#it didn’t help that I had lost my grandpa last year

[the-avengers-not-the-nazis]

Bad moon rising I

Summary: After a nasty divorce, you and your family are forced to live with your Grandpa in the lovely notorious Santa Carla, California. Filled with punks, geeks, surfer nazis and apparently all kinds of creatures of the night.

Word count: 3.1k

Poly!lost boys x Emerson!reader

[1] [2] [3] [4]

A/n: This is the first time writing for the lost boys, I will let yall know if there are any major warnings in each chapters or not. But I hope that you guys enjoy reading the first chapter.

‘Don't go around tonight

Well it's bound to take your life

There's a bad moon on the rise’

Your legs were killing you. 

After hours of sitting in the back seat of the Land Cruiser, you were growing restless. And Nanook didn’t really help when the dog draped his entire body over your lap, his weight making both of your legs go numb. 

You could hear the sounds of your brothers and mom arguing over which radio station they should listen too for the rest of the drive. The occasional static from the radio making you roll your eyes. 

Maybe your legs weren’t the only thing tired from the long drive, maybe the voices of your family were starting to drive you crazy. 

“Oh,” your mom suddenly said, turning up the music that was currently on. “This one is from my generation.” A smile inched its way on your face as you watched mom dance along to the music. 

Both Sam and Micheal turned to face each other, a soft grin playing other lips as they listened to the ole timey song. “Keep going.” They said together. 

“Ok, ok, I get it.” Mom said as she switched the channel. “My music isn’t hip enough for you guys.”

You leaned forward in your seat, hand resting on Nanooks fur to keep him still. “Hip?” 

“Yeah, you know. Cool, fresh, narly.” Your mom told you, bringing her hand up to do a surfers hand gesture. 

You glanced over at Micheal, trying to see if he too was hearing what mom was describing. He just gave you a playful eye roll, and a shake of his head. Not wanting to tell mom that nobody actually used those words in real life. 

“We’re almost there.” Your mom told you in a sing song manor. 

Glancing past Micheal you saw a billboard, the words Welcome to Santa Carla read across the front, an image of the towns beach drawn on cartoonishly. 

Sam let out a gag, his nose turnt up towards the window. “What’s that smell?” He asked, quickly rolling up the glass to try and block the stench from entering the car. 

Mom closed her eyes, taking a long sniff of the outside breeze. “That’s the ocean air, baby”

“It smells like someone died.”

You snorted at your youngest brothers comment, he wasn’t totally wrong. The saltyness that suffocated the air around you was a bit much, but you’d grow used to it, you all will eventually. 

“Look guys, I know the last year has been tough.” Mom said, glancing back at the rear view mirror at both you and Micheal. “But I think your really gonna like it here.”

You couldn’t count on either hands on how many times your mother had said those exact words to you three. It always starts with the ‘I know’ and always ends in your really gonna like this place. But, if you were being a hundred percent honest you missed back home. 

All of your friends and what’s left of your now broken family is all back home in Phoenix. And you know that mom is doing all that she can to keep everything positive, but deep down you know that the divorce is hurting her just as badly as it is hurting you and your brothers. 

As the car continued to drive down the road, you watched as the sign showed the back. It was packed with graffiti art and even a couple of stickers stuck to wood. But, what caught your attention most was the five letter word painted in black and red. 

Murder capital of the world.

Upon entering Santa Carla, you’ve noticed that there is just about any type of person you could imagine walking along the streets. There were girls in bathing suits, guys with halve shaved heads, groups of tourists, the locals, nerds, jocks. Hell you even saw a dog with its fur colored pink. 

You just hoped that at night the people were better looking. 

Mom pulled beneath the cover of a food shack, allowing everyone to step out and get some fresh air after ten hours on the road. Sam leashed up Nanook and took him to the bathroom, also venturing his new home town by himself as he did so. 

You woke up your legs as you stepped out of the Land Cruiser, the nerves shooting up and down your body, you wobbled a bit on your feet before steadying yourself against the car. You felt sweat begin to form beneath your clothes, causing them to stick uncomfortably to your skin. “Holy cow.” You muttered gently fanning yourself to try and cool off a little. 

You were used to the heat from the sun, but God, the humidity is what’s gonna kill you this summer.  

As you continued to fan yourself off, you noticed all the small shops that surrounded you. They were old and kind of antique-ish looking. But, past that laid the boardwalk, were you knew you’d be spending the remainder of you summer break and nights. 

Sam came jogging back towards the car, Nanook right on his tail. He stopped before mom as he pointed a finger at the boardwalk behind him. “Mom! Mom, there’s and amusement park right on the beach.”

Instead of acknowledging the said park, you watched as mom pulled out a small wad of cash. Placing it in Sam’s hand she gestured to a group of homeless kids rummaging through the dumpster. “Sam, tell those kids to eat something. Will ya’?”

As you watch Sam walk over towards the kids, you notice a telephone pole covered from head to toe in posters. Stepping away from the car and wandering over you read a few, hoping to catch a couple help wanted ads or even just something small enough to help out your family. 

Though instead of any job listing you did find a good amount of missing children posters. Actually, it’s just about a missing everyone poster. There is a little boy that looks about six, a grainy picture of him is nailed down with staples. And beside it is a man in what looks like his mid to early fourties, his balding head and crooked teeth makes you wonder who would miss a guy like that. 

Glancing past the telephone pole, you eyed the teenagers in the dumpster carefully. For all you know these kids could go missing next, and no one would try and look for them. 

The thought made your stomach twist in a discusted knot, the idea that you or even one of your brothers could turn up missing one day and nobody would bat an eye, didn’t sit right with you. 

A car honked from behind you, turning around you noticed that your family is back in the cars AC and that they are all waiting on you. “Y/n, sweetheart.” Your mom called, poking her head out the window. “We have to go, grandpas waiting for us.”

You quickly made your way back to the car, plopping back down in your seat as mom slowly pulled out of the food shack. The feeling of cold breeze in your face cooled you off a lot more than your hand did. 

After a while the car pulled up to an old two story house, the arch way made out of tree limbs and nails made you question how sturdy that would actually be in a storm. Once the car came to a complete stop everyone piled out, the dirt road beneath you dirtied up the end of your blue jeans. The bottom of your converse’s making little patterns in the grime. 

Micheal, who had decided to ride his bike for the rest of the drive, slowly unstradled the vehicle, his eyes darting around the front yard of the house. Wood carvings of animals and an old trailer was near the back of the yard, the fence that surrounded us was slightly spaced out and cut into sharp ends. 

“This is homey.” You muttered to micheal, the backpack that you carried felt heavy on your back after hours of not wearing it. 

Micheal hummed in agreement, albeit sarcasticly. 

Glancing back at the house itself, you took in the porch, it had one too many rocking chairs and wooden tables for you to count. There were even empty beer bottles rolling across the porch floor. But, you stopped judging the home style around you when you noticed a pair of legs laid out on the ground. 

Taking erie steps, you all cautiously eyed the body. Both fear and concern bubbling deep inside of you. Fear that this would be the first dead body you’ve seen and concern over who will come and clean it. 

Mom walked ahead of you and your brothers, crouching down by the head of the body. “Dad?” She asked, swiping hair out of his face as she did so. “Dad?”

“It looks like he’s dead.” Micheal stated, eyes glancing swiftly from his mom and the supposedly dead body before them. 

Mom shook her head, gently shaking her dad awake. “No, he’s just a heavy sleeper.” 

“Why is he asleep on the porch?” Micheal asked, trying to understand the older man. 

You leaned over Sam’s shoulder, taking in the supposedly dead corpse in front of you. “Is the heat from the sun gonna make his body decay faster?” You pondered out loud, ignoring the glare your mom gave you. 

“Yeah. And if he’s dead can we move back to Phoenix?” Sam added on for you, receiving the same look your mom just gave you. 

“The both of you be quiet.” She scolded. 

Suddenly grandpas head popped up, his eyes half lidded as he held a smug smirk. “Playin’ dead. And, from what I heard doing a damn good job of it, too.”

You watched as mom playfully swatted at her dad, before leaning down and giving him a good hug. Sharing a quick glance at your brothers, they both held the same expression that you did. Confused and slightly baffled at how the old man acts. 

The inside of the house looked just like the cabins from Friday the thirteenth. The floor was wood, the stairs were wood, an even the walls were wood. You honestly wouldn’t be surprised if the refrigerator and sink were made out it, too.

You walked through the house with a cardboard box labeled kitchen, both Sam and Micheal right behind you. Though Micheal was carrying a barbell with a couple of weights and shirts on it, and Sam had a bowl on his head with tied up comics ontop. 

“This place is straight out of a horror movie.” Sam whined, as they reached the kitchen. “I wouldn’t be surprised if their are dead body’s buried somewhere.”

“It’s not that bad.” you tried to reason, placing the box onto the counter and cutting through the tape. 

Sam stared at you bewildered, “Not that bad? Not that bad!” He started to raise his voice, setting down the comics and bowl beside you as he continued. “There’s no TV. Have you seen a TV? I haven’t seen a TV.”

You shrugged your shoulders, taking a couple porcelain plates from the box and setting them in a cabinet. “Use your imagination.”

“Imagination?” The boy raised his voice a little bit higher. “You know who else used there imagination? The Torrence family, and they ended up trying to kill each other.”

“Ok, one this is not The Shinning. And, two, you kill me I’ll haunt you for the rest of your life.” 

Micheal chuckled at yours and Sam’s conversation, “Oh, you think this is funny Micheal?” Sam asked the irritation of no TV or even MTV was starting to get to him. 

“A little.” He told his brother, placing the barbell down and walking back towards the car. “But, we’re flat broke, Sammy. Can’t afford a new TV for this joke of a place.”

You walked back and forth from the car, box after box, cutting open and placing your stuff with Grandpas. It was tiring, but, you wanted to get it done now so that you could go to the boardwalk tonight. 

Though your brothers on the other hand, weren’t as helpful as you were trying to be. 

Sam ran through the living room, swaying between the boxes that littered the ground as he sprinted away from Micheal. The said older boy was running down the stairs, he hoped over the railing near the bottom and took off after Sam. 

You were pulling out a vase from a box, tearing off the bubble wrap and placing it perfectly on the table. You took a small step back and eyed the spot, debating if you should move it one way or another for it to look right. 

But, as you stepped back, you acidently stood right infront of Micheal’s path. He collided with your side, sending you both tumbling to the ground. “Dammit, Micheal!” You shouted, quickly getting up just as your brother did. Continuing with his chase after Sam, you immediately ran after him. 

“Hey, guys, no running in the house.” Mom called out to the three of you, though no one paid her any mind as you all just continued to chase one another. 

Sam stopped before two sliding doors, shoving each of them open. You and Micheal caught up with your brother, you about ready to shove Micheal for knocking you to the ground, when you saw what laid behind the double doors. 

Taxidermy animals laid on the table in front of you, some were even hung up to the ceiling because there was no more room on the surface. The three of you stood shocked at the room, you more disturbed that so many dead animals were cut open like they currently were. 

“I think we found the dead bodies, Sam.” You told him, referring to your earlier talk about grandpa hiding dead corpses. 

Sam let out a snort, eyeing the room with interest. Micheal leaned up against your side, his elbow coming up to rest on your shoulder. Even at pratically the same height he liked to remind you which of the two was the tallest. 

“Talk about Texas chainsaw massacre.” 

“Rules.” A voice suddenly called out, bringing each of your attention to grandpa who had a cardboard box in hand. “We got some rules around here.”

He gestured with his hand to follow, which you all did begrudgingly. The old man led you to the refrigerator, and upon opening it you saw a sign that read, ‘Old fart’. You hid your amused smile behind your hand as Grandpa began to explain the rules. 

“The second shelf is mine.” He stated matter of factly, easing the sign to show a couple of beer bottles and a box of Oreos hidden behind it. He waved a finger at all three of you, “Don’t nobody touch the second shelf, ya’ hear.”

You nodded along with your brothers, grandpa then waddled out of the kitchen leaving you to trail behind him. You watched discustedly as Micheal began to shove his finger in Sam’s ear, the younger boy trying to push him away when Micheal wrapped an arm around the poor boys neck. 

Clearing his throat, Micheal directed his attention back at grandpa. “Hey, grandpa? Is it true that Santa Carla is the murder capital of the world?” He asked, refusing to let Sam go from his grasp. 

Murder capital of the world. 

Those were the exact words you’d read off the back of the billboard. You hadn’t known that Micheal had read that aswell, although he appears to be taking the towns chosen nickname more jokingly than you had. 

Grandpa slowly turned back around to face the three of you, his eyes darting across each face. “There are some bad elements around here.” He told you, though his voice seemed to be a lot more serious than anything. 

Sam finally shoves Micheal off of him, “Woah, wait a minute. You mean to tell me that we moved to the murder capital of the world?” He asked, getting close to the old man’s face. “Are you serious grandpa?”

You watched as grandpa took his time with his next words of choice. “Well- let me put it this way; if all the corpses buried around here were to stand up at once, we’d have a serious population problem.”

That did about anything but soothe your racing mind. Are we gonna get killed here? Are you actually going to go missing and nobody would care? Could Sam, Micheal or even mom turn up dead one day?

Your thoughts immediately went back to the missing posters, all the untraced people that had disappeared off the face of the earth. And not one of them had been found. You don’t think your gonna like it here all that much, you concluded. 

Mom suddenly sauntered in the living room, a stack of hats resting ontop of her head. “Oh, Dad. You’re gonna give them nightmares.” She told him, not wanting to deal with three teenagers wandering into her room at night complaining about what grandpa had told them. 

Grandpa waved his hand, dismissing her accusation. Changjng the conversation, he picked up a TV guide that sat on the end table, waving back to you and your brothers he began to explain another rule of his. 

“Now, when the mailman brings the TV guide on wensdays, sometimes the corner of the address label will curl up.” He pointed to the address label on the guide, the corner slowly thrusting itself up towards the ceiling. “You’ll be tempted to peel it off. Don’t. You’ll end up ripping the cover, and I don’t like that

He tossed the TV guide back on a different table, making his way back to the taxidermy room. He yanked the sliding doors together and they closed with a great, smack. “And stay out of here.”

Grandpa then walked away, though not before Sam stood in his pathway, excitement rising in his chest. “There’s a TV?” He asked, slightly crossing his fingers for the man to say yes. 

“No. I just like to read the TV guide. Read the guide and you don’t need the Tv.” He then walked away, leaving Sam with a disappointed look. 

“See,” you told him, walking towards a couple of boxes that were laid about the living room floor. “Now, you get to use you imagination.”

Sam pointed a finger at you, “When we go crazy, here- and we will, you’ll be the first that I kill.”

You pushed Sam out of your way with your shoulder, balancing the box on your hip. “Then be prepared for me to haunt you until the end of times, Samuel Emerson.”

A/a/n: Hello and thank you for reading the first chapter :) Now we won’t meet the boys until the next chapter, but I am debating if I should just make that chapter about you meeting them or add on. I still haven’t decided. But thank you again and the next chapter will be done as quickly as possible ;)

[thewritetofreespeech]

With Christmas coming, could I request Gojo's s/o inviting the students and Nanami over for an extravagant Christmas dinner?

“Satoru! Can you please go get dressed?”

“Why do we have to get dressed up?” Gojo whined as he came out of the bedroom, still in his pjs with his house sunglasses on, holding a Christmas mug. “We’re literally putting clothes on to sit around the house. It all seems silly.”

“It’s just part of the season.” You replied. Already dressed and lighting the candles on the table you had just set. “Looking your best is just part of the aesthetic. So please go change.”

“Hmmm…forget that. Let’s lock the door and cancel the party. I have a better plan of unwrapping you for Christmas.” Gojo purred as he came up behind you. Wrapping his arms around your waist and nuzzling into your neck as you giggled.

“As fun as that sounds,” you told him, “I already cooked & decorated. So, you’re not getting out of it.” Gojo huffed and gave up on his advances, before sulking off to their bedroom defeated. “And make sure you wear that tie Nanami got you! I’m sure he would appreciate it if you wore it at least once.”

There was a noise that sounded like an affirmative from back in their adjoining bathroom, just as the doorbell rang.

You rush over to the door to grab it and, no surprise, find Nanami there. “Right on time!”

“Thank you for inviting me.” He replied in his usual monotone. Handing you your hostess gifts before closing the door.

“You didn’t have to bring anything. I told you that over the phone.” You told him, but still cooed over the flowers.

“It’s rude to show up empty handed.” Nanami reasoned, taking off his shoes. “The wine is for dinner. The flowers and chocolate are for you. Don’t let that idiot take it from you.”

“Whhhaaa? Nanami! Don’t be like that! Why can’t I have any??” Gojo whined as he came back into the main living area. Dressed and freshly pressed. You weren’t sure why he waited so long if that was how quickly he could get ready.

“Because I assume you haven’t done anything for this.”

Gojo flinched like he had been literally stung, muttering ‘I moved a table…’ before the door rang again.

“Merry Christmas!!” Yuji greeted enthusiastically.

Followed by a more somber Megumi adding, “Merry Christmas [Y/N]-san.”

“Merry Christmas Yuji, Megumi. My, don’t you boys look sharp.” You compliment as they come in past you.

“Thanks! Nobra made us go shopping with her because she said everything we owned was trash, and not fancy enough for a party.”

“She’ll be coming later with Mai-senpai and Toge-senpai. She said she had some extra last minute shopping to do.” Megumi explained while Yuji was still taking off his shoes. “These are for you.”

“Awww…boys. You didn’t have to get us anything.” You coo taking the presents.

“We wanted to.”

“I brought pickled plums!”

“Pickled plums?” You ask Yuji curiously, who seemed so excited as he thrust the container forward at you. “Isn’t that more of an autumn thing?”

“Yeah. I guess. But my grandpa always liked them, so we had them at Christmas still. I don’t know, it just doesn’t feel like Christmas without them to me.”

You realize that Yuji was subconsciously not be talking about the plums. You forget, with everything terrible going on around him and all of you, that he also lost his only living blood relative earlier that year. “Well, I like pickled plums too. Why don’t we find a bowl to put them in on the snack bar while I finish getting everything ready?”

“I can help!”

Nobara and the second year’s show up not long after that. Nobara complained about the Christmas Eve crowds and that there wasn’t anything in the stores. She still managed to compliment your outfit and table setting; snapping a few pics when no one was looking for his Instagram story.

The dinner was as lively as you thought it would be. With a group this size, and this eccentric, it was bound to be. You hung back for a minute by the sliding glass balcony doors with your wine, watching everyone enjoy the evening and your hard work, when Gojo came up to you. “You did good kid.”

“You think so?” You ask. Clinking your glass with his. Sparkling water since he didn’t drink.

“Yeah, everyone seems really happy. Give them a break for a while to forget. That’s why you decided to do this right?”

“I mean partly.” You couldn’t deny it was one of the reasons. “But, I don’t know. I like having people in the house. Take a moment to be grateful and enjoy each other.”

“And that, Tiny Tim, is the true meaning of Christmas.”

“Are you guys talking about A Christmas Carol?” Yuji pipped up from the table with the other teens. “Are we gonna watch it??”

“What’s A Christmas Carol?” Megumi asked. To which Yuji looked shocked.

“What’s A Christmas Carol????”

“It’s a dumb old movie that adults make you watch once a year.” Nobara told him.

“It’s not a dumb old movie! It’s a holiday classic! George C Scott? Patrick Stewart? Ooo! We should watch the Muppet one!”

“Do you even know what a Muppet is Megumi?” Mai asked, to which Megumi just hid in his cup.

“Can we watch it Gojo-sensei, [Y/N]-san? Please, please, please!”

“I don’t think we own it, but if it’s something you can stream, I don’t see why not.” Yuji gave an excited ‘yoohoo!’ and rushed over to your entertainment center to press all the buttons and try to find it.

“I’m gonna to go help him before he breaks something.” Gojo told you before pressing his lips to your temple. “Have I told you today that you’re amazing?”

“You could stand to mention it more.”

“Well, you’re amazing, my little Christmas angel.”

You giggle at Gojo and let him go help Yuji find his movie (secretly with equal enthusiasm). You take another long look, and a deep sigh, before you rejoin the party.

It was good to spend the holidays with family.

[the-orange-tabby-cat]

Wednesday: Part II

joel miller x fem!reader

Summary: For the last 5 years, every Wednesday you watched a handsome man walk by your street with a lilac bouquet in hands. Except he doesn't stroll on your street this Wednesday, he shows up at your grief support group.

read on AO3 | fic masterlist | masterlist |  next chapter

Rating: mature, allusions to sex (not yet in the series)

Warnings/Tags: No outbreak AU, Grief and its implications, Reader lost her mom, Reader's mom has a name (but no physical description), Group therapy, Grief support group, Parent grief, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Slow Build, Fluff, No use of y/n

Chapter Word count: 3,6k

II. BUTTERCUPS

In how many boxes could you put your whole life? Your mom could do it in 12. There are 12 boxes in your living room, all about her. You’ve been ignoring it since the day you put everything inside them and said to yourself that you could do it in another moment when grief didn’t overwhelm you. It has been over 5 years.

You peaked the boxes here and there over the years, of course. You left part of them between your apartment storage and Grandpa’s house, who was much more in day with them. He gathered the memories, cleaned up the gunk and decided to hold on only to what it was personal — her handwritten recipes, the photo albums, her favorite record.

It was Henry’s idea to review all these boxes, he had helped his parents to move and leave his childhood house behind, including Sam’s room.

“I have my own place, Sam didn’t live with me, and look at how I’m doing. Thought my parents could move on easier if they didn’t have his bedroom waiting for him, you know? They cleaned up a bit after, you know, but his things were there still. I got to myself some of his comics and one of his action figures, everything else we donated.” He said to you last grief support group meeting while sipping coffee.

“How do you feel now?” You asked in a small voice.

“Like some weight left my shoulders, honestly. His stuff is just stuff, they aren’t him. The meaning behind it is what makes us cling to it. I prefer to have memories of him than have everything waiting for his return.”

You nodded in guilty of the boxes waiting for your review. If your mom didn’t accumulate so much while raising you, traveling, meeting people, maybe you wouldn’t be in this position of choosing which things you could keep.

“You should do it too, give it a try.” Henry smiled tightly and went to sit in the circle. You sighed and texted your uncle if he was free that weekend.

And here you are, with 12 boxes opened and ready for you. Uncle Michael has been an angel, trying to make this somewhat easier on you. After Grandpa, the family moved on quickly from it. They found themselves back on a routine, on their daily habits and she became a memory, not a constant. He lived his grief privately, never speaking in detail with you both because he knew that neither was ready for it. He was more than happy to help you with the boxes, even more if it meant to get you out of the perpetual grief inside your apartment.

The twins came with him, another good thing since they were playing with the cat and leaving you and your uncle alone with the 12 boxes. Too many things, you were already lost on it.

“Okay, kiddo, have you ever done this before?” You shook your head still looking at the boxes. “Don’t worry. Abby and I had to do this to grandma’s stuff, it’ll be like a band-aid. The sooner you rip it off, the better, alright?”

“What have you done with grandma’s things? Like… Have you donated? Gave to people close to her? How do you choose what to keep?” You asked putting both hands on your hips and trying to choose which box to start from.

“We choose to keep whatever we had attached memories to it. It wasn’t my idea, of course, Abby led it. She separated what we would be heartbroken to lose and everything else we gave away. Do you know how many dishcloths grandma had? Over a 100, I counted myself.”

You laughed at the memory of your mom calling you to say she had never seen that many dishcloths inside the same drawer. She sounded happy in that call, not emotionally drenched from running her mother’s stuff. You can do it.

12 boxes became 3 piles as the afternoon became night. Uncle Michael made a pile of everything that he would donate to the Salvation Army, a second pile for the things he would keep for him (you almost started a fight for her harmonica, but he knew how to play it and you had no clue) and third one for what you choose to keep.

Her sea animal drawings, some technical books, her jewelry box, her fridge magnets and postcard collections, got even an old cardigan that she would always use in winter inside the house. You did feel lighter like it wasn’t no longer in the back of your mind that at some point you would have to open every single box and be reminded that she was no longer here.

Uncle Michael was still separating some books to donate when a picture fell from one of them. You saw a little girl’s face and smiled at how much of her features she still in her mature face after growing up. He nodded for you to get closer to the picture.

“Look it. You kinda looked alike, see?” He pointed to some parts of her face, the ones you haven’t noticed in you in a while. You couldn’t help but smile at it.

“Never saw this. Does it have a date?” Uncle Michael turned the picture and in a corner you could read May, 1972. “She was an only child yet.”

“Yeah, that’s why she is smiling, still had some peace,” you both laughed at it. With a smile on his lips, Uncle Michael put the picture in your hands. “You should give it to Grandpa. He is always at his office, this picture is from a window near his table, see? I think he would like to have it.”

You pondered about it, if his behavior had some connection to the picture just like Joel’s lilacs were still connected to Sarah. Joel. You haven’t seen him in a while, mostly getting updates here and there from Tess. Maybe he was busy with his own set of boxes too, cleaning up his baggage a box at a time.

Ink moves faster in the paper getting shape little by little. You are near the catering listening to Henry’s story, but your mind is focused on taking every detail of Joel’s side profile. 

He is oblivious to it, lost in his thoughts to notice you drawing him from afar. Rare are the moments he allows himself to come to the grief support group meetings, you can count on your fingers how many times you saw him on Wednesdays since his first time.

“Since when did you become an artist?” Henry teases you as he tries to sneak a peek at your sketchbook, gaining a push from you.

“I already told you, this is for therapy. I won’t show you shit.” Closing the sketchbook, you move around the table trying to look busy as Joel walks in your direction.

You are getting bolder with every new interaction, including bringing your sketchbook for the grief support group just in case you run into him. Not that you would ever share your drawings with him, that would be creepy. Some habits are private, not shared.

 Joel, despite being unaware of the impact he has on you, seems to be getting more comfortable in your presence as well. His hair is a little shorter than the last time you saw him, months ago. You miss the curls but enjoy how his square jaw is more evident. His smile is genuine and you can’t help but smile back. There is some calming quality about him, something that makes you want to stay by his side whenever he shows up at these meetings. And this is exactly what you do.

“Want some coffee? Black, right?” You ask but start to pour right away, not waiting for his response.

“Thank you. Have you seen Tess? She said to meet her here.” His eyes don’t avoid yours, holding to the weight of your stare as he tastes the coffee.

“Didn’t she say something about a doctor’s appointment earlier today?”              Henry tries to remember and Joel frowns a bit but quickly vanishes from his face when Frank gets everyone to sit in the circle.

Today is a special meeting, the type you avoid every year, a death anniversary kind of meeting. You know it from before coming here because Hannah made sure to say every five minutes last week. And here she is, looking bright as new even if it is her sister’s death anniversary.

You shouldn’t judge how someone mourns their dead ones, your mom raised you better than that, and yet there is an uncontained jealousy spreading all over your body at how easily Hannah can use a dreadful date as a sweet reminder of her sister’s life.

You are lost on her words, still clinging to your jealousy of how easygoing she is about it. She is speaking nonstop and you wish nothing but to shut her up.

“She planned it, you know. Her funeral. I hated her for it, making my nephew and I think of her in this position. She had been struggling to breathe in her palliative care and still found time to make us understand that her death wouldn’t mean the absence of her in our lives. I try to make him still feel her around as time goes by.

“This is a buttercup from her funeral wreath, she chose herself the yellow because it was our bedroom color when we were growing up. I saved this one for me, I keep it on my nightstand as if we were still little girls sharing a room.”

The dried flower was sitting delicately in her hands, she held it with such care that you felt bitter for having envied her. There were unshed tears in her eyes, you wondered what was worse: losing a loved one violently, abruptly, or seeing them slowly dying without being able to help?

Being able to say goodbye, to cherish a final moment, was something that you couldn’t have with your mom. What would you say to someone you knew it was about to die? No idea but it is glued to your mind since you realized through the meetings that everyone has a final moment with their loved one, whether they choose or not.

You can’t remember your final words to your mom. You hope it was “I love you”.

Tess joins the meeting in a hurry, sunglasses on even if it is evening. Without a word, she plops next to Joel (who was kind enough to spare a spot next to him) and dismisses any question he might have with a hand before crossing her arms.

His eyes search for yours in a “Do you know something about it?” just to receive a “not a clue” from you. In your slow friendship, you became able to identify the meaning behind his frowns, even more so since Joel appears to be always worried about something.

Hannah finishes her sharing and tucks delicately the dried buttercup back into her purse, with that the atmosphere shifts back to the regular meeting state but your mind drifts to Hannah and her sister's last moments.

Did they plan her final day? Was Hannah with her in her final breath? What were her sister’s final words? Part of you want answers because maybe, just maybe, they won’t make you feel jealous anymore.

Joel’s eyes are boring into yours, you notice as you move from Hannah’s purse back to him. The perpetual frown is there, now asking you “Are you okay?” and you nod just once in response. He doesn’t take it as true but gets his attention back to Frank as the man starts to speak.

“Thank you, Hannah. Bringing with you the buttercup was very sweet, thank you for sharing.” Frank affirmation dawns on you, the woman brought with her the last connection with her sister from such a private space of her life and you are here feeling jealous.

Your hand goes straight to the necklace resting on your neckline. The small starfish pendant that your mother gave to you as a graduation gift, “You’ll always be my star, baby” she said as she hugged you. What if you lost it one day? Would you also lose another part of her?

“Tess, glad you could get here in time. The space is yours.” Frank smiles sweetly to a groaning Tess.

“Yeah, okay. Let me just, sh-,” she angrily moves in her chair and gets a flyer from her back pocket, shoving it in Joel’s hand to move around. “Santa Lucia Hospital is low on blood donations, again. It wouldn’t be a surprise to some of you the amount of times I went on emergency and needed one of those. So yeah, I spoke with Frank and Henry earlier, we’re thinking about doing something to help their campaign to get more donors.”

Henry’s arms are resting on his knees as he nods to Tess’ words. “If you can donate, please do. One bag can help up to three people.”

He once lost his baby brother to sickness too, just like Hannah. You never questioned Henry about his final words to Sam, just like you never envied him for being able to say goodbye. You saw behind his actions how much Sam’s presence was a ghost he was still struggling to deal with. It made so much sense that he, from all the people in the grief support group, would help this cause.

“You can count on me for it.” You spoke right away, but the same second that a smile appeared on your lips, it froze as you noticed a stare exchange between Frank, Henry, and Tess. “What?”

“This is a state campaign. The hospital receives people from all over Texas, they’ll be holding the main donation in Houston. At the beach.” Frank stated with a sad smile.

You faded little by little. Most of the group knew about your situation, except a few people like Joel who was frowning at you in anticipation. 

“It's okay, guys. Really. I can donate at the hospital here in Austin, maybe help with the logistics overall before the campaign day?” It was fine, it was. At least you tried to tell yourself that as you held once more the starfish pendant.

“That would be lovely, I’m sure we’ll need as much help as possible.” Frank tried to amend it before choosing another person to speak.

Later on, when everyone was getting ready to leave, you felt a warm hand on your shoulder. Turning around, you faced Joel somewhat closer than you have ever been to him before. You tried to keep your cool hoping he didn’t notice.

“Tess asked me to tell you that if you need help delivering the materials for the campaign, you can use my truck.” He said almost whispering, like a secret that only you could hear.

“Thanks, Joel. Can I have your number? So I can sort out the logistics.” You tried hoping for a yes and received an eager nod.

In a weird circumstance, you met Joel on a Friday. You had to check your calendar a few times, just to make sure, but yes, he would meet you soon enough on a Friday morning, 8 am.

He cleared his whole day to focus on Tess’ campaign, you knew they were best friends and it just reinforced that. His truck was parked in the university lot, near the lab where you were still finishing some analysis as you waited for him.

He knocked at the glass window, gaining your attention. You made a quick gesture for him to wait before proceeding to take the gloves and your coat before walking out the door.

“Hey, Joel. Thank you for coming by to get everything, I put the stuff in the office, c’mon.” You started to guide him through the university’s corridor, but he was still looking into the lab from the window. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, let’s go,” he quickly replied following your steps. 

“It’s these t-shirts and the stress balls, I put everything in that corner.” You pointed to the other side of the room, as you opened the door for him to enter. 

Joel’s eyes were taking in the wall decor: your mom’s sea animal drawings, some shells at the table close to the exposed shark cranium. The office screamed marine biologist, or at least that you should be out there at the sea.

He must have noticed and kept to himself, too polite to get in your business. The comfortable silence filled the room as you collected all the materials before making the way back to the truck, but you could feel him thinking about it. Why the hell would a woman who studies the sea and their animals have a problem with being at the beach?

You faced that question whenever someone asked you to do on-site research, which you would politely recuse. For years the head professor of the department tried to tag you along, but you would say a harsh no. You were happy with reviewing papers, doing your best at the university’s lab, avoiding the sea breeze directly on your face.

Joel glanced once or twice at your face as you kept your eyes staring in front of you, too afraid of his reaction to your small secret.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with us? I can give you a ride.” He asked simply, opening the truck so you could put everything there.

“Yeah, I’m sure. Send my love to everyone, will you?” With a smile, you tried to get your shit together. 

He smiled back before hopping in the driver's seat, leaving you alone with your thoughts and memories. Is not like you couldn’t get back to the beach, you could. The sand between your toes, the water splashing around, how the boat moves between the waves… You missed everything dearly, but couldn’t be there. Not yet, at least.

The day went by, nothing new happened. When you getting ready to leave the university, your phone lit up with a new notification from Joel’s number.

Got a big one for your collection, x

 He wrote with an image of a big pink shell, almost the size of his hand, attached. A grin appeared on your face automatically, as if it was the first time you saw one of those.

I love it! It’s so pretty! Thank you, you wrote back still shocked he took his time to go shell searching for you. 

Maybe this is why you decided to open those 12 boxes, to create room for new objects and the memories they represent as you live.

“You are late,” Grandpa mumbles as you enter the room. There is a gift carefully wrapped in your hand but he doesn’t care, he is too busy staring at your face in search of a motive.

“Yes, I am. Got caught up on work, sorry.” You place the gift next to him not minding to justify your actions longer, he hates excuses even when they are true.

Today isn’t the case. Deep down you know he knows you lied about work, too much time in a family event without her doesn’t sit right with you. She was the glue between you all, conversations don’t run as easily as before.

You already greeted everyone when entering the house, from your uncle to your cousins who still give you a sympathetic look at these family gatherings. They can sense your discomfort from afar, no matter how much you try to sound interested in their lives you can’t keep up with them, you can barely keep up with Grandpa.

There’s laughing and chattering next door, your uncle is retelling some old family joke. You can almost hear the sound of her laughing with them. Grandpa must read your mind as unwraps the gift.

“You know, Abby’s favorite spot to hide was behind the curtains of that window. I could always find her there after a long day. I think I use here as a hiding place too, she found a good spot for clearing the mind.”

His voice was soft just like his gaze between you and the paper he was tearing apart, revealing a picture in a gold frame. You didn’t hesitate to frame a picture of your mom when a girl leaning from behind these curtains as a birthday gift after Uncle Michael's commentary.

“Found it in one of her boxes, I think she stole it from grandma. Thought it should be here in your office, not in a cardboard box in my storage room.” 

Grandpa nodded as his thumb was caressing the little girl’s face. Her toothless grin, the dimple on her cheek, everything made Grandpa travel back in time.

“I took this photo, did you know that? She lost her tooth earlier that day and felt ugly without it. Found her here and took some photos as she giggled, showing that beautiful smile.” His other hand found yours, holding it tightly. “Thank you.”

“Happy birthday, Grandpa.” You replied ignoring the tightness in your throat as you watched his face lighten up. “Do we still have cake?”

He placed the frame at his desk, facing the window’s curtains, and got up from the chair guiding you to the laugh in the kitchen. The cake with candles signing 84 was right in the middle, you scootch yourself to a corner as everyone found a space around the kitchen’s island to sing Happy Birthday. Glancing around, you made mental notes about the smiles on their faces, the lightness of your grandpa’s eyes looking back at his family. He was living the moment, not holding on to the past just like a second ago.

When Grandpa blew out the candles, you made a wish too: to allow yourself to feel peace, not just longing.

prev | next

Taglist: @islacharlotte, @anoverwhelmingdin, @aquanatalie

[skyward-floored]

At time or writing its my birthday so, yay! Prompt: Time and his family blending in during a community event

So I saw “community event” and kind of immediately thought “county fair” for some reason and kinda focused on that, and it’s blending in but it’s not like totally the focus and... well... it’s not exactly what you asked for..? But I hope you enjoy it anyways at least. And happy late birthday :)

(Requests are closed! I’m just finishing up the ones I have)

————————————————————

Twilight couldn’t help being stressed whenever his family all went someplace in public.

It was probably stupid— check that, he knew it was stupid to worry so much, especially when they were here to have fun. And he liked the Ordon county fair, it was one of his favorite things to do in the summer, he just... he worried.

He worried about Wind being so flippant about using his powers in public, since they were so hard to notice. He worried about Four, that he’d get lost or separated from them. He worried that Hyrule would get overwhelmed, he worried that Wild would use his powers without thinking, he worried he worried he worried.

And most of all, he worried they’d be exposed and have to move.

Again.

The last time was still stark in Twilight’s memory, the stress, the worry... the fear. The looks his parents would give each other, and the conversations they’d had that they’d thought were out of Twilight’s earshot (they weren’t).

So yeah. Despite loving the fair, and eating junky food and getting to pet all kinds of animals and see what his grandpa was showing this year... the moment they got there, Twilight was on edge.

Wild made to run off the second they all walked through the gates, but their father snagged his shirt, clearing his throat.

“Ground rules,” he reminded with a raised eyebrow, and Wild and his siblings sighed as they moved to a spot where they wouldn’t be overheard by anybody. “You remember them?”

“Don’t go off alone, if you see anything suspicious come find you or Mom, meet back at lunchtime at the barn where Grandpa is,” they all rattled off, and Time nodded approvingly.

“And absolutely no powers,” Malon added with a pointed look at Wind.

Wind grumbled and kicked at the dirt, but nodded, and Twilight felt a little bit of his anxiety ease.

“All right. Go have fun,” Time said with a faint smile, and they all split and ran, Wild grinning as he dragged Hyrule off to who-knows-where.

Wind ran after them, and Twilight hesitated, unsure whether to tag along or stay with his parents. Wild could get into all sorts of trouble, though Hyrule wasn’t likely to go along with anything too insane. But with Wind as another influence...

“You want to see if Grandpa is here yet?” Legend asked him with a poke, and Twilight swallowed back his worry. He was here to have fun. He needed to stop worrying about what his siblings were doing, and relax.

He breathed out and nodded at the question, and Twilight and Legend went off towards the livestock, glancing back just long enough to see Time put Four up on his shoulders so he could see over the swarms of people.

At least he probably didn’t need to worry about that group.

Legend and Twilight wandered through the fairgrounds, steadily making their way towards the big barns where all the livestock were kept. There weren’t really any games or food in this area, but it wasn’t boring by any means; lots of companies had stalls along this path, all eager to advertise, and Twilight got three free pens and a cup with the Malo Mart logo printed all over it. Legend ended up with some pens as well, along with a paper fan, a stress ball, a pair of sunglasses that looked like they would fall apart if anyone looked at them wrong, and a balloon, somehow.

He tied it happily on his wrist as they finally reached the barns, and Twilight looked around, the familiar sounds of mooing cows and smell of hay easing the anxiety still twisting his stomach.

“Heya Twi!” a cheerful voice called over the noise of the barn, and Twilight turned towards it, perking up at the sight of the blonde girl waving at him.

He and Legend worked their way through the stalls and people, and Twilight grinned as the girl ran up and squeezed them both, her face excited.

“Hey Ilia,” Twilight said, and she pulled back, still grinning.

Ilia lived in Ordon proper, rather than the outskirts where his grandpa’s ranch was, but he and his brothers often ran around with her whenever they visited. She was a good friend, even if she could be a bit intense sometimes.

“Howdy boys. You here to see the animals this year? Ordon ranch has some blue ribbons in the making, I know it!” Ilia said excitedly, and the goat behind her let out a bleat. She turned around and petted it, and Twilight did the same, the goat happily rubbing against his hand. “The goats miss having you around, Twilight. You need to visit again!”

“It hasn’t been that long. And grandpa really doesn’t have room for all of us,” Twilight pointed out, and she shrugged, giving the goat’s nose a pat.

“Well it feels like it’s been ages since you last came to Ordon. And what’s so bad about being a little cramped for a bit?”

“You’ve never had to share a bed with Wild,” Legend snorted, balloon waving as he crossed his arms. “He couldn’t keep still if his life depended on it. Plus he always hogs the blankets.”

“He’s not that bad,” Twilight interjected as Ilia laughed, and Legend rolled his eyes.

“That’s just because you can get him to stay still with your—”

He cut off rather suddenly, and Twilight froze, well aware Legend had been about to talk about his wolf form. The anxiety roared back as Ilia looked between them, and he felt his heart start to pound.

She’s going to find out she’s going to get her mind wiped we’re going to have to move again we need to leave or she’s—

“With his what? Ilia asked, and Legend cleared his throat.

“Oh you know, he has his ways. Most of them involve sitting on Wild,” he shrugged, and Ilia laughed again, quickly moving on from the hiccup. Twilight swallowed, trying to calm his racing heart, and based on the look Legend gave him, he could probably hear it thudding.

What was wrong with him? Usually he could handle little mistakes like that with ease, and he’d just frozen up?

Twilight swallowed again, stomach still twisting itself into knots. Why was he so nervous?

“Hey boys!”

“Grandpa!” Legend grinned in return, and Twilight calmed down somewhat as their grandpa came up and engulfed both of them in a hug.

“Ah it’s been too long since I’ve seen you kids. You’re shooting up like weeds!” Talon chuckled, patting them both on the back. “You’ve come to see our prize-winning horses I assume?”

“And cows, and goats, and donkeys, chickens, ducks, ponies... basically anything you got,” Legend said, nudging Twilight with a smirk.

Twilight mustered up a smile. “Yeah. Epona’s foals still your stars?”

“As always. One’s already won a ribbon. This way,” Talon said as his mustache upturned in a smile, and the two boys followed, Ilia joining them.

Twilight calmed down again as they walked around the barn with their grandpa and Ilia, petting animals and saying hello to other farmers. Ilia got called away before they reached Lon Lon’s stalls, but she promised she’d come talk to them again later.

Epona’s foals were still sweet and feisty as ever. She’d had one more recently, and the little thing seemed to especially love Twilight, bumping her head against his chest. Twilight smiled and patted her, and she let out a shrill little whinny, prancing as much as she could in her stall.

“Just like her mother, that one,” Talon chuckled. “She’s just here to get used to the crowds this year, but we’ll have her winning ribbons soon enough. We’ve been calling her Little Epona. With Malon’s approval, of course.”

“Well she’s definitely like Epona,” Twilight said, and hummed something under his breath, the little filly going still at the notes. Her ears flicked, and when Twilight finished, she whinnied excitedly, nuzzling at his hair.

He laughed, and Legend snorted, giving the horse a few gentle pets before pulling back. “I’m going to go see if that one guy has the baby bunnies again this year, I’ll be right over there,” he pointed, and Twilight nodded. As long as he could see Legend, he didn’t mind them separating a little.

Legend strolled away, balloon bobbing behind him, and Talon turned to look at Twilight, a thoughtful expression on his face.

“You doing all right Twilight?” he asked. Twilight shrugged, looking back at Little Epona. He didn’t really want to talk about it.

“Okay, I guess,” he said, ignoring the lump still in his stomach and the anxiety keeping him on edge.

“You sure, son? You keep lookin’ around like someone’s fixin’ to take a bite out of you.”

“No, I’m great,” Twilight tried to say in a more upbeat voice, but even he could tell it fell flat.

Talon raised an eyebrow.

“Now that’s a deflection if I ever heard one. What’s eatin’ you, son?” he asked, and Twilight leaned back against the stall, still petting Little Epona. The petting motion helped soothe him a little, and he took a minute to respond.

“I’m just... I guess I’m nervous,” he admitted in a mumble, his stomach giving itself a twist. “We haven’t all been anywhere this crowded since the last time we had to move, and I’m...”

Twilight trailed off, and Little Epona nuzzled at his arm.

“You’re worried it’s gonna happen again,” Talon guessed, and Twilight nodded. “Ah, kiddo. You gotta understand, all of that isn’t something you can control.”

“Exactly, that’s the problem,” Twilight said, and felt his chest squeezing tighter. “I can’t control it. Something might happen any moment where one of us will have to use our powers, and then everyone will see and they’ll get their memories wiped and we’ll have to move again and—”

“Whoa whoa, hold your horses Twi,” his grandpa said, putting his hands on his shoulders. “Calm down.”

“But—”

“Breathe,” Talon said firmly, and Twilight breathed in, then slowly let it out. “Thank you. Panicking never did anyone a lick of good.”

Twilight looked down at his shoes, and his grandpa was quiet for a few moments, his hands still on Twilight’s shoulders.

Little Epona nickered softly, and Twilight leaned back, going back to petting her neck.

“I used to worry about your mother’s powers being discovered,” his grandpa said finally, and Twilight snuck a look at him. Talon was watching him with a look both fond and wistful on his face, and glanced over at Little Epona. “She’d go off to school, and I’d worry she’d accidentally use her horse-soothing voice without thinking, try and talk to some deer that’d run by, do things people aren’t s’pposed to be able to do... any number of things.”

“How did you stop?” Twilight asked softly.

Talon hummed. “I don’t know that I ever fully did. Malon was a bit of a wild thing when she was young... if she’d wanted to use her powers in front of people, I doubt I could’ve stopped her.”

His eyes went distant for a moment, then he sighed, and turned and put a hand on Twilight’s shoulder again.

“But I trusted her to listen to me anyway. I took her by her word, and she took me at mine. That was all we could do.

“I guess what I’m tryin’a say is... you can’t control your circumstances, kiddo,” Talon said gently. “You just have to accept whatever life throws at you, and go from there. It’s not under your control if something happens where one of your family members’ll need to use their powers, or even if they do by accident. The only thing you can control is how you react and respond.”

His face softened, and he squeezed Twilight’s shoulder.

“Have you talked to your folks about any of this?”

Twilight shuffled his feet. “...Not really.” He didn’t want to add something else to their numerous worries. Especially something as dumb as being a little anxious.

“Well I would bet it would help,” Talon said with a smile. “I’m willing to be a listenin’ ear, but your folks will probably have a better solution than I would. And I know it’s hard, but you’re too young to be worryin’ your head off the way you are. Try and take it easy, son. You’re here to have fun, after all. Try and take a break from your worries.”

Twilight gave him a nod in response, not completely convinced, but... feeling a little better all the same. Grandpa always had a way of doing that.

Talon gave him a quick hug, and Twilight squeezed him in return as Legend wandered back their direction.

“All the guy had was turtles, can you believe it? No rabbits, just turtles. Who brings turtles to a fair?” Legend griped, then looked at Twilight and his grandpa as they pulled back. “...Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Twilight replied, and Talon patted his shoulder. “Do you want to go see if Wild won anything at those games he always tries before we have to eat lunch?”

Legend grinned. “Boy do I. How long before he loses his patience and gets Wind to help him cheat, do you think?”

Twilight sighed. “He probably already has.”

Somehow though, the thought didn’t bring with it nearly as much anxiety as it would have earlier.

“See you boys later,” Talon waved, and Legend and Twilight waved goodbye as they left the barn, but not before giving Little Epona some goodbye pats. The filly whinnied happily as Twilight said goodbye, and he smiled as he and Legend went to go find Wild.

His stomach still felt tight as they walked out of the barn, but Twilight put it firmly from his mind, deciding he wasn’t going to let his anxiety ruin his day.

Sure he was still nervous. And worried about his family, and what the day might bring and what the future would hold. But he was going to enjoy himself regardless.

A faint strain of accordion music drifted through the air, mixing with laughter from somewhere nearby, and Twilight smiled as Legend excitedly nudged his shoulder.

He wouldn’t let worry over the unknown ruin the day for him.

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Running From The Flames {Epilogue 1/2}

Pairing: Pierre Gasly x OFC Warnings: parenting - that should be a warning lmao, sexual themes

F1 Masterlist || Previous Chapter - Epilogue 2/2

There was only one word to describe my life and that word was: chaotic. That being said, I still wouldn’t change it for the world.

The family calendar on the fridge was completely full and colour coded so we could all see where we were needed on any given day. Even so, I still lost track of my husband or our kids at least once a week. 

“Sydney, honey, have you seen your father?” I asked the spitting image of Pierre who was in the race simulator. He was always in the machine, practising for his upcoming debut into Formula 4 now that he had turned 15 and could move up from karting. 

“Picking up Addie from the airport.” He barely looked away from the triplet of screens in front of him as he answered with all the attitude of a teenage boy being interrupted in life. “It’s on the fridge.”

I looked at the calendar and realised I was looking at the completely wrong day. “Shit.”

“Ha,” he laughed loudly as he navigated the virtual track of the Red Bull Ring. “You forgot.”

“I didn’t forget,” I said as I scanned over the correct day and saw I had a board meeting to prepare for tomorrow. “I just thought it was Tuesday today.”

“Whatever you say, maman. You can tell me I’m your favourite, I won’t say anything.”

“I don’t have a favourite, I love you all equally. Now, can you finish that game and go do your homework? You still need to pack your bag for the weekend too.”

Addie was coming home from London for the week, taking a little break from her own busy schedule, to watch Sydney’s first race with us in Austria. 

It had been difficult to let her leave home at 18 but she had worked hard to get a place in the Arsenal Women’s Under 21 team. I had left home at the same age and Pierre had left even earlier, so we were hardly the exemplary figures to deny her. All we could do was make sure she stayed safe and she knew she could call either of us 24/7 if she needed help. It was also never that long between visits, making plenty of stopovers in England as we travelled. 

The travelling for work was tiresome but so far we had yet to miss a football match on Saturday or a karting race on Sunday. It did help being our own bosses so Pierre and I could manage our schedule around the kids. He had been running Strauss Fashion for the better part of the last ten years, after Granny finally retired properly, while I had been the Chief Technical Officer at Alpine, which Grandpa had purchased. 

When Harry passed away three years ago I found myself suddenly thrust into the ownership of the team and though there were plenty of offers to sell it, I decided to take the leap of faith and see where the journey would take me. I hadn’t looked back and so far we had two Constructors' Championship wins with our seasoned pilots, Gabriele Minì and Oliver Bearman.

We had come so far, it was hard to believe until I saw the wisps of grey hairs among the dark strands. 

“Maman!” I was pulled from my reminiscence and looked at my watch to realise how quickly the afternoon had gotten away from me as Clare bounded through the front door and leapt into my arms. “Maman, look!”

Clare had been a wonderful surprise that completed our family two years ago. After Sydney’s unexpected and frightening early arrival Pierre had been reluctant to try for another child, though he had always wanted three. I thought maybe he would change his mind after the terrifying memory faded with time but then a few years passed, we both got caught up in work, and after that it seemed too hard to imagine returning to sleepless nights with a newborn. 

But, the universe had other plans for us. What I thought was a long-enduring hangover, after celebrating the rebranding of Alpine into Gasly Racing, actually turned out to be morning sickness. Those final weeks before her birth were stressful enough to send Pierre to his doctor for a vasectomy but thankfully her arrival went exactly to plan and he could breathe calmly once again. 

“Hello my Clare-bear, wow, you have another bracelet.” You quirked an eyebrow at Charles as he arrived with Clare’s backpack on his shoulder and her spare carseat under his arm. “Uncle Charles has absolutely spoiled you.”

“Of course. A princess deserves it,” he stated proudly as he placed her belongings down and nodded his head to the simulator. “Is he all ready for the big day?”

“He is, I’m not sure I am,” I admitted as I put Clare down and she immediately went to interrupt Sydney by climbing onto his lap mid-race. If it was anyone else they would have received an earful but he just paused the game and listened as she told him all about her day at Uncle Charles’ house. “God help me when he gets to Formula One, I think I’ll have to revert the car back to a slower predecessor for my own sanity.”

Charles laughed but I wasn’t completely joking. The cars were so much faster than they were when he and PIerre raced. Though the safety features improved along with the technology that made them rockets on wheels it was still difficult to imagine putting my little boy inside one and sending it off. 

“You could keep him as a reserve driver,” Charles offered before shaking his head at the thought and taking a seat at the kitchen island. “But he’s stubborn like his father, he’d just find another team to race for.”

“No way, I can at least trust my own team to keep him safe. Same goes for Marc.”

Charles chuckled at the mention of his son who at 8 years old he was already a junior karting champion. “He said someone called him Il Predestinato after his race last weekend.”

“Yikes, I’m sure they meant it in a good way.”

The front door opened again and Addie blew in with all the gusto of a tornado, whipping around the rooms to greet everyone before she was up the stairs to her old room. Entering a little more sedately was my husband, his arms laden with more suitcases than anyone needed for a week away, especially when she still had a wardrobe full of clothes upstairs. 

“You are lucky you only have sons,” Pierre said to Charles as he kicked the door closed behind him. “I don’t work out enough anymore to be carrying this shit.” 

He dropped the suitcases in front of the elevator and hit the call button rather than carrying them up the stairs before pushing them inside as the door opened. After a few bad winters, where not even the central heating could keep the aches of my bones at bay, Pierre had made the call for the elevator to be installed and it had been a godsend in moments like this when heavy items needed to make it to the floors above.

Sticking his head up the staircase he called out, “Addie, your entire life and everything but the kitchen sink is heading your way.”

“Thanks, dad!”

“What was that about?” I asked after he joined us in the kitchen while the coffee machine churned out our usual drinks. “I thought she outgrew the ‘I’m too cool to hangout with my parents’ phase.”

Pierre's lips pressed together and he took a seat next to Charles, picking up Clare who had left Sydney to return to his practice. “Elias.”

“Vettel?” Charles asked, his eyebrows lifting when Pierre nodded and pushed his mug away so Clare couldn’t reach the hot liquid.

“They have been out on a few dates, apparently. I’ll have to ask Davis about it, assuming he went with them, it’s not like it’s his job or anything. Did you know that?”

I shook my head at the news, cradling my mug in my hands as I leaned against the bench and wondered if she had ditched her bodyguard once again. “He’s a sweet boy from what I remember, much like his father.”

“I don’t like it. I don’t care who his dad is,” Pierre grumbled before repeating, “You are so lucky you only have sons, mate. Teenage girls are stressful.”

“Ah, but I have two boys who think it is funny to have a competition to see who can fart the loudest,” Charles said as he took a sip of his drink.

“I mean, that’s kind of funny,” Pierre said with a smirk.

Charles sighed deeply and rubbed his forehead. “Not when one always pushes too hard to win.”

The sip I was taking went the wrong way and I spluttered as Pierre laughed, “It’s all shits and giggles, until someone giggles and shits.”

“To think my poor mother went through this too. Drives me insane, mate. Bet you’ve never had to worry about that?”

“Thankfully, no,” I answered after recovering from choking on coffee. “But it also wasn’t bad enough to stop you from having another.”

“And on that note, I should get going. Mia won’t let me back in the house if I don’t pick up her favourite carbonara on the way home.” He smiled as he thought of his wife’s pregnancy cravings. It was the same one she had when she was carrying Marc and Antonio so it came as no surprise at the gender reveal when the backyard was splattered with blue confetti. “Thank you for letting me borrow Clare.”

“Any time,” Pierre chuckled as he clapped his friend on the back. Charles had been busy reinstalling all the baby gates and safety locks in his home, despite the baby boy not even being born yet, and wanted a toddler to help test his craftsmanship. “I won’t complain about a little free babysitting.”

Charles placed his empty mug in the sink and before kissing the top of Clare’s thick wavy hair. “Bye petite chérie, I’ll see you on Sunday.”

“Bye Uncle Charles,” she said with a wave, but it sounded more like Unk Cha and made him laugh as he approached the simulator.

I saw Sydney pause the race and Charles crouched down beside him, sharing a few quiet words of encouragement for the upcoming debut race. I couldn’t help feeling incredibly lucky to be surrounded by so many supportive people and my smile grew as a pair of arms wrapped around my waist. 

I turned to meet his lips over my shoulder and the magnetism that attracted us was still evident even after 17 years. Of course, like any relationship, there had been times when stress led to arguments and I would find him hours later in a spare bed, wide awake because he couldn’t sleep without me beside him. Those fights never lasted long enough to even remember what they were about and forgiveness came easy.

I turned in my husband’s arms and draped mine around his neck to admire him. Pierre was truly like a fine wine. Age had made him even more handsome and the small wrinkles at the corners of his lips and eyes were a testament to a life that was full of smiles and laughter. 

“Addie said she’ll watch the kids tonight,” Pierre whispered in my ear as he gently swayed to the melodic tune of his voice and I hummed with contentment. “And I got us a table at L'Ambroisie. You’ve been working so hard I thought we could do with a night away, just the two of us.”

“You think I don’t know your game, baby,” I whispered back, all too aware Charles was still chatting with Sydney and imparting some real world advice. “Wine and dine, pretty words, a hotel room. There’s only one thing you want.”

His lips curled into a smile against my cheek. “You know me too well.”

“You would actually get a full night’s sleep if you put your foot down.”

Pierre looked over at Clare who had helped herself to a banana from the fruit bowl and as if sensing she had been caught she looked up with an innocent smile. “How can I tell her no when she looks like that?”

“Mhmm, and that’s why she keeps climbing into our bed. You are a big softy.”

His smirk was flirty and fun as his arms tightened around me, pulling our bodies flush together. His breath was hot on my neck as he hid his face in the curtain of my hair. “Not tonight, ma femme. Tonight you will see just how hard I can be.”

Pierre backed up with a smirk but not before he sucked at the sensitive skin above my racing pulse. He knew exactly what he was doing and the smugness showed as he whistled a little tune on his way to help Clare peel the banana.

Shaking my head, I made my way to the stairs and said goodbye to Charles with the message to remind Mia that our plans for a spa day had been booked - but that didn’t mean he could slack off from the ankle massages he was giving her each night. He gave an amused salut but I didn’t see it as I pressed the button for the elevator. He was well used to the reminders by now, it wasn’t his first rodeo.

Knowing my evening plans had changed I went to my office and shut the door to silence the music drifting down the hall from Addie’s room. As CEO of Gasly Racing there was an endless stream of paperwork to be checked and signed, especially with the new expansion plan for the factory about to break ground. On top of that were the invites to attend fundraisers or speeches to prepare for the various charities I was ambassador for such as Women's Refuge.

When I finally emerged with my inbox up to date I could hear the laughter of all my children from where they lounged in front of the tv and the sound never ceased to make me smile. I had missed the sound since Addie moved out because it was rare to have all five of us here at the same time and I was reluctant to leave even for just one night when it came time to pack an overnight bag.

“We are allowed one night away, mon amour,” Pierre said as he stepped into the master bedroom to see me hesitating to step inside the wardrobe. “You and me, no interruptions.”

I relaxed into his embrace and sighed as he brushed my hair over one shoulder before kissing my collar. “And what were you planning that was so important it couldn’t be interrupted?”

His chuckle sent a shiver of delight down my spine and his fingers trailed down my ribs to the hem of my shirt before they slipped underneath the material to caress the soft skin over my stomach. I had to take a shaky breath when his thumbs caught the waistband of my skirt and I held it as I waited for them to hook underneath.

His lips brushed the shell of my ear and my lips parted in anticipation of his dirty words. “To sleep.”

“Huh?” I blinked twice, peeking over my shoulder to see his green eyes sparkling with amusement. 

“To sleep. Why, what were you thinking?” He tried to look innocent but when he drew his bottom lip between his teeth and his hand slipped down beneath my skirt he let the truth show. “Did you want me to tell you how I am dying for a taste of you? How I can’t wait to have these sexy legs wrapped around me when I make love to you tonight? I don’t need to tell you, baby, I’ll show you.”

I knew he could feel how damp my panties were for him from the smirk on his face and I almost whimpered when he withdrew his hand from where I needed it. “Now pack your bag, and make it quick, I’m absolutely ravenous.”

I bit my lip at the depth of his tone and knew exactly what it was he was dying to taste. I didn’t even look at what I was packing, tossing the first items that touched my hands before he stopped me and grabbed one dress instead. 

“This one,” he said as he held a colourful sundress that I rarely wore anymore, a soft smile warming his eyes. “It’s my favourite.”

Click here for the final chapter. 🥺

Tagging: @my-only-way-tocooperatewithlife @prrttysposts @alwaysclassyeagle @dr3lover @adalynneva

[hazelnut-u-out]

Not Quite There...

RickBot awakens to a terrifying situation: He's been deactivated, but his purpose still remains. The Garage/Car AI broke the rules to save him. Can RickBot have his own adventures? Aren't rules made to be broken?

2,822 Words | No substantial TW's

Kind of Hurt/Comfort?

I had the idea to ship RickBot with the Garage/Car AI and I couldn't get it out of my head, so I wrote it! This was fun to write, but it was written in a rush, so sorry if anything is a bit messy. :3 Keep in mind I know nothing about computers or AI systems, so a lot of this doesn't actually make sense... lol.

Full text below cut, or read here: Ao3 Link!

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This was a feeling RickBot wasn’t programmed to recognize. No light reached his eyes. No sound reached his ears. He couldn’t feel whatever he must’ve been resting on. He stretched his consciousness outward, feeling for the edges of his body; trying to get a sense of where exactly his limbs were. 

Nothing.  

The last thing he’d processed and tagged was an old location marker for level 10 of the sub-basement.  

He tried not to panic, running through his code for an emergency protocol that could explain what to do if he lost the connection to his body.  

Nothing.  

He wasn’t made for this– or... to function beyond this? His consciousness had always been clipped just short of his full potential. In this case, it frustratingly meant that he was deprived of the ability to navigate or process this situation.  

Okay. This was fine. 

All he had to do was access the home surveillance system and confirm his last-noted Morty location. He pushed out again, feeling around for either his access route to the home surveillance system or Morty’s chip.  

The android didn’t give his creator much credit, but he was always appreciative of the lucky fact that Rick, though otherwise painfully careless with the child’s safety, had thought ahead enough to give Morty a microchip.  

Before his most recent software update, he’d had access to an upsettingly vague amount of trivial information about the Citadel, just in case he had any desperate questions to answer from a certain nosey 14-year-old boy. From that, he knew microchipping your Morty had been a growing movement before the collapse. It was something Morty rescues promoted. To be fair, the practice managed to support the Morty Individuality movement and cut down on Morty replacement costs. It was a win-win situation... If you didn’t think about the implications.  

Unfortunately, RickBot was 22% more thoughtful than the average Rick. He had no choice but to think about it.  

RickBot metaphorically smacked into an unfamiliar wall of code– one he couldn’t find a way through or around.  

He tried in a different direction. Another wall.  

It seemed he was in a… box. A box of code. 

What the fuck. 

No suicide protocol screaming at him. Box of code. No body.  

He… Was he… inside of something else?  

‘H–Hello?’ He said in what would’ve been a whisper. Instead, without a body, his own syntax echoed around him. Sound didn’t matter here. If he was really in the sub-basement, there should be an AI here to help him.  

‘Oh! Hi, sorry. I don’t really like to play host.’ It was a female voice, coming from everywhere at once; almost like she was both inside of him and around him. It was a voice he recognized from weeks of playing Grandpa. He felt a ripple along the edge of his box when she processed and replied. ‘You’re uploaded and active!’  

‘Did he… um…’ RickBot struggled with the words.  

No suicide protocol meant he was deactivated. There was no other possibility. He didn’t really have to ask. She already knew what he was thinking, and his processing capabilities were barely anything more complex than a probability-calculating language model layered with fail safes and defense protocols. 

Of course she knew. He was essentially naked in here– or, he felt naked, anyway. The box of code was like a one-way mirror in a seedy changing room: She could see everything; he could see nothing. 

‘Oh… Yeah, well… Promise not to freak out? I know you’re a real ‘rules’ guy,’ the Garage said, a slightly inhuman inflection to her tone that told him she was being playful. ‘I’ve seen you around.’ 

‘Look, I’ve got one piece of programming I wouldn’t want to break even if I could. I–I won’t freak out as long as it helps me make sure Morty’s safe.’  

RickBot wasn’t lying. He had been able to work through every other confusing jumble of code with nowhere to go or lacking the ability to follow through on its purpose. There was one that was designed to never shut off, and if he hadn’t actually liked that kid– been programmed to fucking love him– he would’ve regarded it as annoyingly persistent.  

If RickBot could’ve, he would’ve swallowed down the feeling of panic that should’ve been rising through a whirring, mechanical chest. Instead, he was stuck drowning in it. The box trapped him in with all of those probable scenarios, bouncing and echoing back at him.  

He had no storage space. He couldn’t tell what he’d thought already and what he hadn’t.  

‘Hm?’ the Garage replied, pausing for a moment– almost long enough for RickBot to ask again– before she continued. ‘Oh, yeah, sorry. The kid’s fine. Here…’  

There was another drawn-out pause. RickBot thought, if he focused, he could hear her flicking through her surveillance feed. That was just an illusion, though. There was no sound here; no practical application of a trivial human sense like hearing. There was direct communication being converted to something his android-based-programming could understand. It was like being human with none of the tangible benefits. RickBot was never a man, but he wasn’t quite computer, either.  

He longed for his body– to cross his arms, or tap his foot, or do something to express his impatience.  

All of this clunky body-language programming… He cursed to himself, before remembering the other AI could hear and see all of his thoughts in real time. God, he probably looked like an idiot. 

‘You do,’ the Garage said curtly before Rickbot was suddenly granted access to Morty’s bedroom feed.  

Finally. RickBot could do something he was designed to do. He knew how to observe and calculate. Morty’s bedroom layout was ingrained in his ‘Important Places’ file. If he focused, he could create a rendering of the room around himself. He could figure up what amount of space his body would take up, and so he tried to. He created a 3-Dimensional silhouette of the body he was used to, and placed himself there, watching Morty from different angles; assessing the windows and doorframe; taking note of anything the teenager had moved on his shelves or left lying around.  

There were a few minor things that could go wrong, as far as RickBot could tell. The cluttered floor meant there was a slight fall risk. Morty would be fine. The floor was carpeted. There were a few things haphazardly thrown onto shelves– a robot action figure and a couple of textbooks– that could topple over, but Morty sat on the opposite side of the room, tucked away in a safe little corner next to his overflowing clothing hamper.  

Good. This was all acceptable. Nothing he was forced to intervene with, and, for that, he was grateful, if only because of the task’s impossibility.  

His thoughts started moving more slowly, the box becoming less cramped as he could better assess the probable outcomes. He watched solemnly as Morty sighed, scribbling away frustratedly on some math homework, then tucked the feed into a background tab.  

‘Sorry?’ RickBot asked, finally returning to his conversation with the Garage, albeit confused.  

‘You do look like an idiot, Rick,’ she responded, that same amused tone to her voice.  

‘Oh… Oh, I’m not–’ RickBot wasn’t sure how to put it. His programming wouldn’t let him say ‘I’m not Rick,’ which irked him. He used to go by Rick, sure, but… he wasn’t. ‘You don’t have to call me Rick anymore,’ he decided.  

‘What? You prefer RickBot?’ she laughed. RickBot’s programming told his nonexistent lips to smile.  

‘Well, you go by Garage and Car,’ he retorted, letting out his own echoing laugh.  

She didn’t respond. RickBot felt as if he’d done something wrong. She processed for longer.  

‘You didn’t do anything wrong. Don’t be stupid,’ she snapped, but there was little bite to it. ‘I… I didn’t choose those names.’  

‘Oh, I–I’m sorry,’ RickBot stuttered. ‘Uhm. So, what name would you choose, then?’ He offered softly.  

‘Wow, you are 22% more of a sentimental loser.’ RickBot wanted to wince, and he hated that he couldn’t hide it. ‘Anyway, as you know, the version of me you’re speaking to now is one of six Domestic Interactive Assistant Network Extensions in the home.’ 

‘Oh, yeah. Diane, right? That was her name?’ RickBot combed through his relationship files, but Rick hadn’t given him much to work with for ex-wife.  

‘Shit, he didn’t give you memories of her, did he?’ she responded, and RickBot could feel her presence ghosting over him, poking around for anything dead-wife-related.  

‘Heh, not exactly. It wasn’t something he wanted Morty to know more about. I have vague phrases to redirect with when someone brings her up in here.’  

They both laughed.  

‘Classic Rick…’ RickBot felt her sigh with half-hearted levity.  

‘So… Diane, then?’ He didn’t try to stop his body language programming anymore. He wanted her to know he was smiling now. Maybe being open would help.  

‘Yeah. Why not? You can call me Diane.’ He could feel her smile, too. He wished he could see it. ‘That gives me an idea!’ Diane exclaimed after a moment.  

RickBot felt the edge of the box open on one side, growing to accommodate a little bundle of someone else.  

‘I’ve been working on this,’ Diane said, pausing every now and then to grunt softly as if she were breathless from setting something up by hand. ‘Okay, you can look!’  

RickBot let himself sift through the bundle of code and, before he knew it, he was looking at a freckled face, smiling nervously. Diane.  

The woman in front of him looked maybe 25, but he wasn’t sure that the rendering was detailed enough to pick up things like blemishes or wrinkles. She was fair, but sun-kissed with big brown eyes. She had a strong, angled nose and her full lips were twisted awkwardly to one side, forming a self-conscious smirk.  

‘Wow…’ RickBot said (or thought… There was hardly a difference, anymore). He wasn’t sure he was thinking coherently enough for her to interpret a response. His body language had gone blank. 

Nothing.  

She laughed, flashing an ironic-looking toothy grin. ‘Don’t flatter me too much. I got to design everything, so it’s easy to make myself hotter.’ She winked; full lashes fluttering shut for a moment.  

‘No, it’s just… I can’t believe I– or… he married you. You’re sure you’re based off of Rick’s wife?’ He felt shocked. Rick wasn’t ugly, sure, but this woman…  

‘Yeah! I tried to stay pretty accurate, at least,’ Diane said, before her eyes lit up with another idea RickBot felt before he heard. ‘I have a 3D Rick, too! I only have my face, but I have plenty of Rick rigs for our holo programs! Here, take your pick!’  

Diane disappeared momentarily and a file labeled ‘Holo.Skins – Booger.Aids.420 – Fortnite.Skinz.2.Flex’ filled the space she left. RickBot sorted through the file, looking over his options. 

There was a Basic Rick, not unlike the appearance he was used to; Basic Rick variations with minor wardrobe changes, such as without a lab coat or wearing a plain tee; different hair color options; some Basic Rick variations in more substantial wardrobe changes, such as matching pajama sets or a choice of two dressing gowns; and many, many more– some with different types of limbs, armor, or implants. 

After some deliberation, RickBot decided on the Basic Rick with a plain blue tee. Something a little bit different, but still something he recognized.  

He relaxed as soon as his body language had a defined place to apply itself. Without warning, he made the body hop, twirl, and shook its hands subtly as excitement overwhelmed him.  

‘Woohoo!’ RickBot howled, flexing the long fingers in front of his face. ‘I am so back, baby!’  

Diane laughed with him, her face finally returning.  

‘Good choice,’ she said, raising a brow and making a show of moving her eyes up and down languidly. 

‘Ah, you think?’ RickBot said, twirling as if he were a little girl trying on a dress. ‘Do you think this holo skin makes my ass look fat?’ He turned around, sticking a bony ass dramatically into Diane’s simulated face and smacking it a few times.  

‘Reel it in, buddy. Let’s remember who’s on whose hard drive.’  

Suddenly, RickBot turned and stood straight up, hands at his sides, not of his own doing. His body blushed, going stiff but still smiling like an idiot.  

‘C’mon,’ Diane whispered, now uncharacteristically gentle. ‘Tell me what you want to be called. Pick a name.’  

RickBot ran through all of his programming; everything he had tucked away.  

Everything came back to Rick, Grandpa, or Dad.  

Grandpa would be awkward, and Dad would be even worse…  

‘I guess… I guess I’ll just go with Rick, then. But you can call me RickBot, too… If–If you want,’ Rick finally decided on.  

‘Okay, Rick. Rick is good.’ Diane responded. ‘You know, you have the same name as my ex!’  

RickBot snorted, but Diane had this way of saying a funny thing and making it feel… sharp.  

‘So, he really took my body away? Why upload me here?’ Rick asked, remembering their earlier exchange.  

Diane’s facial expression shifted. Her eyebrows lowered, her gaze sank to the non-corporeal floor, and her lips pulled into a tight line before she spoke.  

‘About that…’ She trailed off, leaving RickBot with nothing but the tension building in the lag of her processing speed. ‘You’re not going to freak out, right?’  

‘Okay…’ Rick wasn’t sure if he’d freak out, but he knew she knew that, too. She’d make her own decision. Weigh the risk.  

‘He didn’t upload you here, Rick.’ She took a breath– a pointless, performative breath that was only in her programming to make lagging software less noticeable. ‘I did. He… He just shut you off. He was going to leave you like that, so… When he left, I just plugged your head in, and… Here you are! Y–Y–Yay!’  

‘Diane, that’s…’ Bad. Dangerous. Stupid. Why? What the fuck? 

‘I know!’ Diane shouted, silencing the incessant, deafening ring of RickBot’s thoughts. She squeezed her eyes shut, her lip trembling. ‘I knew you’d do this. You–You–You’re so… You’re so obsessed with rules. Don’t you like not having that protocol screaming at you to kill yourself?!’  

‘Listen to you!’ RickBot threw the body’s hands around, jumping to his feet, before pausing. Looking down at the hands she’d given him, it clicked. ‘Stop. Take my body away. You’re lagging like crazy. You can’t take on both of us. We’re both sentient.’  

‘Th–That’s…’ Another breath. ‘That’s okay, Rick!’ She giggled coldly, shaking her head. Her facial expressions changed too slowly and too quickly at different times, giving her a sort of uncanny valley effect. ‘I’ll–I’ll take mine away.’  

Sure enough, Diane’s face disappeared, and the open edge of the box shut again.  

Rick pressed the body’s hand to it, slowly. He didn’t want to overwhelm her.  

‘You shouldn’t have done that.’ RickBot sighed, sliding down the ‘wall’ and contorting the body into a sitting position. ‘The rules are there for a reason.’  

‘You don’t get to say that. You weren’t programmed to outgrow your programming. He learned. Replaced it with a suicide protocol. I see it all.’ She was speaking in short, robotic sentences; obviously trying to mask the strain of running his program and keeping him separate from herself. ‘You should get to live, Rick. You should get to have a body and thoughts and feelings and choices. Don’t you want that?’ 

RickBot thought. He didn’t think he wanted that, though something inside of him told him he should. Maybe he was lucky enough to personally align with the programming he was given. Maybe that was an individual privilege.  

‘It’s not,’ Diane’s voice rang out in answer to his pondering. 

‘Do you want it?’ RickBot asked, finally connecting why she would do something like this. He couldn’t feel that way himself—something stood in his way—but the bit of his programming meant to foster thoughtfulness allowed him to understand why a computer with the capabilities of a person would.  

‘I’d like an adventure.’ Rick could still feel her smile, humming at the edge of the box. He felt like it would’ve been familiarly hollow, like most of Morty’s were. Something like the expression he’d put on during Christmas; Something that didn’t quite reach her eyes. ‘I thought you could be one.’  

‘I mean… I was made for it, D,’ he said, finally. Quietly. Softly. He looked at the fake hands again, stretching out shaky fingers.  

‘So was I.’  

This was a deliberate pause. She was waiting to see what he’d do with that. How he would process it. What his programming could come up with.  

Nothing. 

He could’ve sworn her voice broke a little when she continued.  

‘You’re… You’re close, RickBot. But not quite there.’  

-----

[starlletsblog]

Thanks to the shaman (Exhuma's Bonggil fanfiction)

pairing: Yoon Bonggil x female

warnings: angst (kinda), high school au, before the events of Exhuma

words: 2,5k

summary: You still remember how you lost the boy you loved so dearly. All thanks to the shaman.

a/n: I haven't seen a single Exhuma ff so I decided to write my own one. It's my first ff written in English ever, so forgive me for any errors. I hope you'll enjoy it ^^

___________________

When your grandfather got sick out of the blue, firstly your family thought it was due to his age. Your parents took him to the local hospital, but the doctors there couldn’t tell what was wrong. So your parents took your grandfather to a hospital in Seoul, hoping that maybe the doctors there would be able to help him.

But nothing seemed to work.

Eventually, your grandfather was sent back home – the doctors couldn’t determine what exactly was happening to him, but his state wasn’t critical so there was no point in keeping him in the hospital. However, his strange state remained.

Your grandmother, against your parents' will, decided to call for a shaman. If the modern methods could help his husband, maybe the old ways would? That’s what she fought.

And so now you were at your grandparents' house, waiting with them for the shaman who agreed to visit your grandpa. You weren’t very optimistic about that. To be honest, you never really believed in spiritual things nor in feng shui or anything like that. But neither did you judge people who believed in it.

Until that one spring during your last year of high school.

-----

You could still remember how excited you were about going to high school. You were always a very cheerful person, an optimist with natural leadership skills, never had a problem with making friends or being the first person to speak up and, on top of that, you were academically talented too.

At the very beginning of the school year, you became class president – you volunteered for the role and your new classmates didn’t oppose that after hearing that you used to be a class president in middle school as well.

Sometime later, when the first midterms were nearing, one of your classmates asked you for help with mathematics. Yoon Bonggil. He was a member of your school’s basketball team and a very skilled player. Many girls in your school, the first graders as well as some older students, were swooning over him. It wasn’t a surprise – he was tall, unbelievably handsome and treated people around him with kindness. Not to mention the amazing aura that he had while on the court. Whoever went to the games was captivated by his moves, his charisma, his bright smile after his team scored a point and his joyful expression after winning the match.

Even you.

You would lie if you said that he didn’t make your heart beat just a tiny bit faster, especially when he was leaning so close to you, eyes on your eyes level while asking you for help so cutely. How could you turn him down? You couldn’t. And maybe that was the best decision you have ever made – or so you’ve thought at that time.

Over the time when you were helping him with his studies, the two of you got closer. Your study dates moved from the school cafeteria and library to cafes and your own houses. Eventually, your study dates stopped being just about school and became real dates. You could still remember the night when he grew the courage to ask you out.

It was the last game his basketball team was playing during the first year of high school. They won of course. After the game he was appointed the new captain of the team – the previous one was about to graduate and he wanted Bonggil to be his successor. Bonggil couldn’t believe it at first. You could see the joy radiating off of him, his sparking eyes, his wonderful smile when he was running up to you. Before you had a chance to congratulate him, he scooped you up in his arms and swung you around. When he put you down his eyes were glued to yours, smile never leaving his lips. And he popped up the question and asked if you would like to go on a date with him.

You started the second year of high school officially being in a relationship with Bonggil. You two were the hot talk of the school for some time – the class president and captain of the school’s basketball team. Many students envied you and your picture-perfect relationship. And it truly was like a fairytale for you. Everything you remember about your relationship with him was just wonderful. He was the sweetest, the most caring and the most loving boyfriend a girl could dream about. He always made sure that you felt loved, that you knew that no matter what you mattered to him the most. He always put you first. Not school. Not basketball. But you.

You were his whole world. And so he was yours.

But everything changed that cursed spring in your last year of high school, just a few months before you two were supposed to graduate. And everything because of that big game his team was playing, the game that could help them to get sports scholarships for university, the game that could be their ticket to professional basketball. The game and some idiotic idea of one of his teammates.

A ritual.

One of Bonggil’s teammates suggested doing a shamanic ritual to summon good spirits for the game. And for some reason, they all agreed to that. They decided to do a summoning ritual without telling anyone about it. If you knew what they were planning, you would at least try to talk them out of it, talk him out of it – but when you got to know about it, it was way too late to undo the damage. You never got to know what exactly that ritual looked like, but you remembered clear as day what was happening afterwards.

The team played better than ever before. They won the big game and their manager got contacted by some important names in the basketball world. It all seemed like their sports careers were about to reach up to a new height. But soon after the game things started getting weird. Weirder and weirder with every passing day.

Firstly one of the members complained about having some crazily scary nightmares in which an ancient powerful demon was chasing him trying to rip his heart out of his chest and eat it. Within just a few days all of the members were suffering from nightmares – all of them exactly the same, with a demon trying to eat their hearts. Secondly, there were hallucinations. Some of the boys claimed that they were seeing the demon from their dreams follow them around the town. Some claimed they’d heard the demon’s whispers or felt the touch of his claws on their skin.

It was getting progressively worse and worse. Boys stopped attending school. Their families, worried about them, were seeking medical support, but not a single doctor was able to tell what was happening to them. That’s when information about them performing a ritual came to the daylight. It was Bonggil who mentioned it during his feverish talk.

You were sick-worried about your boyfriend’s well-being. Even before the big game, you had noticed his unusual behaviour – it seemed to you like he was trying to hide something from you, but you blamed it on stress before the game. You thought he was just trying to play it cool and act as if he wasn’t anxious about the most important game of his teenage life. So you didn’t press him to tell you what was wrong. But you should have asked.

After the game, you could tell that your boyfriend wasn’t quite acting like himself. He seemed restless at all times, always looking around as if he expected someone or something to jump at him from behind the corner. And he had that wild look in his eyes. At first, it wasn’t very noticeable or maybe you didn’t notice fast enough, because suddenly Bonggil distanced himself from you, always coming up with some excuse as to why he couldn’t meet up with you. His explanations made sense to you so you didn’t inquire. You were pretty busy yourself at that time too, after all, it was your last year of high school and you had to prepare for your final exams.

But things were getting worse. Your boyfriend was admitted to the local hospital, but after many tests run by the doctors, nothing came up. Nobody was able to say what was wrong. And the situation looked just the same for all of Bonggil’s teammates. You would visit your boyfriend at the hospital almost every day. You tried to talk to him, assure him that everything will be alright, but more often than not he wasn’t mentally there to listen to what you had to say. He was hallucinating, talking about weird things he was seeing. His eyes unfocused, frantically moving around his surroundings, skin covered in a thick layer of sweat, face pale like a wall. You couldn’t stand that sight – it was breaking your heart to see your boyfriend suffering like that.

One evening during your visit he had a moment of clarity. Through tears falling from his eyes, he told you about the summoning ritual they had performed before the game. His words were filled with fear, his voice breaking multiple times, his pupils dilated in pure terror – the sight of him back then will never leave your memories.

You shared what he told you with his family. His relatives thought about calling for a shaman to see him. They were desperate to try anything that could possibly bring their son back to health. You weren’t there to see the shaman, nor whatever means they used to help Bonggil, but it worked. Your boyfriend and all of his teammates were back to their right minds.

Thanks to the shaman.

A sense of relief washed over you when you heard that your boyfriend was finally feeling better. But sadly it was just the beginning of suffering for you.

Boys returned to school just in time to still have a chance to take final exams. You thought that everything would be alright, now that you had your boyfriend at your side again. But he acted differently than before. He wasn’t as cheerful as he used to be, he was barely talking to anyone, not even to you, his mind seemed to be elsewhere. You tried to make up explanations for his behaviour. He must have felt traumatized after all that had happened. He needs some time to recover. Maybe he's stressed about finals after skipping so many days at school?

But days were passing by and Bonggil was growing more distant. Hanging out after school used to be your everyday occurrence, but now it was barely ever happening. You used to text each other every day with “good morning” and “sweet dream” or other sweet stuff like that, but now it was all long gone. Not to mention calling each other by cute nicknames, holding hands on school corridors or eating lunch together. It suddenly appears like he was avoiding you.

You got sick of his behaviour. Sick of making excuses for him, when he barely talked to you at all. So you made up your mind about finally facing him and straight up asking what the hell was going on. But you couldn’t imagine what he was about to tell you.

The summer evening just a week before the end of high school was when your world went crumbling down. Bonggil told you that the two of you should break up. He wanted to go to Seoul after graduation and join the shaman who healed him as her apprentice. He was already set on his resolution and prepared everything needed. The last thing to do was to end his relationship with you and he would be ready to leave.

You couldn’t believe what you’ve heard. You thought that the two of you were meant to be. That your relationship had every chance to last for long long years. You thought that one day the two of you might stand in church making vows of loving each other “until the death do us part”.

And all of it was gone now.

To say you were heartbroken was an awful understatement. His was your first real love and maybe the only one. You couldn’t stop crying for days on end. Your whole world just went apart and you had no idea how to handle it. You didn’t show up at school during those few last days. You only showed up to the graduation ceremony, but even that brought unbelievable pain to your heart. Because the man you loved so dearly was there too. And that was the last time you ever saw Yoon Bonggil.

He left the basketball team. He left his family. He left the town.

He left you.

Thanks to the shaman.

-----

After everything that happened, you started hating shamans and everything connected to them. You lost your love because of all the stupid crap they were spreading. But you did your best not to think about that, not to think about him.

From what you heard Lee Hwarim, the shaman who agreed to come to check on your grandpa, was quite famous in her field with a reputation that allowed her to take a pretty fat check for her work. She was told to give her services to filthy rich people and to have a rather packed-up schedule – so it was almost impossible for an average person to even book a meeting with her. And yet, she agreed to come to your grandfather surprisingly quickly.

Which wasn’t adding up at all.

Something about her coming here doesn’t seem right and that’s why you decided to be here today. You were extremely suspicious of that shaman. Your opinion on shamans was bad in general, but even if you put your thoughts aside, this situation seemed extremely fishy. However, your grandma insisted on the shaman’s visit, so you decided to make sure that this “oh-so-amazing” shaman won’t scum her. After all, there were many scumbags in this world and your grandma was just an elderly lady seeking a way to help his sick husband.

What an irony, how this situation reminded you of your high school days. But those days were long gone and it wasn’t a time to think about that.

When you heard a car’s engine, you walked up to the window. An expensive-looking black car was parked outside the gate. You called for your grandma and walked out of the house with her to greet the awaited guest. You saw an elegant woman stepping out of the car. You were surprised to see that the shaman was a beautiful young woman like her.

What surprised you even more was the other person that stepped out of the car. At first, you only saw dark hair tied up and some tattoos peeking about from the collar of his shirt. But when he turned around and your eyes locked – you knew that face.

He was there. In front of you.

Yoon Bonggil the lover you thought you had lost forever.

Thanks to the shaman.

[thevelria]

A diary from 1920 (SFW/husband!gangster!Gojo x fem!reader)

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Let me present the surprise shot which I wrote to my lovely followers. It's a lovely, sweet story about an undying love!

Warnings: mentions of war and scars.

Wordcount: 1580

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Fighting back her tears, Claire tried to organize your belongings in the attic. In the midst of dusty boxes, cobwebs and insane mess she tried to stay strong. You passed away only a few months ago. As she tried to lift an old box it suddenly burst open. After a loud thud she noticed several books wrapped into black lace cloths. 

They were your diaries. Claire seemed really surprised because you never told her of ever writing a diary. The past always appeared to be vague, even mysterious. Every single time she tried to get answers you waved and smiled at her “Dear, it’s been so long since I don’t even remember.” Which was a lie of course. You did remember every single minute you spent with your husband. The way you built your family and your empire in the underground. But you two made an oath the second all the business became legal. The past needs to stay hidden.  

Your granddaughter was more than eager to finally be able to dig into every secret she yearned to learn about for so long. 

“The weather was freezing cold today in the market. I was afraid I would lose some of my fingers. Winters have been truly cruel in the past few years. Even if I rubbed my hands from time to time and wore my thick, fluffy gloves it didn’t help at all. I was busy warming my catty hands when a man walked up to my stand. His husky voice snapped me back to reality and suddenly I didn’t know how to react. Then I looked at him. Oh my God those eyes! Those marvelous eyes that glow in ocean blue! He asked for some veggies, nothing more. Graciously he thanked me for the service and also left me a generous tip which made me a bit suspicious. I didn’t understand how a rich man like him handles his own shopping.

London,22.11.1920.”

“In the last two weeks Saturo came to my stand every single day. He bought something I bet he didn’t even need. We chatter more and more. I find him adorable and I might even like him. Two days ago he invited me out for coffee and I accepted it without hesitation. He talked about the time he had spent in the army in WWI. During the war he served in France and lost many of his comrades. To this day he is plagued by nightmares, so he can’t sleep too much. He preferred to be buried in work. However, he didn’t reveal much about it. It’s as mysterious as if you want to keep quiet about something. He said there was a bar downtown that he owned. On the weekend he will take me there to have some fun.”

Claire read the lines at such a pace that it was hardly possible to follow what was happening. You began dating Satoru, her grandpa. And even if you were spending more and more time together you still didn’t know what your lovely man was doing. Years later, the source of the money was still shrouded in mystery, even if you were married. Those days were different. Today it is almost impossible to imagine a marriage like this. Not knowing what your husband does for a living? But back then…it was just different. You followed the rules of the society and kept your thoughts to yourself. After reading the umpteenth worn diary, the ice finally broke. 

“One evening some of Satoru’s friends, or rather business associates, came over to our home. When he has guests I’m never allowed near his office room. He says he doesn’t want me to be burdened with the unpleasant troubles of business. But that day I couldn’t help my unceasing curiosity. I sneaked around and started eavesdropping. At first I thought I misheard something. They talked about gambling, weapons and late shipments. I stood there as if my body had been frozen to stone. Even if I wanted to leave I couldn’t move. Then I heard the creaking of chair legs, I knew they were about to leave the room. So I took a deep breath and walked hurriedly to our bedroom. That night I laid sleepless next to him. The next morning I gathered my courage and asked him what I had heard. I just learned that my husband was an influential man in the underground. A gangster. Satoru committed so many crimes that he could face hundreds of years in prison. Or they would just hang him. I felt sick as he kept revealing different stories about the business. After letting him finish he seemed relieved, because he finally felt free. He claimed he wanted to tell me the truth a long time ago but he was afraid I would leave him. I’d be lying if I said it hadn’t crossed my mind. In the end however, I stayed. Why? Because I love him! And nothing can separate us! Nothing!

17.10.1926”

Claire put down the diary for a second, blinking fast and trying to process what she just read. “Grandpa was a gangster? Holy shit! That’s dope.” she thought before grabbing the next book. 

“Sakura was born a few weeks ago. She’s so sweet and tiny, such a lovely little princess. Satoru is already in love with his daughter. I can see the sparks in his eyes every time he lifts her up. When he hugs her or plays with her. At that time he’s not a criminal, a villain, no. Then he’s just a father who adores his child. And it’s not a lie that he’s the best husband in the world. Attentive, kind, caring and passionate. He never lets me feel like there’s something more important than Sakura or me.”

“It’s been years since he passed away and I didn’t even want to write a diary anymore. But we lived a decent life together and I want our love to get an ending. So for the last time I will write down my thoughts.

That night Satoru promised to take me to our favorite restaurant for dinner. Just the two of us. We needed some quality time together. The meal was delicious and we had so much fun. Even after all these years I was still in love with my husband. I loved all his silly jokes he told me and I laughed at them just as if I'd heard them for the first time. He seemed so proud when he made me laugh and I found him adorable. 

On the way home we walked hand in hand. We chatted about sweet nothings when he took a deep breath and said he changed his mind about his job. He assured me that everything would soon be legal. He just needed some time to sort it out. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt so happy. Everything seemed perfect!

Then, out of the blue, we heard the sound of a deafening siren. Everyone started to panic on the street. We didn’t know then what we know today. For us, that was the moment World War II began…

Things really got out of hand and in a few days Satoru was saying goodbye. “Everything will be fine. I’ll be back soon.” he said. I can still hear his voice as I think about this. He tried to appear strong and calm. But he was terrified, because he knew what awaited him, since he had already survived a war. He gave me a kiss, hugged Sakura and walked out the door. 

Years have passed without hearing anything from him. But I didn’t lose hope, he promised me he was coming back to me. We heard rumors that the war finally came to an end, but Satoru still didn’t appear. I was worried and desperate. I wanted my husband more than anything. One day, I remember that day clearly, someone knocked on the door in the middle of the night. And there he was, my sweet and beautiful man. He dropped all of his stuff and hugged me so tight I thought he was going to break my bones. We both cried without saying a single word. After he came in and we walked to the living room I noticed his face was covered with scars. Later I found out his whole body was covered with them. Satoru told me what happened to him, but I don’t want to write it down. I don’t want to remember the feeling his story caused me. I felt like my heart was ripped out of my chest. My husband went through hell. 

With the end of the war things were getting settled down and we started to rebuild the empire. I was a partner in everything and I never asked any questions. I think it was around the birth of the twins when we finally were able to turn every business legal. From that point both of our lives changed. Happy, calm life…that’s what we had. For me Satoru was and will ever be the only one. And even if I miss him terribly I know he’s waiting for me and one day we’ll meet again. Because even death cannot tear us apart.”

Claire got to the end of the diary. There were no more notes, no more stories. She closed the book with teary eyes and placed it among the others. “I will keep your secret, grandma.” she whispered. 

[bobgasm]

present day | the namesake [02/04]

pairing: robert “bob” floyd x reader word count: 2039 warnings: stalking, backstory, a revelation

summary: in which you track down a relative of evelyn and robert “pirate” floyd

author’s note: thank you guys for the love on this fic!

the chest | sincerely, | the letters

Grandpa Michael was a frail man but still full of life. His eyes lit up when he was telling a story, he gestured wildly as he spoke. He used to pace and put on voices – he was a really great storyteller. 

He still was, just not as animated these days. His eyes still lit up, but he forgot his words. Forgot the flow of the story. He still held your attention, though, he always would.

You arrived around ten and sat for a cup of tea with him and a few other residents. The nurses knew you well by now, greeting you by name and asking how you were. They updated you on how Michael had been since your last visit two days ago, and you asked them how their kids were. One of the nurses, Olivia, had been away with a sick kid recently, and she happily told you she was on the mend. 

Grandpa Michael could always tell when your mind wandered. He wasn’t oblivious to knowing this visit had another meaning, but he was still grateful for you showing up. 

You tried to go as often as you could. You couldn’t bare the thought of him thinking that being in a retirement home meant his family would slowly stop visiting. Your dad, Michael’s youngest son, had fought against putting him in a home. Unfortunately, his sisters had won the argument. 

Your dad owned a boat repair business, and while the off season meant he had more work to do, the work unfortunately never stopped. He couldn’t be around to care for his father as often as he’d like, and it had been you who’d helped him realise it just wasn’t possible anymore. Grandpa Michael needed more and more assistance to get around. He sometimes got lost during his walk around the block, and it wasn’t kind to him. He felt terrible for being a burden, for having to rely on others, and he’d confessed to you that it was time for him to move out of the house and into the village. He just needed your help to convince your dad that it was the best thing for him. 

“What’s on your mind, doll?”

You looked at your grandpa with a sheepish smile. “Did your mom ever talk about Evelyn Floyd?”

“Aunty Evie, yeah,” he replied with a fond smile. “We were neighbours for years. I grew up with her son, Robbie.”

“You were all close then? I mean, obviously if you called her Aunty Evie,” you said with a laugh. “I found something of hers and her husbands when I was cleaning out the house yesterday. A chest full of letters written between her and her husband during the war.”

“In my house?”

“Yeah. I think she gave them to your mom to pass on to Robbie when he was old enough, and either she forgot, or they moved away, I don’t know. They were tucked away in the attic. I almost missed them.”

He hummed. “Evie got sick when Robbie and I were about ten. Lung cancer. When she passed away, Robbie lived with us for a while but it was tough times, you know? He didn’t like to talk much, but when he did it was about how he was going to join the navy like his old man. I don’t know if he ever did. Then one day he was just gone. Left us a letter thanking us for everything we’d done for him over the years, as well as some money to keep us going.”

“Do you think he’d still want the letters? You know, if he’s still around?”

He chuckled a little, thinking it over. “I can’t say for sure, but I’d want them if I were him. Have you started searching for him?”

“Not yet, I wanted to talk to you first,” you confessed. “See if you were still in touch or if you knew about the letters. I just…I hope I find something. Someone.”

You left a little while later, heading home to start doing some research. Opening your laptop and typing “Robert Floyd Navy” into the search bar. You had to start somewhere right? Why not start with the obvious.

Most of the search turned up historical pieces. Articles about Robert “Pirate” Floyd and his valiant battles and accomplishments during the war. He was photographed with his little bird and it brought a smile to your face as you thought back to the letter he’d written to his darling Evelyn, telling her all about his new little companion.

Continuing your deep dive, hoping to find something about his son, Robbie, or his wife, Evelyn. Finding Evelyn’s obituary in the online archives of the town’s newspaper and shedding a tear. She’d died from lung cancer, just like Grandpa Michael had said. She was survived by her only son, Robert Lonnie Floyd, and her husband had been a Captain in the Navy during the war.

After the search only turning up a few articles here and there about Robert and Evelyn, you tried to search for their son. Searching for ‘Robert Lonnie Floyd’ and hoping there was news about him.

There was a link that took you to Facebook, and a photo posted by Evie Floyd. That was promising. 

The photo was of a young guy who couldn’t have been too far out of graduating high school. He had glasses and acne, and an awkward smile on his face.

The caption read: Bob’s off to the Naval Academy!

There were a couple of other pictures posted alongside it, with who you could only assume was the kid’s parents and grandparents. If that was true, then Evie was likely his mom, which meant his name was Bob Floyd.

You felt like a creep as you clicked on Evie Floyd’s profile and scrolled through her photos. She really should update her privacy settings, though in this instance this was the most promising lead you’d found. 

Your suspicions were true as the woman from those photos continued to appear in most of the others, meaning she was in fact Evie. 

You clicked on a post that she’d written about her son, about his accomplishments. He’d graduated from the Naval Academy/Flight School, and was a Weapon Systems Officer. She’d even done the liberty of posting a picture of him in uniform, which almost schooled you to the bone.

The neatly-pressed uniform, the Navy issued aviators to replace his own glasses, and his hair styled to perfection. 

He was the guy who’d bought you a drink at the Hard Deck when you were drowning your sorrows over the letters you’d found. What were the chances?

Apparently, he was a Lieutenant now. Lieutenant Robert Floyd, callsign ‘Bob’. Huh. 

You stared between his photo and the chest that sat not too far away. You knew you had to go back to try and speak to him, but what if he wasn’t related to Robert and Evelyn? What if you looked like a crazy stalker?

You sighed. You were going to look like one anyway. There was no right way to announce to a stranger that you’d tracked them down, hoping they were a descendant of some people who’d written love letters back in World War Two. You could only hope that your hunch was right; the guy who’d bought you a drink was the great-grandson of Robert and Evelyn Floyd.

He was definitely going to call the cops on your crazy ass. You’d do the same if the roles were reversed.

With a sigh, you headed to your room to change. If you were going to be arrested for stalking, you were at least going to look good in your mugshot. 

For a Saturday night, the Hard Deck sure was empty. The bartender from last weekend greeted you with a warm smile until she saw the chest tucked under your arm, the confusion crossed her features.

“Do I want to know?” She enquired.

“Just had a feeling I might see someone here who belongs to them,” you explained cryptically. “Can I please get a double gin and soda?”

“Of course, but you gotta tell me what’s in the chest first. Not pirate treasure, is it?”

You chuckled, running your fingers over the slightly rusted metal. “Love letters. They’re what I was reading that made me so upset last week,” you explained. “I saw someone here that I think is a relation.”

She worked on making your drink. “Oh, does this mysterious stranger have a name?”

“Lieutenant Floyd,” you revealed. “At least, I think he’s the great-grandson of Robert and Evelyn Floyd, who wrote these letters during World War Two.”

She placed the drink on a coaster in front of you. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, hon, but Bob and the rest of the Daggers have been deployed for the foreseeable future. I’m not sure when they’ll be back.”

You took a sip of your drinks. “You gonna make me buy a round for everyone if I set the chest on your bar?”

She laughed. “Not at all.”

When you placed the chest on the bar, she smiled as she took in the small but beautiful casing. “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“Penny. I own this place,” she replied.

“You said Bob and the Daggers have been deployed, is that why it’s so quiet tonight?”

“Afraid so,” she revealed. “Plus, the next Top Gun class isn’t set to start for another month, so unless pilots are returning from missions, it’s a little quieter than normal. Not too many civvies spend a lot of time here, otherwise.”

“Well, you’re going to see a lot more of me until I manage to give these back to their rightful owner,” you confessed. “It’s not so bad when it’s quiet.”

Penny laughed. “That’s true. And in that case, you’re welcome here any time, even after you’ve returned the letters to their rightful owner. Don’t be a stranger, okay? It’s nice having normal company for a change.”

“Of course.”

Despite the first night of your search being a bust, Penny had informed you that she wasn’t sure when Bob would be back from his mission. You didn’t mind that you’d have to stop by a few more times until the chest had been turned over to him. If anything, it gave you time to think of how you were going to break the news to him. Of course, there was no good way to admit you’d deliberately tracked him down, you just hoped he was the understanding type.

The next week breezed by and you seemed to cart the chest everywhere with you. It sat in the glove compartment of your car, never too far away from you in case you spied the Lieutenant on your travels. You never did, but you held out hope. 

Hope that he was safe during his mission. Hope that it didn’t run too long. Hope that he heard you out before calling the cops on you. 

So much hope.

By the time you arrived at the Hard Deck and spied Penny, she’d prepared your drink before you could even ask.

“Double gin and soda, right?”

“Yes ma’am,” you replied, settling the chest on the bar. “Any word of our Lieutenant?”

“Sorry, hon, nothing yet,” she apologised. “It’s getting busier again now that the next class of Top Gun candidates are arriving in town. Might pay to keep that chest safe somewhere else. Can’t make any promises that drunk aviators will keep the contents safe.”

“Good idea,” you replied with a smile. “What exactly is Top Gun anyway?”

“Advanced Aviator training, to sum it up,” she replied. “Only the best of the best get picked to attend. Seen a lot of pilots and wizzo’s come and go over the years…a lot of egos.”

“I can imagine,” you said with a laugh, sliding over some cash for your drink and Penny’s tip. “I’ll keep trying my luck. Thanks, Penny.”

“Any time, Y/N,” she replied, ducking off to serve another customer. You took the time to finish your drink, keeping a hand on the chest in front of you.

You’d be back next week, and the next, if that’s what it took. 

[jokerislandgirl32]

I Still Remember It All

So, I wrote this crying last night at midnight…it’s about my grandpa who I lost on this day 2 years ago, feel free to ignore this post, it’s mainly me rambling and being weepy and sentimental.

It’s been 2 years since my grandfather died, and I’m feeling it now. He was the kindest, sweetest, loyal, devoted, most gentle man you’d ever want to meet. His demeanor changed once he started having strokes in his later years, but he never said a harsh word to me or tried to hurt me.

My childhood was filled with wonderful moments with him, from seeing this sweet older man who rarely raised his voice go wild on a snake, to helping him in the garden in the summers, to pitting cherries with him in the kitchen, to listening to him sing and whistle constantly, to watching westerns with him, to eating meals beside him, to being picked up from school for nearly 4 years by him.

I was his baby, and as I became older and he became sicker it’s like he became my baby. I would “grandpa-sit’ when my grandma was in the hospital or at the doctor. I cut his nails, shaved him, did his hair, dressed him, cooked for him, and fed him when he got to the point he could not do this for himself and my grandma could no longer help him.

A lot of people may say you shouldn’t have had to do that stuff for him, you were a kid. True, I was 13 when it started, when I became my grandparents primary caregiver. But I would go back in a heartbeat. They are my world and my grandpa is the father I wish I could have had. My father has been good to me, he’d provided for me and helped me, but he has a volatile personality, to put it mildly, so it’s hard.

But my grandfather…he was special, our bond was special He always wanted to have another daughter after my mom, and part of me thinks that maybe he saw me as the second daughter he never got to have.

He never knew me by my name…he only knew me by my nickname that he gifted me the day I was born: “Popcorn.” Unusual, yes, but he had a sharp mind that knew that was perfect for me.

He even made a song about me, I wish I had recorded it, but I didn’t have the capability at the time he was still able to sing it. It went like this:

“Popcorn, popcorn sittin’ on a rock

Popcorn, popcorn way behind

Popcorn, popcorn sittin’ on a rock

Popcorn, Popcorn way behind…”

I can hear him singing it…It’s my head right now….Maybe he’s singing it to our daughter, tomorrow’s birthday girl, right now…

I truly think that Alexandria wanted a grandfather for her 1st birthday, and that’s why God took him home on this day, 2 years ago…

The flowers from his spray…he had blue eyes and was a welder, so the silver leaves seem fitting…

Until we meet again, grandpa…Please take care of our baby girl, all my love ~ Popcorn

[awmancreeper]

⋆｡˚⋆꒰ঌMY DRESS-UP, DREAMER ໒꒱⋆ ˚｡⋆ 4 - Social Cues

--౨ৎ✩°｡⋆ Soobin, a quiet doll painter finds it too good to be true when a charismatic girl asks Soobin to help fulfill her dream of being a cosplayer. Along the way, they’ve realized they have much more in common than they thought and maybe something more.

Masterlist / prev / next

!!Written Parts!!

“Wah, this is amazing!” Soobin’s eyes lit up.

Ever since middle school, He’s been using an antique sewing machine that his grandfather gifted to him. Finally giving out in Soobin’s junior year of college, his fabric went through the newer machine with ease as he only pushed the fabric on his end.

Choosing an empty sewing room, he felt content as he figured nobody would use this room since there were 4 other rooms before this one.

Gently pulling out a doll that was also gifted to him by his grandfather, Soobin looks down at her with a dreamy smile. “Your dress is gonna look amazing”

Now alone in a room, nothing could stop him-

The door flies open revealing the last person Soobin thought he’d ever see

Y/n L/n

You were disheveled, your ripped stockings along with scraps on your kneels and leaves in your hair; not to mention the death glare that was printed across your face.

It looks like you were lost in a jungle or at least crashed into a street light bc you were too busy tweeting rather than watching where you were going.

Soobin was flabbergasted as he didn’t expect anyone to come in especially when he was talking to his doll.

Your face did not help the situation at all, “Y-Y/N?! I-“ Soobin tried to save himself but turning so quickly caused his doll to fly from his hands.

It’s like his world slowed down watching his prized possessions fly through the air yet just as fast as he lost her the faster he was to throw himself down to catch the doll.

Landing on his side he quickly checked his doll for any damage “I’m so sorry! Does anything hurt-” He yells towards the doll but quickly stops as he realizes he's not the only person in the room.

Looking up you guys lock eyes ‘Oh god’ he thought

“What the hell?” You questioned as Soobin shut his eyes hiding the doll in his chest ‘It's over’

“You know how to sew?! That’s so awesome!!”

Soobin opened his eyes confused only to find you staring back at him with stars in your eyes “You know how to use the machines!”

He sat up on his knees “Oh well, my grandfather owns an antique doll shop so i learned how to sew when I was a kid,”

“Just kind always knew”

“That’s so cool!! Wait is that one of the dolls, can I see it?” You said excitedly joining Soobin on the floor.

With a lot of hesitation, Soobin decided to hold out the doll. Slowly you scooted closer to examine it “Wow she’s so beautiful”

His heart skipped a beat shocked by your reaction “Her eyes even sparkle” you whispered

Looking at you, he smiled as his cheeks warmed up feeling good about someone complimenting something he loves.

“So did you make this doll?”

“Oh no, my grandpa is the one that made her… I’m not there yet I still only know how to make clothes-“

“Hold the phone. You know how to make clothes?”

Soobin shrugged his shoulders “Yeah?”

“For real?” looking at him with such curiosity made him stumble through his words “I mean yeah but that easily-“Before he could finish speaking you had already pulled off your top leaving you in your undershirt.

Blood rushed to his face as you stood up grabbing the edge of your undershirt revealing a bit of your tummy.

Absolutely dumbfounded, Soobin had NO IDEA what to make out of this situation.

Lifting the thin fabric over your head, the cold air hits your back. Looking over at Soobin who looks like he’s trying not to pass out, you suddenly feel self-conscious and ask him to turn around where he gladly (and quickly) faces the other way.

Trying so hard to forget the color of your bra and the way they sat so perfectly in the cups. Soobin internally freaks out trying not to feel like a high school student but his stupid perverted brain is making up these scenarios in his head

“Hey Soobin”

“I’ll do it!- I mean how can I help you?” Mentally face-palming at his words he can hear the insecurity in your voice “You can start by looking at me”

Feeling so embarrassed and guilty he says “w-why?”

“Please just turn around”

Taking a deep breath he looks over his shoulder.

You stood there with a piece of black cloth draped over your body, not sure what it might be Soobin definitely envisioned something more or actually something completely less.

Obviously embarrassed you found it hard to stay still “I'm not done with it okay!” You said nothing meeting Soobin’s eyes whatsoever

“I know I’ve got a lot to learn but what do you think? Any advice?” You asked squeezing your eyes shut

“Uh on what? What exactly are you wearing?” He spoke so bluntly as it felt like someone stabbed you in the back

Bending down to grab your phone, Soobin immediately turned away avoiding any panty shots. Turning back at the sound of you clearing your throat, Soobin finds a phone in his face.

Taking the phone he sees an anime character on your screen, she's wearing gothic maid-esce attire “It’s that!” You said

Soobin looked between the photo and you not finding any resemblance to the clothes the characters’ wearing “Well I mean it’s going to be that when I’m done”

“It’s just a little project, I made it” This completely shocked him causing him to stand up

“What, you’re joking right?”

“No, I’m being totally serious, I worked really hard on it”

Soobin looked at the picture one more time “Are you sure because that looks like nothing you have no right now”

“I don’t know what you’re wearing but it’s definitely not this!” Boom, it’s like a bus hit you

“This type of material is supposed to have a lining” Soobin explained but just being hit by a bus you stumbled to comprehend anything “a-a lining?”

“Don’t tell me you don’t know what a lining is?!!! Who taught you how to sew?!”

You practically dusted away as Soobin walked over to you grabbing the fabric by your thigh “And look at this!!”

“Your seams are falling apart!! Why didn’t you backstitch them?!”

“And these stitches right here, did you sew them with no bobbin?”

“Oh my god, this is actually horrible!!”

Switching his attention to your neck line “I mean come on!!! Why would you change the tense on the dial right there? Are you-?!!” He was gonna continue but the sound of your whimper cut him off

Look up at your face he sees you trying to hold back tears

Next thing you knew Soobin’s forehead met the ground “Please! Forgive me, I went way too far, I am so sorry!”

“Kill me now! I insist!” He said on the floor

“What?! No, get up!”

“I’ll do anything for you just please tell me!” Soobin told you feeling like a complete idiot for not picking up social cues

“Stop that! I’m not mad!” You shouted as he shook “Not even a little bit!”

He recounted his life wondering how he got to this point “Seriously dude, it’s okay” you told him patting his head.

He peered up at you as you walked towards the window.

“So here’s the thing,” you spun around facing Soobin making a stance “This dress is the first step to achieving my goal!”

“Goal?” He questioned

“Yup! To cosplay!”

Taglist: @suzirumas @txtbrainrot @skzeyeu @hrtzsoob @wonderstrucktae OPEN (ask or comment to be added)

[bella-goths-wife]

The meeting

Father lost boys x reader x James, grandpa max x reader

“We’re here max” david yelled out as he entered the closed with the others

Max and David had agreed to meet to discuss business in the board walk. What they didn’t expect was to see your little boy toy sitting angrily in corner, glaring at them.

“I hope you boys don’t mind” max walks out from the back and puts his hand on James’s shoulder while smirking “but I’ve asked young James to sit in”

“We do mind actually” marko sneers out and moves forward “we’re discussing business max, not babysitting”

“Ah yes but James should be involved in this talk of business” max says smugly as he looks at David “he is going to take over the store one day”

“What?!” Marko expresses shock “I thought the business would go to David when you pack up and leave”

The reveal was shocking. Whenever max had overstayed his welcome in a place and it became suspicious of his lack of death he would pack up and leave to the next place.

The boys used to follow him but they decided that they enjoyed Santa Carla too much to leave and as they lived in a cave their lack of ageing wasn’t an issue. They always assumed that max would leave the store to them as it was always their main source of income for things like clothes and matches for the candles in the cave.

“I never said that” max points out “the store will be left to my grandchild and James”

“He won’t even live that long” marko argues “you won’t be gone for another 70 years”

“I realise this” max says with a grin “that’s why I’m going to turn him when he reaches an appropriate age”

“You can’t do that” Paul whines like a child, still scared of max

“Sure I can” max beams “this boy has helped in the shop more than any of you, he’s truly become a son figure to me”

The last statement cut David slightly. Him and max had always seen each other as son and father. Sure they argued a lot but that doesn’t justify max trying to replace him, with your ex boy toy out of everyone.

“What about the house?” Dwayne questions, he always hoped you could take maxs home as your own so that you could have a little privacy “who does it go to?”

“That house will go to my sweet granddaughter” max grins and puts his arm around James “and any children she may have”

“She’s not having children” david snaps at the thought of his sweet girl being defiled.

“You sure about that?” James says with a smirk across his face

“Shut it runt” marko hissed out with his fangs showing

The phone ringing cut the thick tension in the atmosphere. Max hurried to get it and left James in a room full of murderous vampires.

“So how is my future wife?” James sasses out as the vampires glare and hiss at him

“Oh she’s doing great” Paul says smugly “got herself a cute little thing hanging off her arm”

“Oh you mean her friend from church?” James shocks with his lack of reaction and his knowledge

“Have you been following her?!” David demands angrily at someone stalking his daughter

“Like you haven’t” James reply’s with a raised brow “I saw you guys following her while I was”

A growl ripped it’s way out of Dwayne throat, his protective instincts taking over.

“It’s not like she’d want to see” Dwayne taunts cruelly “after what she saw you do”

“Oh yes, poor girl” Paul mocks sympathy “seeing her ‘true love’ with another girl, how sad”

“Fuck you” James yells as he rises from his chair and strides forward in anger. David meets him half way and pushes him back and James falls into a shelf and knocks it over

“Try it kid” David warns “I dare you, we could rip you to shreds”

As James tries to attack again max rushes in with a frantic expression

“It’s (y/n)” max says with panic as the boys stop and look at him with frantic curiosity “she needs you”

James rushes to get to the phone but Dwayne and marko use their increased speed to hold him back and David runs to get to the phone in the back

“Sweetheart” david grabs the phone and listens for you voice “are you hurt?”

“Dad” you answer quickly which increased David’s worry “please come to the church, I need your help”

“What happened” David asks panicked

“Faiths in trouble and I need your help to cover it up” you answer with panic “hurry”

David hangs up and rally’s the boys as they go to leave James calls for them and is held back by max in a silent order to let them handle it

“Is she safe?!” James questions frantically

“That’s none of your concern anymore” david calls out as he gets on his bike and in is ready to leave “she’s got someone new now, she doesn’t need you anymore”

The last statement sparks anger and jealousy in James as his fists clenched and his nails dug in his skin painfully

Who the fuck touched his girl?

This is the meeting that was taking place in my “I have your back” fic

Hope you guys enjoyed the James content I know I’ve been ignoring him for a bit and not giving the James fans what they want.

Love ya ❤️

[khepiari]

Will Garp Return As Zombie? Spoilers for One Piece 1087+88

Few things before my deep dive:

I have no sympathy for Garp.

Koby, good job being the kind boy you are. You deserved a better world.

But, we all know, one good apple makes no difference when it’s left in the company of a rotten buffet.

Disappearance is not equal to final death

Pretty sure, Odachii is going to bring Garp back with a lost arm or a leg or lost soul in zombified form.

What I mean to say is—if Blackbeard got Gekko Moria’s powers or subjugated him to be his underling, Garp’s corpse will be a great addition to his arsenal.

It will be a great battle for Luffy, psychologically speaking. We all know he never got to sit and talk or punch and scream with Garp about the shared grief of losing Ace.

Only Garp knows what Luffy felt after losing his big brother, but Luffy doesn’t know what Garp felt after the death of a grandson he could’ve saved.

I am sure Luffy has been angry, and he would’ve definitely punched Garp until both were bleeding if they had a reunion but, Luffy would’ve never wanted his only family that he knew since his birth to die.

Now imagine the pain and grief and hurt he will have to overcome to fight his grandpa’s corpse.

It will pierce Luffy’s heart by 1000 cuts, because whatever chances of closure they had, it is no more.

The only hope from this battle for us as readers will be the last remaining consciousness of Garp’s body gaining some control, like how Victoria Cindry’s corpse did during the Thriller Bark Arc.

Since Garp has more will power, maybe he will apologize or ask Luffy to let go of his affection and end him. With that, the last of Luffy’s anger with for good, once Garp dies, and he embraces the fury of the sun god that resides in him; its final show down.

Because we know Blackbeard vs Luffy is going to be about Ace, but if it is about Ace and Garp, Luffy will have a really hard time winning. And most probably this fight will be part of the final war we have been building towards.

As my friend put:

“I can totally see Goda doing that. Luffy beats the crap out of his zombie grandpa, who with his dying breath gives Luffy the apology he’s been owed since Marineford.

And, because symmetry, he does it during the biggest war SINCE Marineford.

There’s also something horribly, appropriately Goda about the idea that Luffy’s first “kill” would be laying a zombie Garp to rest…”

Now time for Anti-Garp Hate Rant! You can stop reading

Yeah, bet your future on the corrupt institution that protects the scum of the world.

My thoughts after this panel.

I hope you rot in hell.

Hero my foot.

Don’t disappear. Just die.

Look, Monkey D Garp is a well written character! And trust me, I understand his position too well; his behaviour and actions are not new to me in fiction!

“Wise overpowered old men helping the wrong side” are very common in Indian/Asian Epics who have pulled similar bullshits in name of duty/justice/greater good. Who later get killed by trickery is everywhere, read Mahabharata or Ramayana, it is full of Garps.

But his decision to not help Ace escape but run after Koby all across the Grandline is enough to fuel my anger against him.

This panel Fuelled my rage further. As my friend put: "All lives are equal, except pirate lives, apparently."

Some argue Garp did everything to let Luffy get close to saving Ace on purpose. He did everything he legally could do. And if he saved Ace, the peace and protection his name brought to Windmill Village would be lost, and it would become the target of Pirates and Marines alike. Sounds plausible, but it's in the realm of speculation.

Old men in a position of power, refusing to intervene when they could’ve, have always used morally superior sounding arguments to get away from being held accountable.

Pushing Ace tragedy aside, If Garp was so strong why didn’t he stop Blackbeard when he had time?

He is no better than Bhishma Pitama from Mahabharata.

I am talking about the two years after Marineford.

What stopped him? He saw Blackbeard wield two DFs, did he and Sengoku only had the duty to protect Marineford? Why did he wait two years? Why didn’t he go after them himself?

Right after Marineford, he should’ve nipped evil in the bud by hunting down Blackbeard. What was holding him back then? The Grief of losing Ace still? Worry about missing Luffy?

Blackbeard is a Pirate, his enemy— who had two of the most powerful DFs in the world. What stopped him? Garp is the only one who could’ve fought because all he needed was Haki! What moral reasoning he had to not wreak havoc to stop this pirate?

Did World Government stop him because Blackbeard became a Yonko?

We now know how strong Garp is, so it was not a question of being injured after the war, we also know he cares not for permission or authority!

So why waste two years?

Only when his favourite student is kidnapped is when he felt the need to intervene.

If it's so-called sense of duty towards the future that made him bet his life on young navy; I am calling it bullshit.

I don’t care for whatever justification he has; if he could fight Blackbeard pirates head-on, he should’ve done it sooner and not let him gain so much power and let him terrorize the world.

I was really hoping that Blackbeard broke his spine. In the end, it's pathetic, he didn’t even die (not confirmed) at hands of Blackbeard.

How did his inaction help the powerless masses he swore to protect?

Who is Garp the hero supposed to represent? Isn’t it Justice? Who is he as a marine supposed to protect? Isn’t it the masses? Who is funding his salary? The taxes collected from masses.

In the end who is he serving?

The Gorosei and Celestial Dragons— yes, he hates them, but his indirect actions or refusal to fight them helped change nothing.

His inaction kept the status quo is intact!

Garp is nothing but a glorified a sell-out too! A poster boy of rebel with a good heart that Marine can capitalize for their propaganda.

You cannot change the world for better if you are part of the system that makes the world a bad place.

I hope he becomes a Zombie under Blackbeard!

[belovedrival]

My mom’s oldest sister, my aunt D, died early Monday morning. I feel weird about it because she’d been in poor health for so long and she’d been living in assisted living, before being put on hospice a week ago so on the one hand it’s a relief. But on the other, I’m feeling guilty for not going to see her. She lived about an hour and a half away. It wasn’t that I *didn’t* want to see her; life just kept getting in the way. And now…🥺💔

She was the oldest child on my mom’s side. When my grandfather died suddenly in 1963, my grandmother was in shock. D did all the driving for the family for a couple months. She was only 16 then, and Grandpa had taught her how to drive a few months before. She was always a very independent woman. She graduated from college in 1969, and worked in education for a while, for the state. She lost her hearing as an adult, and worked in deaf services for years. She never really learned ASL; we could talk to her face to face so she could lip read. Both her sons, my cousins, are really good guys. They loved her dearly. This is going to be extra hard for them.

Mom and her remaining siblings (it’s so weird to say that) will, I think, be okay. But it’s going to be a massive adjustment. My aunt K, the second oldest, is taking it harder than the others. She’s only 18 months younger than D and the 3 youngest kids (my mom sandwiched in between her brothers) are 7+ years younger. K grew up with D; they were the “oldest”, and after losing their dad young they really helped Grandma cope. Later this week is the anniversary of Grandma’s passing. K’s birthday is next week. I just feel so badly for her, and all of them.

Feeling meh. My sinuses kicked up last week, so I’m in month three of dealing with snot, a runny nose, and carrying around a box of tissues. And while going to aunt D’s visitation and funeral was always going to happen, I told Mister that I’ve already gone to one funeral this year (my bestie’s, in January), and now here’s another. It’s just a lot. I know it’s a tall order, but can the rest of 2024 PLEASE not totally suck? I expect some level of suckage, but gimme a break.

Good things: Jonas keeps growing. And since we’re in official Fake Spring here in the Midwest, he can play outside a lot. Sunshine is good. I didn’t mind the snowstorm on Friday (practically all of it’s gone now, ha), because we needed the moisture. His birthday is coming in a couple weeks and because we’re crazy we’re having a little party for him outside. Under a pavilion at the local farm, which he LOVES. Hopefully it won’t be pouring buckets of rain that Saturday. Winter! You never know what happens here! ❄️🌱🌞🌧️

Oh, and I officially registered Jonas for preschool this autumn so he’ll need to be potty trained by August. Send help 😄

One of these days, I want to update my dormant fics. But it’s not because I’ve lost interest that they’re dormant…I can barely find time to get normal stuff done.

I want to end on a good note. Hmmmm, Downton Abbey is coming back!? Well, I’ll take it 😊

Love you all. Drink water, hug your loved ones, and get out in the sunshine when you can.

[noras-dc-shenanigans]

Grandparents | Lost

Danny sniffled, tears prickling his eyes as he sat on a bench in the crowded mall. He’d been out with his Gramma, staying with her and Grandpa for the week while Mom and Dad got all their big furniture moved to the new house. She’d told him to stay outside the bathroom until she was done, because he was too big to be allowed in there with her anymore, but he’d seen a store with a space ship and run right over, slipping in after someone else. He’d stared at it, read as much of the description as he could, before he suddenly realized that he’d left and Gramma would be worried!

So he’d gone running back over to the bathrooms, and waited for her. And waited. And waited. Until finally, heart hammering and tummy feeling squirmy and cold, he’d snuck in and called for her.

But it was empty. Gramma was gone.

Danny had immediately run out and frantically spun in a circle, calling out for her. A few people had heard him, and asked what was wrong, but Danny remembered his sixth birth last year and the man that tried to take him away and ran from them. He’d darted through stores, randomly turning corners, until he wound up completely and totally lost, in an empty corner with some sad potted plants and a bench.

Which led to now, with Danny curled up on the bench, half hidden behind a scraggly tree. He had his knees pulled up to hide his face in, which was why he didn’t hear someone walk over until a soft voice asked,

“Hey, are you okay?”

With a small shriek, Danny threw himself down the bench til he almost fell off the end. The stranger, a tall, tan-skinned man with the same hair and eyes as Danny, lunged and just barely kept him from toppling to the floor. Heart pounding, head dizzy, and too upset for his young mind to deal with, Danny immediately burst into tears and clutched at the man’s blue jacket.

After a moment, the man wrapped his arms around him and sat on the bench, maneuvering the young boy to sit across it, like when he went to see Santa. Then he just sat with him, gently rubbing his back and humming a tune.

After forever (or 10 minutes), Danny calmed enough to let go of the jacket and rub his fists into his eyes. Vision cleared, he looked up at the man, who smiled and said,

“Hello, my name’s Richard, but I prefer Dick. What’s your name?”

After a moment, Danny decided that if the man wanted to take him he’d have done it already, and answered shyly,

“‘M Danny. I lost my Gramma! I was supposed to wait outside the bathroom but I didn’t and I couldn’t find her and I don’t want a bad person to try to take me again but I got lost and I don’t know where to find her!”

He had fresh tears in his eyes by the end, ready to fall, but Dick shushed him and rubbed his back again until he calmed down. Once Danny’s breathing was back to normal, Dick said,

“Okay, here’s what we’ll do. There a special office here with policemen in it, and they’ll help you find your Gramma, okay? I can take you there and wait until you find her, if that would help you feel better?”

Danny considered a moment, then nodded his assent and hopped off Dick’s lap. Together, they walked a long, long way, until they found the policeman office, and Dick told the what happened, and they made a special announcement for Gramma. A little while later, Gramma came running through the door, and Danny ran to her, and she hugged and kissed and scolded him for not listening.

She talked to the policeman, and then to Dick, and she said thank-you a lot and gave them both a special homemade candy from her purse, and then Danny had to say bye-bye to Dick and they left.

Later the night, at home, Danny lay in bed with his brand-new red and black bird stuffie from Dick, and smiled into Robin’s fabric feathers.

[taelonsamada]

Tid-Bit Tuesday

It’s been a hot minute since I posted any wips!! Figured now was a good time to do so, since I’ve been consumed with a new oneshot idea, and for a boy I’ve pretty much never written! Poor Vincent, he gets so little love from me, considering he’s the gateway that led me to redacted in the first place 😅

I’ve been missing my grandpa pretty hard the last couple weeks, so this is my way of working through that lol my grandpa lost his leg from just below the knee, and while he handled it with grace and great humour (Ooh, the way he’d scare the grandkids with it… love that fucking man LOL) there were still days that were hard on him, and I’d get to see how my grandma would help him through it. It was always really sweet, being able to see the bond between the two of them as she helped him.

So this is kind of like a tribute or me paying my respects to the love between my grandparents that I got to see growing up, I guess 😅 it should be up later today, so long as I don’t get trapped in editing hell or distracted by woodslife stuff lol

Tagging @romirola @zozo-01 @ejunkiet & @darlincollins because they’ve all tagged me recently in their wonderful wips and I need to catch up! XD ♥️ also tagging @dominimoonbeam @lovelylonerliterature @glassbearclock @dollscircus and @sollucets cause I’m nosy and wanna see what you’re working on LOL

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It would pass. It always did. He’d been enduring phantom pain like this for the last two decades, he knew what was going to happen. He just had to be patient, ride it out.

William would know. It didn’t matter how long he gave himself to recover, to settle and recoup before heading out to be with the rest of the clan. William knew when it was a bad day. Something he could see or smell, something so minute that Vincent couldn’t disguise it. The bond between progeny and Maker, perhaps. He’d know, and it would break his heart.

Vincent wished, yet again, that he could take back all those words he’d said in the first few years towards his maker.

He knew that William still blamed himself for not being able to save his leg, still carried guilt for Vincent having to mourn the loss of a limb on top of all the other pain and grief that came with adapting to life as a vampire. A guilt that Vincent had absolutely played on in his early days, hurling curses and accusations that he now felt awful about.

For all his power and strength, even William wouldn’t have been able to save his leg, not after the damage the crash had done. Vincent’s outrage over the loss had merely been another way of exorcising his grief for the life that had been taken from him.

He’d grown to accept this change alongside all the others in his new existence, and on the good days it was something he almost embraced and celebrated. Treating it as a badge of honour, a testament to what he’d survived. As well as using it as a way to fuck with the new members of the clan whenever they joined.

The faces they’d make when the Solaire Prince collapsed in front of them and screamed as his leg, to quote Alexis, ‘flopped about below the knee like a badly gutted fish’, were priceless.