#the santa beard is my forever favorite but this was good too | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

longitudinalwaveme · 3 years

Text

Worst Flash Storylines and Plot Ideas of All Time

As you’ve probably ascertained from the general contents of this blog, the Flash is my favorite comic book series. I love the characters and most of the stories. However, just like any series that’s been around for eighty years (counting the Jay Garrick stuff), the Flash does, unfortunately, have some truly terrible stories and plot ideas.

In terms of terrible plot ideas that didn’t completely ruin the surrounding stories:

1. Barry Allen uses the Mirror Master’s mirrors to manipulate Iris into agreeing to start dating him again (Flash #109). Creepy, Barry. Just creepy. The story is great Silver Age fun otherwise.

2. Iris West: meanest woman alive. Iris was, by and large, incredibly awful to Barry up until maybe about a year before their 1966 marriage. Almost every time she shows up in an early Silver Age issue, you will admire her daring and independence (this is good) and be bewildered as to why on Earth Barry would want to spend time with a woman who is constantly calling him slow, lazy, and ambition-less (this is not good). It doesn’t really affect any one issue too much, but when read in a conglomerate, she starts looking really awful. Although as bad as Early Silver Age Iris seems as a romantic interest, she’s got nothing on Silver Age Superman and Lois Lane, the most dysfunctional couple in the DCU.

3. Wally West’s zero-effort code name and costume (Flash #110). It really could not be more obvious how little effort the writers were putting into creating this character. The duplicate origin is also pretty cheesy, but there are enough differences from Barry’s origin for it not to frustrate me. But the name “Kid Flash” and the fact that his first costume was literally identical to Barry’s just feel incredibly lazy. Barry and Wally do have an adorable dynamic in the issue, though, so it’s by no means all bad.

4. Barry Allen waiting an entire year after his marriage to tell his wife that he’s really the Flash. Frustrating and unnecessary; especially since Joan Garrick had been in on her husband’s secret since the 1940s.

5. Iris Allen is FROM THE FUTURE. I both love and hate this idea. It’s so perfectly comic-booky, but at the same time, it opened the floodgates for the Allen family being a confusing, time-displaced mess.

6. The Trial of Barry Allen. This one’s weird. I like many of the individual issues in this arc, and I actually think the last two issues are really great as an ending for Barry Allen’s original run, but this storyline dragged on for waaaaaay too long. There’s a reason I call it the Arc that Never Ends. Also, the titular trial is actually the least interesting part of the entire storyline. His battles with the Rogues and Kadabra are far more interesting.

7. Wally West’s borderline creepy, chauvinistic attitude towards women under Mike Baron (and, to a much lesser extent, William Messner-Loebs). There’s being a hormonal twenty-something, and then there’s going through girlfriends at the rate other people change their socks. Messner-Loebs mostly avoided this issue by making it clear that Wally was under intense psychological stress that was negatively impacting his behavior, but under Baron and in some of his JLE appearances, he comes across as a real creep around women.

8. Kadabra overkill under Mark Waid: I like Kadabra, but when he’s the main villain in like four distinct arcs, it gets to be a bit much. It’s like modern Eobard. He is legitimately written well, though, so he doesn’t drag down any of the stories too much.

9. Pointlessly Dead Rogues: Killing off the Rogues in Underworld Unleashed for no good reason (the rest of the story is great, especially the Trickster).

10. Pointlessly Dead Rogues 2: Electric Boogaloo: The Golden Glider’s pointless death to build up a character who was himself killed two issues later. (The rest of the story is decent.) Also, the treatment of Lisa in general post-Crisis is frustrating, since she becomes considerably more unhinged than she was before.

11. Any time Waid tried to write McCulloch, with the exception of Flash vol. 2 #105 (and even there, he seemed off). It’s like he forgot Evan wasn’t Sam.

12. Apparently, the Top trying to blow up both Central City and half the world makes him a loser? Also, he suddenly hates Piper for no readily apparent reason. (At least the story had some good Piper and Wally bits.)

13. BARRY ALLEN HAS A SECRET EVIL TWIN! DUN DUN DUN! (The rest of the story, where we get to meet a whole whack of interesting future Flashes, is actually pretty good, but whoo boy, the Malcolm reveal feels like it came straight out of a soap opera.)

14. In order for Captain Cold to ANGST, the Golden Glider’s pointless death remained in place for over ten years. It did give us a really, really good Capt. Cold story, at least...but it’s still fridging.

15. Rainbow Raider’s mean-spirited murder by Blacksmith. Poor Roy.

16. Albert Desmond becomes Hannibal Lecter, only twenty times as rude, for a Gotham Central arc that would’ve been terrific without him as the main villain.

17. Owen Mercer is an idiotic child murderer and gets killed by the Rogues. Why was this necessary? (The rest of Blackest Night: The Flash is pretty good.)

18. Josh Jackam-Mardon’s murder. The murder of small children for shock value is pretty gross. Especially since nothing was ever really done with it.

19. Barry’s PARENTS ARE DEEEEAAAAD! (Okay, it’s really just his mom, but still. This is a very frustrating retcon, since originally his parents were alive and well until after his own death.)

20. Albert Desmond was Barry’s jerk coworker; which never impacted the plot or led to anything. As a result, it’s just another frustrating retcon.

21. Sam Scudder murdered someone before becoming the Mirror Master. Yet another Johns retcon that never went anywhere and only serves to darken the Silver and Bronze Age stories after the fact.

22. Flashpoint (a decent story) wiped out a whole bunch of characters I really liked from existence for several years. Evan McCulloch’s still not back.

23. Giving the Rogues metahuman powers doesn’t suit them, on the whole. They work better without them.

24. Roy’s second pointless, brutal death in (I think) Forever Evil.

25. IT WAS MEEEEE, BARRY! After serving as the main villain for like six arcs in eight years, I’m glad that Eobard finally seems to be getting a rest. The level of bad things he was responsible for was getting ridiculous.

26. Sam/Lisa. WHY? (The only time it even kind of worked was in Forever Evil.)

In terms of entire storylines I didn’t like:

1. The Flash: The Most Terribly Written Man Alive. Poor Bart is aged up with no adequate explanation, loses all the traits that made him a likeable character, fights some awful villains, and then is murdered by the badly OOC Rogues. Meanwhile, Inertia goes from an at least somewhat sympathetic villain to a complete psychopath with little explanation, a murder is retconned into one of Captain Cold’s reformed periods, the Pied Piper and the Trickster completely forget that they’re supposed to be reformed, Abra Kadabra inexplicably teams up with the Rogues despite generally being a solo operative, and all of the Rogues act like total morons, willingly following a teenage speedster for no adequately explained reason. UGH.

2. Countdown to Infinite Crisis: Even though Piper and Trickster were probably the best part of Countdown, that isn’t saying much. Both of them are uncharacteristically stupid (especially James), and James is a grade-A jerk to Piper for no reason. Also, both of them continue to forget that they reformed, and then James gets brutally murdered and Piper almost loses his mind. Also, the other Rogues cameo, and continue to act like idiots. Countdown: it really does ruin everything it touches.

Superboy Prime will kill you! He’ll kill you to DEATH! And after you read Countdown, you’ll wish he had killed you to death.

3. The Identity Crisis Tie-In Retcon: So, you know all that awesome character development the Rogues have had over the years? Well, forget all that, because it was all just Roscoe brainwashing them! Which was something he could definitely do before this story! And why did he do this? Why, because Barry Allen, one of the most upstanding men in the DCU, brainwashed him! Also, apparently, the Top had a huge bodycount that we never heard about back in the Bronze Age, because we need even MORE grimdark retcons for our cheerful Silver/Bronze Age history! I like Geoff Johns’ work, I really do....but BOY HOWDY does he need to lay off on the retcons sometimes.

4. Identity Crisis: With the exception of Owen’s introduction and the establishment of the relationship between him and Digger, this story was pretty awful all around. More specifically, as far as the Flash was concerned, it was responsible for Digger’s second pointless death. It also killed off poor Jack Drake and poor, mistreated Sue Dibney, who deserved MUCH better. And the Justice League, including Barry, are A-OK with brainwashing, apparently. Comics are fun!

These last two stories are pretty recent, and they did have some parts I liked, but on the whole I felt they also belonged on the list.

5. The Trickster finally returns! Hurrah! Except it turns out that he’s way more like the Joker now than he ever was before, and he mind-controls the city in a super-creepy way. A very disappointing return for the character, especially since it was set up really well.

6. Forever Evil: Captain Cold becomes a murderous dictator with a stupid Santa Beard, all of the Rogues get horrible costumes, and Sam completes his mutation into Evan-in-all-but-name. There are some good characters bits in the story (even for Cold), but on the whole, I found the story to just be unlikeable and depressing and thought Cold was pretty out-of-character. Poor Commander Cold....

So, what are your least favorite Flash storylines and plot ideas?

#flash comics #flash rogues #dc comics

34 notes · View notes

somedayonbroadway · 3 years

Note

OMG OK CHRISTMAS/HOLIDAY REQUEST FOR THE BABY RACE AU -

Jack takes Race to the mall and like Davey and co. can join or whatever you want but like it’s so crowded and he looses race and panics 🥺🥺

An Angel Come To Save Me Masterlist

“We have a code Adam. I repeat, we have a code Adam.”

Jack was full on panicking now. He’d looked away for one second and his kid was gone. It was impossible to take a deep breath. “Sir, what does he look like? What’s his name?”

Jack couldn’t speak. He shook his head, trying to find the words rather than let the tears fall. “H-he—“

“His name’s Tyler. He’s five years old. He’s got blond hair and blue eyes and he’s wearing a blue jacket and a red beanie.” Thank the Lord for Davey who could keep his calm in situations like this. But for all Jack knew, his son could have already been out in the snow with some stranger, not knowing what was going on or what was going to happen. “Jackie, breathe, we’re gonna find him,” his best friend tried to soothe. “He can’t have gotten far—“

“I screwed up, Dave,” Jack whimpered, shaking his head as tears pricked at his eyes. “I let go of him for a second n’ now he’s gone—“

“He is not gone,” David insisted, placing his hands on Jack’s shoulders firmly. “He is a curious little boy, he probably just wandered off…”

Jack tried to nod as he sniffled and ran both of his hands over his hair. He grabbed his best friend’s wrist and tugged him away to start looking. He needed to find Tyler. He needed to find his baby. He could be out in that mess of people somewhere with no clue what was going on. “Tyler!” he called. “Racer!” He could’ve sobbed when he didn’t get any kind of immediate response.

It was December twelfth. Jack had just taken Race to the mall to meet Santa and do some Christmas shopping and now he was discovering that he was the worst father on earth. He’d taken his eyes off of his son for one second and now no one could find him.

Someone had rammed into his shoulder. Jack had let go of Race’s hand to get the man away from them. Some choice words had been exchanged and when Jack had looked back down, the boy was gone. Terror rushed through his brain as he thought about someone like Snyder just taking his son and running off with him. Dread filled his stomach. “Tyler!”

The mall was huge. The boy could be anywhere by then. Jack was terrified. He could lose the one person in his life he absolutely could not live without and it would be his fault.

There was some Christmas song playing over them and Jack could hardly hear it. Over the past five years, Racer had turned Christmas into his favorite time of year. The little boy would just light up at the sight of everything and Jack could watch the child’s wonder forever. The trees, the cookies, the snow and the presents never ceased to amaze the boy. The kid loved it all so much that he’d even dragged his Uncle Davey into their new family traditions. David Jacobs was born and raised in a Jewish household. He had never celebrated Christmas a day in his life before Tyler James was born and now, suddenly, he was coming over every December twenty fourth and fifth to try and catch Santa Claus in the act.

Jack needed to find his baby.

He was walking so fast, he had no idea if Davey was even still behind him. There were so many people walking around him, not even noticing the tears that Jack could now feel on his cheeks. “Tyler, please…” he begged.

“Excuse me, good sir, were you looking for someone?”

Jack hadn’t known what he’d been expecting when he turned around to that jolly sounding voice but it didn’t matter when he saw his little boy looking up at him. “Oh my God, Tyler!” he cried, reaching down for the boy and immediately scooping him up in his arms. “Don’t you dare ever scare me like that again!” He pressed kiss after kiss to Tyler’s head as the confused and stunned child hugged him around the neck.

“I’m okay, daddy… Santa found me!” And sure enough, who was standing there with a fake beard and a bright red suit but the man himself.

“Ho, ho, ho!” Santa smiled right as Jack’s teary eyes looked up at him. “That’s right! Little Tyler found me walking to my chair and said he got lost.”

Jack took in quick breaths as he held onto his son for dear life. “I’m so sorry, thank you so much, I…” he trailed off with a small shrug as he turned his face into his baby’s hair. “Jesus, Tyler, don’t run off like that…”

“Well, I must say that Tyler’s been a very good boy this year,” Santa said. “He says all he wants for Christmas this year is to be with his dad.”

Tyler nodded into Jack’s neck and Jack all but melted, giving a kiss to his son’s head. “I love you, baby… so much…” he breathed before opening his eyes again to look at Santa Claus. “Thank you so much…”

Santa only nodded before he gave Tyler a small wink. “Have a Merry Christmas, Tyler James… and the same to you, James.” And with that, he walked off. Jack didn’t have time to think about how that man had known his full name.

That’s about when David rushed up to them. “Oh, Racer…” he sighed, kissing the boy’s head when he got close enough. “Are you alright?”

“I met Santa, Uncle Davey! He’s real nice! He found daddy for me!” Race tried to cheer them both up but Jack couldn’t stop shaking.

He just held on tightly to his boy as he led them back outside and found a quiet bench to sit on while he cradled his son to his chest. “I love you so much, Tyler…”

“I love you too, daddy…”

Jack held his baby so tightly while he composed himself. “Okay… it’s okay, we’re okay…” he tried to convince himself. “I got you…”

“And I got you…” Tyler replied, melting into his father.

And Jack nodded.

Yeah. They were gonna be alright.

44 notes · View notes

westerhos · 4 years

Text

Our Story: Chapters 2-3

Thank you to everyone who has sent such lovely messages about this story! Happy to hear some of you are re-reading it while others are discovering it for the first time. Now for the next two chapters, which really should have been one...

[December 24th, 1990]

Their home is a modest one—a studio clinging to edges of the city, not far from where they first met. It’s an older building, mid-19th century, with pipes that freeze in the winter, burst like Scottish primrose in the summer. There is a single window on its western side, which welcomes the December-white sun at each day’s end. And it is here, lined along this sill, that Claire’s plants reach hungry towards the sky, try to trap this silver sliver of heat inside their veins.

Save for the flowers, theirs is an ascetic sort of décor. Sparse like a monk’s quarters—though Jamie and Claire hardly mind. They decorate the empty corners with their future, hatched in whispers during the night.

One day, Jamie promises, they’ll have Persian rugs and a four-poster bed. One day, they’ll own a leather sofa, its cushions like butter against Claire’s bare thighs. “And a vase!” she adds. “All fancy people have vases.”

But for now, they sleep on a musty twin cot, their belongings stored in the trunk at its foot. Jamie’s manuscripts are stacked inside, their pages marked in ballpoint scribbles and soil-dusted fingerprints. (“I canna read what this says anymore!” Jamie yells. “S’okay,” Claire says. “That paragraph was rubbish anyways.”) He’s an editorial assistant, the paltry salary worth the power of the red pen, which reshapes the written world to his liking. It buys food and rent, and covers what med school tuition Claire’s scholarship does not.

It’s a quiet life, but a happy life.

Claire yawns. “Did you know that every Christmas Eve my uncle told me a story? Made it up himself, right on the spot.”

“Are ye trying to tell me ye want a story?”

“I may be hinting at that, yes.”

“Ach,” Jamie says. Her favorite sound, every inch of him encapsulated in this strange, Scottish scoff. “Your subtly always turns me on.”

“Oh, hush. C’mon.”

He runs a hand through his hair, auburn and cinnabar limned in moonbeam.

“A good story on the spot? That’s no small amount of pressure, Sassenach.”

“How about a request then?” she offers, and Jamie raises a brow. “How about my favorite?”

“Yer favorite?”

“Don’t play coy. You know. The one you always start incorrectly? She is wearing a holiday sweater, a confection of silver bells and sequined penguins…”

“Weel, it’s a much better beginning than the ‘curl of my lips’…”

“Debatable,” Claire replies, tongue tracing the valley of his cupid’s bow.

But Jamie nods, chooses a different beginning this time: “It was immediate…”

He twists one of Claire’s curls around his finger and inhales. She still smells like the springtime, earthy and ripe, and perhaps there’s a hint of his own musk now, too. He likes it this way, enjoys finding proof of his existence somewhere beneath her skin. Permanent.

“Immediate!” Claire echoes, a one-woman Greek chorus. She is pressed into him, feeling his chest curve around her spine. It always surprises her how their bodies fit so perfectly, their limbs folding and molding to fill all their negative spaces. (And she has so many, our Claire, between her toes and between her ribs. Vacant rooms where her mother, her father, and her uncle once lived.)

“Aye, from the minute I saw ye, I ken you belonged wi’ me.”

“Mmm,” she hums, not saying, “Of course I felt the same thing,” or “Of course I loved you from the very first.” Because, of course, Jamie knows this already. (Strange, they both think, how the heart can move faster than the speed of light.)

“Speaking of which…” she says.

“Ye don’t want to hear the rest?”

“In a sec,” she replies. “But your friends seem to think we should get married. Dougal especially.”

“They do,” Jamie says softly. “And Dougal does—to him, maybe.” He brings Claire’s hand to his lips, smiles into the Christmas present he’s wrapped around her finger. A ring: one mounted pearl, taken from his mother’s necklace. (“No’ an engagement ring, mind,” though they both knew it meant forever.)

“Do you, though? Think we should get married?”

“I’ll do anything that means I can call ye mine.”

“You already can.”

“Aye, but I dinna think the law agrees wi’ you.”

“Devil take the law.”

Jamie laughs. “I reckon the Devil doesna want the law either, Sassenach. He hates the law.”

“You’re avoiding my question.”

“Which is?”

Claire turns towards him, remembers this past year together: their first date (Italian restaurant, 9PM showing of Pretty Woman), their first fight (broken coffee mugs, a noise complaint). She remembers the first time they made love in this small, crooked flat: middle of the floor, surrounded by packing boxes and crumpled newspaper. The bubble wrap had crackled beneath them—pop-pop-pop!—as if they were dancing on fireworks. (“I never want to leave this place,” she’d told him. He thought she’d meant the flat, but she’d meant his arms.)

“Which is…Well. Do you want to marry me, James Fraser?”

He squints. “Is that a proposal?”

“Yes.”

“Then why aren’t ye on your knees?”

“You bloody—”

Claire’s elbow swings towards his face, but Jamie catches it, stretches her arm back so that her palm lies flat against the wall. He rolls on top of her, leans down and lets her heart beat against his lips. Wills it into him until his blood thrums with it. The sound of their story.

“Yes,” Jamie says. “I want to marry you, Claire Beauchamp.”

“You mean Claire Fraser?”

He laughs; she smiles (they are both winners on this day).

“Aye. Beauchamp, Sassenach, Fraser.” His voice drops, a whisper: “My wife.”

[December 24th, 1991]

While Jamie and Claire’s studio remains the same, the flowers change with the turn of seasons: baby-skinned petals become felted cloth, neon-bright as they hang from a child’s mobile. The pots along the sill are gone, their soil-dust trails swiped away and their roots transplanted to a community garden. In their place, sits a collection of shiny, new tools for a shiny, new crib, which stands half-assembled beside the cot. The flower mobile blooms above it, suspended in silent wait for spring. For Faith.

Come April, Jamie and Claire will bring the sunshine into their home, no longer needing the single window and its lancing, evening light. Come April, they will have marigold walls, yellow linens, and bright rubber duckies floating in the sink. All of this for the baby that will sleep inside the shiny, new crib beneath the flowers that will never die.

Faith. This is the name they have given their future, no longer an unfurnished corner in their studio, but a growing presence inside Claire’s belly.

“Ugh!”

“That bad is it?”

“Worse than bad. I look like a whale who’s just fucked a Christmas tree.”

Jamie opens his eyes, his wife framed by his fingers, and he moves his hands to stifle a laugh.

“And a few wee penguins at that…”

“You’re not helping,” Claire whines, examining her reflection in the mirror. Rounded cheeks, rounder stomach; sharp lines blurred by months of pregnancy. All afternoon, she has scolded and cajoled, bribed and threatened, her cottons and nylons. But the fabrics have been stubborn, loath to surrender their bodily claims to the child pushing against them.

“Jamie, I can’t go out wearing this.”

“I dinna see how you’ve much choice in the matter, Sassenach. We should've gone to Waverly yesterday,” Jamie replies. The sweater—the same one she’d worn the evening they met—hugs her stomach. Tight but still discreet, the purest flash of flesh above her waistline. “Party’s at 8. We’ve no time to go shopping for a proper outfit. It’s either that or what God gave ye.”

“Oh, wouldn’t that be a treat? A naked, pregnant woman sipping virgin egg nog in front of the buffet. Happy bloody Christmas!”

“Angus wouldna mind.”

“Well, so long as the host is happy.”

“I wouldna mind.”

Claire snorts and twirls, as if to say, “Are you sure of that?” (He is, absolutely, and to the marrow of his bones.)

Jamie sighs. “D’ye want me to wear mine too?”

“You mean your lager-stained pullover? With the Santa looks that looks like he’s got vomit in his beard?

“Aye, that’s the one.”

“Yes,” she replies, grinning. She remembers where it lies amongst the rest of their clothes, just as she remembers its wooly scratch against her breasts two years before. Jaime’s hands (so much larger than hers, even then) lifting it up and over, laying her bare beneath the fluorescent lights of his dorm room. “Yes, I want you to wear your Belligerent Santa jumper.”

Jamie nods.

“And no beer for you, either. Just store-bought non-alcoholic egg nog. My misery needs company.”

“Fair is fair.”

“And—”

“There’s more?”

“Much more.”

“Ach, weel. Anything for the most beautiful woman in the room.”

“Oh, Rupert will be so grateful you think so, Jamie.”

“What are friends for?” He draws closer, vibrating. “But what about you, Sassenach?”

“Me? You’ll look more ridiculous than I will. I’ll be peachy and taking shots of fake egg-nog!”

Claire finds the sweater and throws it to Jamie, watches him catch the frayed and wrinkled ball of it. The hem is still an unraveled spool, which she winds and winds around her finger. Once, twice, three times until it marks her skin in a pale, white ring. She pulls it taut, feels the slow draining of her finger as the blood retreats, towards her husband. Electricity between them (the pipes groan, the winter thaw come at last).

“Now,” Claire purrs, “put that on so I can take it off you.”

“D’ye think we have time?”

“Of course we do,” she says. "We always have time." (Not always, not forever.)

“Well then,” Jamie says, bowing. “Your servant, madam.”

At this point, I still had no idea where I was going with this story, and I think that’s abundantly clear here. Regardless, I was very much taken with the “romanticism” of being poor, in love, and bohemian in New York City—so these two chapters are basically my written daydreams about being a young Patti Smith. Luckily, that never happened! Although I did wind up living in a tiny long-term Airbnb with an opera singer, a grand piano that took up the. entire. living. room., and a very uncomfortable futon that I slept on for my first 6 months in Brooklyn.

These are really the last ~~happy~~ chapters for a while, which is totally a reflection of the fact that I had moved to Brooklyn and was scared, lonely, and just generally very angsty, lol. So my apologies for what lies ahead.

One closing thought: Why did I choose Pretty Woman as Jamie and Claire’s first date movie, lol? Had I just watched it? Did I just associate the��‘90s with Julia Roberts romantic comedies? Did I not bother researching other movies that came out in 1990? Your guess is as good as mine!!!

#myfic #outlander #jamie fraser #claire beauchamp

88 notes · View notes

roccinan · 3 years

Note

I'm risking sounding terribly egoistical by sending a public ask about my own url here but I'm doing it!!!!! I need the super graphic-details

Your ego is my ego, dearest nharidy. There's a reason the doc is named after you hahaha

[ 👉 My Wips ]

OK so the Absolvisti sequel's been sitting in my head since well, the week after I published it lmao. But I never got around to writing because I wasn't sure if it was being too self-indulgent (I'm feeling more confident about it now that I know you'll be pleased by it!). Also because I was having trouble deciding on a pov: should I continue with the Tatiana 1st person pov as always? Change it up to Martin 3rd person? or surprise: 1st person Don Juan?? Should it be a new chapter or new fic? (def. open to suggestions here!) Also I think it'd be Iconic to publish a story in the Dies Irae universe with our new cat profile pics.

Graphic detail time :D Prepare for a SUPER LONG answer LMAO. Most of the things I mentioned here and here will make their way in, with maybe a bonus ns/fw chapter from Martin or Andres' pov. The main story is SFW however, and there's like a hilariously high amount of hurt!Andres, who doesn't have demons to rely on anymore but still carries all the permanent damage the demons left on him:

It takes place some months after Absolvisti so Andres is doing better, but not fully well yet. He's not actively dying anymore but he does faint a lot and isn't exactly making a full recovery. Because I wanted to make things harder for Martin. Because he's not a young man anymore, the wounds were super extensive, and this is the result of years of accumulated damage + a form of "withdrawal" (the shadows/demons that used to feed on him were also the things that kept him alive so it's one big cycle that his body isn't leaving that easily).

This means every time Martin plans something nice for him like seeing a play or going out for a nightly walk, Andres can't go through the whole thing without feeling unwell. (Martin: "I over-exerted the love of my life. I am so SELFISH. what does Andres see in me??" Andres: "I disappointed the love of my life. I am the WEAKEST. what does Martin see in me??" Tatiana: feed me, bitches)

They manage to sit through one play though (not sure if I want this at the beginning or end of the fic LMAO). It's the one Bogota wrote, The Necromancer's Lament, a "biopic" about Andres' life. And it's every bit as terrible as Martin expected. Bad special effects, bad acting especially from Martin's actor, Andres' actor has a beard, and Tatiana looks like this:

Andres thinks it's the best play ever. Martin hates it and demands a refund. Tatiana hates it too but Don Juan's like, "mi amor, you are still beautiful to me, even as a deformed puppet."

Martin's 120-page complaints aside, Bogota runs the theatre troupe with his partner, Nairobi/Agata, and they're both going to start teaching performing arts at Santa Catalina because the last drama professor died lmao

Meanwhile, Santa Catalina has a new bad girl student, Tokyo/Silene! Sergio took her in as a charity case after some dark and mysterious events in her life. But Tokyo being Tokyo can't stay away from trouble, and she becomes obsessed with finding the demons that Andres expelled. Some bizarre possessions start happening again and the school's sponsors force Raquel to keep it under wraps. (Raquel: maybe if you increased funding, we wouldn't have so many problems!!)

In the meantime, Martin gets that letter from a long lost relative asking to meet him. Not sure about the order of this either. Anyway, Martin was planning to ignore the relative, but Andres insists he go. Either Tatiana or Don Juan accompany him. Martin learns that he's the sole heir of his dead parents across the sea (the will: “we forgive you for being a heretic, a freak of nature, and the alchemist of Palermo. also no hard feelings for leaving you to die as a baby xoxoxo”). There's one (1) condition though: he has to end his partnership with the necromancer. Martin: NO THANKS.

So while Martin's dealing with this unexpected drama, Sergio decides to call in Andres' expertise TM again because it's also a good excuse to talk to his brother. Martin is Very wary about this and rejects him. But Andres insists that it'll be fine. Plus, maybe he wants to turn a new leaf and help Santa Catalina for nothing in return this time. Not everyone gets a second chance at life and he doesn't want to be a bad person anymore uwu (Tatiana: "Andres was a pretentious piece of shit, surprising no one." Martin: "Nobody deserves Andres, not even me, and I'm like, the most amazing person in the world.")

Andres comes to do the exorcism with the random priest the school hired. And they discover there aren't any demons- it's just some ghost fucking around (maybe I'll make it the spirit of Gandia or Alicia since they haven't shown up yet lol). Anyway, it doesn't go very well but Andres gets rid of the creature or whatever. Not before it punctures a hole in his side though. Then Martin loses it, just full-on screams at Sergio for almost getting Andres killed again, makes a lot of threats against the school, etc. etc.

Raquel, being more useful, plugs up the wound. But the priest accidentally provokes Martin more by asking Raquel if he should mop up Andres' blood with holy water or something. What if the necromancer's blood is cursed?? And now it's all over the floor, so disgusting :/

Martin, already in a very bad mood, beats the priest up.

They go home. Martin's in a really sour mood and he just doesn't understand why Andres isn't mad at Sergio. Martin: "It's really emotionally damaging to me if you don't give a fuck about yourself." Andres makes him even angrier by bringing up the Berrote family will and having the audacity to suggest Martin leave him for money. He makes a huge case about how he literally has nothing to offer Martin except a body that barely works and a terrible reputation. Martin: "I lost a fucking eye for you??"

They fight and Martin storms away, and also kidnaps Don Juan, his honorary new soulmate who would never betray him like Andres.

A while after this, the Spanish Inquisition local clergy arrests Andres for "questioning." Because the shenanigans at Santa Catalina are still going on and that one priest suspects him of being behind everything just because. Raquel's the one who bails him out. She may not like Sergio's brother, but the way everyone else treats him is ridiculous.

Andres limps home, hoping Martin's still away. Surprise! Martin felt guilty and came back. And it's pretty obvious that Andres has just been tortured. Martin: "Say no more. I'm going to kill some people."

Andres gets Martin to not do anything stupid by dropping the thing with the will. He admits he was wrong for saying those things to Martin and he selfishly, genuinely wants to stay with Martin forever. Martin: "I'm still going to kill your brother. You may appease me with a kiss."

Does it end here? No! Because the shit at Santa Catalina is still happening. Andres and Martin solve it for good though. But it's all very dramatic. I'm vaguest about this part, but maybe Nairobi's injured saving Tokyo, and this gives Tokyo the wakeup call to move on from whatever baggage that got her into this mess in the first place. Then Andres' solution for saving Nairobi is to ask Martin to work that alchemist magic and transfer her wounds onto himself (at this point, we're just going overboard with the Andres whump but asdfasdf why stop??). Raquel: Sergio, tell your brother to stop dying. That's a bad example for the kids.

It takes a lot of convincing, but Martin relents in the end, only because he trusts Andres. At this point, Andres has been through so much that he physically cannot take any more damage. Like, he just can't lmao. So the whole process puts Andres into a coma or something. But we don't need him anymore because now we can revel in Martin's angst!

Martin spends the rest of his time crying and angsting and guilt-tripping Sergio, and just being very loud in general. He also writes back to his family and tells them to fuck off.

Once we indulge in enough of Martin's pain, Andres finally wakes up. Still very bad off but he's alive and not showing signs of dying any time soon. So that's good enough for Martin. They have a nice heart-to-heart, and idk, maybe Raquel comes to see them because Sergio's too embarrassed to. Until Andres insists, because he loves hermanito unconditionally uwu. Martin: "watch your back, Sergio. I might murder you in your sleep (:"

Then at the very end (I have no idea how long this story is LOL), there's some kind of family photoshoot between Raquel, Sergio, and Paula. Everyone's raving over this new invention called the "camera." Andres is admiring it from a distance until Raquel's like, "get over here. what part of FAMILY photoshoot do you not understand!?"

Andres is shocked pikachu face because good will towards him for once?? he's being included in something?? people want him around?? what is happening??

Martin's happy for him though. Then he's admiring from a distance until Raquel's like, "I said FAMILY photoshoot. Get over here, Martin!"

Tatiana didn't want to be a part of it, but Paula saw her favorite talking cat and like, grabbed her lmao. Don Juan photobombs it because he can't be excluded from an activity with Tatiana, especially when his former rival Andres is in the photo too. (His current rival is Casanova, an unworthy white cat vying for Tatiana's affections)

Sergio proposes to Raquel. The end! Yes, the kitty love triangle is also a central theme of this story LMAO Hope that satisfies you, nharidy! And I welcome any and all suggestions!

#nharidy #wip meme #asdfasdf this got so long omg #as you can see I thought a LOT about this sequel and have it all written... in my head rip #but if I know it will please you then that's enough motivation for me to get it on a document #kinda want to keep it tatiana's pov since she's what holds the dies irae universe together #also because Martin's pov would be 'andres never did anything wrong in his life he is so perfect'#andres' pov: 'everyone loved Martin and I because we are so beautiful and humble and amazing'#'someone threw an apple at me yesterday- a gift from another adoring fan obviously'#adfasdf so many shades of delusional and insufferable

4 notes · View notes

katelynn-a-fan · 4 years

Text

Somewhere Over The Rainbow: Chapter 1

Next | Masterlist | Ao3

Summary: Patton encounters a stranger outside of his door he never expected to find. Little does he know that this one person found on his doorstep will forever change both him and his friend's lives in a single snow filled night. Animosities flare and personalities clash, but none of them can resist those big, round puppy dog like eyes. And truth be told, none of them really want to.

Word count: 5993 / 6k

Warnings: Fear, implied hypothermia (This fic is not for minors, you’ve been warned)

Patton gazed out the window at the few flakes of snow outside the window as they lazily drifted down to the ground in the fading twilight. He smiled at the sight. Fiddling absently with the sleeves of his fuzzy sweater, he leaned on his right crutch a little. Patton’s brow creased as his left foot started to ache a bit. He shifted his weight slightly more on his right to compensate. The relief wouldn’t last though.

It’s officially winter now, I suppose. OH! I’ll be busting out my Christmas sweater soon, then!

Patton’s smile spread wider as he turned away from the window, looking around the kitchen he was in.

The kitchen wasn’t too small, but even with plenty of space it was piled with many different containers of various ingredient types, and most of them looked suspiciously like items for making cookies. Speaking of cookies, there were quite a number of unlabeled Tupperware containers that were quite obviously filled with cookies. So. Many. Cookies. There were even multiple circular containers that had the very obvious design of a very familiar very chubby, bearded man dressed in red with a half eaten cookie in his hand.

It was totally not Santa, no siree, just a random cartoon of a guy that looked exactly like Santa...

Okay, maybe Patton had already started to get into the holiday spirit, and okay, maybe he was bored being alone without his friends and baked all of these cookies just today and okay! Maybe-

Beep! Beep! Beep!

Patton sighed, adjusting his crutches as he hobbled over to the stove with the grace of a newborn cygnet in a thunderstorm, where yet another batch of cookies shined back at him in the glow from the oven light.

OKAY! Maybe he was still baking yet another batch of cookies. Sue him! He just loved cookies… a lot.

Patton propped one of his crutches on the kitchen counter off to the side, leaning on his left crutch to open the stove. He flinched back, despite being prepared for what was going to happen as a wave of almost blistering heat poured from the gaping maw of the oven, hitting him in the face full blast.

Patton didn’t go to reach for the oven mitts in the drawer beside the oven, instead first inching his face into the heat to see if the cookies looked like they were done.

Patton studied the cookies, face fading from a smile to an intense and serious half-frown of concentration as Patton sought to complete his task, searching the tray for any of the cookies that looked still the slightest bit wet or soggy. Finally, he spotted one. The cookie had a very obvious spot that looked distinctly soggy and a few of the other cookies around it looked only very slightly soggy. But that was enough, Patton decided to let them bake a little more. Nodding to himself, Patton brought his head back out of the endless waves of heat, snapping the oven door shut with a light snap .

Only waiting a moment, the heat from the oven cut off from threatening to melt Patton’s face off he leaned too far forwards, Patton added five minutes to the oven timer. The beeping of the buttons that went off as he input the time into the oven filled the silence around Patton. They were only sounds in the silent kitchen other than Patton’s soft breathing, and yet they were like an avalanche of sound.

Patton pressed start, a last beep emitting from the oven before the kitchen was plunged again into silence. Really, that only heightened the wintery atmosphere; the silence reflected the silent snowfall around Patton’s home. The kind of silence that led people to shout: “Wait, it snowed last night! How did I not notice?”

Patton paused, glancing out the window, considering going back to watching the silent snow fall down outside before the thought of the cold outside brought his eyes to rest on the corner of a box on the kitchen counter under some of the items. His lips tugged up in yet another smile.

Oh, perfect! I might just have some of the cookies I’ve made today with this!

Patton grabbed his right crutch that he had set aside for his oven duties, utilizing it to take the few steps to where most of the items were piled on the counter. He hadn’t had the energy to put them up as of yet, but he knew his two partners would help him do that when they got back. They were such good partners like that. Patton was a lucky guy.

A goofy grin spread onto Patton’s face at the thought of his friends. Roman’s little laugh that he always did instead of his full laugh because he automatically tried to suppress anything that would make him use his inhaler, laughing included. Patton hated that he was deprived of such a melodious sound, but his little breathy laughs were (almost) just as endearing. Janus was similarly quiet, but his laughs were fuller much more often when Patton told a particularly good dad joke. Remus was the one that he wasn’t the most keen on, unhinged cackling at the practical jokes he pulled on Patton or his… partners? He had never seen Remus play any jokes on his partners, so Patton had no idea what he sounded like then. Logan’s little giggle when his little buddy Crofters did something absolutely adorable when he was able to play, and finally Virgil's full belly laugh that only happened when Patton or anyone caught him off guard with a particularly funny joke, like Janus, but Virgil howled . He loved all of their laughter and couldn’t wait to hear it again.

Granted, he could’ve asked Remus to come over as he was the only one in his trio that was still at home, maybe to help get him to stop baking another batch of cookies.

But right now, he was getting that box.

Patton didn’t set his other crutch aside this time, able to stretch out his hands (within his limits, he still had crutches under his armpits to deal with, mind you) to shift aside all of the various food items laid on top of what Patton needed to get.

Having pushed everything finally out of the way, Patton proudly produced a box of hot chocolate packets of various flavors triumphantly. His chest puffed out as he completed the action. The corner of Patton’s lip twitched up.

Score! It’s not opened yet! That means I get the pick of the litter! Yay!

Patton put his hand over his heart with one hand, pressing the box into his chest, dramatically bobbing his head while pumping his fist into the air like a recreation of The Breakfast Club.

After he was finished, he glanced at the clock despite the fact it was still resolutely still showing 5 minutes left on the timer.

Patton wasted no time, retrieving his favorite mug with a frog featured prominently on the side. The handle of the mug was made to look like the frog’s tongue, which may have grossed out anyone else if they saw it, but Patton didn’t mind.

Patton hobbled over to the sink with one crutch, leaving the other behind for a bit more flexibility for what he was going to do. It remained, sadly draped against the kitchen counter. He nearly fumbled with the knob and almost spilled his mug, but he was able to steady it before anything was flung onto the counter. Not having any line or indication of where to fill the mug up to for the proper hot chocolate powder to water ratio, Patton simply eyeballed the amount of water he needed. The mug filled to about a third of an inch under the rim of the mug before the water was turned off, Patton having successfully filled the mug with the right amount of water according to his personal assessment.

Before he moved back towards the hot chocolate powder packets, Patton made sure to set the mug down and wipe his hands off with a towel. Patton also ran the towel for a couple seconds around the part of the counter surrounding the sink, to clean any stray bits of water that had managed to splash out of the sink and the mug. When he was done, he hung the towel back up, folding it perfectly like Janus had taught him when they moved in together.

“Towels definitely look nice all wrinkled, folding the towels isn’t a way to make them not wrinkled when you hang them up.” Janus had said in that adorably sarcastic tone that made Patton just want to hold Janus’s face and squish it until Janus was blushing as red as Santa’s signature suit.

Patton’s smile bloomed into a full blown grin at the memory of one of his partners. He had been so adorable when Patton was first able to fluster him. Patton’s heart attempted to full on beat out of his chest as his mind began to wander to more memories of his partners before a slight change out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. Patton glanced over to gauge the source of the change in his vision. Like humans developing their innate sense of danger and perception through trial and error, historically it had been used to spot prey and also potential predators. But in a kitchen in modern society, Patton was in no place for some kind of predator to simply jump out at him.

00:04

Instead of a predator in the wild, the oven timer had caught Patton’s eye once again. Already, a minute had elapsed.

Patton shook his head, trying to shake the lingering memories of his partners out of his head to help him focus.

I love my partners, but if I want to time it right, I gotta focus. Come on Patton, let’s do this. Cookie and hot chocolate time! Woo!

Patton gingerly picked up the mug on the counter, moving over to the microwave, reaching up with the mug-less hand to pry open the microwave with a click that reverberated through the microwave, creating the unique sound that only opening a microwave could evoke. Patton’s feet and ankles protested as Patton edged his weight forward to slightly on his tiptoes, gingerly placing his mug into the microwave to heat it up for its intended purpose that evening. Hot chocolate!

Another unique microwave door click later, the sound of the microwave buttons filled the void the other sound of the microwave left behind as Patton set the microwave timer to heat the water for his hot chocolate up for 90 seconds total.

Roman’s voice filled Patton’s head this time, his voice colored with playful exasperation.

“But why can’t you just input one minute and thirty seconds like a normal human being? The microwave even changes to that form when you start it up! Heathen!” Roman’s voice hadn’t been serious, but Patton had still responded seriously to Roman’s question with five simple words that had Roman aghast.

“Takes less time to press.” Patton had shrugged, turning away to hide his smirk at the offended noise it elicited from Roman that rivaled the most aghast pearl-clutchers.

This time, Patton didn’t let the memory pull him away from what he was doing as he pressed the start button on the microwave. The newest sound from the microwave, a gentle hum that signaled the microwave was working, filled the kitchen.

Out the window, the snow began to visibly change direction, previously angled coming from the right, the very light wind began to blow the snow slowly from perpendicular to the ground to slowly start coming from the left. The wind was gratefully not the howling winds of a full on snowstorm. In Patton’s opinion, snow was best experienced overnight with little to no wind.

Patton jumped when the sudden beeping of the microwave startled him, whipping around to the microwave. He had gotten distracted by the snow and generally distracted for the third or fourth time in a quarter of an hour.

Patton’s cheeks warmed, slowly turning pink despite the lack of anyone else there to observe him become distracted once again.

This darn snow! Making my brain go soft with it’s wonderfulness! Darn you, snow!

Patton shook his fist lightly at the snow outside as he mentally chastised the snow, a traitorous grin spreading on his face despite his attempt to look serious. What would the neighbors think if they saw him shaking his fist at the snow? They would likely think he was off his rocker from an accelerated case of cabin fever. The snow had just started, after all, and Patton had been able to go out for groceries not a few hours before for anything else he needed before the snow hit. That was… where he got a huge portion of the ingredients he had used in the plethora of cookies he had already made that evening.

Patton’s grin remained as he grabbed the small towel he had used to wipe down the water around the kitchen sink. When he went to grab his now-thoroughly-steaming mug, he placed the kind of damp towel under the mug, a barrier between Patton’s hand and the mug. Even through the towel, the mug was almost too hot to touch. The towel also had an ingenious two-in-one purpose as it would catch and absorb any water that happened to slosh over the side of the mug.

Patton almost gasped as he accidentally bumped against the counter with his hip, tipping his mug so that a small glob of water darkened the still damp towel. Patton tensed as he watched the little bit of water slosh out of the mug, waiting for the scalding pain of the near boiling water to come, instead a slight damp warm thump of hot dampness plopped against his hand. The towel stuck to Patton’s hand where the dark spot appeared.

Patton stood still a moment more, blinking down at the dark spot made by the water, his mind filled with the odd thought of soaked towel hand puppets, before he finally relaxed again. His shoulders, like a coiled spring, dropped down into something more of a loose, flimsy string. Patton laughed breathily as he then much more carefully set down his mug on the counter.

Patton waited a moment, gazing between the mug and the edge of the counter before he slowly ran the mug across the counter, a couple of inches away from the edge of the counter. No chance to mess up that now. Patton nodded to himself.

Grabbing the box of assorted hot chocolate mixes half blindly, Patton checked the timer, the oven now showing:

00:02

Patton inwardly fist bumped the air like he did at the window. He didn’t want to make himself look even more off his rocker by doing the same thing he just did a few moments before like he was under the influence or something.. Patton was in full view of that same window, after all.

Right on schedule now! Yes! I still got to mix everything up, but the cookies have to cool still, so there’s absolutely no hurry. Take. It. Slow…

Patton pulled the box directly in front of him. His fingers ran smoothly across the surface of the box, searching for the special tab to help him open it. Eventually, one of his fingers sunk into the box, Patton turning it to see the finger had slipped through the hole where the tab was. Patton flexed his finger, getting his finger under the tab and then tugging. The sound of popping came from the box as Patton began to peel back the cardboard lid that was once a solid part of the box.

As Patton finished pulling the lid back, the hot chocolate mix box now resembled more the structure of an open tissue box than a standard box package. Not those tissue boxes with the plastic there to keep tissues from falling out, but the open mix box resembled those cheap tissue boxes you get. The ones where you peel back a portion of the box and leave the tissue paper open to the elements and the various germs of anyone who used it. Yuck. Even the hot chocolate mix packages themselves, the white thin packages with somewhat subtle color difference to denote the different flavors, resembled very thick pieces of tissue paper.

Patton’s face settled into pensive curiosity, following the packages up and down the structured lines the packages were in with his eyes. Already some of the mini packages were starting to fall over against each other, the box less sturdy now that it was open than when it was unopened on the shelf of the grocery store, relatively undisturbed.

Patton bit his lip, his left hand rising from the counter where it had been draped to cup his chin, tapping his cheek as he agonized over which flavor to use.

They all sound so good! Milk Chocolate, Vanilla, Mocha, Caramel, even Candy Cane flavored?! I- I don’t know if I can even choose!

“You’re all so lovely, I don’t know if I can pick only one of you!” Patton cried, the sound a mix between a coo and a groan.

The mixes were of course no help, all of them seeming to say ‘Pick me!’ ‘No, pick me!’ ‘I taste good too!’ Patton just could not pick.

Instead Patton opted for the most unbiased method of choosing, he decided to merely screw his eyes shut and bring his hand down into the box to pick one. Patton gripped the box and did some preliminary stretches, making sure his hand landed on the box when it landed before he attempted the feat completely blind. He stepped back a little, prepared for what he was about to do

Patton slammed his eyes shut, and raised his hand, holding his breath dramatically as he hand dropped his hand into the box. He rummaged around slightly before a specific package called to him. He gripped the chosen package, extracting it from the others, opening his eyes as he brushed off the other package that clung to his chosen package. It was as if the packet was jealous and holding onto the other one to try and get Patton to choose it.

Patton flipped the package over, reading the vaguely faint text that read Candy Cane on the package. Patton nearly dropped the package as he bit back a loud squeal. Even though he was alone, Patton still automatically suppressed his squeals, worried he might distress his partners. Patton glanced out of the kitchen towards the living room, face dropped before it lit up again immediately after, Patton’s fist balling up and plastering themselves to his chest as he let out a practically ear-piercing squeal, comfortable in the knowledge he wasn’t disturbing anyone with it as no one but him was home.

“It’s like a candy cane and a chocolate bar had a baby! I bet it tastes wonderful! I don’t think I’ve had this flavor before!” Patton bubbled to the empty kitchen, pushing the box of hot chocolate mix packages to the side.

Patton pulled the mug back towards himself. He also slid the towel towards himself as well. The mug was still scalding to the touch-

“Ah! Fiddlesticks, I forgot what I was doing with the mug. That smarts!” Patton clutched his right hand back from the mug, cradling it with his other hand.

-as Patton found out when he reached out to grab the mug like he always did when he wasn’t making hot chocolate, by the main part of the cup. Not the handle.

Patton waved his hand, trying to dispel the pain as the skin of his hand turned from light toffee to a dim pink. His hand prickled, the sensation in his hand temporarily muddled by the phantom sensation of heat that remained, not going away with Patton’s hand movements.

Patton’s eyes widened, peeping down at the counter. He flickered his eyes between his hand and the counter once or twice before he placed his hand lightly on the counter.

A contented sigh slipped from his lips. The cool countertop was the perfect balm for Patton’s hand, a current of ice traveling pleasantly up his veins to chase away the lingering heat.

However, his contentment didn’t last too long as Patton jerked when the oven sounded. That meant his hand was exposed to the air, and that aching heat slowly bloomed once again, radiating through his veins.

Patton moved a couple steps to the oven, still with his singular crutch. Patton grabbed the oven mitts and slipped them on quickly. Patton couldn’t help but cringe at the coarse material sliding over his irritated skin, but he had to be ready just in case this time. Patton never wanted to intentionally burn his cookies.

Patton flinched back at the wave of heat then. His right hand under the oven mitt was painfully pulsing in time with the waves from the oven, like the oven heat was feeding the residual burn.

Patton peered into the oven like he had five minutes before to check the cookies. Patton smiled as the cookies now were immaculate, no wet or soggy spots and no dark brown burnt spots either. There were one or two cookies that were visibly close to burning, but other than that, they were perfect.

A satisfied smile bloomed on Patton’s face as he reached into the oven with his left hand. He didn’t want to risk further irritating his right hand. Even though it was a bit harder to maneuver, Patton pulled the tray of cookies out with one hand, closing the oven with a solid thump. With the tray balancing precariously in Patton’s right hand, Patton quickly abandoned his crutch to quickly set the tray down. Patton cringed as his feet protested the new weight on them, but he finished the job quickly setting the tray down on the counter beside his unmade hot chocolate.

Before Patton did anything else, the light yet still on coming from the oven caught Patton’s eye. Without a moment to lose, Patton leaned over as far as he could before his feet started to really protest and shut off the oven with a single finger, though the oven mitt hid the shape of his hand..

Glad I caught that! That could’ve been bad, and a HUGE waste of energy and electricity! Good job, Patton!

Patton started to brush his hand together in a job well done, a triumphant grin on his face, until his still oven mitted hands ran against one another. Patton cringed as the movement again irritated his still tingling right hand. Patton’s only lucky break was that the burning in his right hand had subsided while it was in the gloves. The stinging was only a slight jagged edge against Patton’s palm instead of the many very jagged edges feeling the irritation had caused initially when Patton first pulled back.

Patton sighed, gradually peeling off the oven mitts.

Letting the cookies cool as they needed a bit before Patton could handle them, let alone eat them, Patton faced the hot chocolate mix and the mug he had left sitting there.

Patton snatched up the mix packet, humming with a stupidly wide grin as he finally tore open the mix, wasting no time before pouring it into the mug of slowly cooling water. Patton finished pouring the mix in and moved back, opening the silverware drawer to retrieve a spoon to stir the mixture into an even and uniform solution.

Patton let his mind wander, but not too far, as the gentle clinking of the spoon against the side of his mug faded into a peaceful background melody of sound.

His eyes eventually gravitated back to the kitchen window, where he found fantastic shapes in the swirls of snow outside the window. Memories of previous winters past flitted through Patton’s mind, of cozy blankets and warm hugs. Comforting touches danced like phantoms across Patton’s skin, his partners’ gentle caresses and the platonic cuddles of his friends teasing him like vengeful apparitions. Except the vengeance enacted by the spirits was only teasing the gentle touch of his friends and partners, nothing malicious or evil.

When Patton was satisfied, he looked down at the steaming mug of hot chocolate. He extracted the dripping spoon from the solution, tapping it on the side of the glass like the final rings of victory in battle. Patton laid the spoon on the towel he had used to insulate his hand, having no need for it anymore.

The cookies sat, tempting Patton to take one, but he was still unsure if the cookies were cool enough to handle. However, it didn’t take long for Patton’s self control to falter under the irresistible temptation of what he had just created. Patton's face quickly turned pained before he pounced on two of the cookies, releasing his breath as the cookies didn’t burn his left hand as he picked the first one up.

Patton’s pulse raced, bouncing up and down on his toes minutely as he gathered his things, preparing to move to a more comfortable location to enjoy the fruits of his labor. He retrieved his crutches where he had abandoned them leaning against the counter.

With a pep in his step, Patton slowly maneuvered around the island in the middle of the kitchen. The ground underneath Patton starkly transitioned from the somewhat slick tiled floor of the kitchen to a soft carpet as Patton entered the living room.

Patton wasn’t affected by the change in terrain, expertly weaving through the living room by muscle memory. He could probably do it in his sleep or blindfolded if he needed to.

Placing the cookies and hot chocolate on the coffee table, Patton set both of his crutches finally to the side, having no need for them while he was going to relax and recline on the couch.

The couch wrapped around him like a warm hug as he automatically relaxed into it. He let out a contented sight, automatically closing his eyes as he could finally relax instead of worry about the cookies or his feet. Patton pulled the coffee table close enough to grab his mug while being able to get out when he needed to get up.

Patton grabbed the remote, turning on the TV. Patton scrolled through the channels, looking at various movies and shows until he turned to a channel that caught his eye. The program was a TV series he was getting into called Steven Universe. It was one of the episodes he had already watched, which he was grateful for as he had almost been spoiled a couple of times before, the episode was a welcome one for Patton.

Though he had already watched it, he let the episode play out, placing the remote on the coffee table and replacing it with the mug of hot chocolate and the two cookies he’d nabbed.

Patton’s eyes were glued to the screen, captivated almost instantly with the episode. He absently brought the cookie and hot chocolate to his mouth as he watched Steven and Connie battling a bout of snow. Patton chuckled softly at the timing of the episode, glancing outside as he did so.

That’s so funny, it’s snowing here too! Also… I knew this hot chocolate flavor would taste wonderful! It tastes just like candy canes and chocolate had a baby! Don’t want to drink this too fast, though. It’ll be more satisfying if I drink it to savor it, not just gulping it down.

Patton lowered his cup a little, slowing down the flow of hot chocolate. When he was done with the swig hot and heavenly cocoa bean liquid he was taking, he set the cup back down, leaning back into the soft cushions.

The air of the room was so warm and the scent of cookies and hot chocolate that Patton found himself closing his eyes for longer and longer. It wasn’t until Patton’s arm slid off the arm of the couch that Patton jolted back, fully awake and aware. He grabbed for the mug of hot chocolate immediately, half of the liquid still sloshing around in there, having grown almost cold.

“I can’t have hot chocolate without the hot!” Patton mumbled, bringing the cup to his lips to try and wake himself up more. On the TV, Steven yelled out something, causing Patton to turn his attention back to the show. He peered over the rim of his cup to continue to watch the show when...

Thump.

Patton jumped at a small thud in the direction of the door. The veil of drowsiness draped over him almost immediately fled as Patton nearly tossed his hot chocolate all over himself. He managed to not spill it over himself, instead, he corrected the movement, expertly positioning his mug to catch every last drop of hot chocolate.

Patton didn’t celebrate the accomplishment though, chills traveling up his arms and his spine, making him shudder involuntarily. His mind immediately started to race, his mind conjuring up more and more absurd reasons why the thump occurred before a soft laugh escaped his lips.

It’s snowing, the thump was probably some snow falling off the roof, nothing to be concerned about. Breathe.

Patton didn’t follow the breathing exercise this time. His panic hadn’t mounted too much, so a simple and normal deep breath in and out dispelled the chill up his spine. However, it didn’t get rid of the small pit in Patton’s stomach that told him that there could be something wrong and that sound wasn’t just snow.

But Patton ignored it, moving onto his second cookie, the first one placed neatly in Patton’s stomach.

Thump. Thump.

Patton’s heart sank as two more thumps traveled through the living room for the front door of the house.

It’s not snow. Not snow. Not snow!

Patton’s fingers twitched around the cookie in his hand, placing it carefully on the coffee table. Making as little sound as possible, he slowly turned down the volume of the TV. The bite of cookie in Patton’s mouth now felt like a boulder, scraping down his throat when he swallowed. Patton had to swish down another mouthful of hot chocolate to get the harsh feeling to go away.

Patton’s thoughts went back to racing a mile a minute, analyzing everything he had heard so far and eventually all his thoughts came to the same basic conclusion.

He had to check out what the noise was.

Patton slowly extracted himself from the couch, setting his mug down and grabbed the nearest blunt object, just in case, as he passed the coffee table on his route towards the door: a decorative vase covered in cartoon flowers. The flowers in the vase had long since died and been thrown away, so Patton easily wielded it upside down, gripping the bumpy surface like a baseball bat.

Patton approached the door very cautiously, trying to make as little sound with his socked feet as he could on the floor as the surface under Patton’s socks changed from the carpet back to the hard, flat surface of the hardwood floor. The change nearly sent Patton tumbling, the slick hardwood providing less traction than the kitchen tiles.

His crutches could wait for now; he didn’t need them to walk, and they might slow him down in the tighter space of the doorway, so he left them propped up out of the way on the leg of the couch.

Another small shuffle came through the door. Patton gripped the vase harder, but nowhere near enough to crack it. Some part of Patton wanted desperately to run to his room, to hole himself up there and ignore the sound, maybe to call the police in case the sound was someone coming to attack him.

But a louder part of Patton was insisting that Patton see what was making the sound. It could be something harmless, but it could also be something or someone who meant to hurt him.

Everything became suspended in time for a long moment. Patton was at the door, the only thing he needed to do now was open the door, but he paused.

Should I open it? I should! But what if- No! I can’t back down, if it is someone who means me harm, I at least know to look out for something. Calm yourself Patton. In 4…..

Patton’s heart had begun to race, his breathing speeding up, but he wiggled his body a little, trying to get rid of the excess tension. He stilled only when he started the breathing exercise. Patton’s chest expanded languidly, his lungs filling with precious air he had been depriving himself of in his panic.

Hold 7...

Patton fought the urge to breathe out until the count was done, keeping his eye fixed on a point on the doorframe to not remind him of the possible danger waiting outside with a reckless glance.

Out for 8...

Patton’s shoulders relaxed. They dropped down almost to the position they were before, but there was an undercurrent of tension even then weaved into Patton’s slightly chubby frame. A stray strand of hair fell down into Patton’s face from his messy ponytail, and Patton tucked it behind his ear absently, not even registering it beyond tucking it away out of sight.

Patton bounced on the balls of his feet, gazing through the small window above, the snow coming down just the same as at the kitchen window. He brought his hand up to the door knob, snatching it back as he second-guessed himself before slowly bringing his hand back to where it was.

The moment Patton’s left hand hit the cool metal, Patton shivered, hit with the fact that the next moments may count for his life or death.

Patton warred against himself for several moments longer before an impulse swept through him. His hand promptly gripped the knob. He twisted it sharply before swinging the door rapidly open. His left hand went to the vase, primed to strike before his assailant could....

But instead of anything Patton expected, Patton opened the door to find absolutely nothing there, no strange car in the driveway or hooded figure with a gun pointed at his chest. Rather, there was just the silent snow falling to the ground, the cold air blasting Patton in the face as the seal of warmth in the house was broken.

“Mm…”

Patton jumped at the sound of the human groan, nearly shattering the vase in his grip when his hand clenched the vase the tightest he could. Its proximity sent Patton’s heart pumping as he scrambled back from the sound as his gaze trailed down to...

Patton froze. And he didn’t freeze because of the cold temperature.

The reason was… much worse.

On his doorstep, half covered in a thin layer of snow that was slowly melting under the outside porch light, was a child. A child all alone, in the snow, with no coat or protection whatsoever, curled up on Patton’s doorstep.

Patton barely noticed when he dropped the vase in his hands, only hearing it shatter against the floor and the child’s huddled form jolt sluggishly at the sound. Patton’s hand clapped over his mouth, whether to stifle his cry or simply at the sheer sight, even Patton wasn’t sure of the reason he did it himself. Patton’s heart followed suit with the vase, dropping to Patton’s feet and shattering into a million tiny pieces at the image of the child's tiny form, left to the elements in the marginally below freezing weather.

There was only one coherent thought Patton had the sight of the poor child at his feet:

Who would do this to a child?

#somewhere over the rainbow #sotr #patton sanders #child #k's writing #sanders sides #sander sides fic #hot chocolate #cookies #baking #patton is alone #the start of something I hope you'll find beautiful #eventual romantic dlampr #no remrom #chapter 1

24 notes · View notes

atths--twice · 4 years

Link

Chapter Five 5/9

Abandoned Amusement Park New Orleans December 17, 2017 1:00 a.m.

Cera laughed as she took a picture of a guy wearing a large Santa beard and a red baseball cap with mistletoe hanging from the brim, trying to get the girls at the party to kiss him.

They all giggled quietly as they pushed him away, holding onto their headphones and shaking their heads. He tugged at his beard, silently asking if, without the beard, they would change their minds. They shook their heads again, dancing to the music they heard playing in their headphones.

“I really thought the Santa angle would work,” he said to Cera and she laughed again, taking one more picture of his happy bearded face.

“Well, you had to try,” she agreed with a shrug. He nodded as he took off the hat and beard, and put on his black headphones with green rabbit stickers on the sides.

He danced away, joining the group of people also wearing headphones, glow-in-the-dark jewelry, and dancing to music those without headphones could not hear. Cera took a few more pictures before she waved at the DJ and he nodded, silently dancing to the beat of the music he was queuing up.

She looked around the room one last time, proud of the work she and Adam, the DJ, had done earlier: blacking out any light so as not to arouse suspicion of the security guards patrolling the outside area of the abandoned amusement park. The silent rave had been a great idea and she felt happy that she had been the one to suggest it.

Stepping out of the room, she slipped her camera into the pocket of the hoodie, trading it for her low light flashlight. She twisted her hair up and put on her beanie, turned on the flashlight to keep an eye out for alligators. As she continued on toward her post where she would keep an eye out for security and help others get to the party, she looked around with a smile, happy to be in a place that had meant so much to her.

She had been devastated at twelve years old, when Hurricane Katrina hit, not only for the horror it caused her and many others, but also because it forever destroyed the beloved childhood place of fun and escape.

She had mourned for it privately after her endless discussion of it had caused her father to give her a look, one she hated to see. Many times she had wondered what it looked like, left to rot in the Louisiana heat and humidity. Once she was old enough to drive on her own, she had ignored her fears and found a weak spot in the fence. Her heart racing, she had kept looking over her shoulder as she silently walked through the now broken place she had loved as a child.

One time was not enough, and the next time she came, she had brought a digital camera with her, taking pictures of whatever struck her fancy and reminiscing for things that were lost.

When she had told people she had been in the park, they had not understood her desire to be there, calling it creepy and sad. It had been creepy at first, the place quiet, trees growing over the decaying rides and tracks causing her to feel as though the world had ended and she was the lone survivor.

But, the more she went out, the more she had found a strange camaraderie with the sadness held within. Some days she would find a spot and simply sit, thinking about her own time there and the sadness now held within it and the odd happiness it brought her.

“Sad is like happy for deep people,” she would say under her breath, smiling as she took her pictures, quoting a line from one of her favorite episodes of Doctor Who.

Once people learned it was her who had been the one sneaking in, they asked to see her photos, too nervous to venture into the park themselves, not wanting to get caught by the police. She had even sold some of them, remaining anonymous by using the name Sally Sparrow, the character from the episode of Doctor Who, who shared her love for the sad and the broken.

Taking a deep breath of the cold December air, she smiled again as she reached one of her favorite things in the park, both then and now: a statue of a woman known as the “wish statue” by locals. It was a statue of a happy smiling woman wearing Mardi Gras beads and a mask, the feather attached to it, broken long ago. She did not know when it became known as the wish statue, but everyone she knew knew it as such.

Making her wish for the night to continue being one everybody enjoyed, she kept on, nearly to her post as she hummed softly to herself.

“Cera Lee!” She heard someone call quietly, startling her out of her reverie, and she looked up. Devin Smith was walking toward her, a low light flashlight in his hand, a small group of people following him as he smiled at her and she smiled back.

“Devin, how are you?”

“Cera Lee, my favorite Cera Lee, far above THE Sara Lee. And nobody doesn’t like her and her delicious pound cake,” he said with a grin, giving her a hug. “Thank you for making sure all was well for tonight.”

“Of course. You know I love coming out here.”

“That I do. How many times have you been out here?” he asked with a smile.

“How many times in seven years? Hey look, just because I’m Asian, it doesn’t mean I’m good at math, you racist,” she teased and he laughed into his hand, covering the sound as they all knew they had to be quiet. She laughed softly and winked at him.

“Well,” he said with a cough, “I’ll remember not to ask that again.” She laughed and he winked at her, causing her to feel butterflies in her stomach.

“Devin… come on man,” one of the kids said and he looked back at him with a nod. Turning back to Cera, he smiled and saluted before walking away, the small group following him again.

“Bye,” she whispered, putting her flashlight into her pocket and taking out her camera, taking pictures as she watched them walk away.

She smiled as she watched him stop at the wish statue and she caught some more pictures, unable to hear them speaking, but knew he was telling them about making a wish.

One of the boys in the group reached out to touch the statue and a scream pierced the quiet night air. Chills covered her entire body as she watched the boy who had touched the statue, fall to the ground with a heavy thud.

For one second that seemed to last hours, no one moved and then to her complete and utter horror, the wish statue moved and reached an arm out, and the small group around her began to bend toward the ground.

Frozen in place, Cera was unable to scream or call for help. She saw the group on the ground and then screaming filled the air, screams that she could feel throughout her body, her head simultaneously feeling as though it was on fire.

Fighting to remain upright and resist the urge to cover her ears to block out the screams, she watched, her finger unknowingly continuing to press the shutter button on her camera. Then the screaming suddenly stopped and the deafening silence was worse, as she was certain they were all dead.

And then, the statue moved, but was no longer a statue. It looked like an angel, a female angel in a long white flowing dress. Cera gasped and the angel turned her way, apparently hearing her though she was yards away. She began to move towards Cera, silently, as though she was floating.

“Ohhh.” Cera heard in her head, felt it all around her, and saw the angel’s mouth moving.

As she drew closer, Cera’s knees began to fail her. She sunk to the ground, her fingers weakening, lifting from the shutter button, the camera slipping from her hands and falling to the ground with a crash.

“Yes… you will be a wonderful asset,” a lilting, terrifying voice said and Cera started to scream, goosebumps covering her body as she began to shake violently.

The dank scent of earth flooded her senses, as laughter filled the air and she started to cry for her mother. The world went black, and the last sound she heard was the continuous click of the camera shutter.

#XFCase2020 #The X-Files #XF Fanfic #New Case #Amusement Park #Photography #Statues

8 notes · View notes

steebharringt0n · 5 years

Text

snapshots of our lives | b.h x you

Sent away for a work conference, Billy finds himself snowed in at JFK Airport. Itching to be back home for Ava’s first Christmas he meets a mysterious stranger at the bar who might be just be able to solve his Christmas dilemma.

a/n: IT’S OFFICIALLY THE HOLIDAY SEASON AND I CANNOT CONTAIN MYSELF. this story gave me cavities, I’m not even joking, this is by far the fluffiest thing I’ve EVER written. (part 2 of shadows of the night will be posted later today ayy two stories in one day!)

---

You pressed your head against the kitchen wall, twisting the phone cord around your finger. In the background you could hear Christmas music playing, Adam trying his best to help Ava decorate her Christmas cookies but she was more enthralled by all the colorful icing and sprinkles around her.

“No Ava, the sprinkles are for his hat!” you heard him pout. You could only imagine the only helping she was doing was shoving the sprinkles in her mouth.

You twisted your head around, frowning at your oldest child. “Adam, she’s only 8 months old, I don’t think you’re going to get too far with her”

You turned your head back around, trying to keep the conversation quiet.

“No luck huh?”

The other voice on the line sighed heavily, you could only imagine him rubbing his temples in frustration, “I’m sorry baby, I really am, I’m trying everything. This goddamn snowstorm came out of nowhere”

You glanced back at your children, both of them blissfully unaware that their father may not make it home in time for Christmas. You shakily exhaled, trying hard not to cry - you knew it would make it harder on him if you did.

Billy had been sent away to New York for a week for a work conference. He was due to be back on the 24th but New York got pounded by freak snow storm that stopped all flights back to California. So there he was, waiting around at JFK Airport, trying to kill time. His flight was already cancelled and he refused to pay for a hotel. He had some semblance of hope that maybe it would stop snowing and that he’d be able to see his kids and wife, but all of that went out the door when they predicted another foot of snow.

Worst of all, it was Ava’s first Christmas and he hated that he was going to miss her little [Y/E/C] eyes light up at all the toys Santa had bought her. He had already missed Adam’s Christmas recital, which fortunately for him you were able to catch it all on tape. But it still didn’t change the fact that he was thousands miles away from his family.

“I know Billy, it’s okay. I’ll tape everything - “

“It’s not the same Y/N ... I just want to be home, god, fuck this” he angrily muttered. He kicked the bottom pole of the payphone, his hands tightly gripping the phone in his hand.

“I know, I know. We just have to stay positive for the kids, for us. You’ll get home when you’ll get home okay?”

He let out another deep sigh. He felt so useless. “Yeah, I know, you’re right.” he paused, closing his eyes, trying his best to not let his anger get the best of him.

“I love you”

His body instantly relaxed at the sound of those three words. If there was anyone that could get him to calm down, it was you.

“I love you too”

A loud commotion and Ava’s ear-shattering wail suddenly broke your thoughts away from Billy. You looked behind you and saw sprinkles scattered everywhere,

“Ava noo!” Adam whined, hoping off the chair and picking up the now half empty sprinkles container.

“Is that our children causing havoc?” Billy questioned, a slight smile on his face.

“Ah yes, your daughter has a knack for knocking things over - Adam, no, Adam, leave it there, I’ll clean it up - leave your sister in her high chair - no, don’t touch it! Ah, okay, Billy hold on just a sec - “

You placed the phone on the kitchen counter, quickly walking over to the dining room table where Ava had her little hands thrown in the air, her mouth open as she let out piercing screams. Adam took the opportunity to run over to the kitchen, grabbing the phone and pressing it to his ear.

“Dad! When’re coming home?” he excitedly questioned, “I made a drawing at school for Santa. You, momma and Ava are in it, Mrs. Lori said it was the best picture she’d ever seen!” he happily babbled onto the phone.

His mouth spread into a grin as he heard his son’s voice, nothing in the world made him happier than his children.

“I sent the drawing to Santa in the North Pole, I told him that you went away for work and that you’d be coming back soon, right daddy? You’re coming home soon right?”

Billy’s smile dropped, he shuffled his feet nervously, uncertain on how he was going to tell his son that he probably wasn’t going to make it in time for Christmas. “Hey bud, I bet Santa’s going to love your picture, and I uh, I’m working on make it home okay? I’m going to try my very, very, very best to be home soon okay? You be good for momma, don’t forget to brush your teeth tonight”

“I promise I’ll be good for momma. Ava spilled all the Christmas sprinkles, we’re making cookies for Santa. We’re also making your favorite, the ones with the peanut butter” Adam said.

Billy swallowed thickly, trying hard not to let tears build up, “I can’t wait to try them buddy. Is your momma still busy?”

Adam looked behind him - in the last minute you had managed to clean up the mess and soothe Ava who was now happily resting on your lap, a teething ring in her mouth.

“No I don’t think so - “ Adam paused, “Momma! Are you busy?”

You let out a laugh as you walked back into the kitchen, “Say goodnight to your father, you’ll see him soon okay?”

Adam pressed the phone back onto his ear, “I love you daddy, I’ll see you soon”

Billy’s heart lurched, he had never hated snow more than this moment. “I love you too Adam. I’ll see you soon”

Adam then promptly handed the phone back to you, walking back to the dining room table to finish up his Christmas cookies. You carefully balanced the phone on your ear as one of Ava’s hand tugged on your hair.

“Hey, I’m sorry to cut this short, I gotta get them to bed soon” you wistfully told him.

Billy nodded over the other line, he twisted his other wrist to check the time. There was a three hour difference, it was almost 12 AM in New York, but almost 9 PM in California. You had let Adam stay up an hour earlier than usual since tomorrow was Christmas day, but you warned him that if he stayed up past 9 that Santa wouldn’t come because Santa only visits kids who are asleep.

“No, no I understand, I’ll uh, keep you updated if anything changes”

“Okay, I love you Billy”

“Love you too Y/N”

Billy slammed the phone back into the receiver, hanging his head low. He brushed a hand through his hair, walking back towards the gate where his plane was originally supposed to leave. He stared out at the large windows where a blanket of snow covered the runway. He then glanced up the TV monitor right above him, the word CANCELLED flashed brightly in red - as if it were mocking him.

He shook his head, making his way towards the bar that was still luckily open this late. He took a seat on one of the stools, raising his hand to get the attention of the bartender who was cleaning shot glasses. He then asked for some whisky, on the rocks. Alcohol always had a way to help soothe his emotional wounds, and right now he was hurting - bad.

“Alone on Christmas Eve? That doesn’t seem right” said a voice right next to him.

Billy glanced over, a large man with white hair and a white beard sat a couple of stools down. He too had a beer in his hand.

Billy shrugged, swirling around the drink, “My flight got cancelled. My family is in California, it’s my daughter’s first Christmas and I’m going to miss it” his voice was undeniably sad as he took a sip.

The large man nodded at him, “I understand. It’s hard to be away from your family during the holiday season”

Billy let out a dry laugh, “I hate being away from them at all. I uh, never really had the best Christmas’s growing up, but my wife, she’s absolutely amazing, she makes all these Christmas decorations, and my kids, oh man ... “ Billy paused, trying to keep his emotions at bay, his thumb twists his wedding band, “It just sucks you know?”

The man raises his hands, “No, no I totally get it” he then decides to scoot down towards Billy, taking the stool right next to him.

“Name’s Kris by the way” he extends his hand.

Billy glances up at him, he looks oddly familiar, but he takes his hand anyway and gives it a shake, “Billy, or Bill, whatever floats your boat”

“So uh, Billy, tell me more about your family. I’m sure it helps talking about them” Kris said.

Billy takes a large gulp of the whisky before he continues to talk, “I met my wife in high school, she was a quiet little thing. I was a little punk, don’t know how she put up with me, but I’ll forever love her for doing so” he smiles as memories of the two of you back in Hawkins flood his head.

“We had my son about 5 years ago, Adam’s his name, he’s a little clone of me, he’s so incredibly smart and so kind, and Ava is my little one, just 8 months old. She looks everything like my wife, she has the cutest toothless smile that just brightens up anyone’s day” Billy is grinning at this point, his hand continues to swirl the alcohol in the glass.

“I had a really bad childhood growing up ... I had given up on people, I wasn’t a very nice person. But my wife gave me this amazing family, something I never thought I was able to have. She changed my life, my family changed my life” there’s a pregnant pause, “I’d give anything to be with them right now”

He downs the rest of the whisky, trying hard to not let his emotions overtake him. He then turns to Kris, who was just smiling and nodding at him the whole time. Billy gives him a thin smile, “What about you? Do you have a family?”

Kris takes a sip of his beer, shaking his head, “Ah, my family is far away as well, but I’ll see them by the end of tonight. I’m just taking a pit stop”

Billy frowns, “A pit stop? Where you heading to?”

“Ah, so many places”

Billy lets out a snort, “Good luck, you’ll need a Christmas miracle to get out of here”

Kris gives Billy a sly smile, he then signals over to the large window that looked towards the airport runway. “Huh, looks like it stopped snowing ... “

Billy glances behind him and his eyes widen, he places his empty glass down and runs over to the window. There were already workers outside cleaning up the runway. A sudden loud voice comes through the speaker,

“Flight 342 to San Diego International Airport is now on a 3 hour delay. Looks like the snow has stopped for the rest of the night. Please allow our workers to clean the runway. Thank you for your patience”

A wide grin takes over Billy, his heart leaps with joy. He heads back to the bar to pay for his drink and to continue talking to Kris - but he’s nowhere to be found.

Instead he sees a picture sitting on his stool. With shaking fingers he picks it up. It’s a stick drawing of a family, a man with blonde hair, a woman with [Y/H/C] hair, a little boy and a little baby. His name, your name and Adam and Ava are written right above the stick figures. He flips the picture over, the name Adam Hargrove is written at the top. His eyes prick with tears as he reads the messily written letter,

Dear Santa,

Please bring my daddy home for Christmas. I miss him very much. I have been a good boy, I eat all my vegetables and brush my teeth every night.

Love Adam Hargrove

A sob escapes Billy’s lips as tears hit the picture. He looks around for Kris, but he’s nowhere to be found. His mind can’t wrap around the fact at what just happened, hell, it doesn’t make a lick of sense to him. He wipes his tears, taking a deep breath to recompose himself. He calls over the bartender,

“Hey! Did you happen to see a large man with white beard and white hair sitting here?”

The bartender shrugs, “No sir, it’s just been you this whole time”

Billy shakes his head, “There’s no way ... it can’t be ... “ he mutters to himself. He glances back down at Adam’s drawing, folding it up neatly and placing it in his coat pocket. He pulls out his wallet and puts down a 10 dollar bill. He tells the bartender to keep the change.

He walks over back to his gate, taking a seat. His mind still can’t believe what has just happened, and he still can’t believe that he’s actually heading home. He decides not to call you and tell you the good news, he wants to surprise the 3 of you.

As soon as he lands back down in San Diego, he hails down the first cab he sees.

It’s almost 8 AM when he finally arrives home. He promptly grabs his luggage from the trunk of the cab and walks up to his porch. He’s so excited he almost can’t contain himself. Grabbing the keys from his pocket, he unlocks his front door, opening it ever so carefully so that he can creep inside.

Instantly he’s hit with the smell of the peanut butter cookies Adam promised him. Christmas music is quietly playing in the background, he walks towards the living room where the tree is. He can hear chattering voices as he gets closer. He pokes his head in, a hundred watt smile on his face.

You and Adam have your back towards him, rummaging around through the presents under the tree. But Ava, all dressed up in her Christmas onesie, immediately notices her father. She babbles happily, clapping her hands as she reaches towards him,

“Da ... da!” she exclaims, her eyes wide and bright.

You turn your attention towards her, still not noticing Billy’s presence, “Ava, did you just say Dada?”

She reaches up for him again, and this time you finally look behind you and you let out a loud gasp.

“Oh my god! Billy!”

You jump up from the floor, throwing yourself into his arms. He welcomes your embrace, holding you tightly. You plant kisses all over his face as Adam leaps for joy, running towards his father and hugging his leg.

“Dad! Dad! You’re home!”

Billy has one arm tightly holding you, while the other is placed behind Adam’s head. You pull away from him, staring at him incredulously. Your mind still can’t process the fact that he actually made it in time for Christmas.

“I - I heard it was supposed to snow like crazy! What happened?!”

Billy shrugs, “I don’t know! It just stopped snowing! The craziest thing happened, you’ll never believe it”

You and Adam watch as Billy pulls out a piece of paper from his coat, he unravels it and holds it out towards the both of you. Your eyes widen, then your jaw proceeds to drop.

“Hey! That’s my drawing!” Adam exclaims.

Billy crouches down to Adam’s height, “I know bud, I think Santa gave it to me”

Adam’s blue eyes become wide, a small gasp escapes his mouth, “You met Santa?” he whispers like it’s a secret.

“I did, he helped me get home”

You pick up Ava who had been fussing the whole time to be picked up by her father. You hand her over to Billy, who then proceeds to give him sloppy kisses all over his face. She babbles excitedly at him, her little hands resting on his cheek.

Tears prick at your eyes, your heart swells at the sight of your husband and children. The rest of the day is spent opening presents, eating Christmas cookies and watching Christmas movies. Billy later explained to you about the mysterious man he met at the airport bar, still to this day you can’t believe how he was able to make it back home.

The both of you chalked it up as a Christmas miracle, and Christmas season at the Hargrove household became that more special to the four of you.

#Billy Hargrove #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove fanfiction

151 notes · View notes

puckinginsane · 4 years

Text

I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa

Jamie Benn Christmas one shot

I finally get my six year old son to fall asleep and sneak out of his room, stealthy like a ninja. The older he gets, the more aware he is of things. And the more aware of things he is, the more he wants to stay up to try to see Santa. It doesn’t matter that I tell him that not only is Santa way too fast for him, it would change Christmas forever if he did. Of course he doesn’t buy it. He’s smart. He brings up Santa at the mall, he can see him just fine. He loves Christmas and absolutely adores Santa. He’s like his father that way. My husband is a big lover of Christmas so it’s only appropriate that our son follow in his footsteps. They’re like each other in just about every way anyway.

I walk into my living room to start the process of setting up for Christmas morning, expecting to see a pile of presents that are in need of organizing, but instead all I see is my husband dressed head to toe as Santa. He’s got the hat, jacket, pants, boots, beard, the whole outfit. I laugh and shake my head even though this is not surprising whatsoever. “You’ve got to be hot in that.”

“Ho, ho, ho. It’s all I ever wear. I’m used to it.”

I grab the plate of cookies that we prepared for Santa and hand it to him. “I believe these are yours, Santa Benn.”

His eyes crinkle as he smiles, dimples peeking out from behind the fake beard. “Work first, treats after, Mrs. Benn.” He puts the plate down on the coffee table and places a Mrs. Claus bonnet on my head. “Took him a while to fall asleep, eh?”

“Yeah, he was way too excited.”

“I can’t say I blame him. It’s Christmas.”

I wrap my arms around him, which isn’t as easy as it usually is due to the pillow under his shirt, completing the effect. “Mhmm. My two Christmas boys.” I look around the room and sigh. “We have a lot to do. I thought we said it would be a smaller Christmas this year.”

“You said. I never agreed.” He starts playing his Christmas playlist.

Jamie made it a little easier on me by bringing most of the presents into the living room from their various hiding spots while I was putting our son to bed. I still have a few that I had hidden that I need to get but I can’t seem to tear myself away. I watch him as he hums and whistles along with the music while he starts to place presents under the tree. He smiles when he catches me watching him and he blushes, making his cheeks rosy just like Santa. No matter how much time passes I always seem to find ways to make him blush and he never stops finding new ways to make me fall more and more in love with him.

Some presents you just can’t disguise, like the new hockey stick “Santa” got Jackson. Jamie insisted he wrap it instead of letting me try to find a box it might fit in. He laughs as he tries to stand it up against the tree and it keeps falling over. “Jamie, if he wakes up...”

“Relax, I got this.” He settles for leaning it up against the fireplace frame, then picks up a box out of the pile and reads the label. “To you from Santa. Looks like you were on the nice list this year. Don’t know how you pulled that off.”

“I happen to be sleeping with Santa so…”

“If that were true he’d know you belong on the naughty list.” He smirks, fighting like hell not to full on smile.

“Same goes for you, Santa, and I have some presents with your name on them too.”

“I am a very good boy.”

I laugh. “Liar.”

He begins to sing along with the music as he continues to grab presents from our seemingly never ending pile. “I saw mommy kissing Santa Claus…” He looks at me and smiles.

“Underneath the mistletoe last night,” I finish the lyrics and point above him at the mistletoe we have hanging. I don’t know if he’s standing there on purpose or not, but it’s perfect. I place my hands on his chest and realize he has huge red suspenders that are keeping his Santa pants up. I grab onto them as I kiss him. He smiles in the kiss and kisses me back. I could get drunk on kissing him. “We are never going to get done.”

He rests his forehead against mine. “Well worth it, I’d say.”

I pat his chest. “Come on, Santa, let’s finish this so we can go to bed.”

Present by present we get Christmas set up for the morning. Most of them are for Jackson and honestly I would be perfectly fine if all of them were for him, although I do love buying things I know Jamie will love. There’s just nothing like the look on your child’s face on Christmas morning. He had a pretty interesting list for Santa and we did get him most of what was on there, along with a bunch of things that he didn’t even think of. I can’t wait until the morning.

We sit on the couch and admire our handiwork. This might be the best Christmas yet. Jamie takes the fake beard off and places it on the coffee table while he picks up the plate of cookies. “I believe we have earned these,” he says as he holds the plate in front of me.

I take two cookies and just as I am about to take a bite I realize we are missing something to go with these cookies. “Wait, don’t eat that. I’m going to get us each a glass of milk.”

“That is a great idea. What was I thinking?” He picks up a baby carrot that we left for Santa’s reindeer. “Do you think Rudolph would mind?”

“I say go for it and see what happens.” I wink at him.

He eats his carrot and I go get us some milk to go with our cookies. I come back in and place the glasses down on the table. He watches me as I sit down and wraps his arm around my back as soon as I get settled in on the couch. We both put our feet up on the table and enjoy our milk and cookies. I dunk my chocolate chip cookie in the milk and get it nice and soggy before sinking my teeth into it. I make a yummy noise before going in for another dunk. There’s nothing quite like milk and cookies to close out the build up to Christmas, the day I put so much pressure on myself to make as perfect as I can for the two most important guys in my life. I can finally relax. There’s nothing more to do other than sit back and watch them enjoy their favorite holiday.

"The house looks great, my love," he gushes before kissing my temple. "You always find a way to make it extra special."

"Knowing how happy it makes you is worth it."

He smiles. That smile is my whole world. I'd do anything to keep him smiling. It lights up my life every single time. "You make me the most happy."

"Back at ya, Santa."

He giggles, which makes my heart burst. I live to make him laugh. "Looks like we forgot to put the stockings up." He points to the fireplace.

I look at the mantle with the empty stocking hooks. "You're right. I'll go get them."

He starts to stand up. "No, stay here, I'll do it."

I place my hand on his chest to stop him from getting up and he sits back down. "Let me." He opens his mouth to protest and I stop him with a kiss. "I got it."

I get the box of stockings from the closet in one of our spare rooms and walk back to the fireplace to start hanging them. One by one I hang the stockings. Daddy, Mommy, Jackson, and one more new stocking. I take the hook out of the box and place it next to Jackson's stocking then hang up the little stocking next to it.

"What is that one?" Jamie asks, curious, unaware that we're going to be adding another member to the family.

"Why don't you come see?" I can hardly contain my excitement. As soon as I found out I was pregnant a few weeks ago I knew that I'd have to use Christmas to tell him. There was no other option. Keeping it all to myself has been the hardest thing I've ever had to do.

He stands next to me with his hand on my back and lifts the stocking towards him so he can see it better. "Baby Benn," he reads out loud, then looks at me with wide eyes. "Does this mean? Are you? Are we?"

"Mhmm. I'm pregnant."

“Oh my god, you’re pregnant! We’re going to have another baby!” He wraps me up in a hug and rocks me back and forth. He kisses me like our lives depend on it, pulls away, rests his forehead against mine with the biggest smile on his face, and kisses me again. “I am so happy.”

His misty eyes make me lose it and tears roll down my cheeks. “I am too.”

He places his hands on my stomach, drops to his knees and kisses my temporarily nonexistent belly. I comb my fingers through his hair and he looks up at me.. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Jamie, so much. I couldn’t wait to tell you.”

He stands up and rubs his thumb up and down the stocking. “It’s perfect.” He holds my face in his hands and kisses me tenderly, but passionately.

"Mommy, what are you doing?" I look around Jamie to see Jackson standing there, clutching his favorite teddy bear. The panic in his voice and on his face tells me he's horrified that I seem to be cheating on his dad with Santa Claus.

Apparently Jamie senses the same thing because he quickly turns around. "It's just me in my Santa suit, Jack."

Jackson lets out a huge sigh of relief. "Oh, ok, I feel better." He looks at the tree with all of the presents underneath. "Oh no. I missed him." He rubs the sleep from his eyes, and he’s still a bit groggy.

I laugh. "I told you he's too fast for you."

We walk over to the couch and sit down. Jamie pulls Jackson into his lap and hugs onto him. "You should be sleeping, little man."

Jackson sinks into Jamie and rests his head on his shoulder, hugging him back. "I can't sleep. I'm too excited." He studies my face. "Are you crying, mommy?"

I wipe the tears from my eyes. "Only happy tears, baby."

"Oh. For what?"

Jamie and I exchange glances, silently asking each other if we should tell him now. It's as good of a time as any, I suppose. Jamie feels the same way and we nod approvingly at the same time. "Are you ready to be a big brother?" Jamie asks, his voice cracking a bit.

"Can we get a puppy instead?"

Jamie and I belly laugh. "Maybe next year."

#jamie benn #one shot #fan fiction #hockey fan fiction #puckingwrites #jamie benn fan fiction

94 notes · View notes

mythicalsecretsanta · 4 years

Text

Brew Me A Kiss (T)

This gift is for: Esi (AKA @galacticnocturne) I hope this fills you with Holiday Cheer. From your Secret Santa, Em (AKA @soho-x)

Read below:

“And they always have live musicians playing really good music. Like really good music. None of that Starbucks Kenny G bullshit.” Gregg was waxing poetic about his new favorite coffee place again. It was a little off the beaten path, too far from campus to be convenient, which was one of the reasons why Link kept avoiding it.

“I dunno man, I think our ideas of good music might be a little different.” Link rolled his eyes. This was the third time Gregg had tried to convince him to go to this magical dreamworld. He wasn’t sure why he was so insistent upon it, other than the fact that Gregg loved to be the one to introduce his friends to new places, people or concepts. It was like a badge of honor for him. The dude was basically few selfies away from becoming an Instagram influencer.

“Well, the other day when I was there some dude with an acoustic guitar was playing a Merle Haggard song, so?”

Okay, so maybe that caught Link’s attention. His ear perked up. “Wait, Merle?”

“Yeah man! I’m telling you! It’s awesome! Just come with me tomorrow. Or we could go right now. I’d be down for another cup of coffee.” He grabbed his jacket from the hook on the back of their dorm room door.

Link rolled his eyes again. Honestly, he wouldn’t mind a cup either, but quite frankly, he’d be just as happy with his nitro cold brew with oat milk right from the big green mermaid herself. He wasn’t afraid of coming off as some yuppie. Trendy coffee joints with their reused mason jars and gluten-free quinoa or whatever were just not his scene.

Gregg must have seen the skepticism on his face because he persisted one more time. “I forgot to tell you the best part!”

“Better than the chocolate chip cookies?” Link teased.

“Yeah! I mean, fuck, they’re good. But yes. Better.”

Link sighed, exasperated. “Okay, let’s hear it.”

“Okay! So, there’s this super hot barista who can guess your drink order just by looking at you, and by asking you about your favorite song.” The glee on his face made Link want to die. He was such a nerd. “He’s like a walking Buzzfeed quiz!”

“Okay, now you’re just fucking with me, asshole.” Link pushed his hand through his shaggy black hair. He knew Gregg was never going to drop this until he sucked it up and indulged him. “Let’s go see this mythical man and his coffee divination skills.”

—

Link was already regretting his decision as they waited in the line that had to be at least seven people deep. He hadn’t bothered to count, because then he’d have to lift his face up and risk locking eyes with the hot barista.

He was the same hot guy from Link’s creative writing class. The one that wrote poems about the desert and relearning how to feel. He was the same one that frequently popped up in Link’s dreams at night, causing him to wake up, out of breath, sweating, stuck to his sheets.

They were two people from the front of the line when Gregg wandered off, looking at art displayed on one of the walls. He was on the verge of thinking up an excuse to sneak out when the impossibly tall, golden-haired barista called out to him. “Link! Hey man! What brings you in?” A smile bloomed over his face, crinkling the corners of his green eyes. Link could’ve sworn the room got a little brighter, even in the soft golden glow of the evening light from the windows.

“Oh, uh. Coffee?” Link shifted from one foot to the other, swallowing hard.

Rhett laughed. “Right! Coffee, of course.” Rhett ducked his head shyly just as Gregg bounced back up to his place beside Link.

“Ahh, Rhett! I have brought you another patron seeking your psychic prowess!”

Rhett rolled his eyes, grinning at them both. “I see! So you’ve heard the grand tales of my dazzling clairvoyance and you’ve decided to test them yourself?”

Link felt his mouth quirk into a crooked smile despite himself. “Yes, I’m here to be dazzled.”

Rhett’s smile alone was doing the job, but Link wasn’t about to say that out loud. “You don’t sound convinced.”

“Link’s always been a skeptic.” Gregg shoved his arm playfully.

“There’s no way you’re gonna guess my drink order just by asking me about the songs I like. No. Way.”

Rhett’s grin turned mischievous as he stared Link down, refusing to release his gaze. “Oh? Well how about I do you one better?” Link shuddered at the way his voice dropped lower, caressing the words. ”I bet I can guess your drink order and your favorite song.”

Link huffed a laugh. “Okay, that would be real impressive. Let’s see it.”

“What are we wagerin’?” Rhett leaned forward over the bar between them, leaning down on his forearms so that he was looking up at Link, their faces were way closer than strictly necessary. Link felt his face burning.

“What did you have in mind?”

“Well, if I get it wrong, your whole order is on me.”

“And what do I have to give you if you get it right?”

Rhett grinned deliciously, “If I get it right, you have to give me your phone number. Deal?”

Link’s glasses started to fog up because of the heat radiating off of his face. He pulled them off, cleaning them on his shirt. He felt his smile growing even bigger. “Okay, deal.”

Rhett spun around and immediately set to work, grabbing a plastic cup and filling it from their cold brew pitcher over just a touch of ice. Okay, so that was a lucky guess, Link thought to himself. Then he reached into the little mini fridge under the bar and pulled out a carton of oat milk with a flourish. Link felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

“How…?” He gaped at Rhett, who pumped in just a touch of liquid sugar before setting the whole thing under a tap system.

Rhett looked over at Link, locking eyes with him again. “Magic!” He stage whispered, grinning as he pulled the silver lever, and Link’s drink fizzled with bubbles.

Link stood, totally dumbfounded, watching as Rhett grabbed a sharpie, writing what felt like a whole paragraph on the backside of the cup before setting it in front of Link, written side still facing Rhett, away from his view.

Rhett placed both hands on the countertop, face level with Link’s. “You ready?”

Link looked over to the side, if for no other reason than to break the overwhelmingly intense eye contact between them. Gregg had wandered off again, which was honestly for the best. His face was already warm enough, just having to face Rhett one on one. He nodded and reached for the cup.

The backside read:

I’d been better off if I’d turned away And never looked at you the second time ‘Cause I really had my life all together till your eyes met mine.

Link gasped, stunned. His hand trembled slightly and Rhett carefully reached up, grabbing the drink from Link’s hand and setting it safely on the countertop.

—

“Okay, but how did you know my drink order and my favorite song?”

They were lying together on the couch in Link and Gregg’s dorm room, Link’s head pillowed against Rhett’s chest.

“It’s been two weeks and you still haven’t figured it out?” Rhett chuckled, fingers carding through the dark locks along the side of Link’s head, occasionally ghosting his fingernails along the soft skin tucked behind Link’s ear. “I asked Gregg! I’ve had a crush on you since the beginning of the semester. He and I were pretty tight last year in drafting class, and I remembered that he was your roommate. I asked him to lure you away from Starbucks so that I could woo you.” He planted a soft kiss to Link’s forehead.

Link grinned into Rhett’s chest, fingers tangling into his soft sweater. “Did you just say woo? You were going to try to woo me?”

Rhett chuckled and the way it rumbled through his chest felt like magic against Link’s cheek.

“It worked, didn’t it?” He held Link even closer, arms tightening around his shoulders as if to never let him go. Link hoped he wouldn’t. He wanted to stay in this moment forever. ”I used my coffee magic to get you here, right where I want you.”

“You’re right. I am wooed.” Link grinned, pressing tiny kisses to Rhett’s neck, right below where his beard stopped.

“You know, we don’t even sell oat milk normally. I had to buy that and hide it in the mini-fridge just for you.”

#mythical secret santa 2019 #type: fic #rating: T #gift swap #rhink #submission

26 notes · View notes

paintingwithdarkness · 4 years

Note

23 and Bluepulse for the Christmas prompt list, if that ok.

Sleigh Ride

Jaime felt his fiancé shiver against him and huddle closer to his side as they continued walking down the snow laden path. He had his arm wrapped around Bart’s waist, and there was a huge, thick winter jacket draped over both of their shoulders in an attempt to block the windchill and cold from the snow falling down around them. It had been Bart’s idea to go for a walk through the park nearest their apartment earlier in the evening, so that they could see the Christmas lights and decorations. Neither of them had anticipated getting caught in the snow.

Jaime was only wearing his usual jeans and hoodie combo in addition to the jacket they’d brought to share. Fortunately, the bugsuit was insulated and Khaji Da could control the temperature based on Jaime’s bodily needs, so he didn’t have to worry about being cold. The armor was easily concealed underneath his clothing, so he could still appear as a “normal” civilian.

Bart, on the other hand, was not as lucky. He’d thrown on a sweater, knowing it was going to be colder than usual outside, and his customary raglan would not cut it. Faded jeans and sneakers covered his legs and feet. Despite his heightened metabolism, and the fact that he could quite literally vibrate to keep warm, Bart was still feeling the effects of Jack Frost’s storm. He couldn’t vibrate at a fast enough frequency to get himself truly warm without drawing the attention of unsuspecting passersby, and he and Jaime had made promises to each other not to use their powers out of costume, anyway. The best he could manage was huddling closer to his fiancé’s warm side, and wrapping their coat tighter around his own frame, to block out the chill.

Jaime dropped a kiss into Bart’s snow blown auburn locks, and rubbed a hand up the younger man’s sweater-covered arm. “It’s getting late. Want to head back home? I can make hot chocolate.”

Bart leaned his head on Jaime’s shoulder, causing the taller of the two to shiver for himself when the icy flakes caught in Bart’s hair began melting against his otherwise warm neck. “The lights just went on, and we haven’t even seen the tree yet.” The speedster groped in the space between them, searching for Jaime’s hand so that he could link their cold fingers together.

“You’re shaking like a leaf, Amor.” Jaime used their newly linked hands to drag the smaller man in front of him. True to his word, Bart was trembling hard. Jaime would have gone in for a kiss, worried for the shade of blue his fiancé’s lips were beginning to take on, but had to restrain himself in fear of having his tongue bit off by Bart’s chattering teeth.

A smirk worked its way onto the speedster’s face. “Baby, it’s cold outside.”

Jaime rolled his eyes. Having dated Bart as long as he had, he should have expected his husband-to-be’s cheesy lyrical response.

“Uh huh, and Jack Frost is nipping at your nose,” he quipped back, settling for a quick peck to the named feature.

Bart let out a giggle.

“It’s too cold out here,” Jaime tried to convince his stubborn fiancé, “You’re starting to turn blue.”

Bart kept up the banter. “You’re Blue. I’m Bart.”

The older man shook his head. “Seriamente, Cariño. Neither of us are dressed right for this kind of weather. Khaji says we’re going to get frostbite if we’re out here for too much longer.” Jaime shrugged his half of the jacket off of his shoulders and wrapped the entire thing around his trembling beau.

Bart pouted, disappointed that they would not be able to stay out longer to admire the twinkling lights that had been strung up in the trees, and the plastic candy canes that had been planted along the footpaths. He was especially put out that they had not had the time to gawk at the fifty foot tree that had been erected in the middle of the park and decorated in the holiday spirit. Since coming to the past, and actually getting to celebrate holidays (no one had kept track of dates in the future, nor had the supplies to host a proper celebration), Bart had taken a special liking to Christmas. Every year, he enjoyed spending time with his family and boyfriend, and his boyfriend’s family, and completing the long list of holiday rituals. Going out around town to look at the decorations had always been one of his favorites.

Jaime wrapped his arm around Bart’s waist again and continued to guide him down the snowy trail. It was getting darker, which meant it was getting colder, which meant they needed to be getting home. Even with his temperature-controlled suit on underneath his civilian clothes, Jaime was feeling the sting of the frosty air on his face and hands, which were slowly starting to go numb. He could only imagine what his fiancé felt like. Despite the rush however, Jaime had to admit, he was enjoying looking at the lights almost as much as Bart. Christmas was his favorite holiday, too.

“Oh! Jaime!” Bart was pointing across the park at something Jaime couldn’t quite make out.

He squinted to see. Nestled between two trees was a huge sleigh, adorned by two horses. A man, dressed up in complete Santa paraphernalia was holding the reins and gently stroking the snout of the horse closest to him. A sign standing next to the sleigh was advertising rides for five dollars a passenger.

“Can we go? Please?” Bart looked up at Jaime with round, pleading, puppy dog eyes.

Immediately the older man caved. “Okay, but we have to go home after. The snow is really starting to come down.”

Bart let out a cheer and kissed Jaime’s cold cheek with his equally cold lips. Eagerly, he grabbed onto the older man’s wrist and dragged him across the park to meet the Santa doppelgänger.

“Evening, gentlemen!” The bearded man greeted upon seeing the couple approach.

“Good evening,” Jaime returned. He dug into his wallet and pulled out two fives, handing them to Santa. “Two of us for a sleigh ride, please.”

The man nodded. “Hop on in,” he encouraged.

Jaime took Bart’s hand and helped his shorter fiancé step up into the sleigh before following behind. As Jaime sat down, he admired the soft, red velvet cushioning on the bench and interior and the sleek oak floor his and Bart’s sneakers were now squeaking against. The auburn-haired speedster tucked against his side, lacing their fingers together and resting his head on Jaime’s shoulder. Jaime smiled as he gently laid his head on top of Bart’s.

The sleigh-driver climbed up onto a bench attached to the very front of the sleigh and gave a gentle slap to the horses’ flanks with the reins, causing them to lurch forward. Bart giggled in joy, and Jaime felt a smile curving his lips in response. He was glad his lover seemed to be enjoying himself.

It only took a minute for the horses to reach a steady trot, tugging the sleigh along behind them over the fresh snow. Despite the fact that the frozen flakes had only just started falling, there had been enough snow over the past few days that a thick enough layer had built up on the ground and the sleigh was able to glide smoothly. The Santa doppelgänger looked over his shoulder at Bart and Jaime and smiled.

“It warms my heart to see young people like you gentlemen so in love. It reminds me of when my wife and I used to be your age.”

When Jaime got a good look at the man, he noticed that the white beard clinging to his chin was in fact the real deal and not a fake as he had first thought.

“My Sarah’s passed on though, and I know she’s in a better place. These sleigh rides- we used to go on one every year around Christmas. I always loved watching her eyes light up with excitement because of all the Christmas lights and decorations. It was my favorite part about the holiday. Giving these rides to people like you makes me feel connected to her. I can almost imagine my Sarah sitting here right on this bench next to me...” the old man patted the seat beside him, a nostalgic look overtaking his face.

It was gone as soon as it appeared. “But surely you young lads don’t want to hear about this old Santa’s love life. Tell me your story. Newly weds? Boyfriends? How long have you two been together?”

Bart smiled proudly, squeezing Jaime’s hand. “Seven years!” He exclaimed. “Our wedding is set for February.”

‘February 28th to be exact,’ Jaime thought. ‘Ten years since Bart crashed into this timeline and changed my life forever.’

The old man smiled kindly. “Engaged! Congratulations!”

A blush bloomed on each of the young men’s faces.

“Thank you, Sir,” Jaime managed to get out.

Santa continued on. Jaime could tell he was genuinely invested in all that they had to tell him.

“Which one of you fellas was the lucky guy? Who proposed?”

Jaime felt Bart’s hand gently slip from his own so that he could show off his engagement ring. Jaime had had the gold band set with seven small rubies; one for each year they had been together. Along the inside of the band, Jaime had inscribed ‘You Set Me Free’. Bart was the one who had saved him from the Reach, and Jaime owed him his life. If that meant showing him the love he deserved and giving him everything he could possibly dream for, Jaime was ready to accept the role. He loved every fiber of Bart, and the speedster meant everything to him.

“Lucky indeed!” The old man whistled as he admired Bart’s ring. “February, huh? That’s coming up fast! I wish you both the best.”

Bart and Jaime both smiled. “Thank you.”

The ride continued on rather peacefully. Bart settled back against Jaime again, tucking their sides close together and holding his hand, quiet for once. When Jaime looked over at his fiancé, he couldn’t help feeling breathless, because Bart was breathtaking.

The snow was falling much more gently now than it had been before the ride, and crystalline flakes of ice were getting caught in and shining in Bart’s hair. His cheeks and nose were flushed from the cold, and he looked adorable drowning in the much too big winter jacket wrapped around him. But the most beautiful thing was his eyes. Bart’s jade eyes were luminous, glowing with the light of the many strands of Christmas bulbs strung up in the trees around them. Jaime could see warmth and joy and awe all reflected back at him, as Bart took in the Winter Wonderland around them. And then they turned on him.

All Jaime could see reflected in his eyes now was love.

“Merry Christmas, Babe,” Bart said to him, tenderly. The speedster leaned in towards Jaime’s lips, seeking a kiss.

“Feliz Navidad, Cariño,” Jaime replied before their lips collided. And in that moment, he knew there was no other place he’d rather be.

Merry Christmas @photographykomiko! Hope you enjoy your Drabble and have a happy rest of your year!

#young justice #bart allen #jaime reyes #blue beetle #kid flash #flash #bluepulse #yj #christmas #merry christmas

15 notes · View notes

masqueradelydia · 5 years

Text

Adjustment to Personhood

I wrote a small introduction piece for my Sides AU, and I’m still figuring out a name for it. This is an art blog, but since I started posting some of my creative stuff for this AU here, I figured I might follow suit with this. Here are the drawings I started with for this concept if you want to see them:

https://masqueradelydia.tumblr.com/post/186613049831/i-had-a-concept-in-mind-for-a-sanders-sides-au

https://masqueradelydia.tumblr.com/post/186637156928/here-are-the-other-two-sides-to-go-along-with-the

Summary: An overview of the Sides in this Alternate Universe. After taking on their own bodies and entering the world with Thomas’s blessing, they take on a slice of life with their own devices.

Characters: Roman Sanders, Logan Sanders, Virgil Sanders, Deceit Sanders, Remus Sanders (All of their last names are different), Character Thomas (Mentioned)

Warnings: None

Ships: N/A

Words: 1513

A/N: I’m considering making another part to this that would further elaborate from the point I left off.

The adjustment to a rather groundbreaking change can be a different sort of process for everyone involved. You could ask any of these six gentlemen about it and they’d be more than happy to elaborate on their new presence, outside of the Mindscape and into their own senses of what it’s like to be irrevocably responsible for their own bodies, and their own seizing of what their crafted existences would bring them. Taking the chance to alter their faces to become less than identical with their host in the Mindscape was practically instantaneous, and of course provided a solid foundation for their own preparation in what was to come next.

Logan, with his sacred view of appreciating the sheer magnitude of it all, was quick to take his taller frame and longer, sharper face to his newfound scientific community that accepted his mistakes as just mistakes and treated him with dignity. They did not over-criticize him and thought things through logically, while providing him a clear ground to explore his own interests and bond with him over their shared ones. They didn’t pry at him and force him to pretend to be more affectionate than he wanted to be and allowed him the necessity of taking the pressure off of himself to be the only logical person in the room. His enthusiasm to accept their welcome resulted in needing only a few days to plan his moving away from the other Sides and bid them all a cheerful goodbye.

Roman’s bursting out from Patton’s restraints on his greater ambitions manifested in a near shriek of joy as he puffed out his chest and wished the others good fortune in their own quests of life before sending himself like a bullet to New York City to become the Broadway performer he had wanted to rebel for so long to be. His chiseled face and bolstered frame complete with broad shoulders had hardly greeted them at all after he had acquired his own body, and just like that, he had bid them farewell.

Virgil and Patton had taken a little bit of time to register everything, not wanting to solidify a path just yet. This resulted in Virgil spending a good few nights in his room reflecting on his thoughts upon being acknowledged by strangers on a near daily basis. It wasn’t as difficult as he had anticipated to get used to it, and after spending a few weeks doing the bookkeeping for the local music shop by his and Patton’s apartment, he’d fallen into quite the enthused discussions regarding today’s changing scene for his favorite music genres. Three weeks after his first day there, he’d gone to his first real concert without Thomas, and was accompanied by his new friends he’d grown quite a liking to.

Patton’s disappointment from losing his unit of the other three and familial authority, even if only in the nominal sense, had been temporarily pushed aside as he made small talk and such with the neighbors living above himself and Virgil, although he could feel it building up in the back of his throat and the palms of his hands, until he at last expressed this distress to Virgil.

Despite Virgil’s insistence on the four reuniting to soothe Patton’s spirit, no attempts at politely asking nor his attempts to recreate his Tempest Tongue for Roman’s amusement had convinced Logan and Roman to return. Logan did, however, assure him that he would visit them when he had the time considering that he had kept up with Virgil on a frequent basis and enjoyed his company.

Now, while Virgil was encouraging Patton to volunteer at the animal shelter and make a new sort of “family” here, it may seem curious to leave out the other things affecting Patton and the quick leave that Deceit and Remus had taken after acquiring their own physical forms, so I shall delay these things no longer.

Patton, unlike Virgil, had not chosen to sharpen his chin and elongate his face, or give himself hooded eyes and get gauges in his ears. Patton, choosing to continue his perhaps misguided role of exemplifying empathy, had taken on a face of an unrecognizable collage of features, with a poignant speech about loving these features when “No one else will,” and had miscalculated the offhand comments he’d get about fixing his crooked nose, getting his teeth straightened, about his hair being too frizzy and frayed out, his freckles, and the vaguely heart-shaped birthmark on his chin that sat underneath a rather bushy beard. Someone like you or I may ask, “Wouldn’t he have seen this coming?” but Patton did not suddenly break out of his rather simplistic mindset that all good people in the world would also be kind to him at all times, just because he’d received the gift of his own body.

Do not worry about him, though. After a rough few months, his little world seemed to ease up on him and he found his place in it well enough with open-hearted company that would probably make both of us a little bit sick, along with keeping Virgil in his circle.

Deceit and Remus did not have the same luxury of being close to Patton, or any of the other Sides upon entering their personhood. Patton had assured them that they would be better on their own, not wanting to see the manifestation of something he disliked in Thomas so much anymore. Deceit wasn’t feeling any sudden sentiment bubbling up in him that would’ve encouraged any argument to this point. Deceit, finding his world less insistent on black-and-white thinking, took his newfound personhood by the helm of its neck, having found a keen interest in law. He went back to school to pursue this and imagined that someone with such a gaudy facial tattoo along his almost skeletal face and sunken cheeks, and a lip piercing, such as himself would defy a few common stereotypes of what an attorney looks like. All the more shocking when he won his cases, far off from that self-righteous presence telling him this and that, leaving him with a sour taste of candy sprinkled with unwanted puns in his mouth. As for his name, he’d found Gabriel to be a suitably ironic name for his own reasons, and adopted it accordingly.

Logan Jones, Virgil Addams, Roman Lancer, and Gabriel Wright may all sound like silly surnames attached to first names that you’re already familiar with, because they are, but perhaps a lack of experience left all of their owners with the same small piece of un-self-conscious enthusiasm towards life, usually only seen in small children in great amounts, and their surnames had taken the brunt of its presence in these characters.

The last person to enter new personhood had been kept at a greater length than he’d expected from Gabriel, whose career left no room for time for him. He would have loved to tell you about undergone new adventures and how deliciously sweet his new life in stand-up comedy had tasted if that were the truth. Even he, as much as he barreled face-first into everything, could not escape the unsavory effects of his fitting in just barely enough to exist during his life in the Mindscape.

Remus Morgan did not have the sheer joy of sharing Roman’s time, projecting his skills and developing them along with Thomas on the stage, receiving engaged and even receptive feedback regarding his drawings, being spoken to like an improving, or even developing Side of Thomas, being given enough attention to inadvertently learn enough about people to operate alongside them as would be expected from someone past mid-childhood.

Remus Morgan, now with scruff on his chin, hair grown out with more grey in it, sunken eyes and a stained and torn green bomber jacket, perhaps resembling that of the bar janitor down the street who had done a few creative works of his own, did not account for the navigation of personhood as he’d honed his awareness of the silly and gory corners of the world, and the unused potential in Thomas’s mind, which he didn’t need to be chastised and hissed at and looked upon as if he were leakage from the sewage grate for. He’d figured he wasn’t doomed to this forever anymore when he’d realized the brink of personhood upon him as the he and the others had gone through this transformation.

This is all quite vague, but perhaps I should just leave you with the point that Remus’s… outgoing nature, putting it nicely, was not suited to the tastes of directors who might have considered working with him had he been a bit better adjusted to his new life and if his acting had been polished to a much higher degree, and if his humor didn’t sound like an eight-year-old who just learned that Santa isn’t real and that he can curse when his parents aren’t looking. Perhaps it would be easier to explain his current situation if I take you through one particular day he’d experienced.

#sanders sides #ts sides #my writing #Concept AU

3 notes · View notes

sidneycrosbyisawitch · 5 years

Text

what a bright time, it’s the right time.

a (sorta belated) christmas present for lina @betheproof.

the sun has barely risen, gentle and pale through the bedroom windows, when tyler murmurs a grinning “good morning” into jamie’s jaw.

it takes jamie a moment to swim awake through layers of warm blankets and new light and tyler leaning over him.

“you awake?” jamie mumbles, reflexively pressing a sleep clumsy kiss onto tyler’s cheekbone, lips brushing over the tickle of his beard. “riley awake?”

“yeah, we’re up,” tyler leans back, and even through his grogginess, jamie’s smile is immediate and uncontrollable. he pulls himself up on his elbow from beneath the covers.

riley’s mop of dark curls is accented with a tiny red bow and her onesie is covered in red and white reindeer print. tyler wiggles her gently, big hands spanning her ribs where she’s sitting between his crossed legs, and she giggles little chirps of happiness. he ducks down to her ear.

“say ‘merry christmas, daddy. time to wake up,’” tyler prompts, dimple deep and voice soft.

riley valiantly burbles in response, smacking her knees excitedly, and she even manages a few ‘duh, duh’ sounds, so she’s getting there.

“oh, is it christmas already?” jamie asks, pinching riley’s little toes between his fingers. “should we go see what santa brought for you?” he grins at tyler. “she looks amazing. did you take some pictures?”

“did i take some pictures,” tyler scoffs. “we’ve been up since 5:30, of course i took some pictures. and now that you’re up, we can take some more.”

tyler’s been on baby time for the past year, maybe because he’s naturally more of a morning person, but jamie’s positive that even if tyler wasn’t he’d still be up at dawn every morning as the first face riley sees when she blinks awake.

“that sounds good.” jamie smacks a kiss to riley’s nose -- and, god, it already looks so much like tyler’s -- as he sits up before heaving her into the air with a groan.

“i hope santa knows how big you got overnight or none of your presents will fit,” he tells her. she giggles in delight midair, little round face with tyler’s nose and hazel eyes lit up in a joyful half-toothed grin.

the telltale clack of of nails on the hallway floor announces the dogs’ arrival before they nose the bedroom door open. gerry’s first on the bed, as always, wriggling with happiness as the mattress bounces with the addition of his weight. his bandana has candy canes printed all over it. marshall and cash wait, tails wagging, beside the bed with santa and gingerbread men bandanas. the bandanas are actually pretty reserved by tyler’s standards.

“guess the boys are ready, too,” tyler says, scratching gerry’s neck. the rounds of his cheekbones are bright with a huge smile as gerry nuzzles him.

there are very few times that jamie’s seen tyler happier. when they had riley. when they made the playoffs. when jamie moved in, maybe, knowing that this house was intended to be tyler’s forever home in dallas. and right now, cross legged on their duvet on riley’s first christmas morning, wearing a rudolph t-shirt with christmas lights in his antlers spelling out “get lit.” jamie is so fucking in love with him.

jamie tucks riley into his side one-armed and uses the other to pull tyler close, hand cupped around the back of his neck. tyler catches his hands on jamie’s knees.

“merry christmas.” jamie kisses him, light and lingering. “i love you.”

tyler kisses back, and jamie savors the sugary sweetness in his mouth. sunlight falls in cool bright streaks as it rises above the eastern windows; the dogs are huffing and woofing, riley is babbling in jamie’s ear, but, for a moment, everything narrows down to the feeling of tyler’s curls under his hand and the give of his mouth. you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, jamie thinks.

it’s cash who starts barking.

tyler pulls back with a laugh. “i hear you. we’ll get moving.”

riley reaches for him as he takes her back. jamie knows riley loves him, obviously, but there’s really no question as to who’s her favorite. nothing really compares to seeing tyler with their baby in his arms, anyways.

“c’mon, baby girl. c’mon, boys. christmas is waiting downstairs, and daddy hasn’t had breakfast yet.”

tyler slaps jamie’s knee before folding himself out of bed, gerry tumbling down after him. she’ll be a year old on valentine’s day, and maybe they’ll have to stop calling her their baby then, but jamie doubts either of them will be capable of that.

jamie pulls on the christmas pajama pants tyler set out for him, but forgoes a shirt in the 70 degree texas winter. maybe when riley’s older she can get a taste of a canadian christmas with snow and ice, but she was born in texas. dallas, and its sunny christmases, is their home.

tyler bounces riley on his hip as he starts down the stairs, the lights wrapped around the bannister twinkling and the dogs at his heels in a pack. the sound of their paws on the hardwood drum along to tyler’s off-key rendition of frosty the snowman that never fails to make riley laugh.

the kitchen smells of sugar and vanilla and coffee. tyler’s pretty much mastered jackie’s cinnamon roll recipe, and jamie inhales two while standing at the counter before they settle under the towering tree and the small mountain range of presents beneath it. the dogs find their favorite places on the couches as soon as tyler breaks the special bones out of their monogrammed stockings.

tyler takes a considering look at the haul of gifts as riley sticks a small present in her mouth. he scrunches up his nose. “did we go overboard?”

jamie shakes his head. “it’s her first christmas, tyler. santa’s allowed to go overboard.”

and it makes you happy. and she deserves it.

tyler grins and kisses the top of riley’s head. “let dada show you how to open a present, riley girl,” he coos, then looks to jamie. “santa might go overboard next year, too.”

the whole house is covered in glittering lights and garland and bells. jamie has probably never seen a christmas tree as tall as theirs, and tyler’s had a blast decorating ever since american thanksgiving. christmas music floats through the living room from the tv speakers in the background.

jamie knows how lucky he is, most of the time, but in that moment, it hits hard. this is his family, and his home, and they’re beautiful. tyler and riley look at him, their perfect noses scrunched up as they rip the wrapping paper. jamie can’t believe he gets to have all of this.

santa can go overboard every damn year.

and by next christmas, hopefully, jamie will ask the question and tyler will say yes.

now though, jamie grabs riley’s little foot, leans into the kiss tyler drops on his bare shoulder, and helps them unwrap one of the many gifts from her nana.

“love you,” tyler murmurs against his skin, eyes fond. messy long waves fall over his forehead, even as jamie brushes them back.

riley shrieks as she finally pulls the big red bow free of the paper. it’s an enormous version of the one in her hair, and it goes straight into her mouth.

“oh crap, rescue that,” jamie says in laughing surprise. “you should wear it in pictures so you’ll match.”

tyler’s indignant look is adorable, but he rescues it from riley’s slobbery fist. “you can wear it for pictures.”

they both wear it for a few, and jamie makes the one with matching tyler and riley his lockscreen. they each have another cinnamon roll because everyone knows christmas doesn’t count, and after they do all the facetime sessions with the grandparents, riley crashes for her morning nap, bow crooked in her curls.

sleep when the baby sleeps are the words of a genius, and tyler crashes almost as hard while they’re watching the grinch, tucked up against jamie’s chest on the couch.

as his chest rises and falls, jamie thinks thank you. thank you for coming into my life. thank you for riley. thank you loving me. thank you for letting me love you.

it’s a pretty fucking awesome baby’s first christmas.

#;______;#it took me forever bc my heart was hurting so much #love u merry christmas lina #also we all know jackie seguin wouldn't miss her granddaughter's first christmas let's just agree there was a blizzard in toronto #xoxo #bennsegs #snippets

47 notes · View notes