuyas, @brokuro, @lovingnikiforov, @tsumilkii

my 11 questions are:

which yoi character would you go to for life advice?

what’s your favorite game?

what is a song you love?

your favorite character who is dead now?

what is your style like?

the best drink you’ve ever had?

how is the weather out there?

why are things the way that they are?

what do you love the most in life?

which character would you never ever hang out with?

your opinion on phichit?

#HI THANK U ANDIE YOURE AWESOME #💙

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fuzzydemolitionsquad · 7 years

Text

Lasat family slice of life story

So I took a short vacation from one project to do a personal project, and I've found that breaking away and changing up really helps reignite passion when it comes to returning to stories that have been in the works for months . . . some even years.

This features my Southern-mountain folk lasat oc's so if you don't reeealy like that sort of thing in the Star wars universe I totally understand. If you're interested though, I encourage a read. I'm trying to improve when it comes to writing engaging characters.

The exaggerated language/words these guys speak is part researched and part imagined. The story is a fiction-y take on old-timey Appalachian culture (space Appalachian culture?) (which I love) It's gradually gets more 'lasat' toward the end.

It doesn't have a title. Maybe someone can help?

-------------

Morning

Southeast Lasan

The sun draped a ribbon of honey-colored light over the highest ridge of the Sou Mountains, alighting the tops of the tallest greenjacket trees. A pale blue moon, flanked by its three smaller satellites, lay low in the fading-star-freckled sky.

Morning had come, and the inhabitants of every mountain home, from Sarrkey Knob to Pricklebush, were awake and bustling with activity. It was the beginning of Spring, a scant few months away from the Dust Season, and the hillfolk in these mountains had much to do. The snow had melted. It was time to plant crops and repair fences and barns. Time to pull hammerhead cow calves and build mud-and- straw nests for farrowing kalgow sows.

Shoog Trodd languished in the cocoon of her feather-down quilt. She knew it was time to get up, and also knew if she didn’t get her furry brown butt out of bed soon, her ma would certainly aid her in the process. ‘The chookens won’t gathee they’s own aigs fer us’, she’d say, waving her apron at her with a flourish.

Shoog lifted the hem of her old nightgown and looked down her skinny legs to her too-large feet and growled to herself. She wished she looked more like her older sister. Sally Trodd was built like one of those Amethyst City gals—the voluptuous ones with glossy fur and whitened fangs—who had their pictures in all the prominent fashion flimsi-mags. Sal would look good in a paper poke, if the occasion ever arose where she had to wear one.

It was Shoog’s Flowering Day, the seventeenth year since her birth, but instead of being happy, she was as glum as could be.

"Gonna have to wear the same dress fer my Flowerin’ Day that I wore fer mah last birthday. And I don’t even have m’ ears pierced. Ma and pa says I’m a woman now, but I still dress like a little ol’ kid. Wish I had some pocket money to least buy some ankle garters."

A chooky rooster crowed on the fencepost and Shoog jumped out of bed. She could hear her ma in the kitchen tossing logs into the iron woodstove. Pa was rousing too. It was customary for pa to utter a few gruff ‘karabasts’ each morning before work. He wished he had more time to enjoy the morning’s light, but soon enough he would be descending into the bowels of the G.R.Gradd-Co Quadranium Mine no. seven, and wouldn’t return home until after the sun had dipped below the mountains. The one thing he looked forward to was ma’s breakfasts, even in the lean times. Today there would be fried scrapple and eggs, sweet gorm porridge and wood-sprite mushroom preserves on last night’s leftover maize bread. And caf, strong and black.

Shoog threw an old coat over her nightdress and ran a comb through her wild hair. She hustled out of her room and trotted for the front door.

"Sugar!"

The lasat girl halted at the sound of her mother’s voice.

"Come sit a spell woodja?"

"Gotta use thee outhouse, ma!"

"I ain’t gonna take long. Sides, Puggles is in there right now."

Shoog tossed her head back and closed her eyes."Chaos, Puggles, I know we is alike, but do yew always hafta go when I need to?"

She marched into the kitchen and sat at the Trodd family’s ancient split log table. She traced her parents initials with her claw. It was a sweet testament to their love, and had been for almost seventy years.

Ma sat down with a cup of caf and propped her strong, brown-furred arms on the table. " Shoog, I was a thinkin,’ I’d like t’ curl yer hair and pin it up with granny’s blue pearl combs fore yer cuzzins and friends show up fer yer Flowerin’ Day party. What’cha think?"

The girl’s pointed ears perked. "That sounds good ma! Kin I ask Sal to pierce my ears? "

Ma’s nasal fold wrinkled in disdain. "Yew know I dun like those. They make a young female look like a fast female."

"What’s a fast female?"

"Thee kind what runs around wid all sorts a’ males. Sparkin’ all thee time and drinkin’ likker! Yew got a reppy-tayshun to keep, Shoog."

Pa, a seven-and-a-half-foot mountain of a lasat, entered the kitchen. He set his miner’s helmet on the table, squeezed ma’s shoulders and gave her a tender nose-press. They exchanged a quick breath.

"Aww, ma, stop beein’ so old-fashioned. If my Sugar wants a cupple lil’ earrings t’ make her head look purtier, then she kin have um. It’s her Flowerin’ Day after all."

Ma was incensed. Her yellow-orange eyes bulged. She pounded the heavy table and it quivered. " Rufus Aloysius Trodd! Donchee dare step on me like that! Iffen I say no, I mean no!"

Pa poured himself a large pottery mug of caf. He quickly pressed the rim of the mug against his lips to hide his smile

Shoog sulked. Sometimes her mother was such a bogan. "Well, kin I at least go to the second-hand and look fer a dress to wear?"

Pa set down his caf. "I’m sorry darlin’. Money’s tighter than a Nemoidian’s fist right now. I still owes the comp-ny store fifty creds from last month. Maybe next year."

"Next year won’t be my Flowerin’ Day." Shoog pushed back her chair and buttoned up her coat. "Pa?" She looked at her fearsome but loving patriarch. "Is yew gonna be at my party?"

" I’m reel sorry darlin. I hafta work all day. We found a new vein a’ quadranium and the boss man want us to fill thee quota afore Secondday."

"Oh." Shoog said, deflated. "I better go git them aigs. Dun want yew to miss yer breakfast."

"That’s a good girl." Ma oiled a skillet and set it aside. "Dun bother lil’ Speckle. Jus’ let her be. Thee other hens wuz picking on her sumthing awful yesterday. I think she’s gonna die."

Shoog winced. "Figgurs. She’s my favrit. What a great day this is turnin’ out to be."

The girl slammed the screened door as she exited the house. Ma and pa looked at each other and smiled.

"Oh, I cain’t stand trickin’ her like this. Do you think she has any idear?"

"None whatsever."

Ma plucked a jar of mushroom preserves off the top shelf and set it on the table."Rufus, yew really owe thee comp-ny store fifty credits?"

"Course not. I’s jus tryin’ to fatten up our story some." Rufus growled low in his throat. It was a plaintive growl, not a scary one. "Cain’t believe my youngest girl-cub is a woman-lasat. Seems like only yesterday she wuz a little sprig, wrasslin’ oalamanders in th’mud."

"An’ Puggles will follow her in a year. Then all of our cubs’ll be growed."

"If Puggles don’ stop sparimentin’ wid them damn farcrackers he ain’t gonna make it to his seventeenth birthday. I swear, that cub’s plumb crazy."

"Yew hesh-up now Rufus. Puggles is just gittin’ out his fluster-ations by havin’ a lil’ fun. Jimbo and Jax won’t stop pickin’ on him. It’s high time they got a few whacks wid Ol’ Skinner."

Pa looked down at the infamous belt around his massive girth and chuckled. One day he’d have to hang it in the shed with the rest of the tools.

"I s’pose yer right. I jus ain’t home enough to discipline them. Heh, at least we kin be thankful Puggles ain’t buildin’ bombs. He shore does take a shine to the boomin’ don’t he? Member how much he loved thunder when he wuz a sucklin’ cub?"

Ma grinned. "Shore enough I do. All dem other cubs wood be quiverin’ under they beds, but Not Puggles. He’d climb all over his crib and giggle and sway like he were list’nin to a funny song."

" Seems like only yesterday." Pa reminisced. "I should take him down to the mine, let him watch the detonite crew at work. He’d prolly like dat."

* * * *

Shoog crouched in the henhouse with a full basket of eggs and Lil’ Speckle tucked inside her coat. Jimbo’s prized hen, a big blue with a row of serrated teeth in her lizard-like jaw, glared angrily at the timid chooken sticking her head out of Shoog’s collar. ‘Lola’ strutted back and forth on one of the henhouse rafters, cluck-hissing, her feathers puffed and her spur toes clacking.

"Speckle, we better git outta here afore Lola shits on us . . . or worse. I’ll keep yew in my closet, but yew gotta be real quiet when I give these aigs to ma. Deal?"

The injured chooken cocked her head. She opened her mouth and waggled her tongue, panting.

When Shoog entered the house, she carried the basket over to the wash counter and set it down. She gripped the collar of her coat, holding it close to her neck, and turned to walk to the small bedroom she shared with Sal. Ma caught her by the ear.

"Yoww!"

"Hold on there. Ain’t yew fergetting something?"

Shoog huffed in indignation. "I has to scrub them aigs on my Flowerin’ Day?"

"It’s yer chore ain’t it?"

"Yeah but . . ."

" Get scrubbin’ missy."

Shoog scowled. She looked over at Sal, who was setting the table. Sal’s eyes met her sister’s as she placed a bowl of fresh churned butter on the table. For a moment, Shoog thought she looked sympathetic.

"Now I know why yew celebrated yer seventeenth birthday in the city wid yer friends. I thought it wuz dumb, but it all makes sense now."

Ma and pa looked at each other, silent as tombs.

Shoog got down to business scrubbing the eggs, trying to keep the chooken in her coat still and quiet. She thought of The Amethyst City—The Royal City—and daydreamed about the King and Queen and their well-dressed court. She thought about the beautiful but air-headed princess, and the handsome, ginger-furred prince. He was tall, with bedroom eyes, a curled mustache and pomaded facial fringes. It was said that he had over a hundred lovers, most of them married, but Shoog didn’t believe it. No lasat, male or female, could have that many lovers! She then thought about the Royal Honor Guard, the cream of Lasan’s military force. They were hand-picked from their barracks by war-council leaders, chosen for their agility and strength and smarts. Shoog couldn’t deny how good the male soldiers looked in their form-fitting armorweave suits, complete with capes, helmets and bo-rifles. A burst of painful pleasure electrified the pit of her belly and she forced herself to think of other things.

When she was done, she dried her hands on the dishtowel and stormed toward her room. Ma shouted after her.

"Breakfast will be ready in about a quarter-tick."

"I’m not hungry!"

Ma’s tough facade melted. She whispered to pa. " I don’ think I kin do this anymore. If I keep it up she’s gunna hate me somethin’ awful."

Pa laughed. " Why don’ yew jus’ let her have her gad-durned earrings? She’ll be as happy as a killow flying through a skeeter storm. They won’t turn her into a wicked woman. Our Sugar is a good girl."

Sal’s eyes narrowed.

Sadie snorted and her slot nostrils flared. "Fine. Mebbe I’ll git my ears pierced too. And buy me one of them low-cut gowns, like thee ones them street corner gals wear."

Sally spat out her coffee and made a high-pitched noise, like a reed-squirrel chipping. The thought of her strong, robust-figured mother in a slinky gown was impossible not to giggle at. Pa however, had a different opinion of the matter. He smoothed down his thick mane of a beard and quirked his brow salaciously.

"Yew git yerself a gown like that Sadie, and I’ll personally throw erryone of our brood outta thee house an tell em to stay away fer three days."

Sally stopped laughing. She rolled her long-lashed eyes.

"Gross, pa. Really gross."

She picked a warty-skinned tuber out of the vegetable bin, tossed it into the air and caught it.

"One set of pierced ears coming up." She said, flouncing and jiggling in a most impressive way.

*******

"I wish I wuz a chooken." Shoog said, filling a box in her closet with old handkerchiefs. Lil’ Speckle flopped around on her bedroom floor. She clucked feebly and pecked at a crumb of food that had fallen between two boards.

"Then I could just strut about, pecking and a’ eatin’ and shittin’ out aigs. I wouldn’t have to worry bout being a Gods-dammed loser on my Flowerin’ Day."

"Aren’t you being a bit dramatic?" Sally said, slinking into the room like a brown-furred Goddess. "It’s hardly the end of Lasan. And you better be careful. Ma will give you the back of the brush if she hears you cursing."

Sally had practiced long and hard to speak like a ‘proper’ lasat, ridding herself of that ‘inherited common-human inflection.’ The humans had left Lasan over a millennia ago, but the ancestors of those lasats who neighbored with them in the mountains still spoke the speak.

"Ooh Shoog, what do you have there? A chooken? Are you, as they say, ‘a’fixing to rile ma up?"

" Cakkhh! Shoog spat-snarled. Stop beein’ so damn snobby. It’s annoyin’! Like it or not, you is a hilltrekker jus like the rest of us, and yew always will be. And yes, it’s a chooken. If stupid Jimbo kin bring his precious Lola in th’ house, I dun see no good reason why I cain’t keep Speckle."

On any other day, Sally would jump Shoog for her insolence. The two would engage in a howling, clawing, hair-pulling battle until ma came bursting in to give their bottoms’ a good beating. But today was Shoog’s special birthday. Sal decided to let it go. She sat down on her bed, rolled onto her belly and folded her arms under her chin. She stared at her sister, a tooka’s grin on her face. "So, how do you feel you little nerf? Different?"

"Why would I feel diff’rent?" Shoog lifted Lil’ Speckle into the box and checked her wounds.

" Because you’re a ‘wahmerr’ now. Sally enunciated the Illasano word for ‘woman.’

"Don’ feel like no wahmerr."

" I mean, what do you think about the jackbeards around these parts? They give you the belly tingles yet?"

Shoog flushed. "Sometimes. But Hells, half of the boys round these parts have scrawny beards and bony shoulders."

"True. However, there’s a handsome jack visiting the Boggs. A dark blue striper without a tail. And he has a nice beard coming in." Sal sighed wistfully. "Wonder who he is and where he comes from?"

The younger girl shrugged. "Dunno. I ain’t never seen him."

"If you play your sabbacc cards right, and flirt like I taught you, he might be your boyfriend . . ." Sal said in a sing-song voice.

"Bogan’s balls, I don’ want no boyfriend. I ain’t ready fer all that. I still sleep wid that howler bear toy granny made me when I wuz five."

"I know. And you still suck your thumb."

"I do not! That’s Puggles!"

"Well, I don’t sleep in Puggles’room."

Shoog was about to make a retort when Sally held up the tuber in her hand.

"Why you got that tater? Is yew gonna throw it at me?"

" No, dummy. Ma finally took pity on you. She’s going to allow me to pierce your ears. See the yellow glass studs on my dresser? Those are for you. I liked them when I bought them, but yellow’s not really my color. Happy Flowering Day, Twig."

Shoog squealed. She hopped up onto Sal’s bed and jumped around like a jitter-tick on a hot speeder engine.

"Is yew serious?"

"Serious as a snake-bite. Now stop jumping. That’s all I need is for you to break my bed and have ma thinking me and some jack did it!"

" Ok, sorry." Shoog leapt down. She rocked on her footpads. Her eight toes kneaded the rug beside the bed.

There was a knock at the bedroom door and ma came in, a clean kitchen towel in her hand.

"Here’s the knife fer the tater and a biled safety pin. Yew sure yew know how to do this Sal?"

"Yes ma. I’ve pierced so many of my friends’ ears I’m practically a professional."

"Land a muddlin’ I shore hope so."

Shoog ran to her mother and squeezed her ample waist. "Thank yew, mama, thank yew!!"

"Alright child, alright." Ma held her out at arms length and looked at her. A tear formed in the corner of her eye. "Don’t yew come cryin’ to me if they get infected, ya hear?"

"I won’t."

Ma wiped her eyes with her apron and stood against the doorframe, watching. Sal cut the potato and set it on the clean towel then got the studs. She put them down and looked around. "Do we have any alcohol, ma?"

" Kingdom a’ Ashla and thee Great Bearded One!! No we don’t."

"I can’t do this unless I disinfect everything."

Shoog whined. "Aww, I knew this wuz too good to be true." She threw herself on her bed and crossed her arms like a petulant toddler. She glanced up. A green-bellied arach was spinning a red web on the ceiling.

"Spahder in the house!" She shouted. "Bad luck, bad luck, bad luck be gone!"

Ma ignored Shoog. "I know! Hold on a second."

She left and returned with a jar of clear, sky-colored liquid.

"That’s pa’s blue lightning!" Sal blinked her eyes, shocked. "He and Mossy only made a small batch this year. If he finds out we used it for. . ."

"What he don’ know won’t rile him. Sides, yer only gonna use a little." Ma handed Sal the jar.

The lasat girl unscrewed it and the potent vapors almost knocked her over. She dipped the clean towel in the jar and wiped it all over her hands. Then she wiped the studs. Shoog sat up and held her mid-section. Fairy-bats were flittering around in her belly.

"You ready? Sal held up the safety pin.

"It ain’ gonna hurt a lot is it?"

" Ashla, Shoog. All that whining and now you’re scared? Janey’s the biggest coward in these hills and she let me pierce her ears."

"I know but . ."

"It doesn’t hurt at all. It’s more like a little pinch than anything. Besides, I’m fast. Just close your eyes and hold your breath and it’ll all be over before you know it. Here, hold your growly-bear."

Shoog took the worn stuffed animal and pushed it against her face. Sally moved to her sister’s bed. She gripped her ear and stretched it thin over the potato. Ma steepled her hands in front of her mouth.

Sal stuck her tongue out the side of her mouth and squinted. Her piercing hand hovered over her sister’s ear. "Okay Shoog, little pinch. One. . . two. . . THREE!"

She skewered her sister’s pinna with one punch and removed the tuber.

"That’s it. I’ll leave it in there and let it stretch the hole out a bit."

Shoog removed the bear from her face. "That’s it? I hardly felt that a’tall! Do the other one!"

"Hold your krauntauns. I’m wiping the pin."

Sally pierced Shoog’s other ear and pushed the studs through. Shoog ran to the mirror to admire her sister’s work. The earrings were beautiful, like scintillating dew drops touched by the sun. Ma brushed and curled her daughter’s thick, dark brown hair and dabbed a drop of tinted gloss on her lips. "Look up." She said as she applied two coats of mascara to her lashes. Sal tried to be helpful when she offered Shoog one of her too-small short skirts and a tiny top. Ma vetoed them the moment they exited the closet. She walked her daughter over to the dresser mirror and stood behind her.

"Wooo." Shoog leaned forward and studied the visage staring back at her. "I dun look half bad."

"You look a’might purty if yew ask me." Ma kissed her cheek. " Now rest up a spell. Thee guests should start arrivin’ by sunhigh. I’m gunna go pay yer aunt Daizee a call. Bring her some tack-biscuits and sweet-nettle tea. That baby inner is making her as sick as an anooba in a melon patch."

"Well it is an Orrelios." Sal said, her eyes downcast.

"Hesh-up. I don’t want none of that talk outta you ‘round Daizee, yew hear?"

"Yeah, I hear."

******

Sugar Trodd dreamed that the prince of Lasan had invited her to the Royal Palace. Naturally, he was infatuated with her at first sight. Never had he seen such a delicate mountain flower. He compared her eyes to the torch-fires of Izrothir , her lips to a fount of heady wine and her small breasts to a pair of decadent Aztecan chocolate truffles. He found himself mad with passion and he couldn’t help but beg her to be his wife. Shoog smiled in her slumber when he breathed into her ear and nuzzled her temple with his lips. She traced the prince’s handsome brow-ridges with her fingertips and put her hands on the back of his head. She drew him in close, touching her snub nose to his. They shared a life-breath and then connected in a kiss. . .

The sounds of a gathering crowd whisked the prince away into obscurity. Shoog woke with a snort. She jumped out of bed and drew back her curtain to look at a large gathering of women-lasats arranging food on a long plank table in front of the house. Some she recognized, like her aunts and cousins and friends, but some she didn’t. Did her cousins and friends invite friends of their own?

Wood in the brick fire pit burned hot, and the mouth-watering smell of roasting prongnose wafted in through her bedroom window. She closed the curtain with a swift pull.

"Karabast! That’s all fer me? All that food and all them people?" She knelt in front of the chest at the foot of her bed and frantically pulled clothes from it. Lil’ Speckle looked at her with sleepy-hen eyes, then, unfazed, drank from the water dish Shoog had provided her.

"There ain’t nothing in here worth wearing, cept mebbe this fancy sweaterdress. Uhhggh, No!" She threw it down. "It too hot outside fer that!"

She sat back down on her bed and agonized over her choices. Then,

"You know what? Ma and Sal went through a lot of trouble to make me feel good. Least I kin do is be ‘preesh-ative. That ol’ dress a mine ain’t so bad. Hells, nobody will recognize it from last year. I hope."

Shoog wriggled into her slip and tossed the old blue dress on. It was a little tighter and shorter than she remembered. Was it possible she did that much growing in one year? She buttoned it up.

She went to the mirror and combed her curls, then put on another dab of gloss and rubbed her lips together. Ma came into the room, a colorful box tucked under her arm.

"Oh, Sugar darlin’ that old dress won’t do. Not fer yer flowerin’!"

"It’s not a bad dress ma. An’ look, it fits me better this year!"

"I dunno," Sadie rubbed her furry chin. "What do yew think Daizee?"

Aunt Daizee’s purple-striped face peered into the room. She was a pretty lasat, pretty as a jogan, but a lack of sleep and constant morning sickness had hollowed her cheeks and darkened the sockets of her eyes.

"I reckon it’s okay. But I think you’d like what’s in the box better."

Shoog’s heart skipped a beat. She eyed the colorful package tucked under her mother’s arm and her mouth dropped open. She felt like a magnet drawn to metal.

"Happy Flowerin’ Day my darlin’." Ma handed Shoog the package. It was wrapped in pink foil paper and tied with a big white bow. Shoog whistled through her front teeth.

"That’s the nicest wrappin’ paper I’ve ever seen in my whole life! I don’ wanna rip it."

"Oh go ahead, rip it!" Sal said, coming into the room.

"No. It’s too purty to waste. I kin use it again." Shoog sat cross-legged on her bed with the box on top of her knees. She was dying to see what was inside.

After carefully removing the bow and paper she removed the box top and unfolded the dish towel containing her present. She held her hands to her mouth and gasped. Inside, was an elegant strapless dress the color of fresh-churned butter. Shoog lifted it out of the box. It had a scalloped front and was gathered at the waist. The opening in back, plunging to mid spine, was laced with delicate yellow ribbons.

"Great Bearded One, if this ain’t the purtiest dress I ever did see!" She held it up in front of her and twirled. "And strapless too! Ain’t this gonna make me look ‘fast’ ma?"

" Yer auntie says it’s an elegant dress. It ain’t meant t’ make yew look fast. Hit’s meant t’ make yew look like a lady."

"It’s gorgeous, Shoog." Sal said with a hint of jealousy.

*********

Shoog greeted her guests. They oohed and aaahed and told her to turn around. Great aunts pinched her cheeks and friends and cousins made big productions out of her new look. They ‘Oh my Godded’ and ‘You’re so luckyed’ her so much, she felt like a celebrity. When she slipped away for a second to get some pucker-fruit punch she looked into the throng of lasats and felt her face contort into a confused frown.

Where were all the males?

Every guest, except for the youngest cubs, were female.

Shoog saw her eldest sister Mae placing a bowl of rarrcot and swamp-plum salad on the table. She went up to her.

"Hey mama Mae."

" There she is! The belle of the ball. The most beautiful girl here. And to think, yew were a rough-and tumble little jack-boy the last time I saw yew."

"Aw, I’m still a jack-boy. I ain’t never gonna stop huntin’ and fishin’ wid pa, or stop wrasslin wid the fellers."

"Yew might wanna reconsider that last one." Mae said, wiping the rim of the bowl with a wet cloth.

"Uhm, speaking of fellers, where’s all th’ males at? I ain’t seen a peek of Jimbo or Jax or Muss or Puggles. Not even Mawsy. And there’s beer here, I know it!"

"I’m sure they’re around. Somewhere." Mae winked and tweaked Shoog’s chin. She turned at the sound of a grating female voice. "Oh, I see someone invited that ol’ loon-cootie Lottie Bingo. She’s prowbly thumping the Great Bearded One’s book, preachin’ about the sins of the flesh and fur." She frowned. "Bless her heart. Well, excuse me darlin,’ I have to find some more cutlery. I brought my wedding set of aurodium plate, great-Aunt Tilda and Winnie did too, but a lot more lasats than we anticipated turned up to see yew flower."

Shoog hugged her sister and skipped off. She joined her friends and kin on the grassy hill behind the barn and stood in a long line. They played malogi’-majlogo, a once-competitive game that was rumored to come from the fabled planet of Lirasan. Most historians and lasopoligists believed all lasats living on Lasan came via a human transport over three-thousand years ago, as no bones found in middens were any older. Lasats had to come from somewhere. Perhaps the legend of Lirasan wasn’t so far fetched as many once thought.

The girls clapped their hands loudly, calling out the name of the first girl in line. Cousin Hildi stepped out of line and performed a dance she had conjured up the night before. She flapped her arms like a killow and stood high on her toes and cartwheeled until he landed on her tail. Laughing, she skipped her way to the end of the line. Next was Sally. Her dance—though impressive— was as predictable as it was sensuous, and was hard to clap to. Other girls followed, each one with their own trademark dance style. Then came Shoog’s turn.

Pumped with adrenaline, she ran out in front of the gang of laughing girls and raised a ferocious scream so loud her younger cousins covered their sensitive ears. She crouched low and prowled and paced. She bared her fangs and popped her eyes. They burned a deep orange around their pinprick pupils. The girls went wild. They clapped in quintuple-beat, clap clap. . . clapclapclap. . . a warrish beat. Shoog knelt in the grass and shimmied her shoulders. She slapped the palms of her hands on the ground and whipped her head around then sprang from her crouch, eight feet into the air, landing in a pose reminiscent of that of a sprinter at a starting line. She stood, thrust out a bent leg and raised her face to the sky before letting out another scream. The girls were about to applaud the dance when the most blood-curdling roar they had ever heard split the air through the holler. Shoog stood up straight. A beaming smile covered her face. She knew that roar.

Coming up the rising path was a large troop of males, her father in the lead.

"Pa!" She lifted her dress and ran straight for the giant lasat, her companions not far behind. The eerie moan of traditional polished horn prong-pipes heralded the males’ entrance. The blowing of the pipes informed colonies of lasats that a clan leader was approaching. Even in the royal city they used wrought-ore versions of the ancient instruments whenever the King and Queen made an appearance.

Flanking pa were his sons. Rufus jr. and Zelbert. Muss and Naylor. Jax and Jimbo and Puggles. Even Trapper, who spent most of his life in solitude in the high mountains. As she got closer, Shoog saw Mossy, and also cousin Zeke and Bubba. A phalanx of other kin and family friends followed behind. Shoog leapt at her father who caught her in a hug then hoisted her up onto his shoulder. They marched through the crowd of women-folk and stood at attention in the yard. On the porch, pa’s well-fed anooba Gracie horrked and slobbered and ran her tongue over the jutting spade of a tooth in her lower jaw. She galloped up to Rufus and stood upright, putting her long-clawed paws on his chest. Mossy grabbed a beer from a washtub and cracked it open on the beastly creature’s tooth. The young boys in the crowd laughed.

The male lasats were dressed in their finest woodsmen-warrior garb, which included sleeveless, multipocketed jerkins and arm bracers with pouches. They wore gray prongnose-wool skilts—with clan colors and designs around the bottom— and leather codpieces and knife sheaths. Most bore two bandoliers that crisscrossed their chests and each male carried an impressive arsenal of weapons. Pa’s old rifle was slung across his back and two throwing axes hung at his hips. Whip-killow feathers wreathed his bony dome, and his face, already fearsome, was painted white, like a skull. There were males with shining daggers and lacquered bats. Males with falchions, slugthrowers and plasma spitters, pole-bows, maces and spears.

Each male was fearsome and striking, even little Puggles, whose painted face and shark-jawed visage made him look like a strangely formidable foe. The trio of smoke-screamer grenades in his bandolier also helped.

Shoog kicked Gracie’s paws off Rufus’s chest. " Don’tchu get my dress dirty y’ whip-tailed bitch. I’ll brain ye!"

A lasat in the back, pa’s friend Tabe, guffawed like a drunk at a circus.

"That thar is deffy-nit-ly yer pro-genny ol’ Roof! Shore as a tick loves a furry ass-crack."

"We is gonna have t’ get more beer." Ma whispered to Daizee.

The purple-striped female caressed the small bulge in her belly. "Um, or mebbe not. I’m sure some of them boys brang they’s own distillate. Hey!" She yelped. "Easy little one. Land’ a muddlin’, only five months old and she’s kickin’ like a cow!"

Shoog poked her pa’s snub nose and wiped the white paint on his jerkin. "Hey pa, why is yew fellers all fancied up an’ armed to thee teeth?"

Rufus tickled Shoog’s ear, like he did when she was small."I wuz unner thee impression they taught yew kids history in school!"

"They did! But all we loined about wuz thee portent ‘citified lasats’."

"Damn shame. Well Sugar, hits like this. Back in the day, b’fore miners and mines an’ banks and comp’ny stores, there wuz th’ Clans o’ Thee Forest. Some clans wuz small and sum clans wuz big. Our linny-age goes way back. There wuz Trodds what wuz picked to fight in thee barbarian wars."

"Oh yeah! I ‘member grampy saying somethin’ like that!"

"Anyway, prommy-nunt clan leaders wuz a’might fond of they’s kids. When a girl came of the age for broodin,’ her pa threw her a big party so young-jacks could come to show their talents and try they’s hands at wooin’.

"Hell, I ain’t gonna do no broodin, er, breedin! Not fer a long time!"

" Corse y’ ain’t! This wuz thee old days, ‘member?"

"Oh yeah. So why all the weapons?"

"Well, a Clan leader had to pertect his daughter frum jope-jacks and briggards, so he employeed his own personal army a’ kinfolk an’ frens t’ keep her safe."

" That’s purty wizard pa."

"What?"

"That’s neat."

Rufus lifted his daughter off his shoulder and set her on the ground in front of him. His face was stoic, cool and composed, but under the skin he was weeping. His hook-baiter, his lizard spooker, his fire-starter, was now a woman. Suddenly he was glad for all his faithful ‘warriors’. There were boys showing up at the party that he didn’t know. One thing was for sure. They wouldn’t want to know him if they messed with Shoog.

**********

Ma eventually broke down. From the moment she woke, she told herself that she wouldn’t cry today. She was certain her spirited and independent daughter would breeze through the ceremony without nary a sniffle or a tremor, but as the visitors crowded around the decorated stump and Rufus helped Shoog up on top of it, ma could tell her poor girl was nervous to the point of fainting. She looked so small, so vulnerable.

Pa pulled a dog-eared book out of one of his breast pockets, licked his thumb and turned the pages. The book, with its crackled parchment pages was over nine-hundred years old. It had been passed from clan patriarch to clan patriarch, and when the time came for Rufus to be bested in combat by one of his sons for title as clan leader—most likely Rufus jr.—he would pass it down as well.

Ma stood next to pa. To his other side was Shoog’s sister Hallie, the Trodd family medicine woman. She held a dipper of water with bits of maiden’s-foot fern floating in it.

Pa found the page he was looking for. He cleared his throat. He could speak old Illasano, but he was very much out of practice.

" Shrrwall mirol." He intoned. "Harrkg dasa, harrkg mojallan, miuuk ti, ti’as Sugar bilo nen dauhirra wahmerr."

(Honored guests. Beloved friends, beloved family, we today give our child-daughter Sugar to womanhood.)

" Ashla fuegolo malinta. (Ashla be near)

"Ashla fuegolo malinta!" Chanted the crowd.

" Umdayrr ti’as rrip ti’as pial." (Today she sheds her skin)

"Umdayrr ti’as comass a sharrgo!" (Today she feeds the fire!)

"Pil ti’as songerr naberskerr!" (May she be strong as a warrior.)

"Pil ti’as oovak mana." (May her womb be fruitful.)

Shoog rolled her eyes and blushed and the crowd burst out in laughter.

Jimbo parenthesized his mouth with his hands and shouted. "Dun git knocked up tonight!" Jax slapped his knee and brayed.

" Shet-up yew dumb-asses!" Shoog yelled back, stomping her foot. Pa cracked up. He took a deep breath. He had to regain his composure before continuing.

"C’mon Roof! Yew kin do it!" His brother Jethro cried.

"Ahem. . . "Pil ti’as rrrmaeso, kon hoorr’baerbo mah foshzam." (May she summon the wisdoms, the heart-knowing.)

"Chh lengg ti’as sorrvive." (As long as she walks the land.)

"Ashla glorrae." (Ashla blessed)

"Ashla glorrae." Everyone said, solemnly.

Ma was now sobbing. Daizee squeezed her shoulder.

"Well, I reckon that’s it fer the prayer." Pa said, closing the book and carefully putting it back in his pocket. Ma dabbed her streaming eyes with a handkerchief.

"Oh Rufus, that wuz beeyootiful. Absolutely beeyootiful."

Mossy came forward with a torch and set the stacked kindling wood in a pit in front of the stump on fire.

"Y’ ready Twig?" He asked Shoog.

"Ready as all ever be."

The girl-now woman reached out and took her beloved growly-bear from her father. She looked down at the crackling fire and tossed the toy in.

"Ti’a parrile a muart." (" The child is dead")

Hallie washed her sister’s hands with the fern-water.

The crowd cheered and ran forward. Many held dried snake skins in their hands which they threw on Shoog, symbolically shedding her of the remaining spirit of childhood.

"Time fer vittles y’all!’ Daizee clapped her hands and yelled. "This young’in in me is a’ chompin at thee rope!"

Everyone congratulated Shoog and ran to find a place at the main table. The prongnose was pulled out of the fire, as were fifty chookens, a pair of suckling kalgows and a haunch of beef. It wasn’t much meat, but there were plenty of side dishes brought by guests to be sampled.

Shoog watched her bear burn until nothing was left but a pair of melting button eyes. She sighed, jumped off the stump and joined the rest of the throng.

After supper, the shine came out, which meant roughhousing. A handful of guardsmen pledged to stay sober just in case the fun turned into full-blown fighting. Hallie came up to pa, a concerned look on her face.

"Don’t look now, pa. Bubba is head-sparrin’ wid uncle Bocephus. And a few other fellers."

A passel of lasat men—attended by woman with cold rags—rolled around on the ground, holding their bony craniums and groaning.

Rufus groaned as well. His hefty, good-natured nephew loved to smack skulls with other lasats, even when sober, but he often failed to think about the force behind his weight. In this county, he was reigning head-butt champion.

"Time t’ give fat-boy a spankin’. Rufus pounded his palm with his fist.

**********

The afternoon sped like a hooch-runner into the night.

Shoog excused herself from the crowd—and the boys in it who shoved to the front to ask her to dance—and found a place behind the hen-house where she could be alone. She had partaken of a few sips of snowberry wine and was feeling content and happy. Spark flies hovered beneath the branches of the old greenjacket in the yard and over the maize tassels in ma’s garden. Little cubs clambered about on the tire swing and bigger cubs climbed the tree itself, proving their bravery. She had to look twice to determine whose kids they were. It turned out they were Mae’s grandkids. She waved to them and they waved back with their sticky, cake-and-punch fingers. Puggles ambled over, a Lasan Blue Ribbon beer in his hand.

" Sum party, eh Shoog?" He drained the beer can and crushed it against his furry brow.

"That’s gonna hurt in the mornin.’Hey, how’d yew git that anyway? Yew know pa will tan yer tail if he see’s yew wif a hard drank."

"Beer ain’t a hard drank. Mossy said so."

"Ohh. If Mausee told you a turd wuz a turnip, wood yew bile it in water?"

"I reckon I woodnt."

The siblings sat in silence for a few seconds. The sounds of lasats laughing and singing and debating politics merged with the sweet melody of fiddle music. It was emanating from the barn, where lasats were dancing the night away. Some of the brawnier males took their jerkins off and performed frightening warrior dances. Everyone hooped and hollered and begged for more. Most of the males charged with ‘policing the crowd’ were asleep on the lawn or under the table, their drained jars still clasped in their hands.

"Sorry bout yer growly bear." Puggles looked up at his sister with large honest eyes. "Why didn’t yew pick something else fer the far?"

Shoog smiled at her brother and squeezed his hand. "Well, thee whole point of thee ceremony was fer me to give up m’ childhood. It needed to be a might parful symbol, something sad an’ a lil’ painful, because honestly Puggles, growin’ up hain’t all what it’s cracked up to be."

" Yew ain’t happy bout bee’in a woman-lasat?"

Shoog took another sip of her wine. "In one way, yeah, I s’pose so. I have more say in things now. But in another . . . look what I’ll be missin.’"

She pointed to the cubs in the tree, carrying on like they hadn’t a care in the world. Puggles chhuhhed.

"Beein’ a growed up means more ‘sponsibility, but yew ain’t never gotta give up on fun. That prayer pa said, hits a million-years old. It ain’t meant t’ be follered zactly the way he said it."

"Ye think so?"

"Well, dats whut I think! Shit, ahs’ll never let a-dulthood turn me into a borin’ stiff!"

Shoog got out of her chair and gave her little brother a hug. "Yew is smarter than yew give yerself credit fer."

She smiled sweetly. Then she punched him in the stomach.

"Owwww!! What’s that fer?"

"That’s fer them farworks you sent up. Honestly Puggles, Booger? You spelt my name Booger?"

Puggles gripped his belly. "Errybody else thunk is wuz funny!"

"Yeah I bet they did!" She pulled his sparse beard. He yanked her hair. They started to wrestle.

Ma and pa stood at a distance. " Yew see that Sadie? Sum things never change."

"I swear to the Bogan, ifffen she gits that dress mussed up, I’ll snatch her head bald."

Rufus turned Sadie toward him and embraced her. A devilish smile split his face.

"Why Rufus, what’s gotten into yew?"

" I wuz jus’ thinkin,’ How’s about we talk more about that strapless dress you is plannin’ to buy?"

-Finito-

#lasat #my characters #writing practice

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hurt-by-flying-skeleton-hats · 7 years

Note

1-100

Spotify, SoundCloud, or Pandora? Spotify

is your room messy or clean? Clean at the moment, usually is a black chaos

what color are your eyes? Blue

do you like your name? why? I love my middle name, but not a fan of my first or last names

what is your relationship status? Single and hating every second

describe your personality in 3 words or less Boring, sarcastic, awkward

what color hair do you have? Ginger/auburn

what kind of car do you drive? color? I have a white Mini Cooper named Mollie

where do you shop? H&M, Primark and BooHoo.com

how would you describe your style? Grunge/alt/cute/girly idk, I just wear what I want

favorite social media account Tumblr

what size bed do you have? Double

any siblings? Older brother and sister

if you can live anywhere in the world where would it be? why? Anywhere on the Isle of Wight, it was the last time felt happy

favorite snapchat filter? Don’t use those silly things

favorite makeup brand(s) NYX and Revlon

how many times a week do you shower? 5 usually, I tend to have 2 baths a week too

favorite tv show? Fresh Prince

shoe size? 7

how tall are you? 5′4″

sandals or sneakers? How about boots??

do you go to the gym? lol no

describe your dream date I’m done with dating and romance forever, causes too much pain

how much money do you have in your wallet at the moment? £14.27

what color socks are you wearing? Grey

how many pillows do you sleep with? Three

do you have a job? what do you do? I’m a nursery nurse which is as shit as it sounds

how many friends do you have? 5 or 6

whats the worst thing you have ever done? tried to kill myself

whats your favorite candle scent? Yankee Candle pink sands or black cherry

3 favorite boy names Arian, Logan and Mylo

3 favorite girl names Evie, Amari and Aoife

favorite actor? Don’t have one tbh

favorite actress? Read above

who is your celebrity crush? Reread 33

favorite movie? Cool Runnings

do you read a lot? whats your favorite book? I don’t read as much as I used to but I really liked Fallen by Lauren Kate

money or brains? BRAINS

do you have a nickname? what is it? Birdcage and Han

how many times have you been to the hospital? For myself, 3 times. In general, fuck knows

top 10 favorite songs omg this is so hard >_

do you take any medications daily? Yes >_

what is your skin type? (oily, dry, etc) oily and dry

what is your biggest fear? clowns, being alone

how many kids do you want? in an ideal world 2, but even just having one will be amazing

whats your go to hair style? half up half down

what type of house do you live in? (big, small, etc) a lil cozy cluttered place

who is your role model? no one tbh

what was the last compliment you received? I have a nice butt

what was the last text you sent? Oi cunt

how old were you when you found out santa wasn’t real? 5

what is your dream car? 1967 Mustang Fastback

opinion on smoking? I do it, but it is disgusting

do you go to college? Nope

what is your dream job? Housewife if I’m really honest

would you rather live in rural areas or the suburbs? Suburbs

do you take shampoo and conditioner bottles from hotels? Of course

do you have freckles? Yes

do you smile for pictures? God no

how many pictures do you have on your phone? 300 and something idk

have you ever peed in the woods? Not in the woods but I have drunkenly peed in a graveyard and behind a rock climbing all at a park

do you still watch cartoons? rarely

do you prefer chicken nuggets from Wendy’s or McDonalds? Never even seen a Wendy’s

Favorite dipping sauce? BBQ

what do you wear to bed? Either just a t-shirt and underwear or pjs if they’re shorts

have you ever won a spelling bee? Never even taken part in one

what are your hobbies? Sleep, food, degrading myself

can you draw? fuck no

do you play an instrument? I can play a bit on bass

what was the last concert you saw? Motley Crue at Download Festival in 2015

tea or coffee? Coffee

Starbucks or Dunkin Donuts? Starbucks

do you want to get married? Eh, not fussed

what is your crush’s first and last initial? Fuck having feelings for anyone

are you going to change your last name when you get married? Yes cause I hate mine

what color looks best on you? Black or grey

do you miss anyone right now? Yes and he knows it

do you sleep with your door open or closed? Closed usually but open if I’m home alone

do you believe in ghosts? Yes

what is your biggest pet peeve? Nail biting, those people that picking toppings off pizza

last person you called` My car insurance company

favorite ice cream flavor? Mint choc chip

regular oreos or golden oreos? Regular

chocolate or rainbow sprinkles? Rainbow

what shirt are you wearing? Black vest top

what is your phone background? The galaxy

are you outgoing or shy? Both, depends who I’m with

do you like it when people play with your hair? Sometimes

do you like your neighbors? They’re alright

do you wash your face? at night? in the morning? Both

have you ever been high? Yup

have you ever been drunk? Yup

last thing you ate? A sandwich

favorite lyrics right now I would hate you if I could

summer or winter? Summer

day or night? Day

dark, milk, or white chocolate? Milk

favorite month? July

what is your zodiac sign Aires

who was the last person you cried in front of? My dad

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howlingcommandoreigns-archived · 8 years

Photo

The stiffled laughter which greeted him as he was dragged through the shelter’s doors by a rambunctious pack of baying molossers had become a sound he was accustomed to these days working his shifts here, the dithering of volunteer workers workers who were alarmed when he first came in after a long walk with twigs in his hair and tarmac burns on his elbows dissipating when they realized his hands-on approach to the animals under their care and his penchant for gamboling with them when the opportunity arose.

“You fuckin’ pricks are makin’ a game out of this, swear to god.” Roman panted from the floor, finally releasing the eight leashes he had held on to like his life depended on it as he pointed at droopy-eyed St.Bernard with thick ropes of drool slowly pooling on the linoleum below from jowls which were lifted in a good-natured grin. “You---they had a bad influence on you, big boy. Which one done talked you into it? Bet it was her yeah? See you makin’ eyes at me missy, don’t think I ain’t keepin’ tabs on ya!” He tipped his chin at a Rottweiler who tilted her head to a side and he could almost see the wry amusement in her gaze as he propped himself up on his elbows and let out a breathless grunt when the St.Bernard decided to sit squarely in his lap and the rest of them swarmed him over with tails wagging eighty miles an hour.

“Yeah yeah, butter the boss up real good. Classy tactic.” The sound of a volunteer clearing her throat politely however silenced them all for a moment as he tilted his head over to where a mousey little teenager with a clipboard was nervously eyeing the large breeds with apprehension that generally came with being a---

“Newbie. Talk to me, kid.”

“Your visitor arrived five minutes ago. She’s in the waiting hall, would you like me to bring her in?” “Nah, I got this.” Roman assured her as he stood up and handed the dog’s leashes to a more experienced handler who led them back towards the kennels. Accepting the offer of a towel from another, he ambled over and poked his head through the door which led to the visitor’s hall and upon spotting the familial mane of fiery red, whistled to get her attention. “Ay Hot Socks! Over here!.” He beckoned for her to follow him deeper into the establishment, passing a brightly lit room where several puppies were playing with their handlers and a medical bay where the latest rescues were being treated. “It gets a lil’ hectic around here these days, but I’ve got the meeting room set up in the cat enclave. We’ve got several so prospective owners can meet with our residents away from the chaos of the surroundings.” Stopping in front of a room with a large glass panel through which they could observe its inhabitants, he gestured for her to take a look for herself at the five felines who were either at rest or amusing themselves with the toys left for them on the floor.

The sole exception however was a tuxedo Angoran who was sitting on the ledge of the window and staring right back at them curiously, mouth opening in a quizzical meow which couldn’t be heard through the glass. “Meena. You’ll notice she’s still got her collar on.” Roman tapped his neck for emphasis, his tone of voice taking on the air of someone who was clearly tired of the situation but still hoping for the best.

“Her owner surrendered her to us several months ago ‘cause they were movin’ an’ didn’t want her with them in their new home. She’s a good cat---affectionate as hell, won’t stop givin’ us kisses, but she’s real vocal. I figure she might be callin’ out to them still hopin’ they left her behind on accident. She gets violent when you try to take off that collar, so y’know. We left it on. It still means somethin’ to her even if she don’t mean nothin’ to ‘em anymore. I tell that to people an’ they deflate a lil’ ‘cause they think that means she won’t love ‘em or she’ll try to run or summat. I think she just needs a new family who’s gonna be there for her, yeah?”

The Samoan turned his head towards a sprightly, green-eyed ginger Manx who was batting at a mouse stuffed with catnip like he was hitting several homeruns---the others were wise enough to give him a wide berth though they weren’t safe from his explosive reserves of energy as he raced around the room and promptly ran into a Maine Coon who walloped him across the nose. This made him retreat quickly and he was back to gnawing holes in the toy mouse as Roman shook his head at the creature in amusement. “That clown is Jack. As in Jumpin’ Jacks, because that’s his mode pretty much until his Duracell batteries die down for the day. He’s a young cat, real energetic if that display ain’t enough to clue you in---nippy an’ we’re kinda workin’ out his thing with playin’ rough, ‘cause he was a feral through an’ through when we picked him up. He’s gotten better since. Ain’t got a fear of dogs which is a plus or a minus dependin’ on how you look at it--he tolerates ‘em pretty well as long as they don’t try assertin’ themselves on him. He’s pretty self-reliant an’ don’t need too much fuss. Give him toys, food an’ water an’ he’s happy keepin’ himself company while you’re gone.”

Roman directed Becky’s attention to the Maine Coon who had returned to feeding from the cat bowls after Jack’s collusion course. Unlike the rest, this one carried herself with a clear sense of dignity that befitted her silver-speckled fur and she went about to cleaning herself fastidiously after her snack. “That queen there is Delancey. She’s pretty old, sort of the Queen Elizabeth of the cats here to be honesty, but she’s still got it when it comes to showin’ who’s boss around here, heh. She can be a grumpy old hag which is why she’s gone through the system quite a bit; unfamiliar noise an’ sudden touches set her off which is why I ain’t recommended her for families with young kids, but she’s pretty affectionate once you have her trust. She’s also one of the few cats here who’s pretty chill with dogs as long as they don’t yark in her face an’ leave her food alone. She’s got a couple of meds she needs to take these days, comes with her age y’know?”

A bright-eyed Tonkinese had noticed Meena’s attentiveness to the figures beyond the glass and jumped up onto the edge to join her in studying the human they were familiar with who always smelled of dog, and this new one with the sunset hair.

“Tracy, she’s curious about everythin’. New friends, new food, new smells, new toys, everythin’s worth investigatin’ for her which is great since that means her first instinct to a new friend is to check ‘em out first instead of hidin’ out an’ hissin’ up a storm. She’s friendly even if she ain’t as affectionate as the rest---willin’ to give everyone a try. Problem is, she can get too friendly, too curious, an’ that spells trouble if you don’t keep an eye on her an’ she does things like try to eat make-up cake or lipstick which is how she ended up here an’ starts tryin’a commune with dogs who’re less friendly than Cadbury could be. She’s best as an indoor cat, outdoors only an’ only if you’ve got her on a harness, no matter how much outdoors might intrigue her.”

A striking Ocicat poked his head out of a box before sauntering out with all the confidence of a young prince and stretching out before hem so his markings were on full display before he walked over to the water bowl next to where Delancey was and began politely drinking from it. After several sips, he straightened his back and began grooming the older cat who closed her eyes contently. “Ram Dass is a gentleman, kinda like Cadbury is. He was born here---his mother came to us pregnant an’ was adopted out a while back so he’s young an’ this place is all the home and the family he knows so in his case, I can guarantee that he’ll have no problem with a multi-pet household since that was the way he was raised here. Thing with him is he’s always concerned, which is a thing that happens when you’re raised in an environment where y’know. Hurt cats an’ dogs are comin’ in every week an’ some of ‘em don’t make it an’ he sort of gets what’s goin’ on---he seems to be aware that livin�� things suffer an’ die an’ he’s always goin’ around checkin’ on his mates makin’ sure they’re OK an’ even the humans who’re tendin’ to him, so if he’s yowlin’ an’ demandin’ to be let into the toilet with you, know that he just doesn’t want you to be hurt or summat an’ he’s gonna check on you just in case.”

A nondescript bundle of fur nestled in a small hammock came to life as the last cat of the lot raised his head sleepily in their direction and after a split second of deciding on whether they were worth getting up for and investigating, yawned long and wide before settling down for another nap.

“Dorian. As in Dorian Grey. He’s spoiled silly, this one, an’ goddamn if he don’t know that he’s pretty. Got one of those owners who picked him up when he was small an’ cute an’ didn’t want to deal with him when he got older an’ started showin’ normal cat behavior. He’s always cool an’ calm---he don’t approach you, you approach him, there’s always a set number of strokes, six in all before he decides he’s had enough attention, an’ he can’t deal with normal cat food---dunno what he was fed as a kid but he can’t digest store-brand cat food without throwin’ it up so it’s got to be one of the vet-approved brands with little to no filler. He’s lazy as shit an’ is content with sleepin’ on the couch or your lap for most of the day, which is good because ain’t no one got time to be pickin’ fights with dogs, certainly not this homeboy.” Roman placed his hand on the glass, chuckling to himself as Meena and Tracy batted at it from the other side which made it look like they were offering him high-fives. He straightened his back and turned around to face Becky before waving his hand at the door next to the window. “Your call when you wanna go in or if you wanna go in first so they get to know you before you bring in Cadbury. You take as long as you want to know ‘em. I’ll be out here if you need me aight?”

@lassxkickerxlynch

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get-a-new-lease-on-life · 6 years

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Gallery of Memories - Missed Steps

It was bound to happen sooner or later, right? Funny how a person's priorities can change over time.

This chapter dedicated to Aeroza, Shelshokd, my nutty-hubby Cold, and all you other wonderful people who (maybe unintentionally) talked me into the madness about to happen. After all, in the immortal words of Cold Thomas, "Quit agonizin' over bullshit an' just knock'er up a'ready." Wish granted, Cold...this is gonna be hilarious! Chapter warning: Glen Devon - he talks. More important chapter warning: Here be munchkins - prepare for cavities.

Suggested Listening: Carrie Underwood "What I Never Knew I Always Wanted," Savage Garden "Truly, Madly, Deeply"

Missed Steps

Many years ago – sixteen years ago, in fact – a woman named Amber O'Brien died with only the regret that she never found a love worth living for. That was the official story but the truth was much more complicated: she found that love as a child in dreams of a boy from another world but the connection was doomed from the start. Two people from two different realities could never meet outside of dreams…at least, so they thought until Amber died and was given a new lease on life in his reality. Sixteen years, Amber considered with a wide, crooked grin, was really not that long after all—not when one considered she left behind the year 2011 and awoke in 2016. Ten years, now that was a much more impressive number to her. After all, a little over ten years ago she and Donatello pledged themselves to one another and began a new life together.

After over a decade the Lair was still very much the same as the day she first arrived there, if a little more spread out, expanded on, and improved. There were some changes - the kitchen was cramped nowadays what with all the extra mouths at mealtimes and the home's upkeep was more time-consuming. There were always repairs to be done, too. Things broke, structures weakened, little hands found new ways to injure themselves on supposedly safe surfaces…hence why Amber sat plopped down on a stool in the pantry doorway, screwdriver in hand, finishing up the install of hardware for a long-overdue door.

A wheezing nasal giggle drew her attention from the lock to the culprit responsible—a young boy barely six who had a naughty habit of climbing the pantry shelves to reach the cookie stash and getting stuck at the top. Byron Isaac, or “Zack,” was her little miracle—well, one of them at least.

At first glance he seemed simply human—a little oddly formed with unusual proportions, granted, but he wasn't obviously a mutant. Still, anyone who looked closely enough could see the truth. His skin didn't match either parents'. The color was a smooth olive tone—paler and browner than Donnie's skin but much greener in color than a normal human could boast without terminal illness or a steady diet of pennies. Even at six years old his family could see that he would have his father's lean build and his impressive height. He had a flat, wide nose, chubby cheeks, full lips, small, flat ears, and an adorable gap-toothed grin that practically matched Donnie's as a child but with crooked teeth—and that was saying nothing of the most obvious trait. She shook her head at the irony, her grin only widening. He got her grey-green eyes, ears, and overbite but Donnie's thick, rough skin and complete inability to grow hair. Even now, hunched over with a hand-whittled brain-teaser puzzle and nearly cocooned in his favorite green afghan, his bare head was carefully covered with a matching knit cap.

"Check." Amber followed the proclamation to the man sitting at Zack's left. Straddling an old wooden chair, arms crossed across the backrest, Donnie stared down his opponent fairly exuding the sort of confidence that never failed to send her brain straight to Gutterville. Despite knowing he wasn't the only male in the kitchen who could pick up her 'screw-me' pheromones she couldn't resist a thorough once-over. Donnie's opponent scowled, grumbled something thick with brogue, and studied the blank pieces on the board for a way out. Unfortunately for Glen Devon, Blind Chess* was much more complex than traditional chess, and Donatello wasn't an easy opponent at either.

Amber's Gran'Da never fully recovered his health after developing pneumonia in the first year after his granddaughter's death. Every winter he grew weaker and wearier, and his family worried he wasn't much longer for their world. All that changed when Splinter reminded them of a rather obvious fact—every year in Amber's new reality was marked by two in her old one. Not too long after the family was first reunited from beyond the grave, the eldest mutant extended a standing invitation to his son's future grandfather-in-law—anytime, any day, for any length of time. After a short while of getting to know one another, the two were decided: the stay was permanent. Living in this new, slower-paced world was extending Glen's lifespan and being away from Missouri's harsh winters and humid summers was much easier on his weakened lungs. …and, of course, being out from under his daughter's roof, away from his son-in-law, and in the company of his beloved granddaughter and another similar in age, was a drastic improvement in his stress levels, temperament, and blood pressure.

The situation couldn't last forever—Glen would eventually pass on from this life to the next—but in the meantime, he had only one thing to say: "Hah!" he barked into his tumbler of fine single-malt. "Tak' tha'!"~ The taunt followed a rather well-executed move involving swiping Donnie's Bishop with a Knight. There was just one problem with that move…

"Not so fast," the mutant warned glancing pointedly at the piece Glen just moved. "Check it." Glen glared in open suspicion but obediently lifted the Knight he just moved…and swore a guttural Scots blue-streak only he and Amber understood. All the pieces on the board were pale unstained wood—unidentifiable by camp when upright—but every piece in each 'camp' was marked on the bottom with a dab of black or white paint. The Knight he used, like the Bishop he captured, was a black piece…and he was playing white. This twist was what made Blind Chess so tricky—players had to keep track of all their pieces at every move and there were consequences if they made a mistake.

"Aw, soak yer heid,"~ Glen groused shoving his small pile of captured pieces toward Donnie. The genius hummed thoughtfully as the other replaced the captured Bishop, contemplating his options, then replaced the pieces and returned a black pawn to the board…blocking his previous check on Glen's king. Glen smirked behind his thick beard and mustache, grey-blue eyes glinting, but said nothing of the concession.

A faint raspy noise split the silence in what used to be the barracks; Amber stilled, her every sense fixing on the small room just off the hallway. Sure enough, another cough followed, then a bout of sharp hacking and wheezing. The three at the table turned to her as one but she was already gone from their sight.

Amber tapped softly at the partially-open door; her instincts told her she was needed, that the occupant might not be able to answer her, but experience told her barging into the room was a definite no-go. "Emily?" No answer. She tapped at the door again, this time a little louder. "I'm comin' in, okay?" Not even one foot inside the small lavender and lace-decked bedroom and Amber could hear the young one's ailing lungs rattling; the underground, alas, wasn't the best place for a child with a cold. "Aw, Emmy," she murmured brushing the child's soft ginger curls off of her brow. The heat coming off that skin made her wince. "My poor lil' lahss…are you feelin' even a tad better?"

"N-N-ho," Emily croaked. "Throat h-hurts…"

"A cold'll do that, Em." It was the truth but one which wouldn't reassure anyone facing it, much less a child of six years. She stepped away to collect a glass bottle, medicine dropper, and small carton of some fruit-flavored drink from the dresser; after a glance at the sparkly blue clock on the wall, she turned to scrutinize her daughter's appearance. Emily Jane's olive-toned skin was even less brown and more verdant than Isaac's but now it was far too pale; sweat shimmered on her little round face from the fever and exertion of coughing. Further evidence of her struggle ringed her remarkable hazel eyes in puffy shadows, that evidence all-the-more visible without her purple-rimmed glasses. Her mind made up, Amber deftly drew another dose from the syrup bottle and popped open the juice box. "Still, you're not coughin' as badly today, an' you were able to handle some soup earlier—it may not seem it, but you are gettin' better, Lil' Scribs."~ She didn't mention the fact that Isaac was already mostly over his cold. It seemed he inherited their father's impressive immune system while Emily got stuck with her weaker defenses.

"N-hot fast en-hou—" Halfway through the word the tickle in her throat struck again and she delved into another hacking fit. It was silly to hope for anyone to recover from a bad cold overnight but Amber couldn't help but wish for just that—every moment Emily and Isaac were sick, even with the common cold, was a moment too long. How did her own mother manage to stay positive and pushy all the times she got sick as a child? "N-N-ho, duh' wan'—"

"Aw, wheesht now,"~ Amber chided mid-whine and helped her daughter sit up. "I know, this medicine tastes somethin' awful but it is helping—if you don't take it, you won't get better, hm?" Emily shot her mother a pucker-lipped, openly suspicious glare and Amber had to bite her lip to keep from laughing; it reminded her of her mother, Ginny, facing down a car salesman promising a low finance rate. "C'mon, Sweets, your Da blended this just for you an' your brother—it'll hurt his feelings if you won't take it." The scowl weakened, Em's little lips quivering just the slightest bit; she was, after all, Daddy's little princess no matter how much the nickname supposedly embarrassed her. "If you take it without arguing, I'll have Uncle Mikey bring you some orange sherbet later, okay?"

The magic words had an immediate effect, though Amber couldn't be sure whether the winning combo was orange sherbet or Uncle Mikey. Both were equally likely considering Emily's sore, scratchy throat and Michelangelo's 'professional fun-uncle' attitude. Even after silently downing the cough syrup, though, the girl pulled a gruesome face and gulped down the juice in one breath to rid herself of the after-taste. As she fought off nausea from the foul-tasting cough syrup, Emily turned to a favorite past time. "Mum…why y-hou…call me…lil'—"

"Lil' Scribs?" Amber finished when her daughter started coughing again. "We've told you that story so many times, Sweets. How aren't you tired of it yet?" Her answer was a shy smile and a lopsided shrug. Children weren't as prone to growing bored of the same tales over and over, as evidenced by the thrice-replaced binding on Isaac's favorite storybook; parents always tired of telling a story long before their children tired of hearing it. "When your Da an' I found out you an' your brother were on the way, we knew we needed to find the perfect names for you. We needed names that would tell you just how special you are to us, give you room to grow, an' remind you of what really matters in life."** Emily scooted her little bottom over on the bed to give her mother room; the moment Amber was seated the little redhead curled up against her mother's side.

"Your Da chose Isaac an' Jane," Amber continued, petting Emily's shoulder-length curls. "Your brother is named for a brilliant scientist Da greatly admires, an' who made great discoveries in his field. Your middle name comes from a strong, clever woman whose stories far outlast her; her name is Jane Austen. I chose Byron and Emily—your brother's name is for a poet my late Gran' loved, an' you're named for another poet—Emily Dickinson, one of my favorites."

"B-hut wh-hy Scribs?" Emily piped up; a gentle pop to the tip of her nose set her giggling, although with a pronounced wheeze in her lungs.

"There are few adults who've never heard any of Dickinson's poetry," Amber explained, "but beautiful as it is, the poetry's only part of her story. Like you, Miss Dickinson lived most of her life apart from the rest of the world but she was happy. She didn't need the world to love her so long as she loved herself." Granted, Emily Dickinson was a hermit and may have wanted to socialize more but the message of self-acceptance and confidence was just what the little hybrid needed.

"As for the nickname," Amber continued with a crooked smile, "Miss Dickinson had a funny way of writin' poetry: she wrote some of her best poems on envelopes an' sent them to friends an' family with letters. Her writing wasn't the neatest—more scribbles than handwriting—" Emily's shadow-hung eyes brightened in realization; even after countless retellings this part of the story always excited her most. "The messy handwriting might make people think she was plain, simple, an' nothin' so special. If they look beyond the writing, read the lines behind the scribbles, the truth is obvious: she was a beautiful soul with a beautiful mind, an' she accomplished great things in her time." Another fudge, alas—Emily Dickinson's moment in the sun didn't come until her time on earth was over, but it all happened because the right person saw past the scribbles and seclusion. Amber let the half-truth roll of her shoulders like a promise of Santa's yearly visit, again rationalizing that the message was what mattered, and she summed up the tale the same way she always did. "You're a beautiful soul, Sweets, with an equally beautiful mind; not everyone will understand you because of how truly special you are—"

"C-huz my Da's a mun…uh…h-he's a…a moo…" Her nose wrinkled in confusion, trying to recall the word she heard from Uncle Raphie last week.

"He's special," Amber corrected gently; she suspected the word was mutant but if Emily heard it from Raph during one of his self-disgust-fueled-turtle-tantrums it might also have been monster. That was one word Amber hoped the twins would never hear attached to their family, especially to them. "Da, your uncles, an' yer Gran'da Splinter are all special—they're not human on the outside but on the inside, where it matters, they're more human than most of New York. They aren't easily accepted by others because they look different, but that doesn't make them ugly—different isn't always bad." Emily's face fell, as always saddened by the realization that her father, uncles, and grandfather may never be accepted by the world. "You know what your Da said the first time he saw you?" Amber prompted to redirect that thinking; Emily shook her head, hazel eyes hopeful, and Amber repeated Donnie's words to the letter. "She's beautiful. You an' your brother don't look just like him, Em, an' you don't look just like me—you're each a wonderful mix of both of us. You an' your brother might not always be accepted by others because you look different, but to us, an' to anyone else who really matters, you're perfect, inside and out."

As always, the affirmation triggered Emily's shy nature and she burrowed into her mother's side to hide her blush and sheepish smile. Amber said nothing—she just petted Emily's hair and let her process the story and promise all over again. Normally, she'd recover quickly and want to hear more—stories, songs, poetry, anything went in these quiet moments. Normally, however, her daughter wasn't weak and weary from fighting a cold; for that reason, it came as no surprise when Amber felt the little body tucked into her side start to sag and slide down toward the mattress. She carefully extricated herself from the tiny lump leaning on her and laid Emily down to rest some more. As she tucked the blanket around the girl's shoulders and smoothed her frizzy hair away from her cartilage-shielded internal ears, she found a pair of light-refractive hazel-green eyes peering up at her. "Wu-hun more?" Amber hesitated. "…please?" That did it—how could her heart ever allow her to resist the puppy-dog eyes?

"Just one," she agreed softly, "then you need to rest a bit, a'right?" Emily gave a sluggish nod and squirmed into a more comfortable position in the blankets as Amber settled on the edge of the mattress again. "This poem was written by the woman you were named for," she revealed gently carding her fingers through her daughter's thick hair, "Emily Dickinson."*** She took a moment to collect herself, gather her breath, and pull the lines from her memories, then recited in a slow, careful murmur.

" 'Hope' is the thing with feathers – That perches in the soul – And sings the tune without the words – And never stops – at all –"

A gentle sigh broke the silent pause; dimming hazel eyes blinked slowly. Amber momentarily choked, her voice stolen by the sweetness of the moment, then continued softer than before.

"And sweetest – in the Gale – is heard – And sore must be the storm – That could abash the little Bird That kept so many warm –"

This time the breath was a yawn, partly smothered in a frilly purple pillowcase. Amber slowed and softened her words, petting Emily's riotous hair instead of playing with it. "I've heard it in the chilliest land," she professed to the darkening eyes sliding closed, "and on the strangest Sea…yet…never…in Extremity…" She paused—a soft, wheezy snore answered her silence—a crooked grin split her lips. She ducked to leave a light kiss on the rust-colored hair. "…always, and entirely," she whispered altering the words and the message, "my lil' girl you'll be."

Mere minutes after she left the kitchen, Amber breezed back through the utility room again. "Hey, Hon," Donatello greeted his mate, "how's—" The question fell flat when he got only a watery smile and a squeeze to the shoulder on her way out of the kitchen. The genius twisted in his seat just in time to see her duck into the Lab and switch on the lights.

"Yer lahss is daein' jus' fine," Glen remarked, pointedly arching one grizzled eyebrow. "Hawd yer fashin'."~

When they first met—nay, even for the first couple years of the two men's acquaintance—Donnie wouldn't have understood even half of what the elder said. After he moved in, the two immediately began interacting regularly thanks to Amber's meddling. Thanks to that the genius was learning to 'talk the talk' – or, at least, how to interpret it. "I know," he admitted tugging at his already stiff neck. "It's just a cold. She's going to be fine and logically there's no reason to worry or fuss over something so small but—"

"She's yer lil' lahss, Son," Glen countered with a smirk. "Logic has naethin' fur tae do wi' it."~ Donnie nodded in silent agreement—all his prized logic and rationality went right out the window when the twins or their mother were involved. Curious how they could be his Achilles Heel and give him strength all at the same time… "Save a' 'at worryin' fur when she brings hame 'er firs' boyfrien',"~ the elder added with a smirk. The genius nodded mutely, eyes locked on the lab's open door; when it hit him what Glen said, though, he lurched around so hard he knocked into the table and toppled half the chessboard.

"Oh, Hell no!" he blurted, eyes practically bulging. At his right, Isaac burst out laughing at him and quickly devolved into wheezing snorts and SHNERKS. "No boyfriends! Not gonna happen, not over my dead—" An unexpected impact—a tossed pawn—hit him square in the forehead right over the bridge of his glasses. He physically cut the threat off with his teeth in an audible snap. Glen's smug grin sucked all the wind out of his sails—a favor he returned with an accusing glare as he worked to right the fallen chess pieces. After how many boyfriends Emily's mother had before they met in life, who could blame him for being wary of boys around their daughter?

"What's wrong with Mum?" The two adults turned to Isaac in open confusion; how did he get from cackling to concern so quickly? Donnie blinked. He smelled Mikey's influence. "She's gone quiet again…is she okay?" Donnie craned his neck to see around the wall of cabinets, searching for some explanation. Amber was, indeed, quiet—too quiet—and after so many years of fighting her demons along with her, Donnie knew it was happening for a reason.

"I'm sure she's fine, Zack," he reassured Isaac but he didn't really feel the smile he wore. "She's probably just thinking too loudly again." He glanced over at Glen—the elder gave a slow, pointed nod—he turned back to his son, sliding off his chair. "I'll be right back," he promised, heading toward the hall. "Keep an eye on Grahn'Dee for me, okay?" Predictably, Glen grumbled under his breath about his son-in-law using the kids' nickname for him but aimed a sly wink at the already grinning boy. The moment Donnie was out of sight and earshot, Glen reached for the chessboard and smoothly turned it around a full 180 degrees. The genius' black pieces—and field advantage—were now switched with his few remaining white pieces. "…an' naow," Glen stage-whispered to the laughing, wheezing, snorting six-year-old, "we wait."

In the silent Lab, Amber stared through the bookshelves lining one wall, wondering just how she found herself in that situation yet again. No, that didn't quite fit. She knew why she was in the lab—she came to find her favorite volume of Emily Dickinson's poetry on the thought that Emily might enjoy 'reading it' with her after her nap. How she wound up frozen in front of the bookshelves wasn't the question at all. The real question was why, after so many years, she still froze upon realizing the book wasn't on the shelves and never had been.

Ten years had elapsed since her new life began—ten long, confusing, heart-warming years of managing the healing scars from the death that led her to a new life. After ten years moments like this were nothing new but every time, they never failed to catch her off-guard. It was always something simple, so harmless she never thought to guard herself against an impending shock. The children asked about her life before she met their father, prompting her to search under the bed for a photo album. She heard the tail-end of a forgotten song on the radio and dug around on her computer for a digital file from a ripped CD. On movie nights, the brothers and their mates couldn't decide on a movie suitable for any young eyes watching with them and she hurried to find the perfect family-friendly classic on her shelves.

Every time she fully expected to find what she sought, exactly where she sought it; every time she was suddenly hit with the reality that what she searched for was never there to begin with. There were no photo albums under the bed she shared with her mate—the albums she remembered were all stashed in a footlocker under the bed in her old house. The computer she searched wasn't her rusty trusty '04 Toshiba dinosaur—it was a newer, higher quality laptop Donnie scavenged and refurbished for her without ever being asked. (He claimed Kimber's computer was 'older than Raph's turtle-tantrums and even less cooperative' but she suspected he just wanted to spoil her with some him-exclusive awesomeness.) The movie never existed in this reality, nor the shelves she kept it on along with the rest of her disks and tapes. Now the story was the same. That much-loved volume of poetry was gone with her old life; it fell apart with the storm-driven collapse of her old home and wouldn't be found on the bookshelves of this one.

All of those things—those pointless, silly, petty possessions that mattered none in the grand scheme of things—they were long gone with her old home, the home she left behind with her old life and old world. It was so ridiculous…that sudden moment of comprehension never failed to catch her off-guard. She didn't mourn her lost belongings; she simply dreaded recalling her death after having momentarily forgotten it.

Once, she sought to describe to Donatello the fallout after a panic attack, building off the words of another describing the death of a loved one: "It is like walking up the stairs to your bedroom in the dark," the writer explained, "and thinking there is one more stair than there is. Your foot falls down, through the air, and there is a sickly moment of dark surprise as you try and readjust the way you thought of things." The description was accurate she considered when concerning the death of another. Her situation was entirely different. This feeling was like rushing down the stairs in total darkness, realizing she counted one step short, and finding thin air beneath her outstretched sole.

A moment of weightlessness followed by the sickening pull of gravity…the expectation of solid ground and the threat of an unfeeling void…the certainty of a measured descent interrupted by the dread of an impending crash landing… Amber shuddered, cringing from the sick, twisting feeling of adrenaline flooding her bloodstream and turning her stomach. Learning of another's death was like counting a step too many; being reminded of her own death was counting a step too short and landing in a heap at the foot of the stairs.

A wrought iron bench dusted with pollen—a stately Yellowwood tree in full bloom—this place is for the dead, so why does it make her feel so alive? She forcibly shook off the memory, noting with pride that it didn't sicken like so many of its brethren once did. 'This rainy day, too, will pass.'#

"Amber?" The unexpected address startled her, but not nearly as much as it once would have. Donnie hovered in the open doorway, right hand still poised at the frame from knocking. "You alright, Honey?"

Amber gave him a small smile and nodded. "I will be," she promised with a shrug. He studied her silently, analyzing the smallest tells—from the precise compression of her developing crows' feet to the balance of blush and pallor in her cheeks, he always read her like a picture book. As always, he found the answers he was looking for…and right now, what he found was just what she always tried to spare the others. Once he would have pushed her for details, pled for an explanation and promised to take care of her, to fix her broken soul. Of course, during that time he would have found her cowering into the foot-well of his desk or drowning out an onslaught of memories with the pain of fingernails gouging her wrist. They were both well beyond that point—years beyond it—and they both knew it well.

He glanced out the door for witnesses or eavesdroppers. After a steady nod and thumbs-up at the concerned blonde and greener-than-usual brother watching from one of the old red tweed sofas, he pushed the door closed behind him. "There," he smiled and held his arms open in invitation. "No one's watching and worrying—if you're not fine, you don't have to pretend to be."

Amber's eyes watered at the unspoken truths hidden behind his words but no tears fell. In their first year together, she and Donatello were complete idiots about each other and everyone suffered for it. They couldn't communicate effectively and suffered over every miscommunication. He couldn't let go of his determination to save her from her problems long enough to realize she didn't need saving. She was sure every attempt she made at recovery was hopeless, never realizing she wasn't putting enough effort in it, to begin with. They hid their fears, worries, and dreads, and every time one of them stumbled over those secrets they couldn't believe the other felt like they had to hide any of it. He fell prey to suspicion and fear, and she to tears and anger. Now…

Amber sighed, stepping into her mate's protective embrace and soaking in his calming scent. Rich, pungent coffee—sweet spices and a note of citrus from his soap—the chemical tang of clean oil and the salty musk of honest sweat—she breathed in every note, mentally connecting sweet memories to each one. Within moments the churning in her gut smoothed and her scattered thoughts settled.

Now, she silently admitted to herself, they were more. They were past all those silly, ridiculous vices that once kept them apart and they were only growing stronger. She knew she wasn't the same person she was before she died. Something was taken from her in the storm-wrecked school—something else was left in its place when she woke in the underground—but those somethings were only a small part of her. Now she knew that she was capable of withstanding much more than memories of a time long gone. Donatello knew he couldn't solve her problems for her. He couldn't make all the dark memories of her past life go away, set her broken soul, or make good on his age-old vow to fix her. Now he was confident such things weren't needed. She was strong enough to weather life's downpour; she'd dance in it, too, especially if he joined her.

The atmosphere changed without any of the crackling that once made his scales crawl. Her breathing patterns were even; the fingers clutching his shoulder and opposite suspender strap were steady and gentle. Following their lead he dipped his head to nuzzle the juncture of her bare neck, grinning when she tilted her head invitingly. With one gentle pass of his lips over her pulse-point, he knew she was in control again. After a couple more pecks and a teasing nip for good measure, he leaned back to meet her eyes. "Better?" he asked without asking; she answered without speaking.

"A missed step," she explained without emphasis or shame. He nodded in understanding, well remembering her analogy of the stairs and the original she derived it from. "It's not as bad as before, not nearly that bad. It just always hits so…so suddenly…an' it takes a while to sink in, every time."

"Your thoughts realign and your memories fall back into place," he countered to show he understood, "and while it sinks in, you're vulnerable all over again—you feel lost, trapped, maybe even frightened…" Though she nodded she grimaced as though in disagreement and backed out of his arms, both hands quickly wrapping around her gut. "Nauseous, too?"

"Never to this extent," she muttered staring down at her stomach in accusation, "not for years." Her face went blank—her eyes drifted out of focus—then just as suddenly she shook it off as though discarding a ridiculous notion. "I'll be alright, Dee," she promised and let go of her stomach to cup his cheek in her palm. The pad of her thumb brushed along the pattern of prominent scales scattered across his cheekbone like freckles; her eyes followed the path wistfully as if mapping out a new constellation in the skies.

"I know you will," he answered returning the gesture and raising her a playful snout-to-nose nudge. Not so long ago, a moment so tender as this one would have ended with a long, breathless bout of lovemaking. Donnie wouldn't have thought twice about locking the doors and heeding that call, whether by spreading her naked across his workbench or bending her over his desk—the only question would be whether he wanted to meticulously draw out every last breath and shudder or crash her brain all at once like an over-worked processor. As sweet as the present was, he certainly missed the spontaneity from the years before the twins.

Now, alas, they had a reason to dial it back—technically two reasons, and one of them sat at the kitchen table chatting with his great-grandfather. Isaac had no idea yet what it meant when he noticed that 'funny smell' around his parents but neither was willing to endure answering those questions just yet. He was only six, how could they possibly explain sex pheromones to him without permanently scarring him?! Heck, he still got grossed out anytime they kissed around him and they never went to the lengths Raph and Mercy always did. Those two really needed to come with a parental advisory warning or something. At least one of the twins was probably too congested to notice any lingering Eau-de-Horndog on her parents…and if not, she should still be sleeping.

Immediately upon arrival in Emily's little blue and purple room, Donatello was all-business. He deftly checked her temperature, lungs, pulse, and a mess of other vital signs and organs that didn't necessarily need monitoring. He wasn't just checking on one of his human 'sisters,' or trying to figure out why Raph was ralphing when Mercy was the pregnant one.## Emily, she was his baby girl—he learned early on that there was practically nothing he wouldn't do for her, or for Isaac.

All the while he mentally charted their daughter's progress, Amber quietly wandered around the room needlessly tidying the already tidy room. Once the room was again neatened to her satisfaction and the vaporizer on the nightstand was verified still acceptably full, she turned to address her mate…only to find herself speechless and choking up.

It was like staring through a window to another time and another life, where an older, more bristly man tended to his flu-stricken granddaughter. In that life, Glen lounged in his massive old armchair with Amber curled up half on his lap and half on his shoulder. He read to her until she dozed off, then refused to move a muscle or let anyone move her until she woke of her own accord. In an adorable contrast, Donatello perched just on the edge of the twin bed, darkened eyes suspiciously shiny. He seemed unaware that he'd long since stopped petting Emily's hair, and even less aware that a few riotous red curls were wound around his fingers. The visual was too precious for words—Em always had him wrapped around her little fingers and the rust-colored locks tangled in his proved the feeling went both ways.

Without warning, a pair of bespectacled hazel eyes lifted to meet Amber's, brown in the shadowed room. "Was your hair ever this red?" he asked in a whisper.

"No," Amber admitted rubbing his bare shoulder, "but Gran's hair was to the day we lost'er…an' if Gran'Da's tales are true, my uncle's hair was nearly this bright before he faded to blond."

"Wh—he went blond? –but his hair's white!" Amber nodded, her eyes drawn to a fine trace of paler color gleaming from Emily's otherwise russet hair.

"I told you early greying runs in the family," she reminded him as they gingerly rose to their feet. "Red in your hair can fade fastest, but true redheads tend to fade to blonde long before they go white. Bart went white while he was still in high school…Mum says he wasn't much older than Emily when his red started fading." She thoughtfully tugged at the end of one waist-length braid shot with thick grey locks, considering the hint of strawberry blonde in her daughter's hair. "Her hair's always been so bright, so warm," she sighed, "the ultimate ginger. I hoped the early greying skipped over her since Mum only started blonding when I was in college. I didn't start seeing grey until I was a teenager…but...Em may end up white before she's old enough to drive."

For a moment the room was still, the silence only broken by the sniffles and faint wheezing of the still-sleeping child. Perhaps that silence was why the unexpected contact—a work-roughened hand cupping Amber's jaw and cheek—gave her a start. Donnie's eyes were soft and his smile even softer, almost humoring. "When you see yourself," he pointed out, "you tend to miss the brown and see only the grey. When Emmy's hair starts to fade, I'm sure you'll see the blonde more than the red…but if you break that pattern, you'll see something wonderful."

Amber glanced up at her grey-shot bangs—momentarily going cross-eyed from the awkward angle—then down at Emily's russet hair, and finally back up to Donnie's eyes. "I don't follow ya," she admitted. "What're ya haverin' 'bout now, Speccy?"~

At first, he didn't answer—he just curled one arm around her soft waist and coaxed her close enough to share breath. He caught her right braid in his thick fingers and pointedly wound it around both. He ducked to inhale the lingering perfume of her shampoo. A few years back the generic coconut was slowly replaced by a more mature coconut oil and shea butter blend; he approved more every time he smelled it on her. "You see grey and blonde, Braids," he professed into the grey-streaked plait, "but me? I see silver and gold."

Silver and gold…someone, Amber decided with a decidedly wet sniffle, was intent on killing her with feels. Vividly she recalled the day Donatello first discovered her greying hair—the day she and Mercy started leeching out Kimber's punch-red dye and found the nest of coarse grey vipers infesting her otherwise brown hair. When the color started fading from her hair at nineteen, Amber quickly learned to despise it. She endured endless stares, unwanted advice for hiding the grey, and scornful looks when she decided dying it just wasn't worth the cost or trouble. Donatello took one look at those wire-coarse streaks and compared them to starlight in a scene straight out of a cheesy anime.

"Besides," he pointed out leading her back toward the kitchen, "remember what Issac got from me?" He cast a pointed glance up toward the ceiling with an entirely too innocent smile then playfully waggled his bare eyebrows at her. "Bald. He got bald." Amber couldn't contain her convulsive laughter; he barely dodged the teasing swat to his bicep.

"Oh, Dunnie, yer horrible!"

When Donnie and Amber stepped into the kitchen, all activity and sound suddenly cut off and the two occupants stared at them intently. The couple exchanged a suspicious glance, easily communicating their concerns without a single word. Amber checked Isaac's clothes for cookie crumbs but found only the bright, lip-gnawing grin of a child anticipating something hilarious. The genius, meanwhile, searched for clues from his crotchety chess partner but gave no sign of his thoughts. Finding no reason for suspicion Amber shrugged it off, put the kettle on to boil for some Echinacea tea, and set to emptying the dishwasher. On his way back to the table Donnie paused to teasingly ruffle the soft yarn blanketing Isaac's scalp. The boy squirmed, yanked his cap down over his ears, and giggled a protest at the teasing almost-noogie; the moment Donnie took his seat again Zack hop-scooted his stool closer anyway.

"Weel?" Glen reminded dryly as the boy snuggled up against his father's side. "I's still yer turn."~ It was a challenge, Donnie realized with a smirk—a challenge he'd gladly accept. His eyes dropped to the board, quickly taking in the locations of each remaining piece and their proximity the rest. Never taking his eyes off the board, he reached out to a seemingly random pawn, tapping the rounded top in a show of consideration. The smug grin in Glen's eyes fizzled out when the genius returned the taunting stare over his glasses. He shifted to a piece on the exact opposite side of the board, flashed the rook's black dot at his opponent, and replaced the piece right in the kill zone of the nearby king. Glen visibly deflated, seeming to sag from his faded hair to his stark white mutton-chops; he repeatedly glanced from the board to Donnie and back again in disbelief.

"Well?" the younger reminded in with no small amount of sarcasm and a high-arched eye-ridge. "Now it's your turn." A muscle by Glen's left eye twitched and a flood of heat followed it.

"Really boys?" Amber chastised, passing mugs of hot tea to her mate and son then sitting down. "Do I need'a separate you two?" The answer came, as it so often does, from the mouths of babes—or, rather, one young boy laughing so hard he could barely breathe between snorts and wheezes.

"Da' b-beat Gran'Dee!" Isaac howled as the embarrassed blush on Glen's face darkened to an irritable heat. "He—he even cheated—an'—an' Da still won!" Amber shot a stern glare at the elder but the crooked, toothy grin at her lips contradicted it.

"Oh, really?" she drawled. Her question went unanswered so she inspected the bottom of the trapped king herself. It was, indeed, Glen's king, and he didn't have any way of getting out of the trap. "You cheated an' still lost? What an excellent example to set for the young'uns, hm?" Glen bristled and fired back a long stream of unusually thick brogue in protest.

"Ah wiznae cheatin' th' bludy bawheid,"~ he groused at her, for once not bothering to tone down his burr for their benefit. "Ah wiz jist tryin' tae keep'im oan his taes."~ Donnie and Zak exchanged equally perplexed glances then shared a mutual shrug—after all, other than cheatin', the insult, and a couple of commonly twisted words, the rest of it was far too thick for either to understand him. Amber, of course, understood every word and snorted in dismissal.

"Secretly switchin' sides hardly strikes me as keepin' him on his toes," she countered with a teasing wink at her mate. "Just admit it, ya sleekit auld sook, ya were tryin'a make Zack live up to his name."~ At first, the only result was the red fading from Glen's face; then a deep, guttural chuckle rasped upward from his lungs.

"Ah'll drink tae tha',"~ he rasped aiming a grin at Isaac then Donnie; he tipped his glass of Scotch to his granddaughter then lifted it for a sip. One moment, everything was fine—the mood of the room was jovial and the stress level nonexistent; the next every eye was fastened on Amber's suddenly pale face in horror. Eyes wide, hand covering her mouth and nose, she lurched out of her chair and bolted from the room, clipping the doorframe on her way through the utility room. Glen's glass never made it to his lips, instead, hovering mid-air as he puzzled out her bizarre reaction. "Weel, 'at was odd! She loves th' reek ay—" Mid-sentence he picked up a trace of a familiar noise from the bathroom beyond. He froze. Slowly, menacingly, he turned to fix a dark, accusing scowl at Donatello. "Ahmber loves this stuff," he reminded as clearly as possible. "Why cannae she now handle the smell?"

Easily recognizing the insinuation and the threat accompanying it, Donnie stammered an apology, scrambled out of his chair, dodged around the table, and bolted after her. A moment later he ducked back to the doorway wearing a forced smile. "It's probably nothing," he told his son with a weak, tinny laugh. "I've got this." When he fled again, Isaac turned to his grandfather with a suspicious whine.

"Mum's gonna get fat like Aunt Mercy, isn't she?"

Sure enough, Donatello found Amber bent over the nearest commode retching like a frat-boy coming off a three-night bender. Heaving a sigh he stepped into the tiled cubicle, pulled her twin braids to safety, and started rubbing her back. When the dry-heaving was over and the mess dealt with he followed her back out to the sink. He held his silence while she rinsed her mouth and splashed water on her face; she turned to him with a cringe. "I don't suppose that was another missed step," he deadpanned.

Amber held up one finger – a universal 'hang on a second' gesture – dug out her phone and checked the calendar. As she swiped further and further back in time her eyes grew wider and wider, then finally screwed shut entirely. She let out a rather pitiful sound halfway between a whine and a groan and slumped against his front, smacking her forehead against his plastron repeatedly. "Yup," she finally muttered to his waistband, "a big one."

In hopes he was misreading the situation but doubtful just the same, Donnie retrieved the phone from her grasp. Sure enough, 45 day-slots in a row were unmarked with little red icons in the corner, and there were no less than three missed reminders at the top of the screen. "You missed a shot?!" The braided head buried in his chest nodded weakly. A closer look at the screen revealed a probable explanation – her last contraceptive shot was due a couple days after Briallen brought a cold home from work and started generously sharing it with everyone in the Lair. Everyone spent the next two-and-a-half weeks playing hot-potato with the virus, then Isaac and Emily finally picked it up, too…and when the kids got sick, all bets were off. Between nursing the rest of the family and their usual tasks, they hadn't even had the energy for a half-awake tussle in almost a month... Donnie scrubbed his hand down his face, shaking his head in disbelief. Ridiculous though it may seem, he totally blamed the mutagen; how else would his swimmers have survived camping out until the coast was clear? "Glen's gonna kill me," he groaned, "again."

"If it's twins again," Amber snorted, "I'm'onna kill ya first."

"Heaven forbid you should appreciate we only had two." He rolled his eyes. "In the wild, a typical red-eared slider female would lay anywhere from two to twenty eggs per clutch." A tense, awkward silence followed the remark—he cringed. "That just buried me deeper, didn't it?"

"Yep," Amber answered dryly. "Good thing I like ya, Speccy; that's grounds for neutering."

After a long, rough day at the grade-school, all Briallen wanted was to come home, shower off all the sweat, kid snot, and finger paint, and curl up for a rom-com with her Mikey. Alas, this was not to be; one step through the bathroom door and she was faced with the worst news possible.

Amber and Donnie were necking against the trough sink. Amber's closed eyes were crusted with salt…her cheeks were stretched taut around a grin…one of Donnie's hands was protectively cupping her belly…and they were freaking glowing. There was only one possible explanation…

"He knocked you up again?!" Bree's horrified screech startled the couple apart mid-nuzzle. Her eyes darted frantically around her for some sort of defense but all she found was a can of disinfectant spray on the garbage can lid; she snatched, shook, and aimed it, all in one rapid movement. "Back!" she warned, "Back I say!" Amber and Donnie exchanged matching 'you're kidding me' expressions then turned to glare at her almost as one.

"Bree," Amber said dryly, "ya can't catch pregnant. It's not like that cold you brought us."

"Yeah?! Well, you two also said humans and mutants can't procreate!" she reminded shrilly. "Now we've got two hybrids underfoot and Dog knows how many more on the way when Mercy pops! I work with kids! They're terrors! Having my own would be like bringing work home, I'm not ri—"

The bathroom door swung open without warning, the handle cracking into the shower stall door behind it hard enough to dent the metal; before it even cleared Mikey barreled through in search of the fire. It took a minute but he figured out the situation rather quickly. After all, there was only one reason he could think of for his mate to threaten Amber and Donnie with a can of Lysol. All emotion drained from his face leaving him visibly exhausted. "Oh for Pete's sake, Bree," sighed dragging his hand down his face. "Lighten up already. It's not their fault you're late."

Even after everything that happened that day, no one would have ever expected the once-in-a-lifetime event that followed…

Briallen Hardy swore.

Yeah, that was s a Once-in-a-lifetime event because BREE DOESN'T CUSS. She spends too much time with kids to let herself pick up the habit.

NOTES

- TITLE from a quote from Lemony Snicket's "Horseradish," also used in the first "Series of Unfortunate Events" film. This quote is included word-for-word in the scene in the Lab. That scene is actually what spawned this entire one-shot, to tell you the truth, and it's based on a very real occurrence. Almost a decade has gone by since my own storm happened and it's gotten easier to handle; that said, there are still moments that trip me up, usually out of the blue. A ridiculously common one is like what happened here, and it plays out almost identically. I'll go looking for a book, usually a non-fiction or a non-reference book I use for writing references, fail to find it, then suddenly realize I can't find it because it's gone...and it's been gone for years. I lost over half of my belonging when my home was destroyed but it never really strikes me as important or tragic. They were just possessions - clothes, dishes, keepsakes, all stuff I can live without - no one was hurt or lost, and that's what matters to me. The only exception to that is the books...my books are the only possessions I ever really mourned the loss of.

*Blind Chess – I don't believe this game exists IRL – or at least I've never heard of it – but it sounds like something Donnie would come up with to make regular chess more of a challenge. He's a genius so he's gonna have to give most opponents a handicap, hence this version. All the chess pieces are carved of the same wood and unstained, and they're identified as black or white by paint on the underside. Gameplay is very much like regular chess but with a 'card-matching' element to it. To play you have to keep close track of which pieces are whose WHILE preventing the owner from muscling in on your turf. If you lift a piece to check whose it is and it's yours, you have to play it; if it's theirs, you lose a turn. If you capture one of your own pieces or, in this case, capture your opponent's piece with one of their pieces, your opponent gets to pick a captured piece from your stash and put it back into play on any square they prefer provided it's the right color for that piece. Because Donnie's friggin' brilliant and IS going to have the advantage, he would give the other player a handicap if he's ahead—for instance letting them have the first-turn advantage by playing black, letting his opponent pick where his reclaimed pieces go, and as shown here, putting his piece back in play in a way that breaks his 'check' on his opponent's king. Lastly, it isn't mentioned in-story because Amber wouldn't be aware of it, but Donnie's games with her grandfather are an attempt on his part to keep Glen's brain healthy and lucid. Glen is getting on in his years by this point—Ginny was eldest, born in his early twenties, Amber was born in HER twenties, and Amber was in her thirties when she died in 2011; add the number of years that passed in Amber's world before Glen agreed to come to the new world, and he's at an age where Alzheimer's would most likely have already set in. It's not a cure but by encouraging critical thinking and logic-heavy mental exercises in an elderly brain, sometimes the onset of Alzheimer's can be slowed if caught in time.

** Byron Isaac and Emily Jane – in TMNT fanfiction it's common for kids to be named for artists or given Italian names to 'complete the set.' Honestly, that's done so often I felt more comfortable breaking the pattern, especially since in the Paramount-verse Splinter didn't choose his boys' names – they were chosen by April as a child. That said, I felt it would be fitting for the guys to choose names of people they admired based on the message they wanted to send their children. I personally expect there will be a LONG argument between Raph and Mercy about why it's a bad idea to name their kids after Vin Deisel or Alice Cooper.

*** The poem is Emily Dickinson's "Hope is the thing with feathers." It was the first poem of hers I ever came across and remains the one I love most out of many favorites by her.

# The memory of the Yellowwood tree and bench – Recall the return to Amber's Willsdale in "Absolutes." (Ch. 52 - 55) In chapter 53 Amber went to check on her family, stopped by the cemetery on the way to deliver Mercy's sobriety coin to Ellis Ross and found her grave. This memory depicts that moment, and the quote is from the scene.

##Raph's ralphing because he has 'sympathy morning sickness' – alas, this IS a real thing – sometimes new fathers start developing similar pregnancy woes to their expectant wives. Common problems are food cravings, food and smell aversions, fatigue, morning sickness, abdominal pain and bloating, and back pain. The scientific term is Couvade syndrome. If you look it up, be prepared to read a lot of Freudian "men want to bone their mothers" theories. XP

WORDS

Note – I've deviated from my usual method for Scots in this installment and am not yet certain how it worked. After literally YEARS of searching for a reliable online English – Scots translator I finally found one that seems at least halfway legit. Thus most of Glen's speech here has been directly translated thus with a few small changes to keep it in accordance with his previously-shown speech patterns.

~Tak' tha'! – Take that! (he's bragging at what he thought was a kickass maneuver. SOOOOO mature, right?) ~Aw, soak yer heid – Go soak your head. Basically, he's saying 'screw you, ya braggart.' (Totally mature.) ~Lil' Scribs – In case anyone missed this, the name is an abbreviated version of "little scribbles," a reference to the noted habit of Dickinson's. (that is "scribbling poems on envelopes." A relative of mine introduced me to a book last year called "The Gorgeous Nothings" which reproduces Emily Dickinson's envelope writings in print and photos; I'd highly recommend it for anyone who enjoys poetry. ~Wheesht – Scots hush or be quiet, doesn't necessarily indicate aggression or cruelty; often used in a teasing or affectionate manner. ~Yer lahss is daein' jus' fine, hawd yer fashin' – Your daughter's doing just fine, stop this silly fussing. ~She's yer lil' lahss, Son - logic has naethin' fur tae do wi' it – She's your little girl, Son – [you're going to be worried,] logic has nothing to do with it. ~ Save a' 'at worryin' fur when she brings hame 'er firs' boyfrien' – Save all that worrying for the day she brings home her first boyfriend. YES, he SERIOUSLY went there! XD ~ What're ya haverin' 'bout now, Speccy? – Scots and MWT blend, roughly What nonsense are you spouting off now? Also, in case anyone's forgotten, Scots "Speccy" just means he wears glasses. ~Weel? I's still yer turn – Well? It's still your turn. ~Ah wasnae cheatin' th' bludy bawheid - I wasn't cheating the bloody bawheid. Bawheid – ballhead / bald person. Considering Amber picked up her tendency to tease her loved ones from Glen and Bart we can safely assume they both use the term simply as a way of saying 'that bald guy.' Keep in mind, though, the term can also be used to mean stupid or empty-headed so neither would ever use it as a serious insult OR aim it at Isaac. He's bald, true, but it would come across more as a real insult than a tease. ~Ah wiz jist tryin' tae keep heem oan his taes – I was just trying to keep [Donnie] on his toes. [challenge him] ~Ya sleekit auld sook / you were tryin'a make Zack live up to his name. – you sly old softy. / The name "Isaac" is from Hebrew, and the meaning is usually given as "he will laugh." Thus, Glen was being silly to make his sick grandson laugh. Like my own late grand'dad, this old softy is bristly with adults but turns into an absolute goofball around kids. ~Ah'll drink tae tha'! – I'll drink to that! ~Weel, 'at was odd! She loves th' reek ay—[pause] Why cannae she now handle the smell? – Well, THAT was odd! She loves the smell of [Scotch whiskey.] Why can't she handle the smell now? Basically, he's demanding "What did you do to my precious gran'baby?" (No, he really doesn't want to know, he's just being intimidating.)

A quick note: I'm not 100% settled on the timeline in this - it may change as the story progresses. I have a feeling that being a parent would mellow out Raph and strengthen his control, but the same would probably drive Donnie a little loony. After all, there's so much that can go wrong with kids - he's going to be worrying himself to death over everything from proper nutrition for a mammalian-reptilian hybrid to the dangers of gluten, sugar, and bleached diaper fabric. And let's not even get started on when his little heartbreaker daughter starts showing an interest in boys... I see a hacked Skype session in the future, with a MUCH more effective threat than he sent April:

"You don't know me and I don't know you, but if I find out you made my daughter cry, they will NEVER find all the pieces of your body. You've been warned."

Meanwhile Raph would probably just jump the BF in an alley, scare him straight, and act menacing anytime he saw the kids around each other. LOTS of vicious grins because he’s an incredibly violent teddy bear.

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