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convito · 3 months

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Blasting Off To The Past: Chapter 1: The Customers Are Used To This By Now

Finished chapter 1 of my fanfic based on @yamujiburo's Jessie/Delia Pokemon comics. The fact that it's just the first chapter is a development that materialized roughly 5 minutes ago when I realized this thing is getting way too long to write all at once. It's just a fun little day-in-the-life story because I wanted an excuse to write these characters.

Here's the AO3 link.

Below is the full chapter text. Enjoy!

“Meowth, I demand to know why you just kicked me!” James yelled dramatically.

“Don’t flatter yourself, I wouldn’t waste my time kicking you!” Meowth

The lunch rush took its toll on everyone in different ways. For Delia, the strain kept her too busy to notice anything outside the restaurant. For Jessie, it meant Delia wasn’t looking at her.

In the case of James and Meowth, it was dealer’s choice. Today, that meant each blaming the other for the table leg they each routinely tripped over. Meowth’s thimble-sized temper had reached a boiling point. James was mad by association.

Delia had been holding down the kitchen until the commotion piqued her attention, prompting a peek around the corner into the dining area. She saw Meowth seething as his serving tray clattered to the ground, trading leers with James whose serving tray remained pristinely perched atop his fingers.

Then time stood still as she saw Jessie burst in with a face that gave her conflicting feelings, making a Beedrill-line for the bickering duo. How she heard the noise from across town would remain a mystery. The love of Delia’s life was a lit fuse heading straight for a flamboyantly colored powder keg. The focus now needed to be heading off the stormfront before it turned the restaurant into a restauNOT (she took a second to chuckle at that).

“Jessie. Babe. Sweetie.”

The red menace continued undeterred. Delia raised her voice.

“Jessie, stop! Jessie! Honey!”

Still nothing. Delia was desperate.

“STOP, DAMMIT!”

Jessie screeched to a halt, bringing the universe with her. She and her two partners in something or other all turned their heads toward Delia, three identical faces of exaggerated shock. Though Jessie’s sported a tinge of crimson.

“I… buh…” she attempted.

“Delia made a swear,” Meowth whispered.

James simply covered his ears.

But whether through shock or sheer force of Delia’s long-bided power, the situation was defused for now. The residual fallout kept things together until the restaurant finally slowed down. James and Meowth lost their abrasion around each other, more or less back to their regular selves give or take the occasional shared look towards Delia. Granted, not unlike their usual behavior.

Jessie, meanwhile, had stuck around to help however she could. At the moment, she was employing her puppy dog eye technique to try and soften Delia’s mood every time her wife looked her way. Despite coming across more like bewildered Magikarp eyes, which had Delia desperately suppressing a snort laugh at every turn, it probably would have worked even if she actually had been angry.

Eventually, closing time arrived. Jessie had finally released Delia from her fishy look and was taking a break from cleaning to watch James and Meowth. The other two former Rockets were Taurosing around with each other as they took the garbage out back. Delia noticed a wistful look in her wife’s eye. It was one she’d been seeing a lot of lately.

“You miss the adventure, don’t you?” Delia asked warmly.

Jessie gave a slight start at this before nodding. They’d grown to know each other well enough that it was no surprise Delia could read her so intimately.

“I know we weren’t the good guys going after the twe- eh, Ash and Pikachu like that,” Jessie seemed just a bit embarrassed, “but getting out there and traveling around really got my juices moving.”

“Even more than our little battling vacations?”

“W-well, I wouldn’t say…” Jessie hesitated, but she knew she never needed to hide anything from Delia, especially after all this time. “Kinda, yeah.”

Jessie’s regular trips out into the region with Delia to explore and battle gym leaders had very quickly begun to rank among the highlights of her life, and she wouldn’t trade them for anything, no matter how shiny. But…

“I just miss the camaraderie with James and Meowth,” she found herself gushing. “I miss the cartoon-level plans we came up with together, I miss the big Meowth balloon, I miss James’ camp cooking and Meowth’s snoring, not to mention-”

“I’m sorry, what was that about Meowth?”

“Oh, right, you never heard his outdoor snoring. Only happens when he’s camping. Real conker of a wavelength he could belch out, which you wouldn’t expect from a little fart like him. I think he developed it as a defense to make predators think a Snorlax is sleeping nearby or someth-”

“What?” Delia had trouble getting a word in edgewise sometimes, a trait of their relationship she oddly treasured. She liked seeing Jessie excited. “No, why would I ask to hear about…? Never mind, I meant the balloon thing.”

“Ok, yeah, that makes more sense,” Jessie admitted. “It was a thing of genuine beauty. A huge hot air balloon in the shape of Meowth. We even used official Team Rocket funds to commission it. They seemed cool with it.”

“I’d like to point out that they did very much fire you.”

“Oh yeah,” Jessie said with a guttural giggle. “Wow, things are definitely starting to make some more sense now that I say them out loud. But anyway, we used to go everywhere in that balloon. It was our own little home where we never had to deal with property tax. We’d sleep up there, have some fun by spitting off the sides, do… other things off the sides…”

“Honey, I love you but oh my god.”

“Hey, if you can think of other ways to handle being up in the air for days at a time…” Jessie’s old smug nature crept in, which she caught before going any further. “Th-the point is I just miss the balloon. It was sort of a symbol of that complete freedom we used to have. Nothing tying us down, literally. No rules. No responsibilities. No bosses or authori-” she paused, her expression that of a system reboot. “How did we not get fired sooner?”

“I didn’t realize how much you thought about that time,” Delia started to feel just a touch of guilt. Or was it jealousy?

“Not 'all the time' or anything. Some things just remind me of that past life. Like how James and Meowth have been sniping at each other a lot lately,” Jessie said with a look of dawning realization. “They must be feeling homesick too. Or, I mean ‘homesick’ I guess,” she made some halfhearted quotes with her fingers. A glance over at Delia dropped the fingers immediately as Jessie read her wife’s expression, as subtle as it was.

Jessie wordlessly walked over to Delia, not rushing, not holding back, simply going. She took her hands in her own and clasped them.

“I am happier now than I’ve ever been,” Jessie answered a wordless question. There was no need to explore the topic further. This is the most she’d talked about the old days since, she realized, that awkward time when she, James, and Meowth had shown up on Delia’s doorstep completely out of options. It was enough that she got it out.

Delia just smiled. It was a genuine smile, but one that obscured hidden depths. Depths that ironically flew right over Jessie’s head.

Once they finished closing, Jessie and Delia stepped out of the restaurant hand in hand, following James and Meowth who had apparently regained their passion for griping. Jessie paid little attention as they fired quips back and forth, sounding to her like synthesized speech from a Nintendo 64 game. She was content where she was, blissfully strolling home with the love of her life. No thoughts, just vibes.

If she’d only opened her eyes, she’d have seen the poorly-hidden look of sneaky determination emblazoned on Delia’s face.

-the next morning-

“Ash!” Delia burst into her son’s room. “We’re making a balloon!”

#hanamusa #pokemon #pokémon #delia ketchum #jessie team rocket #fanfic #i don't write stories #i only write banter #if a story materializes then it's by accident i assure you

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sunlightmurdock · 5 months

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The Parent Trap | 0.4 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

♡ In which, after a couple of years of listening to Peyton and Parker Bradshaw complain about their parents’ custody agreement, Grandpa Mav’s meddling goes a little bit too far.

♡ warnings: mentions of divorce throughout the fic, flashbacks to arguments and unhappily married people. Idiots who still love each other and don’t know it, drinking / being drunk, flashbacks and references to sex, minors dni, wc: 4.8k

…

“I’m not being mean, I just think he smells weird,” Parker decides with a shrug, moving the little silver dog six spaces and narrowly missing her sister’s monopoly of hotels on the right side of the board. She lifts her gaze and looks at you, just daring you to challenge her logic. “It’s not mean if I’m just saying what I think.”

Peyton’s lips twitch as she shakes the dice in her hand, but she doesn’t add any commentary this time. You narrow your eyes across at your outspoken daughter, finding so much of your ex-husband in the amusedly defiant way she stares back at you.

“What does he smell like, then, Parks?” You challenge.

“Wood.” She answers with a shrug as her sister rolls a solid twelve and picks up the thimble to skip along the board in front of her. Peyton pokes her tongue out in concentration, like it’ll do anything to prevent her solid twelve from landing her right on the Go To Jail space. She growls in frustration and falls back dramatically onto the carpeted floor. She has spent most of this round in jail. You’re beginning to feel sorry for her, but it’s hard when she has some of the best properties and a business strategy that should probably concern you as a parent.

“Well, he is a carpenter.” You remind her, picking the dice up and shaking them in your hand. With that, the man in question rounds the corner with two glasses and two juice boxes balancing in his hands and a smile plastered across his face. This is now the fourth time that Chris has met your children, the first being a month ago.

He seems to be growing on them if Parker is actively trying not to be mean this time. You still haven’t gotten your girls to ‘fess up as to which one of them buried his phone in the backyard like a wild dog. Like you wouldn’t notice when your hydrangeas started ringing.

“Here we go, an apple, an orange, and two coffees.” Chris hands out the drinks and struggles bending his remarkably inflexible legs into a crisis-crossed shape. They made him be the phone piece — you’re certain that it’s to taunt him about the burying incident — but he’s being a champ about it.

Peyton looks down at her drink and hums, “I don’t want apple anymore. I’ll take an orange juice, big guy.”

In the years since you last hung out with Maverick, it’s so easy to miss the little Mitchell-isms working their way into your kids’ vocabulary. Your head whips around, far more concerned with what she said rather than where she got it from. Chris turns his head towards her, opens his mouth and quickly shuts it again, readying himself to get back up. Your eyes widen as you turn to find your eight year old smiling back at you.

“Then go and get an orange juice, P. Don’t be rude.” You correct her with a stern frown. Suddenly, the apple juice isn’t as much of an issue. She stabs the straw through the hole with her eyes narrowed in Chris’ direction, but this is still a big improvement from last time.

This was never going to be easy, but in the weeks since you introduced your girls to your boyfriend, you have to admit that you thought it would be easier than this. You’ve never heard either one of the girls talk about their dad as much as they do when Chris is in the room.

“Dad knows that she prefers orange.”

“Well, she asked Chris for an apple juice and that’s what she got.” It’s hard not to grow tired when you know it must be wearing him down too. You take the dice and drop them suddenly into Chris’ toughened palm. He softens in comparison, simply smiling back at you.

“So, did you guys get up to anything fun when you were at your dad’s last weekend?” He tries. If they want to talk about their dad, he doesn’t mind — he gets it. It makes you feel even worse.

“Yeah.” Payton deadpans, staring across at him like dirt on her shoe. “What did you two do while we were gone?”

Your head turns towards her again. Chris answers coolly.

“Your Mom sold that new dress she was working on. Cool, right? — We went out to dinner to celebrate that. Other than that, it’s pretty quiet around here without you guys.”

He’s looking at the board, busy moving his piece. He doesn’t know your children the way that you do. He misses entirely the split-second in which they glance across at each other. They find you narrowing your eyes at them.

At once, they’re saved by your ringtone. Another glance is shared between the two of them as you push up from the floor and head for the hallway to answer your call. In your absence, Chris’ piece lands on Peyton’s Park Row property, with the hotel sitting on top.

His brown eyes flicker up to find the eight-year old staring at him expectantly.

“You know the rules. Cough up.” She demands, in a tone she knows she isn’t allowed to be talking in. By the look on their little faces, Chris almost instinctively reaches for his real wallet rather than the colourful little notes sitting beside him.

When you walk back into the room, the first thing that you notice is the silence. Looking between the twins and your boyfriend, your frown deepens. “What’s going on?”

“Chris lost. He’s out of money.” Peyton explains calmly, flicking through her stack of ones like she’s Vito Corleone all of a sudden. Chris turns to look at you and simply wiggles his eyebrows, giving a shrug of defeat as he moves to stand.

As much as you find reflections of your ex-husband in them every day, it tugs at your heartstrings to see pieces of yourself in them too.

“You okay?” He asks, cupping the back of your neck, craning his neck to look at your face. Your palm catches his arm, sitting against his bicep as he pulls you closer.

Parker kicks her sister and they both turn their heads to watch.

You lower your voice to a whisper, fighting to keep the disappointment off of your face. “Yeah… The sitter just canceled.”

“Oh.” He sighs. You’ve been talking about this night for weeks, it’s not often that you get to go out with your friends now that you’ve all got grown-up commitments. “D’you think Bradley could watch them?”

“He’s out of town for a work thing.” You explain dejectedly, leaning in to Chris’ touch as he swipes your hair delicately back from your face.

Watching him hold you close, Parker starts to consider burying his phone once again. Or dropping it in the toilet. Or maybe pouring honey into his work boots that she saw by the front door.

Or maybe, if she was staying true to the source material, she could get him on a camping trip and push his mattress out into the middle of the lake. But he’s bigger than Meredith Blake was, and she’s smaller than Hallie Parker was.

The honey will do.

“I’ll watch ‘em.”

Bradley was out of town on a work thing. He was gone from Tuesday ‘til Friday, he told you that. He got in a little after nine and thought about having a beer, but didn’t. Instead, he just sat on his couch and tried to find a show that would keep him up long enough that he wouldn’t wake up at five in the morning.

He woke up at 1am, his neck stiff and the show two episodes ahead of where he thought it should be. Groaning, he had pushed himself off of the couch and decided to head to bed when he had gotten the text.

The conversation he had with Parker last weekend crossed his mind instantly. They had spent hours talking about fate; what is was, if they believed in it. If Bradley hadn’t startled himself awake by snoring, he would have missed the text completely.

He slipped his phone out of the pocket of his jeans with one hand, rubbing at his tired shoulder muscle with the other, squinting down at the bright screen.

Please pick me up from the Hard Deck when you see this.

He hasn’t ever made you ask twice.

Chris offering to watch the girls had come completely out of left field. It had almost caused a full-blown argument, but that man just seems impossible to get angry with. Stroking your hair and calming each one of your nerves step by step, he swore to you that he just wanted you to have a good time, that he could handle two little girls.

Bribing them was clearly the only way this was going to work, and it seemed like Chris had that in the bag. Emergency numbers set up and ready, allergy information written on the fridge and a borderline military debrief with your twins had left you practically trembling with anxiety, but had gotten you out of the house nonetheless.

You hadn’t planned on getting this drunk. The plan was to go, have a couple of drinks with your friends, and Uber home after a couple of hours. It never works out that way.

In fact, you can barely keep your head up straight when you hear one of your friends call out over the music. “Is that Rooster?”

Blinking doesn’t help you see straight. The loud music, and the bodies in the way, and the irregular lighting doesn’t help either. You squint and finally find him. Wearing jeans and a tight fitting black t-shirt, heading straight for you.

When you squint harder, you expect to realize that it’s not him.

“Rooster!” The second that he reaches you, your arms are around his neck and your chest is pressing into his. You haven’t hugged your ex-husband like this in a long time. “What are you doing here?”

He wrinkles his nose, untangling your arms from around him so that he can get a good look at your face. It’s been a long time since he saw you this dressed up. Hair, make-up, heels. The dress looks familiar but he can’t quite place it.

“You texted me.” He watches your eyelids falling shut, blinking heavily and irregularly as he explains to you. He steadies you by your arms. “You wanna go home?”

There’s a disgruntled groaning sound before you try to look around at your friends. At this point, Rooster makes an effort to be polite and greet them all. After all, they were his friends too, once. They’re all as shitfaced as you.

“Come on, mama. I’ll take you home,” He decides for you, hugging you against him like your own feet aren’t secure enough for his tastes anymore. You fall all too willingly against his chest, your cheek pressing into the fabric of his shirt while he tries to keep the attention of your friends. “Does anyone else need a ride?”

Maybe they do, maybe they don’t — maybe their own husbands will get up and come get them. Rooster won’t leave them without knowing they’ve got a way home, so you know that once you feel the outside chill on your skin he must have made arrangements for them.

He sighs quietly and jerks you as he tries to get a better grasp. Outside, you can finally hear him properly.

“Honey, you need to walk. Use your feet.” He tells you, despite all evidence pointing to the contrary. Your head is lulled against the swell of his shoulder, you haven’t moved your feet since he grabbed you, and yet you’re moving towards the car perfectly fine.

Everything is happening in chapters. You’re skipping ahead and losing parts, not paying attention to much. Things aren’t spinning yet, but they sure are blurry. You manage to talk back anyway.

“I don’t.” You answer, head turned towards the sky. It occurs to you, briefly, that you’re going to be horrifically embarrassed about this tomorrow. Your feet try, then trip, and his hold on you tightens.

“What did you drink? — You alright?” His arm around your waist pulls you closer, your head lulling off of his shoulder and awkwardly onto his moving chest. You hum contentedly.

“I had a good time.” You whisper.

He sighs something about you throwing up in his car and you’re faintly aware of the sound of a car door unlocking.

“C’mere, honey. Just sit right there. I’ve got some water. You wanna sit and get some fresh air with me?” Maybe there are pauses in between — maybe he says it all slower than that, but you can’t really focus. Or open your eyes.

You know that he has guided you to sit against the tailgate of the Bronco because of the way your feet dangle. As a mother, you hate this car. As a girl who fell in love with Bradley Bradshaw — fuck, you love this car.

“Wanna drink somethin’ for me?” Rooster offers the bottle to your mouth and winces as you draw your head sharply away from it. He grabs your shoulders and stops you from teetering over.

You’re not sure how, but you settle into his side and find that his arm remains there. Draped around your shoulders as you rest your head against him.

It takes a while, but Rooster gets you to drink. It’s anyone’s guess as to how long you sit on that tailgate sipping from that water bottle, but his arm around your shoulder feels nice anyway — even if he’s just rubbing your back because he thinks you’re going to puke.

When things start to come around a little more, you’re laying across the two backseats and hugging the water bottle like a teddy bear. Your head is spinning.

“You alright back there?” Rooster calls to you, making you frown slightly and lift your head. Passing by traffic lights and street signs, the world turned on its axis as you try to push yourself up and ultimately give in to staying laid down.

He’s really here. Some way or another, you really forced this man to carry you out of the bar and spend his Friday night babying you. You want to know if you called, or texted, or if he was just in the bar and saw you — you thought he was away for work — but that’s all too embarrassing still.

Your mind is too cloudy for that level of conversation, your words still don’t sound quite right.

“You even didn’t question it.” Your body sways as he pulls to a stop at a red light, your focal point on the soft top of the Bronco swaying with you and kickstarting that dizziness all over again. With a swallow, you close your eyes. The swaying continues like the leather seats below you are actually built into a speedboat as opposed to a seventies classic car.

“Did you put that seatbelt on yet?” His dad-voice comes from the front. Eyes still shut, this makes you smile. You don’t even remember him telling you to. He peers at you through the rear view mirror. “Question what?”

All you offer him is a small shrug, not interested in a seatbelt in the slightest in your current state. This next sentence requires a deep inhale first, but is interrupted by a hiccup. “I text you out of the blue and you just… show up. Didn’t even check to see if it was for you.”

Bradley bites at the inside of his cheek, brows drawing together as the light turns green and another check towards the mirror confirms that you still aren’t wearing a seatbelt. He huffs and the car pulls sharply to the side, making you groan in complaint.

The radio plays on as Bradley stops at the side of the road and unclips his own seatbelt, then gets out of the car. Your poor brain hasn’t even had time to catch up before he’s pulling the door open and half-climbing in. You blink as he appears over you.

With the door still open, he’s just illuminated by the street light. His eyes have always looked so soft in the dark. The slight pout of his lips, the sharpness of his jaw, the bump in his nose. He’d started out with the most innocent of intentions, but as he leans over you across the backseat, it becomes clear that you’re both struck by the same abrupt chord of familiarity.

This is far from the first time that the two of you have been in this position. In fact, this is exactly how things started out the first night you hooked up.

He swallows above you. There’s a wonderstruck look on your face that makes his ears burn red. Your eyes search over his face and with each inch they cover, he watches them flood with remembrance. Warm pink spreads across his cheek, extending down his chest. It makes your lips twitch to think you can still get him to blush.

“Come on, sit up.” Bradley whispers, gently taking each of your hands in his and pulling you upright. “Let’s put your seatbelt on.”

Silently, you don’t fight him on the matter and Bradley knows that’s a win in itself. It’s not the first time he’s had to wrangle you into this car after a few drinks either. Your eyes are just on him, and he swears that’s where the heat on his face is coming from. His fingers fumble to get the buckle into the clasp.

The second that he hears that click, he’s withdrawing from the backseat and climbing back into the driver’s side. You stare at the rear view mirror as he pulls away from the curb. In truth, you had forgotten how gentle he could be with you.

“Thank you.”

He glances up at the mirror, then back at the road.

“Thanks for picking me up. Sorry that I’m…” The pause facilitates a deep inhale that stops you from hiccuping mid-sentence. He watches you sheepishly ready yourself to continue. “Such a mess.”

This, makes him smile. It spreads across his face just as easily as the pink hue had, taking over his features.

“Honey, we both know I’ve seen worse.” Oh god, he remembers. He said it so casually too, like he’s reminiscing on a fond memory. The memory isn’t quite as fond for you, but then again, you don’t remember too much of it. He used to always tease you about it.

The night you met him was your twenty-first birthday, and you were flirting all night, but then you had gotten way too drunk and he had to carry you home — with you fighting him the whole way. He called you alley-cat for two months afterwards. Your feral behaviour had clearly caught his eye, though, because he started hanging around the Hard Deck a lot more afterwards.

Things hadn’t ever seemed that serious in the Hard Deck. Everything was easier back then. The career you have now is exactly what you wanted, but you can’t pretend that some days you wouldn’t rather have a handsome aviator leaning over a bar and telling you jokes to make your shift pass faster.

He takes one more look up at the mirror and smiles again, this time because he finds you already not trying to smile back at him.

“God, I had such a crush on you that summer.” The second that you’ve said it, you have to stop yourself from slapping a hand over your mouth. Closing your eyes will do. You can feel him staring either way.

It shouldn’t be weird to acknowledge. You were married for over five years. In love for a good while before that. Of course you had a crush on him originally. But it’s at the forefront of both of your minds that it still feels like yesterday that you were sprawled along this backseat, stomach bursting with butterflies as he unbuttoned your shorts for the first time.

The salt on his skin, the smell of his cologne mixed with sunscreen and sweat. The way his curls dry after he’s been in the ocean. The way the sunset hits the browns of his eyes. The freckles on his shoulders, dipping into the valleys between his muscles.

The brush of the same moustache you had been making fun of for months against the most sensitive parts of your skin and with it — the realisation that you actually loved that moustache.

Shivering through the late summer evening heat, whispering his name to the stars as his smart mouth worked between your legs. He drove around with the top down a lot back then.

He remembers everything about getting to know you. Getting taunted relentlessly by Hangman because of the way he blushed when you used to tell him his drink was on the house. Almost falling off of his stool craning his neck to get a better look at you behind the bar. Making sure you were invited to every beach outing. The first time he kissed you, and the way you were looking up at him before.

“Sorry, that was—“

“It’s alright.” He interrupts. When he closes his eyes at the next stop sign, all he can think of is the sight of your wet footsteps leading up the steps on his back porch. You had come from the beach. He had known he was going to find you in his shower inside. It was the first time he had ever come home to you. You were barely dating back then.

He looks at the mirror, wondering if you remember that time in the shower.

You’re not thinking about the shower. Fingers spread out, trailing the seams in the leather, you’re thinking about the last time you had sex in this car. So different from the first time. Bradley had known your body so much better, the two of you were so much more comfortable together.

The girls were with your parents for an entire weekend while the two of you were out of town for the wedding. Before the reception, Bradley had tugged you outside and bunched your pretty dress up around your middle. Closing your eyes and letting your fingers inch across the seats, you can still remember his breath fanning across his chest, the low grunts as he drove himself into you. His arms wrapped around your body, your forehead resting against his bicep and your legs around his waist.

“Rooster.” You rarely call him that anymore. It’s the first name you knew him by, since all of his work buddies called him that. Bradley was something that came letter, something that felt more for just the two of you. The last thing you would say most nights. Goodnight, Bradley. It’s been a long time since you said that, but you know it would feel just the same coming off of your tongue.

He hums from the front seat, but doesn’t look.

“Could I sit up front with you?”

“Yeah, sure— let me—“ Too late. He hears your seatbelt unbuckle and knows what’s coming next. Sure enough, as he’s going at a steady forty along Palm Avenue, you swing one foot unsteadily over the console and wobble in the direction of the passenger side. “Baby—“

It’s out of instinct, purely because you’re stressing him out. You plop down into the passenger seat and turn your head to look at him. Wordlessly, both of you decide to pretend you didn’t hear that.

For his peace of mind, you tug the seatbelt across your body and clip it in.

“We’re in so much trouble if the girls take after you.” He teases, the smile in his voice cutting through the tension. You giggle beside him.

“Me? — Do you not remember what happens when you get too familiar with a bottle of tequila?” You answer back, eyes closed and a silly smile on your face. You remember. You remember having to carry him, practically dead weight, into your bed from the living room and spend the night rubbing his back while he threw up the next morning.

“Yeah, we’re in big trouble.” Rooster scoffs, pushing his fingers through his hair. You stare across at the tattoo on the inside of his bicep as he rests his elbow against the door.

You’re still drunk enough to blame the alcohol when you reach across and take his free hand as he steadies the wheel with the other. His gaze flickers down as you loop your fingers through his. “We weren’t that bad.”

This time he laughs.

“We weren’t? — So you don’t remember—“ He’s still grinning when he stops himself, already turning into your street. You two don’t talk about that stuff anymore. You’ve moved on. Those funny little stories are private now, entirely his. Your boyfriend sure as hell wouldn’t want to hear them.

He looks over at you as he slows down to pull up to the curb.

You’re already looking across, staring at him with a look he hasn’t seen in a long time. The smile that you flash him makes him think of that first year. Then, you close your eyes and exhale, “I remember everything.”

Even with the radio playing, there’s a silence that sits between the two of you as the car pulls to a stop. It’s at that point that everything in your orbit starts to spin, forcing you forwards and making you whimper. Bradley’s already out of the car and jogging around to your side as you catch your head in your hands and try to breathe.

“C’mere, honey. I’ve got you.” He reaches around you to unbuckle you from the car, pulling you out by your underarms and holding you against him as he shuts the door. It’s still not the most graceful procedure, but he’s gotten better at it. You’re not exactly making it easy for him as you wobble back and hit your head on the window.

“Oh shit, are you okay?” He breathes out.

“I wanna go to bed.” You complain, wobbling forwards and this time crashing into his chest. He secures one hand on the back of your head to keep you there, pretending like he isn’t checking whether or not you have a bump. Even now, he can’t seem to turn the dad-reflexes off. You sigh into his shoulder. “Take me to bed.”

His free hand finds your waist and he glances down, finally clocking where he remembers this dress from. You wore it the second night of your honeymoon. He remembers this dress very well — he used to carry a picture of you wearing it in his wallet. He’s ninety-percent sure that the twins were conceived because of this dress.

“Yeah, you’re going to bed, baby. Nearly there.” In truth, by the time he has carried you to the door, Rooster has almost forgotten that you have a boyfriend. He’s expecting the same sweet old lady that you’ve been hiring for years to answer the door. That’s why he makes no effort to peel you off of him.

Rooster stares at Chris, while Chris looks between the two of you. You’re barely awake and clinging to your ex-husband’s shirt, he’s holding you at the waist, keeping you standing. Chris looks barely awake, still fully dressed. Clearly a man who has been waiting to hear from you for hours.

“Is she alright? — What happened?” His reaction is positive. Rooster appreciates that much about him. Still, he can’t stop thinking about what Maverick said. If Chris becomes permanent, Bradley’s entire family becomes his.

“She just had too much to drink, she called me for a ride home. I gave her some water and stuff, but—“ Rooster starts to explain, propping you up and holding you halfway. It’s unclear if he’s supposed to just pass you over. He doesn’t know if this guy even knows where you keep the products you remove your make-up with.

“She called you?” Chris challenges. There it is. There’s the anger that Rooster was waiting for.

“I wouldn’t take it personally. She’s shitfaced. She just needs to get some sleep and—“

“Yeah,” Chris steps one foot outside and reaches for your waist. You fall compliantly towards him, the toe of your shoe dragging along the ground as he tucks your arm over his shoulder and props you up. “I’ve got her. Get home safe.”

Rooster’s face doesn’t give away anything. He’s not immature anymore. He wants you to find someone who can give you, and by default his kids, everything that you could ever need. That’s why he keeps his mouth shut. He can think whatever he wants.

“Sure, yeah. Can I just ask… uh… where’s the sitter?” He was so close to walking away and just getting back in his car, but it’s after two now. If that old lady is still here, she would have made it known. As sweet as she was, she loves to complain.

“I watched the kids.”

Bradley raises his eyebrows at your stone-faced boyfriend. Once again, his face gives away nothing. “You did?”

…

Tags:

@khaylin27 @fudge13 @slutford @averyhotchner @hangmanscoming @diorrfairy @thedroneranger @phoenix1388 @perpetuelledaydreaming @princess76179 @cherrycola27 @wkndwlff @xoxabs88xox @galaxy-moon @sugarcoated-lame

#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #miles teller #bradley bradshaw smut #jake seresin #rooster bradshaw imagine #rooster x you #the parent trap #parent trap #parent trap Bradley #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw x female reader

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normansnt · 11 months

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The tailor (sanji x male tailor! Reader)

Warnings: the reader cuts himself with scissors. I don't know if thats a warning but yeah.

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The strawhats docked at another island for the logpose to reset. As usual everyone went their way. And Sanji obviously went with Robin and Nami clothe shopping to carry their bags.

They were walking around town when they spotted a shop standing alone. It wasn't too big nor small. The first thing that someone felt when they saw it was calmness. It was a cozy little store. First Nami wanted to ignore it due to its simple looks. But Robin felt like the little shop had great things to offer.

"I find it rather adorable, I wouldn't mind going in" said Robin in a calm voice.

"Well all right we have time after all" gave in Nami looking at the log pose. Sanji didn't say anything but he had a little cheer in his mind that the girls decided to go in.

It was a small shop with unique and beautiful clothes put on display. The closer they got the clearer they could see how amazing the clothes put on display in the shop window were.

When they stepped into the shop the little bell over the door gave a light "ting" sound letting whoever was in there know that they had entered. The smell of lavender greeted them. The shop was only slightly bigger on the inside then it looked from outside, but it was not too small as though not having enough space.

Two clothing racks stood in the middle and if you walked to the other side of the store three mirrors greeted you with a small stage in front and a table besides them. The walls, which had clothes hanging on racks neatly organized, had a comforting light blue color. There was also a staircase leading to a door, a closed door so they had no idea what was behind it.

"Aughh damn it" came from behind the closed door.

"I will be down in a minute" yelled a mans voice.

Nami and Robin started looking around while waiting for whoever it was behind that door to come down, Sanji kept analyzing the place. All though he had to lie if he said that the clothed there didn't catch even his attention.

They seem to have been made with utmost care due to every stitch being very clean and the pieces of fabric complimented each other well very well.

The door opened suddenly and a man not much younger then Sanji stepped out. He had a big smile on his face and glasses on his nose which were held together by duct tape.

The man had h/c h/l hair and e/c eyes. These looked lovely with his s/c skin. He was a handsome man by the looks of it and based on his outfit he knew his way around clothing as well. He was wearing a white button up shirt with brown suit pants which had red squares detailed on it, around his neck was a tape measure and on his middle finger a thimble showing that he in fact made these clothes with his own hands. To top it off on his feet were black loafers, he looked very sheik.

"Oh hello" greeted Robin politely "are you alright we heard cursing before?" Asked the raven haired women kindly.

"Oh, I apologize for that, I was just cutting some fabric and the bell startled me so I cut into my finger a bit" smiled the man sheepishly while holding up his index finger which was bandaged all the way.

"Must have been a deep cut" muttered Sanji.

"Anyway I apologize again, what can I help you with ladies and gentleman?" Said the man while flashing a big smile. 'Adorable' thought Sanji, his smile had a child like innocence to it and the glint in his e/c eyes made it all the more sweeter- what? Since when did Sanji think like this about a man? He admits when a man is handsome, of course, but he never went into detail describing his attraction towards one- attraction? What is going on today?

"And for you sir?" Asked the man who he still didn't know the name of because he wasn't paying attention to the conversation he was having with the girls, who, disappeared,now realized Sanji. The man must have noticed his confusion so he said hastily

"The ladies went to try one some pieces" said the clothing shop owner while pointing at a door beside the three mirrors on the opposite side to the little table.

"And my previous question was if you are looking for any clothing?" Said the man smiling kindly. Sanji didn't want to be rude he wanted to get the handsome mans name at least.

"Please excuse me but I seem to have zoned out previously, do you mind telling me your name?" Asked Sanji red in the face.

"Oh no problem, of course, my name is Y/N L/N it is a pleasure to meet you" smiled Y/N while putting his hand out for Sanji to shake. He did just that while introducing himself as well.

"So are you looking for any clothing? I can tell by what you are wearing that you know a thing or too about fashion" he flashed his handsome smile again.

It was true Sanji did put a bit more care into what he was wearing than oder man but compared to Y/N he probably couldn't tell the difference between velvet and chiffon.

"Oh no, thank you, Im just here to carry the ladies shopping bags and assist them any way they need" smiled back Sanji. All though he liked the clothes in this shop, he didn't want to waste money, not to mention it was hard to find something that fit him because of his build, he was skinny but very muscular at the same time.

"Are you sure? I can tailor something for you as well" said the man hopefully.

Sanji saw the glint in his eyes, it looked similar to when he was about to cook a new meal or try a new recipe. Passion, passion for ones work. Sanji liked that about Y/N he seemed very eager to work, just like him. Also the thought of having his own tailored suit sounded lovely for Sanji. Finally something that fits perfectly.

"I actually think that's a really good idea Sanji you have been wearing the same suit for forever" Said Nami suddenly standing beside Sanji. She walked out of the fitting room with the clothes she wants to buy in her hand just a minute ago. Sanji didn't notice her walking out. But how could that happen? Sanji not noticing Nami? Its true he was focusing on Y/N but not this hard! Right?

"Yes, getting a new suit might actually be useful but I don't want to waste money that could be spent on food Nami-san" said Sanji.

"Its not a waste of money its clothes, we have enough money for food, its just one suit it cant even be that much money" said Nami looking at Y/N hopefully.

"Oh no its 50 berry" Said Y/N hoping they are ok with that price. Nami's eyes turned into berry icons showing how happy she is that she will be saving this much money.

Y/Ns clothes had amazing quality and were cheap as well. This showed how kind the male was he never thought much of money. He just sold his clothes to make people happy and of course he needed to eat something.

"Very well," gave in Sanji "I would love to have you tailor me suit" finished Sanji smiling at Y/N.

"All right we will leave you to it then" said Robin also coming out of the fitting rooms. And with that the girls paid for the clothes they wanted and left. Weirdly enough, Sanji didn't mind this, of course it would be amazing to spend more time with the lovely ladies of the strawhat crew but staying alone with Y/N was an idea he didn't oppose of.

While Y/N was taking his measurements Sanji could feel his hands touching his body slightly. Y/Ns feather light touch left goosebumps on Sanjis skin for some reason even though it was only through fabric.

Naw, Sanji was no fool. He has noticed in the past that Ladies are not the only ones who capture his attention, he wanted to sleep with man as well in fact.

However what Y/N was doing to him was completely new. The man made Sanji flustered and now he understood those butterflies in the stomach everyone was talking about. They had just met but Sanji was smitten. Even more so when they started talking, while Y/N was making his suit.

"Yeah, I love cooking Im not really good at it though" said Y/N a little red in the face. "The last time I tried to make breakfast I left the omelette on the stove because I got distracted and well lats just say I had to get a new kitchen." Smiled the e/c eyed male sheepishly. Sanji loved when he smiled like that it was rather adorable.

"I can teach you if you like" said Sanji perhaps a little fast. Y/N stopped his movements and looked at Sanji with a slightly red face and a small smile

"You would do that? Thats so kind but you guys will only be on this island for so long Im afraid we don't have time, I mean pirates have to move right?"

The interesting thing about this sentence is that Sanji never mentioned that they were pirates. That means Y/N must have known the entire time. And yet... and yet he was this nice to them showing nothing but kindness. Thats it, he had to have you, at least on the crew.

"Well... we don't have a tailor on our ship yet..." started Sanji hopefully. At this point he didn't care if you couldn't fight he would protect you, he didn't care he has to clear things with Luffy he will threaten to not give him food for a week.

"Oh, Im sorry, I would not be a good pirate, I hate fighting..."

"You don't have to I'll protect you" Y/N smirked a little bit. "I didn't say I couldn't protect myself I just said I hate fighting, lets just say me and fighting have a...problematic past." Y/N was searching for the right words. "You see if I were to be a pirate they would find me and well I do not fancy that" smiled Y/N embarrassed hoping Sanji wouldn't question him further.

"They? Who is they is someone after you?" Sanji was shocked. You, an innocent angel, had a past with fighting? Not to mention someone was after you?

Y/N was contemplating what to do. On one hand he trusted Sanji even though they had just met he took a liking to the blond. But he is risking a great deal if he finds out about his past.

Oh what the hell he has been in hiding till now even if Sanji decides to hold this against him he can just flee.

"Sanji have you heard about Ciper pol?" What? Yes he had he fought them not long ago...where is this going?

"More specifically Cp9?" Oh no, what is Y/N about to say?

"I was part of them" there it is, exactly what Sanji feared. "Im not anymore, I fled, they raised me to be a monster who knows nothing outside of fighting, but thats not me, I hate fighting, I decided to flee not long after an old lady showed me how to sow" a sad smile spread on Y/Ns face. "She thought me in thanks for not killing her family, I was supposed to kill them. Thats why after I stayed with them for a long time and she thought me how to make clothes I ran away and lived in hiding since then"

There it was, out in the open. Now Sanji can run away, make a disgusted face, curse him. These are the reactions he got before this.

But instead Sanji took out a cigarette and lit it up. He took a drag and then said

"My crew just fought Cp9 not long ago" Y/Ns eyes widened 'and they are still alive??' "In fact we declared a war against the government, then won the fight against them." Sanji looked at Y/N who's expression showed absolute shock.

"Listen it doesn't matter how your story begins you had no say in that, your decision afterwards matter. And you fled, you ran away from that horrible life and that was your decision and that shows the person you really are--" before Sanji could finish his sentence Y/N was clinging to him, hugging him with almost unbearable strength, almost. "Thank you..." whispered the slightly shorter male.

He meant thank you for them defeating his past comrades, Sanji knew that. He hugged back. It was a very comfortable hug, Y/N smelled like clean clothes and lavender, just like his shop.

After hugging for a good two minutes Y/N pulled away.

"I'm sorry its just... they deserved it" chuckled Y/N slightly "they needed an ass whopping to get them in the right mind just a little" continued Y/N while taking the cigarette from Sanjis hands and taking a drag. "Fuck I needed that".

Sanji got tomato read. The way Y/N inhaled the deadly chemical and then tilted his had back to blow it out. His adams apple visible and his neck exposed.

"Anyway where is this pirate crew who declared a war on the government? The handsome cook said they needed a tailor I would like to check it out" smiled Y/N kindly again. Sanji got even redder. This is going to be interesting

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WHAAAAA- two posts on one day😗

I told you my next fic is gonna be a Sanji fic😍

I tried to not like this man due to his pervert behavior but I just have to end up falling for him🙃

ANYWAYS I love how this fic turned out I tried to make it longer now, and I successfully did so, Im happy🥳

I hope you guys like it Im sorry for any grammatical mistakes I made if I did please correct me🙏

Well, I hope you enjoyed your reading ladies gentlemen and others, good afternoon good evening and good night🧡🦖

#sanji x male reader #one piece x male reader #one piece #one piece imagine #one piece fanfiction #one piece x y/n #one piece x you #one piece x reader #sanji x you #straw hat sanji #sanji x reader #male reader #black leg sanji #sanji x y/n

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forgeofthenine · 6 months

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Hi everyone, this is the surprise I've been working on! It's actually a collaboration with the lovely @swordcreature where we gave the other person a soulmate AU and a character to write a vaguely 1,000 word fanfic on. My prompt was 'you see visions of your soulmates life through your dreams' with my forge hubby Dammon. If you'd like to see what prompt I gave (for a different tiefling bachelor 👀) then you should go check out Worms blog ;)

Overall this collab has been so much fun, we've had a great time chatting behind the scenes with me teaching a little local slang and I hope you guys enjoy reading what's resulted from our shared love of soulmate AUs! Thank you so much for working on this with me Courtney, and I hope everyone enjoys!!

Of blacksmiths and thimbles (soulmate AU)

The dreams had always been there. Your Mother assured you they were normal, good even, that you should enjoy them. Every night you stepped into the world of someone else, someone with red-orange hands that reached up towards their own Mother. Those hands belonged to your soulmate. You watched each night as they grew up alongside you, playing with similar wooden toys, eating strange food, living somewhere that wasn't Baldurs Gate. Soon however, you learned to stop telling people of your dreams, unsure why so many people had to force smiles when you'd talk about what you knew of your soulmate.

It was when you turned ten that the dreams changed. Your own life had altered significantly, and you knew your soulmate would be seeing you learn to tailor, watch as your pinpricked hands hemmed pretty skirts and dresses. After work, every night, you'd watch him learn to forge. You could almost feel the heat of the fires glow on your skin, overwhelmed by the clang and clatter of the men hammering out metal platters and ploughshares. You knew nothing of your fated love than his hands and his skill in craftsmanship. Though, this wasn't the last time your dreams would change.

Soon you'd have nightmares each night, watching as an entire city was dragged down to the hells below you. Soon the lovely hands you grew to admire switched from crafting farming implements to weaponry. The forges grew larger, hotter, much more fierce. As you grew in your own craft, moving from hemming to pattern making to custom fitting boned bodices in silk dresses, you watched your soulmates life fall apart each and every night. Needles found your skin despite your thimble, your eyelids drooping while working, so tired from worry for a man you've never actually met.

It was then that you learned his name. Dammon. The tiefling you were destined for, stuck in Elturel. You heard the name called across the hectic forge, hands stopping their work as the man looks towards the call, your own dream ending right afterwards. It's no surprise you grasp at any news of Elturel that makes it's way into the Gates Mouth Gazette, much to the growing curiosity of your fellow tailors.

You watched on as he was cast from his home, joining a group of others who all found themselves driven from the only city they'd ever known. By day you were an up and coming tailor, by night you watched tiefling refugees try desperately to survive. It was months of near torture, and you were sure this Dammon thought you overly privileged, living in your parents home and sewing pretty dresses for a pay cheque. A vast difference from his own existence.

Slowly, he makes his way closer to Baldurs Gate. Closer to you. By now watching his escapades was a nightly adventure, but your work called each and every day. Clients of renown, endless comissions and repairs, the replacement of even your most trusty tools. It only took you losing your thimble, the small tool nowhere to be seen, encouraging you to venture to a blacksmith.

Blacksmiths in Baldurs Gate were bleak, rude, or downright incompetent. You trudged through the crowded streets, dodging refugees and steel watchers alike, before stumbling on a new blacksmith's forge. It was a gorgeous open air shop, with a large clear sign. 'The Forge of the Nine'. Worth a shot, you decided while climbing the cracked stone staircase.

Honing a blade on the whetstone was a tiefling, somewhat tall and very broad, his skin an oddly familiar red-orange. Small stones grind under your feet as you see the blacksmith perk up, ears lifting and a smile on his handsome face. "Oh, just a minute!" He calls out, voice soothing as he places the sword off on a random bench. Hands pat over his apron, wiping off any residue as he walks over to you. "Welcome to the Forge of the Nine, what can I do for you? A dagger, maybe? Or a bow?"

You let out a chuckle at his assumptions, it seems you've found another forge that can't meet your needs. If only you could find your soulmate, a proper blacksmith on demand would be so very useful. "Nothing quite so aggressive. I need a new thimble actually, for tailoring?" You ask, wondering if he'll be like the last blacksmith who made one almost the size of a cup by mistake. It seems you don't need to worry however, as his eyes light up in recognition and his smile relaxes into an easy grin.

"A tailor?" He questions, motioning for you to follow him further into his forge. "Interesting... Well, you have nothing to worry about, I have a few thimbles here I've already made." His voice picks up at the end, body turned away from you as he pulls out a small, ornamental box that rattles with thimbles and stacks of finely crafted sewing needles. "Pick what you'd like."

You peer at the shining metal, delicately picking up a gleaming thimble, the loveliest one you've ever seen from a blacksmith. "It seems odd, to have a stack of such nice sewing supplies premade. Most blacksmiths hardly know a thimble from a goblet.“ You chuckle, trying the thimbles size.

"Ah well, I've spent a lot of time watching them be used." The tiefling responds almost hesitantly, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. As he sees your confused expression, he explains further. "My soulmate, I believe they're a tailor. I've watched them sew in my dreams since they were young."

It's then that things click in your head, only one word able to leave your lips. "Dammon...?" Bright blue eyes light up as soon as you say it, all the air leaving your chest as you look at the man you've been thinking about for years. Dammons lips part slightly, closing again, a hand reaching out for you that you take instantly.

"It can't be... It's you?" He murmurs, seemingly not quite able to believe it. It's not long before a small laugh leaves you, your thumb running over his calloused hand as you pull him closer.

"Always has been." You respond, quickly being pulled into a hug you can't help but reciprocate, wrapping your arms around him. Like most tieflings, he's endlessly warm, but the difference is how his body seems to engulf yours. The smell of smoke and iron heavy on him as it surrounds you like a blanket. Finally, your soulmate, safe in your arms.

#Surprise!#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 x reader #bg3 x reader #baldurs gate 3 dammon #bg3 dammon #dammon x reader #dammon x you #collaboration

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littlewitchygreen · 27 days

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Zero Cost Witchcraft

When I first started learning witchcraft, I remember seeing a lot of people bemoaning the fact that witchcraft cost so much, and even a few people who seemed disheartened by the fact that they’d never be able to start due to the cost. In a fictional book I was reading around that time, that incorporated modern witchcraft and paganism in it, even the main character made a comment about how much witchcraft and pagan practices cost. To this day, I continue to see similar posts and stories from people, and it always makes me twitch a little because witchcraft doesn’t have to be that and I’m frustrated that it’s presented that way so often.

So, here is a non-exhaustive list of various ways to practice witchcraft for free - or at least enough of it to get you started in the general sphere of things.

Energy Manipulation/Spellwork

At its core, witchcraft is the practice of manipulating energy into the form you want it to take. If you look at quantum physics, attention and expectation can change the way quantum mechanics present themselves in experiments, and it is my personal belief that witchcraft harnesses this phenomenon through the form of intentional energy manipulation.

The great news? Energy manipulation doesn’t cost a thing to do or to learn. You can learn to manipulate your own energy to do magic, or you can draw energy from the earth, fire, the stars, darkness, the moon and sun, the wind, sound. There are so many sources of energy to tap into - and while they might be easier to tap into with tools and leave you with more energy after a working to not use your own energy, you are absolutely able to do magic with just that.

Tools

As we are talking about using tools already, let’s talk about how to get supplies for the craft without spending anything. Jars for holding supplies or for spells can be obtained from washing out food jars, medicine bottles, or even be made from folding in the ends of paper towel or toilet paper rolls so that they form a container. Herbs and other plants can be obtained either from your kitchen where you already have them, or from wildcrafting what you need from your surroundings (just be sure to do so ethically, safely, and responsibly - there should be a variety of posts circulating around witchblr about how to do that). You don’t even need to gather anything fancy - as I mentioned in a past post, historically witches did not have access to the vast array of stones, woods, spices, incenses, etc that we have in the modern day, and they were still able to practice just fine so get creative. For elemental magic, you can get focuses from your surroundings - water from the rain or the tap, earth or stones from the ground, air from smoke or the wind, and fire from candle flame (or other kinds) or the sun. For material tools used in certain paths, you can use what you already have. A cup or thimble for a chalice, a sharp or dull knife for an athame, a found stick or a needle for a wand (or even your finger), a bowl you own for an offering dish or a general container while working.

Divination

For divination, there are a lot of ways to do it without buying tools. A bowl filled with water or a candle flame can be used for scrying. Dream magic can be used for prophetic dreams. A pendulum just needs to be something with weight suspended using something else - a stone tied to a string, a piece of fruit suspended with hair, a necklace you have, there are all kinds of options. For cartomancy, if you have a deck of cards you can use that, looking up the ways it translates to divination, or you can make your own tarot deck or deck of playing cards to use. I’ve heard from others who have tried this method that it generally works best if you have a decent understanding of the cards’ meanings when making them, but that it isn’t required to get a functional result. You can draw your own runestones and put them in one of the jars mentioned earlier to draw them out of. Palm-reading is a popular and common method of divination that doesn’t require anything but a pair of hands. You can even explore less common methods of divination, like reading bird flight, lightning patterns, bibliomancy, or by the shapes of shadows. There are quite literally hundreds of methods of divination created and practiced throughout history, despite the handful of major methods commonly practiced in the modern day - feel free to get creative.

Learn

You can also always learn about the theory of witchcraft if you aren’t currently in a place where you feel you can practice it. There are hundreds of witchcraft books available online in PDF format, and if you have a public library near you, chances are they might have a few books in the nonfiction section (if you live somewhere that uses the Dewey Decimal System, it’s usually in the 000s). Depending on the rules, some bookstores will also allow you to spend time in the store and read, and a growing number are carrying books on witchcraft.

For a more hands-on approach, you can also try learning from the tools and materials you intend to use. There are quite a few practice exercises around out there describing how to sense the energy of the elements, plants, etc, and I covered how you might get your hands on things like that for free earlier.

I know it is frustrating when you want to get the same tools and supplies as everyone else but those specific tools cost more than can be justified - I’ve been there myself. But when that happened, I looked to the past to see what alternatives could be used and to fellow witches about their solutions to the problem, so I hope this (incomplete) list can help you too! Best wishes!

#witchcraft #witch #witchblr #witches

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pyr0graves · 4 months

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Thimbleberry Pie Charts!

Hello!! This is a little fic thing I've had in the works for a little while and shared with a few friends, and I decided I should upload it!!

Criticism is much appreciated, I both want to get back into writing and want to get better!!!

Word Count: 896 Words

“-And that’s ten cases of card stock, an entire package of crayons, aand the mail-in day catalog for stamps! That’ll be a thousand smolleons, Mr. Joe!” … “What do you mean you don’t have that kind of money?! I should be charging you extra for wasting my time!! Good day! Sir!”

SLAM!!!

...

"Tough day?"

"You could say that,"

Pascal leaned against the pillows behind them, crossing their arms as they glanced at their ‘coworker’, humming silently.

After some time passed, Pascal started messing with an abacus on their makeshift table, they punched a few numbers into the toy calculator they were provided and finished off by flipping a few papers scattered around their workspace before speaking again,

“Hm, so far, we’ve made about a hundred dabloons from those teddy sales, a thousand and five hundred smoleans from the staplers and pushpins, pfft, aand a couple tens from whatever moolah is supposed to be,”

“Ah! This quarter has been a successful one I see! Maybe we could-” Frank began but was promptly interrupted with a “But!-”

“We’ve also got an order of big boards coming in,” Pascal said as they held up a receipt, “-and then a couple of crayons that are just…blue?” They looked up at Frank, “Do you know anything about this?”

Frank simply shrugged, to which Pascal simply huffed in response and got back to work. Frank set the books he was carrying onto the floor and then propped up the board on the two stacks for a makeshift table. A bit more time passed, Frank finally finished his desk.

“Take a look at that bookworm!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“There’s a bookworm on your shoulder,”

Frank looked to his right shoulder, lo and behold, he saw a little green worm staring up at him with comically large glasses atop its eyes.

“Oh! Look at you!” The puppet gently took the bookworm along his hands and showed it off,

“You know, Pascal. The Lumbricus Bibliostris usually appears in situations involving books, number crunching, and any busy work that involves reading! They often come in great handy when-”

“When keeping track of things!” Pascal finished Frank’s sentence for them with a smile.

“See? I pay attention whenever you talk about nifty little insects!”

Frank couldn’t help but smile knowing this fun little fact about their friend. They grabbed some knick knacks scattered around Julie’s house to place on their little makeshift desk while Pascal fiddled with their abacus and wrote a few things in crayon.

“Do you think we could convince Wally and Mr. Dear to join us next time?” “I doubt it, last time Eddie joined Julie and I in this little game, the poor mailman lost his marbles when Julie started wrecking things! As for Wally…I’m not too sure, maybe we could? He could draw those silly fruit-flavored pie charts Julie always needs for the board meetings!” “What flavor was it this time before I got here?” “Strawberry, but then midway through the meeting, she said it was supposed to be thimble-berry,”

“Do we even have that color?” Frank mumbled the question as he took the little bookworm to the open windowsill to let it outside, “I’ve never heard of such berries..” “Heck if I know! I’m only the accountant, Mr. Frankly, I crunch numbers and tell the head honcho about ‘em! Speaking of which, can you buzz in President Joyful? I finished countin' those numbers she was losin’ her marbles about earlier.” Pascal grabbed a stack of papers and set them next to their books. “No need to ring your lovely president in!! I’ve been here the whole time!” Julie spoke suddenly, appearing right in front of the cat puppet like it was nothing, startled by the rainbow monster’s sudden entrance. “Let me see those!” She snatched some of the papers and started rapidly flipping through them, mumbling nonsense to herself as she paced excitedly around the room, “These papers are quite overdue, Mr. Pushpin!” “Mhm..mhm…that looks about right…Wait!! Mr. Pushpin, why does the first hour say we sold fourteen crates of chuckler berries?? We don’t even have them in stock! And why do these papers say our stocks aren’t stocking?!” Julie yelled out as she scrambled to read the rest of the papers from Pascal’s desk.

Pascal looked up at the horned puppet in confusion and quickly grabbed the papers she had dropped, looking through them to check if Julie’s accusations were true. Frank got up on his feet and walked over to Julie, raising his brow in confusion. “What? What’s the matter?” He skimmed over the documents right next to Julie as buttons clacked in the background. Frank’s eyes widened, and they shared a look of horror with Pascal, who was holding the dropped papers as the two puppets wordlessly shared the same realization. “Our backburners aren’t in the back, and these pie charts aren’t blueberry flavored…The cans aren’t canned, and our doubloons aren’t even in doubles! This…all of this…” Julie rambled anxiously, mumbling more incomprehensible nonsense to herself. Pascal quickly dropped the papers they were holding and ran over to Frank to whisper one thing before chaos struck. “Mr. Frankly, it has been an honor working with you.” Without missing another beat. Julie threw the papers up in the air and gripped the sides of her head and cried out in despair,

"THIS COMPANY IS GOING DOWN!!!"

#welcome home #welcome home puppet show #welcome home fanfic #julie joyful #welcome home julie #frank frankly #welcome home frank #pascal pushpin #welcome home oc #writing #pyro has a story to tell

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pomplalamoose · 7 months

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Can we please have some luke fluff hc’s?🙏 from any era idc i just love your writing💗

Thank you so much, anon!!! <33

I'm so on board for more lighthearted Luke content to warm our hearts, it's what he deserves🤝🏻

Also I veered into kinda new territory for me; while many of these take place in the Star Wars universe as normal, I included some modern day AU ones too

• the Jedi are taught to take extra care of their clothing and appearance because whenever they're out and about they take on a mostly representative role, whether they want to or not

• this also includes learning how to correctly mend and take care of their belongings

• I don't think that this was at the very front of Luke's education though, Obi-Wan and Yoda really had more pressing conditions to work with

• however, as everyone can clearly see, nobody had to specifically tell Luke about this

• (just look at the man)

• not only did he grow up with maybe one (1) relatively good fitting outfit, I'm also sure that because of this he was taught how to fix holes and re do seams as well as sewing his buttons back on himself

• I'm even convinced he's able to make a simple pair of pants and a shirt from scratch should it be really necessary

• something about the picture of you and Luke sitting together on a warm summer evening or during a winter night and you watching him silently working away is just the peak of domesticity

• he enjoys fixing clothes, especially if by doing so he can do a favor to those he loves

• I think in a way it calms him too

• he'd definitely help out his Padawans with it as well

• I firmly believe he owns a small sewing kit, complete with a thimble

• (maybe two: one he's actually using and a second hand made one out of porcelain because he thinks it's really pretty)

• maybe, in addition and if he has the time, he'd try out similar activities like crocheting, knitting, stitching, etc.

• I don't think he'd be very good at it but everything he crafts is made with love and there is no one around who doesn't appreciate his efforts

• imagine him knitting little socks and hats and scarves for all of his students

• for some reason he really struggles with online tutorials though

• they're always going too fast, he can't see what exactly it is they're showing, and often times they're just overcomplicating really simple steps

• he finds this to be very frustrating

• he probably uses a very (very!) old fashioned book to learn instead

• its margins are full of scribbles of its previous owners and Luke adds his own

• he draws smiley faces next to the patterns he likes most

• Luke is a DIY king

• something that really comes in handy as a Jedi master

• at the very beginning, just at the start of his own academy, he definitely did most of the occurring tasks himself, also including preparing the meals for everyone

• he's a decent cook but I think he'd get really into baking

• baking bread is one of his favorite free time activities

• my sister insists upon the fact that he'd make the absolute best focaccia

• (or its Star Wars equivalent at least)

• he really likes trying out new recipes, especially those he never heard about before

• with varying degrees of success, as some of them are not meant to be made by humans

• but worry not, nothing is getting wasted

• Luke's collection of little fish friends is always happy to eat the remaining crumbs

• (for those that don't know what I'm talking about, check out my other random Luke headcanons if you'd like)

• he has special outfits for his training sessions, including many different shoes

• depending on what or where it is he's practicing, he chooses them carefully

• inside he's wearing soft slippers and soft slippers only, boots are a no go

• it's very much established that Luke is wonderfully emphathetic and always ready to stand by your side, may it be during your period or when you're struggling mentally

• he's still wonderfully emphathetic and caring when you're sick but like, only from very far away

• he'll refuse to come near you if you so much as mention you're not feeling well

• if you have to sneeze or cough even a little bit he's immediately asking whether you've fallen ill or are about to

• just say you feel like you're getting a cold and he's on retreat immediately

• he can't get sick as well!

• he's working with children!!!

• at least one of them is always sick anyways, he can't be contagious under any circumstances!

• he'd feel so bad if he were to be responsible for even more of them suffering

• he feels horrible for not being there for you too though

• so he still does his best

• he prepares warm meals and tea every day and let's R2 deliver them

• he always checks in on you when you're asleep

• he changes your bed sheets while you take a shower or a bath

• he'd totally make a doctor's appointment for you if you're too scared to make the phone call yourself

• he makes sure you're taking your medications

• he pats your back and strokes your hair using the Force

• Luke would absolutely hate quarantine

• at first he'd still be pretty optimistic, thinking it won't be that bad, maybe even fun?

• he'll just meditate a lot, right?

• after all he has mastered his temper now, his patience renowned among his friends and students

• this mindset works at the beginning and for a while he's happy to sleep in for as long as he wants to

• however he forgets about the concept of time quickly enough and soon has no idea what day it is

• when was the last time he had breakfast?

• since he's a very outdoorsy person, always on the move, always doing something, it wouldn't take long until he's getting kinda antsy too

• and while he does enjoy the calm and quiet, he's mostly used to being the center of bustling activities

• soon he takes desperate measures to pass the time, even trying out things he before swore to not be interested in in the slightest

• I see him taking lots and lots of Buzzfeed quizzes

• he texts you about every single result

• one of his first ones was about what kind of animal he'd be and he absolutely hated the outcome

• he eventually ended up making his own quiz because of it

• he likes watching you play video games more than playing them himself

• it's very relaxing to him, especially after a long day at work

• plus he gets to hold you extra close under the pretense of being very interested to see what's going on on screen

• he dozes off pretty quickly though

• while he's happy to let you play whatever you want, I think he has his favorites as well

• Animal Crossing being at the very front

• he loves when you show him your town or island, how you decorated your house and which villagers you're best friends with

• he too would have the newest game, simply because you were missing a few items and he was determined to get them for you

• it would totally escalate during quarantine though, and suddenly he'd have a fully decorated five star island

• (Luke Skywalker plays Animal Crossing with a passion and I'm ready to fight anyone about it)

• for some reason he gets really competitive during Mario Kart and Just Dance

• he unapologetically wins at every single Wii Sports mini game and no matter what you do and how much you practice, he's always better and not in the least bit sorry about it

• he is a Macher™ (please let there be some German fans who know what I'm talking about)

#ask #luke skywalker #luke skywalker x reader #luke skywalker x you #luke skywalker fanfiction #star wars #luke star wars #star wars fanfiction #fanfic #star wars a new hope #star wars empire strikes back #star wars return of the jedi #star wars headcanons #luke headcanons #fluff #lots of fluff

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raccoonfallsharder · 3 months

Note

What if Rocket went back in time himself to help the other guardians?

thank you so much for sending this my way, you perfect golden pancake ♡ i've been rolling this around in my head for days now - what a jewel of a thought. there are so many possibilities.

because when all is said and done, i think it's foolish to imagine that rocket didn't figure out how to tame pym particles while he was on terra helping with the snap. by the time the universe was saved and he had his friends back, he'd have figured out where and how to harvest the little subatomic sparks. countless restless nights would have been spent reverse-engineering pymtech.

hell, way back when rocket had first seen the machine tony and bruce had patched together, he'd been intrigued for all of a whole five minutes before identifying at least thirty-six ways he could've improved efficacy. the machine looks all shiny and fancy, but rocket's no stranger to narcissists with big budgets. after all, he knows better than anyone that a rapid-evolution chamber will only make monsters if your glycosylated salts and beta-microseminoproteins ain't right, no matter how many resources you throw at it.

(to be honest, rocket is actually quite annoyed that the avengers - whom he has privately nicknamed the scavengers, after hearing red make a crack about him eating trash - had him and nebs running errands for danvers this whole time. he could've been figuring out better ways to make this whole time-travel situation work, with more precision and less risk of like... running out of pym particles. morons.)

so anyway, point is, once rocket has all most of his friends back (and that's the problem, isn't it), he starts tinkering with pymshit. the guardians eventually settle (more or less) on knowhere and amidst thirty other insomnia-driven projects that include both the bowie and a massive ocular cannon for the skull, rocket's also messing around with pymtech and wakandan nanomachines, and he's marrying them all together in some big, messy, rocket-original creation - complete with duct tape he smuggled off terra.

if anyone had asked - and nobody but nebula does, to be honest - rocket would've told them it was a good thing he'd never had alone-time with doctor strange. he'd heard the stories from pete - about what the time wizard had said. only one possible outcome where we win. well, that's all very well and good for the doctor and his friends. red and stark had chosen to sacrifice themselves.

but what about gamora? she'd never had the frickin' option.

this time-travel project is the first thing rocket's intentionally hidden from nebula in years - other than his origins on halfworld, anyway. but he can't risk her finding out and trying to talk him out of it because she thinks it's unsafe, and he can't risk getting her hopes up if he can't get gams back. plus, she might tell pete, and that would be a whole different nightmare.

so, late one night on only a thimbleful of sleep, he finishes. his plans get interrupted by the mess with the high evolutionary, and then he has to put off using it because he's the frickin' captain or whatever (talk about sleepless nights) and then finally - finally - there's a gap where he thinks he can go. he'll come back, and no-one will even know he was gone. it's a time machine, after all. he climbs in, and he settles against the vinyl seat and takes the controls in his hand.

she handles like a fuckin' dream.

he gives gams the heads-up. strategizes with her. checks back with the future where he lives and learns that at least in this universe, there are now two gamoras: the moral compass currently on terra meeting pete's grandpa, and the snarly time-travelling ravager who rocket has also started to develop a grudging affection toward. pete's happy. nebs is happy. both gamoras are happy. and knowhere starts to feel a little like home.

but sleep still doesn't come. the nightmares are still there. and rocket starts to think maybe he doesn't have to stop with gams. groot might've chosen to sacrifice himself, but rocket figures - maybe he didn't need to. maybe that can change.

but i can imagine how that conversation would go.

you gotta figure something else out, our rocket would tell groot the elder, and groot would say something like, i am groot?

and rocket would say, there's gotta be another option. you gotta live. i want you to meet your kid.

and groot would say, i am groot?

and rocket would say, uh, yeah, you got a kid, and then he'd try to explain, and groot would say, i am groot. i am groot. which basically means, it sounds like you are my child's father, and i won't risk taking that from either of you. this is the light i choose to follow.

i gotta save you, rocket would say, holding the words in his teeth, unable to give them up. i gotta save you, and lylla, and teefs, and floor -

and groot would stop him with a very gentle i am groot, which, to translate, is something like, and how will that change things? will i never find you, little mammal? will you never find our current family? how will they ever meet each other, or escape the kyln, or overcome all the things you tell me they are meant to overcome - without you? where will the galaxy be if the you I know isn't part of it?

i am groot, he adds, which kind of means, you underestimate how very important you are.

and so this new, second trip won't lead to anything tangibly changed in our rocket's universe - not in any way that an outsider would notice, or see. but those moments, to say good-bye, to say i miss you, to say i don't really think you're an idiot and i love you -

they change something inside rocket.

and when he returns to knowhere, he's finally able to sleep.

taglist ♡ @evolvingchaoswitch ♡ @glow-autumz ♡ @wren-phoenix ♡ @suicidalshitstick ♡ @pretty-chips

#rfh asks #rfh headcanons #rfh fluff #rocket raccoon #guardians of the galaxy #rocket raccoon fanfiction #gotg fanfiction #rfh fanfic #gotg rocket #guardians of the galaxy fanfiction #guardians of the galaxy fanfic #gotg rocket fanfiction #rocket gotg #mcu #marvel

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sarah-kings · 1 year

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Curses and Thimbles (chapter 1)

Why, hello, g/t community :)

This is my first time posting one of my g/t stories, a big thanks to @ratcatcher0325 for helping me settle on a title for this story

This story takes place in a world where borrowers and other mystical and magical creatures wander the same world as the other humans, though the public is unaware of that. For now, at least.

This chapter mainly acts as a prologue to ease you into the part I really want to tell the story of, the first part acts as the backstory of my OC Jon and the second one is a time skip 20 years forward

Anyway, here is a link to my Masterlist

Jon has been doing better, to say the least.

Well, that wasn't completely the truth…

He had been doing better when he still was back home, able to live under a safe roof, safe from all the dangers he hasn't even known of before and able to have a proper warm meal prepared by his mum.

Then again…the situation with his father wasn't ideal…

That was the only thing that he didn't miss, hearing him scream at his mother and constantly fearing that one day it would hit him too.

Being hit by the strong, reeking smell he'd have whenever he'd come home in the evening.

Feeling so terribly small and worthless under his sharp and judging gaze.

He never thought he could feel more pathetic than back then, and yet…here he stood at roughly one inch in height, desperately stuck in the same ally he got cursed in.

If it wasn't for the food in the many knocked over trash cans Jon never could've been able to survive for so long.

True, the food was disgusting…but it was better than starving…

This was just one of the few compromises he had to make.

Instead of a proper roof over his head and his usual bed all Jon had for cover was a tilted over cardboard box, which was withered and close to falling apart with how often it had been outside in the pouring rain.

Rain…

Jon missed the rain he used to be able to play in for hours…now all the rain was to him was a death sentence.

He had to learn that the hard way when a few weeks ago he almost got swept into the sewers after he got dragged along by the stream of rain.

A sigh escaped him as he sat in the same old box he has been using as his shelter for the past few weeks.

He longingly looked at the exit of the ally, unable to gather up enough courage to leave.

It already was a problem to be outside on his own with people around, but with him being this tiny, the world looming over him for miles to no end?

The thought alone made him shudder.

No, he couldn't go out there, as much as he wanted to…

Subconsciously his hand reached for the piece of bread he had fished out of the trash the other day, a small wince escaping Jon when he hit nothing but air.

Right…he had eaten all of it already…and to his dismay the trashcan wasn't exactly getting any fuller, food was harder to find before the racoons already have plundered them before him.

"I miss home", he quietly admitted to himself, rubbing at his eyes to wipe away the tear that has formed.

He knew he shouldn't cry as a boy…but he was just a toddler, there wasn't much else he could do…and his nerves started breaking.

A startled gasp escaped Jon when he suddenly heard a loud crash, his hand flying up to his mouth out of habit to suppress a scream.

"Nononono, please no, please not dad", he begged in his head, curling in on himself as much as possible in hopes of comforting himself.

"Please, oh god, oh no, don't find me!"

His breathing started to pick up in a panick, Jon screwing his eyes shut in hopes of stopping himself from hyperventilating…but to no avail.

A shiver ran down his spine and he shuddered when he suddenly felt a shadow falling over him, signifying that something had found him, if the sound of surprise from above him was anything to go by.

Slowly Jon dared to open his eyes, his breath picking up once more when he saw a person looming over him, making direct eye contact with him.

He tried to scramble back in a panick to get as far away as possible, only to -thud- hit his back at the wall of the cardboard box.

"Easy, there", the MUCH taller man told him, remaining in his crouched position and raising his hands in mock surrender.

Jon couldn't help not tearing his eyes off of the man, he was HUGE to him.

He wasn't exactly the size of a human, but the fact that Jon could see how he himself wasn't taller than just the man's knee left him unsettled.

"Deep breaths, ok, boy?"

The man held up a hand, counting to five seconds as he took a deep breath in, holding it for another five seconds, and then released it once more after five seconds, repeating the action on loop until Jon finally caught on, repeating as the man did with shuddering breaths, but, eventually, able to calm his breathing.

"There we go…", the man spoke in a soft voice.

"What's a kid like you doing out here in the middle of an ally at brightest day?

Where are your parents?"

Jon just coiled up in himself in response, not daring to say a word.

He was met with the softening and concern warping gaze of the man.

"You're lost out here, aren't you?"

Jon had to admit, he was lost, in a sense.

He couldn't go anywhere without getting overwhelmed, he was stuck in one place.

A slow nod from him confirmed what the man dreaded as an answer.

"…What's your name, kiddo?"

"…Jon", he hesitated.

"I'm Gael Lynch", the man said while giving him a tiny reassuring smile.

"And how old are you?"

"Four…"

Gael's face dropped at that.

"Four?"

He looked at Jon in disbelief.

"I never have seen a four year old your size", he mumbled to himself.

A cold breeze swept by, causing Jon to shiver under it and the man's complete attention.

Gael noticed, shrugging the cloak he was wearing off of his shoulders and carefully draping it over Jon.

"There you go, now you won't have to freeze."

Jon's confused gaze was met with a small smile.

"Come with me, you'll just freeze out here."

"But I don't know you! I can't just go with a stranger!"

"You are just as much of a stranger to me as I am to you.

Come on, kiddo, you'll just catch a cold out here and we don't want that to happen, now, do we?

Don't worry, I'll look after you."

Jon paused at what Gael said.

…Should he really go with this stranger?

And did he really have much of an other choice?

Food was starting to run out…and the weather won't get better any time soon…in fact, winter was approaching and Jon knew for a fact that staying outside won't do any good for him.

…He had the funny feeling that he wouldn't make it much longer on his own…

Hesitantly Jon slowly rose from the spot, Gael giving him a small smile and spreading out his arms.

Without thinking twice Jon ran up to him, burrying his face in the man's chest and clinging onto the fabric of his shirt.

"Let's get you home, hm?"

And with that Gael rose, carrying Jon in his arms as he made his way home, concluding with confidence that he would look after Jon until he'd be ready to take care of himself.

Jon took a deep breath, collecting himself and calming his nerves.

"Alright", he mumbled, looking up from where he was standing underneath the desk of the busy office.

"Just grab some of the coffee and get out of here, easy as that."

If ONLY he knew how terribly wrong this entire borrowing mission would go…

#curses and thimbles #gt community #gt writing #oc: jon sanchez #oc: gael lynch #giant tiny #g/t #my wrtitng #giant tiny writing

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xkuja · 4 months

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@asheanon from yes he is going to humour her ridiculous question anyway

|| || Kuja sighed, elegantly extending one leg over the other, reclining in his velvet chaise with a regal air, as if perched upon a throne-- a monarch graciously addressing the queries of his devoted courtier.

"Based on my interactions with the Regent, his mental capacity seems quite on par with that of an Oglop, so no, I don't believe his transformation significantly hindered him, aside from perhaps the inconvenience of lacking opposable thumbs for... certain passtimes."

How she'd come across that story, he couldn't help but wonder. Though, given how swiftly rumors spread in Lindblum, similar to Treno, his astonishment was somewhat tempered. She'd probably heard it from one of her sorry little companions.

"On the other hand, ~my expansive wisdom~ could hardly be confined to the paltry smattering of neurons which animate a worm's existence. 'Twould be akin to encasing the oceans within a thimble. Impossible."

Indeed, only the most superior intellects would ever take a debate on why they could never possibly undergo transformation into a worm and turn it into bragging rights.

#|| curtain rise ||#you know he likes you #when he insults your friends in his unspoken narrative #and when he argues he is too cool and smart and hot to be a worm at you... i guess...#asheanon

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literary-corvid · 8 months

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I am a patchwork quilt of everyone I've ever loved

I’ve always been drawn to flowers. I could never remember why, even when I named myself after one. (My first ever friend was called Rosie. I was always envious - how full of life she seemed to be!)

I feel a faint sense of dread when I go to clasp a necklace. Only sometimes does my conscious mind drift to her, and it is only then that I wonder if she ever took hers off. I never consider that she was lying. If it wasn’t the glue around that clasp, it was something else that stayed like a noose around her neck.

I wear my watch on my right wrist. I am not left-handed, but the sister who put her watch on my hand when I was three was. It was blue and plastic and cheap but it became mine. She beamed at me: now I’ll always be able to tell you the time! I didn’t bother to learn how to read its analog face for the longest time. I had a reason to keep asking her that way.

I stumble on a word I haven’t memorized, or I teach a younger student how to pronounce that letter combination, and suddenly I am in primary, sitting on a white rug as my second sister gently sounds out the words in front of us. My parents beam at me that night as I say a new word right, and I proudly tell them how my sister taught me. It was all her, I would say. Look how Good I must be for her to love me.

A scar graces my left knee. It looks old and worn, like nothing, but sometimes I see her fingerprint there, as if the gloves she wore when mopping up my blood had vanished. She told me later, when she poured the disinfectant on two instead of three, that it would fade, that someday I would forget. I’m glad she was wrong. I sent her a message a few years ago, and never heard back. But I see her profile sometimes, and how she sees my stories. We grew apart. I’m trying to learn that that’s okay, but I still wonder if she ever misses me. I see her out of the corner of my eye when my knee throbs with a dull, faint pain. I miss her, but at least her fingerprint remains.

On my thirteenth birthday, and for many birthdays after, an alarm on my phone would go off, reminding me to go train dolphins with a sister. I deleted it years ago. I regret it every time it never rings.

I’ve always remembered when Earth Day is. My schools have always made a day of it. But now, on April 22nd, I think not of the earth, but of my twin flame. On that day, I give my thanks to the earth, for I was born of her, but I spend my life loving her. For a year, I was coaxed with sickly sweet words away from her; away from everyone. When I was back, there was no question of if she would welcome me, even through my guilt. She is the one who stayed by me, helped me up, loved me. Who keeps loving me, as I keep loving her.

I prick my finger as I sew, and each time I remember how she would chastise me, reminding me to wear a thimble. And each time, I smile and say I’m fine. I understand better, though, when she cuts herself on the tape dispenser and I carefully tear tape for her the rest of the year.

When I sew on the machine, though, I never feel quite sure of myself. It goes to fast, faster than I can think, with more strength than I am sure of. So when I inevitably fuck up, I smile, remembering her laugh as she pretends to groan at how long it will take to undo, thank god I know better than to start with a backstitch. I know that she is reminding me that it can be undone, no matter how tedious. Stitch by stitch, I fix what I’ve ruined.

I tell people I love them so easily. Anyone who changes my life, even in the smallest of ways, I cannot bear the thought of them not knowing. They say to live each day like it's your last, but they're wrong, it's not you that matters: live each day like it's their last. Loving in secret is a special torment when the guilt feels crushing. I never told him. I never can. I hope he knew, I’m sure he knew how much he was loved. Right? He knew? Tell me he knew. Please.

I go shopping, and absentmindedly look for the good apples - the ones that crunch, that tear sharply, that are just perfectly sweet or bitter. Sometimes I don’t realize until I get home and have apples I probably won’t eat. I offer them to my friends instead, because my partner is states away. They laugh when I send them the pictures, though, and tell me to eat one in their honor. I do.

There are some things I can’t see without itching to gift. Penguins and owls and squirrels and bird and those godforsaken minions and coffee and turtles and irises and this one shade of blue– I’ve left with glass hummingbirds in my pocket before realizing I have no one to give it to.

I’m not in tears over my homework, but I would be if I were alone. Instead, it hits 10:00pm - 22:00, just for them - and it’s done. It’s over and I can’t go back and they're asking for my three favorite candies and I’m thrown because I want to sob - with relief or stress, I’m not sure - but they say they’re going to get me some. Because they’re proud of me. Like it’s obvious. And when they learn I’ve never had any chocolate candy, they come back with a handful. I split the KitKat and hand them half and they watch me, some mix of delight and horror in their eyes, as they halve the Twix and Milky Way and York for us to share. I’m laughing at an irony they don’t see; it blends into every other joy here. So this is it, I think. This is what it’s like.

I keep thinking about the things I do and the parts of me that aren't as much me as they are them or us. I love carrying those people with me, mostly. There's things from friends who've died, and it hurts sometimes. I hope it stays with me, though - the grief, the pain. I don't want it to get easier because I don't want to forget them. I don't think I've actually dealt with anything that happened in the last six years, give or take? And it's all been hitting at once for the past year-ish. So, this is for the friends who are gone or lost to me, and to those who still let me love them.

I've had no less than three interactions that prompted me to actually post this within the last 24 hours, so thanks to @firefliesandfuckery and @judas-redeemed and @vanilla-cigarillos and everyone else for that!

#corvid waxes poetic #prose poem #prose #poetry #humanity <3 #on love #did i stay up until 3am writing this #thats for me to know and you to not find out #grief #tw blood

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mentallyshattered · 7 months

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This is part 19 of the "What if Yuu didn't want to go back?" Series!

(I, the author of this work, do not consent to this work being crossposted/translated without my knowledge or used to train an AI, ever.)

Masterlist

The first thing we see when we walk into the club room is that Grim and I are the only Pomefiore students. Joy.

The second thing is that guy's hair is fire, much like the inside of Grim's ears. Guess it's just a rare trait, then.

The third thing is that Fire Hair Guy is staring straight at Grim. He probably didn't know animals could have that, too. He might just be a cat person. Either way, he's a clubmate now.

"You must be the new members! Welcome! I am Azul Ashengrotto, housewarden of Octanville and manager of the Monstro Lounge, and this," He motions to the guy he's apparently supposed to be playing chess with, "Is Idia Shroud, housewarden of Ignihyde. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Fire Hair looks like he's going to explode from anxiety. He's the one sitting accross from Azul, and he looks very intently at Grim, like his presence is the one thing keeping him conscious.

"What are your names, newcomers?"

"I'm Grim, and this is my familiar, Yuu! Spelled Y-u-u, not y-o-u."

Azul now looks off-put. "Well, Grim and Yuu, we here at the Board Games club are quite glad you're here! Welcome! And, if you ever need, say, a wish, then do not hesitate to come to me."

Idia sighs. "Never go to him for a wish, kitty. He's deceptive."

"I can hear you whisper, Shroud."

"Eep!"

Right off the bat, I recall something I was told at the entrance ceremony: Azul Ashengrotto, the housewarden of Octanville, is always trying to get people to sign contracts with him. Usually, only he benefits. Grim knows this, too.

"What, did we walk into the Contracts Over an Unsused-But-Set-Up Chessboard Club? Sorry, we signed up for something else. Come on, Grim, let's go find the club where they actually play chess."

"I'm back! Oh? New clubmates? Sweet!"

...looks like floating is another rare trait. This new kid has the same blue fire hair as Idia, as well as equally yellow eyes. He looks to be wearing some kind of jet boots, which he deactivates when he enters the room to oogle at Grim.

"A cat! Aww, your fur looks so soft and silky- and you have a uniform! By the seven, you're adorable!"

Grim straightens up, puffing out his chest and looking very proud. I do the same- after all, he's my familiar.

"Ortho, there's no need to be so close to our new members. Personal space, you know."

Well, now Grim just looks annoyed.

"Myeh, Azul, you have something on your face."

"This?" He points to a little black dot near his lips. "That is supposed to be there."

"Not what I meant," Grim continues, "the wire. Were you born into a fence or something?"

Ortho bursts out laughing. Idia does the same. Azul does not follow suit, but does try to talk, failing miserably become everyone in the room but him is too busy laughing their asses off to hear him.

Idia finishes laughing, pulls out a game labeled "Cliffs & Climbs," and sets it up, motioning for Ortho, me, and Grim to join. Azul continues failing to explain glasses to a cat who's ignoring him while people laugh at the obvious ragebait he's fallen for.

"I heard the whole thing from down the hall. Nice to meet you! I'm Ortho Shroud, freshman and Ignihyde's Vice Housewarden, as well as Idy's little brother. This character is mine."

Just looking at the board, it's a game of Snakes and Ladders. Ortho has selected a small, wooden flame to represent himself. Grim and I choose the cat, obviously. Idia considers for a moment, then picks the thimble that probably didn't come with the game. He flips it open-side-up when he puts it on the board, and Ortho glares at him until he sets it so you can't see the opening from above.

Let the board games begin.

#disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #disney twst #m!yuu #twst grim #twst yuu #twst azul #twst idia #twst ortho #twst #what if yuu didn't want to go back

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thesolemnhour · 1 year

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Holding hands!~

Thank you for asking!! This one was a really fun exercise!

You are not holding up your end of the bargain, Agria thinks spitefully as she glares at a wilting purple bellflower. She keeps it alive, and it helps her practice with the Azata abilities; that’s the deal.

Only the treacherous little plant is no help at all! She whispers every incantation she knows, tells it every prayer she has ever heard, and still, there is no change. It’s not fair.

She sits at eye level with the Fairy’s Thimble with her head perched on her forearms as they rest on the edge of the planter, as though she can intimidate the flower into submission. Agria groans and smacks her forehead on the wood.

How straightforward the mythic powers had seemed at first. They had done exactly as she had hoped when they had taken Drezen, and for a moment, everything had just fit.

She should have known better, of course. That was one thing her father taught her that sticks with her: you always get exactly what you work for. There are no miracles in this for you, he was fond of saying. There is only the work.

And yet, it seems the more she reaches for Elysium’s power, the further it seems to flit away. It’s agonizing, and, frankly, Infuriatingly typical of them.

“Well, well, well,” drawls a familiar voice. Agria jumps, so focused that she missed Woljif’s approach. He gives her a wolfish smile. “Agria Lebeda has a black thumb. I thought we’d never find anything you were bad at!”

He shouldn’t be here. No one should. She picked this place because of how out of the way it is. Here, she can fail or scream or cry, and no one can think any less of her for it. That, at least, the flowers can handle.

“You still haven’t! I’m just learning, that’s all.” Her response is sharper than she means it to be; there is more than her gardening abilities at stake.

“Sheesh. Touchy much, chief?”

“I—“ She starts defensively before she registers his teasing look. “Ha ha, very funny. I just wanted to practice with the mythic powers. It’s hard, out there, with everyone around. Watching the commander fail miserably is bad for morale.”

He stares down at her with an appraising look. It’s different than the ones she was used to before the Lost Chapel. Sure, he doesn’t bother to hide when he’s sizing her up anymore, but there’s… a softness to his features. A concern that she is not sure what to do with. Then again, he must feel the same: she never would have dreamed of telling him that before.

“What’s it like?” He asks.

“It’s—“ She smooths her hair out of her face, steadying herself as she turns back to the Fairy’s Thimble. It’s harder to think when she is looking straight at him. “It’s like the story about the servant girl who gets to go to the ball. She looks beautiful, and she’s happy, and for a moment, it’s like everything that’s wrong with her life just vanishes. Like it was all worth it just to end up at that dance. But she doesn’t belong there—she doesn’t even know how to be there. Does that… make any sense?”

“Yeah,” he answers softly, and Agria fights to keep her gaze locked to the plant, too afraid of what she will find if she looks. “Look, don’tcha think you might be overdoing it? People don’t like Azatas for their work ethic.”

“But I’m not an Azata,” Agria says. “Once you slow down, you’re not special. You’re just like everyone else.”

“Just like everybody else, huh?”

“…Maybe not exactly. But cheap tricks won’t be enough to win the war.”

“Don’t let Desna hear you say that! You’ll break her heart,” he warns. “Elysium hasn’t failed us yet, chief. Maybe you oughta have a little faith.”

“Look who’s talking now!” Laughs Agria, who finally summons the will to look at his face. Patting a spot on the ground behind her, she sighs, “I’m not ready to stop yet, but… if you wanted to stay…”

Wordlessly, he smiles and takes his place next to her. When he places his hand next to hers atop the planter, pinkies nearly touching, she summons her courage and gives it a squeeze.

One way or another, she thinks to the flower with a quieter resolve than she knew she could muster, when spring comes, you will be here to greet it.

#wotr #agria lebeda #ag tag #commander x woljif #tysm!!#pwotr pals #taylor writes

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venushasvixens · 1 year

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Chapter 24. Before We Go - Life is but a Dream (Spike Spiegel x Reader)

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: none

[A/N] well, its the beginning of the end of this fic! We got a lot to get through though, so don’t go nowhere. Enjoy!

“You think or you know?”

“I know. An old dog still knows her way around.”

You and Spike crept into a small alleyway full of boxes and trash. It reeked of the materials that were thrown away, only a little illumination was shining through from the street lights. You looked out in front of you, noticing that familiar car in front of you.

The way the car was cruising, it was almost like it wanted you and Spike to catch up to it. You had to admit, having this place close to each other wasn’t that smart, but knowing the law in town, you really felt like they weren't too concerned about it. You really hope that you weren’t falling into a trap.

You walked on the tip of your feet, the small pap of your feet could be heard against puddles and pieces of trash. But from where you were, you doubt that he could’ve heard the creeping investigators on his back. From the outside, it looked like a warehouse, in the middle of nowhere. Brown, rusted. Broken down. The doors looked ragged. It looked like it had no business holding what you think it had. You remembered this place very clearly.

There he is.” You barely whispered, your lips just mouthing the words.

“Ah, you gotta be shitting me.” An old soldier, the one you always hated. Annoying, creepy, didn’t know anything about personal space.

“You know him?”

“Unfortunately.” You mumbled. “Perv.”

All the buildings surrounding were closed, no lights in their windows or the streets. Without a doubt, the syndicate bought them all out. Not suspicious at all.

You looked at the man as he stepped out and swung the door open, the door closing behind him with a loud ca-thunk.

“We’re going to wait this out.” You said, turning to Spike. “I still know how to get in.”

“Its been a while since you’ve been here, are you sure you do?” He asked. “For all we know, this place could be surrounded by traps. We could be in one as we speak.”

“I thought the same thing. But how could they know, Spike?” You said, putting your hand on his chest, your brows furrowed. He put his hand over yours and kept it there, looking at the hangar and back at you.

He sighed. “If he is not out in the next hour, we are gone. Understand?”

You nodded, your eyes searching your surroundings. It didn’t take long at all, to your delight. To get this done, and for you and Spike to be on their merry ways to Lou’s and back to the Bebop. The door opened once more, and the man stepped out. He grunted, stuffing his keys back into his pocket and climbing into the car. Now it was time to get all of this over with.

“Good, I thought he was never going to leave.” Spike mumbled sarcastically, looking around the corner as the car drove away.

You purse your lips and made the first move, creeping into the shadows and towards the entrance of the warehouse. Your hands, thimble and quick, began to work on the lock. Spike swiveled on your back, hand on holster.

“For something so secretive, this is a flimsy lock.” You stated.

“Shouldn't it be open by now?” Spike said lowly again, looking over his shoulder at you. “Aren’t you an expert?”

“Working on it. You need to give me a second.”

“We don’t have any, (Y/N).” He mumbled, his eyes darting around.

You could tell he was a little anxious about this, or agitated that you both were still in Yun in the midst of enemies and danger. To have another situation ending with a shootout, or either one of you getting badly injured, would be another disappointment. You wanted to shake off the thought, but it had to be taken into consideration as you tried to break into the warehouse.

Spike was not too keen that the both of you were still stuck here. Just having to leave the streetlights into the deep darkness of this unknown city put him on a higher alert than ever.

He remembered just how hurt he was before. While he tried to process your lie, he realized that he was so focused on it that he completely forgot how he got into his ship. Mid air, he gripped onto his controller and tried his best to meditate on it. And it took him all day to process it.

Waves of emotions echoed in the small red ship, from anger to hurt, to sadness and somehow, back to happiness.

Anger from having something important kept from him.

Hurt from the aftermath, and dealing with the thought that it was out of love that this secret was kept under wraps. And the fact that you both almost died.

Sad that you were sad. If you kept something as big as this as a secret, would you be sad? No, no. There was no way that you were unfeeling. Spike had clearly seen every single one of them from you. A comm from Jet pinged in, confirming his latter belief.

[Jet] Told her. She is a mess.

And lastly, there was happiness. Why? Because you were feeling. You were not cold, or uncaring. Every fiber of your humanity was intact, thriving with every kiss, every punch, every tear that fell from your eyes.

From the beginning, this mission felt like a step further closer to the edge. You both were close in finding a way to keep the syndicate off of your trail. How long could you hold them off? What would damage them so badly, that there would be no syndicate at all. He knew there was something you were trying to prove, something to close the past for you forever.

If it was destroying just a fraction of what there was, the rest could follow suit. As much as it annoyed Spike about history and that “Art of War” crap that Jet sprinkled into morning conversations, he could remember something about the fall of Rome. It only took one little push, and the domino effect went into place. All fell, and the recovery was harder to conceive.

In this day and age, it was very easy to. Guns, armies, power. That’s all it took to annihilate life. You may have not had any of that right now, but…there just had to be a one, tiny, little push.

He loved your determination. He loved the way you put yourself out to fight for what you believed in, even if it scared him. Oh god, he didn’t want to say it again, but it was true. He was scared for you.

Conflicted in the beginning of your time together, whether it was right to fall in love again, or if to push himself away again. That was his fear when finding himself in love with you. It was the fear of losing you. He cringes at the thought, not wanting to imagine the moment and aftermath of your death. How lost he would be without the light in his life.

The close encounter on Earth shook him to his core. Your bloodied body sent shockwaves, feeling as if everything was going by so slow. The response from Jet and Faye could have been milliseconds, but for him it felt like eons. He reminded himself that his fear was the reason that he was here with you, by your side.

So he swallowed his fear and straightened himself out.

“Did you get it?” He gently said this time, reaching a hand on your thigh as he had his back turned on yours. A hum came from you as you fiddled with it even more. The clanky jingle of the lock becoming free and dropping to the side confirmed this, and the short chuckle from you.

“There we go.” You pat his side, looking around. You turned to Spike and pushed his hat down further on his face, fluffing up his coat. His skin shivered at your cold fingers, but he let her do whatever she wanted to him. Maybe skin to skin was better than a cigarette to calm his nerves. “I’m going in for a minute. Only for a minute.”

“Do you want me to come?” He asked, tilting his head as his eyes bore into yours.

You shook your head. “It won’t take me long at all. Its just a quick look around, but until then, you know what to do. Stay hidden, and stay quiet. Understand?”

Seeing you give demands, as serious as it was, turned him on. Wasn’t the best place to have a feeling, but the way your tone was and just how beautiful you looked, he couldn’t help it. As you turned to open the door, Spike whisked you back to face him, his arm around your waist.

“What, what’s wr-“ you began, only to feel Spike’s wanting lips on yours, his arms just holding onto you. Oh how he kissed you. It was hungry, full of emotion and want. You couldn’t help but moan softly from how it felt, being kissed so sweetly by Spike.

You found yourself gripping onto his coat, almost sneaking yourself into his coat. Opening your eyes, you found a hazy gaze staring right back at you, a smirk growing from Spike’s lips. You breathed hard, shaking your head softly.

“That was for luck.”

“Well, umm….” You began as you tried to catch your breath. “I-if you keep doing this, we may just have to go on more missions together.”

“Stay in my room tonight and I’ll show you more.”

You pressed your lips together, getting mad at yourself for not focusing on the task at hand. You really hoped there was nothing to look at so you could make it back to Spike quicker. Would be a waste of time and resources, but fuck it.

On your heels, you opened the door slowly. The inside was barely lit, with a few lights illuminating the corners of the warehouse. You put your sunglasses on, with your gun out. Holding it by your side, you crossed over the threshold.

You bent your head down, eyeing the odd shapes that were single filed lines in front of you. You just needed a closer look.

The platform along the walls of the warehouse creaked, causing you to jump.

The main floor, if you could remember, only held cars and ammo. Nothing bigger than that. A few ships were in tow, but even that was a lot.

Your ventures never left Mars, and if they did, it was on bigger missions with more supplies that you think you could’ve lived without.

Despite it being chilly outside, there was a deep mist in here, floating all throughout the air.

That was odd.

You squint your eyes as you take baby steps in, taking note of the multiple boxes of ammo and equipment that was just ready to be unveiled and used on any poor soul. That was normal.

You walked down the initial platform you were on, to the main floor below. Those were machines? They were so small though…

But a closer look revealed a lot more. Sheets covered the weird shapes, cloaked in obscurity. You pulled one back, observing the details of what laid before you.

Their shape was just so odd. Circular, single rider. Multiple machine guns built on both sides. You noticed black bars on both sides as well. God this looked so well made, it looked like it would have cost a fortune just for the one. You took out your wrist scanner, allowing it to take a glance over the small carrier. Once downloaded, you back up.

This was a lot different from the modes of transportation from your day.

But…there is absolutely no way this was in their budget. Machine ships with such care and quality. Then you backed up, onto the platform. Single filed lines…more than you can count. From the outside, the warehouse looked a lot smaller, but inside, it was as big as a football field.

In the darkness, you could see there was more than you thought there was. Machines of death and destruction, waiting to be used at any given moment. This wasn't what you remembered, it was worse. There was something far sinister that they had in store. You knew they were just finding an excuse to use these things, to test out their damage. You breathed heavily, and rushed to the door.

This syndicate was bigger than you thought it was. And they were ready for any war, at any time.

A message was already sent back to the Bebop, notifying Jet of what you had seen. Immediately, he was on the job. “Did you find what you needed?”

“And more.” You spoke, shaking your head softly. “We’re making a pit stop and we’ll be back soon.”

After showing Spike what you had seen, hastily as you both rushed away from the area around the warehouse, he shook his head. You both spoke in hushed tones about what it was all for. You had your theories, as well as he did. But one thing was absolutely clear.

You had to get thinking. And quickly.

One step ahead.

Avoiding bringing the Bebop even near any settlement that was remotely close to Yun was a first. Staying in your own lane, not bounty hunting for a while. Running from the past, and the past catching up to you seemed to be a running trend nowadays.

This was going to be a group discussion for sure.

With a goodbye, you and Spike approached the diner closer, his careful gaze searching the area. “Are you sure she’s here?”

The lights outside of the diner were shining as bright as they did so long ago.

The outside, although shrouded by more buildings and trees, was still the same. Some corners were withered, but with character. The inside was lit, the open sign flickering. There was Lou, flipping the window shutters closed. You could feel your heart beam in happiness, wanting to just run inside and hold onto her. You noticed the hours were shortened.

She is someone you need to talk to, especially now. You smiled, seeing now that she had never changed. She was still perfect to you. “Uh-huh.”

You both glanced at each other before heading up to the entrance. You turned to Spike, fluffing up his collar again and brushing the hair from his ears. “There we go…nice..”

“What are you doing?” He asked, his eyebrows lifting as he trailed your hands over his face and coat, smoothing them both out.

“Making you look presentable.” You said flatly, taking another look over. You brushed his eyebrows with your thumbs, feeling the deep rumble of Spike’s mumbling against your chest.

“Does my rugged appearance not charm you?” He mumbled, his deep tone gravel as he pouted. “My character is built off of it.”

“Mother figures don’t like rugged, they like straight.” You replied, winking at him slyly. Puffing air out, you took that as a gesture of understanding your little tease. From behind, you could hear him fiddling with his collar. Opening the door to the diner, you stepped in first, head down. Your sunglasses covered your eyes, hiding most of your face.

Spike followed suit.

“Hello, hello.” You heard from the waitress as you both walked in. She sighed rather loud, setting the rag she was wiping the counter with on the shelf below.

You saw Jeanie, older than she was many years ago. Her hair was still pinned back in a bun, her face weathered by time and still, sharp. You could feel her attitude from all the way outside of the diner. Somehow, as offstandish she was to you, a smile from her was just as good as a hug.

Distracted with putting plates up, and cleaning the counter, she spoke with her eyes down, distracted by her closing work. “What can I get you lovebirds today?”

“I’m not too sure. What are your specials today?” You asked, your voice low. “Afraid I only have this much today.”

You threw a couple of woolong coins on the counter, the loud clatter of the metal bounced off the diner, echoing. Wincing at the sound, you looked towards the waitress, who scowled at the rude gesture. Wasn’t too nice to have the same done to her all those years ago, but maybe it would help her remember.

She took one look at the coins, and huffed. “That isn’t even enough for a plate.”

“But its all I got.”

“Sorry, no can do.” She insisted. “The door is right over there…” She took a glance at you, and took a double take, her face dropping. You smiled, taking off your glasses.

“Oh, oh my god.” She said breathlessly. “Oh my god, (y/n)!” She yelled. She ran around the corner of the counter and threw her arms around you. You were surprised that she could even show this type of affection towards anyone. Happily, you hugged her back, chuckling. “Lou! Get your behind out here!”

Spike gave a small smile, happy to see that you were. He put his hands in his pockets, and stepped back for this reunion to play out.

“What?” You heard. “What's going on?” You pulled back, looking at the entrance of the kitchen doors, your face lighting up. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Jeanie turn off the neon sign and lock the door. The lights on the outside were off, and so were the ones in the cafe, except for a few. Something told you that Jeanie knew about the trouble of being here, and of being caught.

Out came Lou, her apron off and the front strands of her hair pulled back. She never changed. She was just as beautiful as the day you left. She put her hand over her mouth, tears welling in her eyes. Remembering that you were in front of her, she held out her arms, and you jumped into them. Her hug was warm, her hands holding onto her shoulders tightly.

It was just like how you remembered.

“This is a face that I thought I’d never see again.” She said softly, planting a tiny peck on your head.

“I’m so glad to see you again.” You replied, smiling big.

“Me too, sweetie.” She wiped away the tear from her eyes, chuckling the same as you. “I shouldn’t cry, I got makeup on.”

You all laughed, putting your arm around her. “And who is this young man right here?” She asked, raising her eyebrows. She gave a knowing glance, her face telling you all she wanted to ask. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, and held out your hand to Spike.

“This is Spike. He and I are together.” You said, your heart beating even more as you said that. To say it to someone you knew, it made it official. “Spike, this is Lou. She helped raise me since I was at the orphanage.”

Spike knew how to make this sweet. He took off his hat, and held out his hand. “How are you, miss?” He said, giving that signature sweet smile.

“Gosh, miss. Haven’t heard that in a minute. ” Lou said, giggling. She took his hand gratefully, shaking it. “I’m doing well, Spike. “Oh, (y/n), you picked out a pretty one. Good hair, really nice smile.”

You raised your eyebrows, at Spike, almost like you were saying, “what did I tell you?”

“Oh no no. He picked me.” You glanced at him, who gave you a small wink. After all this time, you could’ve crumbled right there in front of all of them.

“Now, I have to ask you. What brings you back to Yun?” Lou said, folding her arms. “I mean, I haven’t seen you since all of that went down.”

You sighed softly, hoping that she had enough time to hear what you had to say. “You got some coffee?”

“Plenty of. That long?” She asked. You nodded.

Sitting down, you started from the moment that you left. Planet after planet, bounty after bounty, hiding from Red Jack’s. Those moments where your ship was not worth looking through, the voices echoed on Mars of the syndicates on the rise. You went into great detail of trying to build yourself back up, getting your own ship and having your own home.

Even though it was a distant memory, it was a very special marker for you. Independence, finally being on your own and at peace.

“And now.” You said, sighing, preparing yourself for what you were about to say. “The reason why I am here is that they found me.”

Lou’s eyes widened, her hand on her chest. “Because you left?”

Nodding, you continued. “They found me. There was a shootout on Earth not too long ago, and I almost died.” You pulled up your sleeve and showed the scar of where the bullet had grazed you. Lou winced, shaking her head. “Had it not been for Spike, I would not be here.”

“I’m glad you were there, honey.” Lou said to Spike, patting his hand. “So glad.”

“So now, we are here to find out what exactly Jo has in store. We found something, but I’m not ready to set off alarm bells just yet.”

“I have plenty to say about that horrible woman.” Lou grumbled, taking a sip of her coffee. “I just didn’t know it was going to get this far.”

“Me either.” You replied. “Either way, I just want you to be on the lookout in case anything happens. You didn’t see anything, you didn’t hear anything, and you didn't speak anything. Even me being here is not the best, but I just had to you both.”

“I don’t care. As long as I know you’re alive and well, that is all that matters.” She nodded. “Now, tell me about this one.” She pointed over to Spike, humming to herself as you beamed. This ought to be good.

Spike listened intently, sitting at the booth beside you as you began to talk about your first meeting with him.

“Well, you’re not going to like how we first met, I will say.” You said, taking a sip of coffee.

“Try me.” Lou replied.

Spike sat back, crossing his arms. This ought to be good.

“Don’t worry, sweets, I’m not going to spill every detail.” You reassured him. Lou and Jeanie laughed, giving your hand a light smack. “I was chasing a bounty that had a large sum of woolong included in the reward. I was creeping up on the ship, when someone, not naming any names, threatened to take me out.”

“Take you out? Well why is that so bad-“

“No, Lou.” Jeanie said firmly, making a gun gesture with her hand. “Take her out.”

“Ohhhh. Oh.” She grimaced, nodding. “Okay, I see now.”

“We talked it through, and had some ups and downs.” You said, flashing back to all the times you had first argued and avoided each other. To the times you had spent sleepless nights in his room, wrapped in his embrace. Finally, now. Forgiveness, and moving on from the nightmare that overcame the both of you. “And here we are.”

Lou smiled. “Well I’m glad you’re happy, darling. I really am. I think that was something you needed all along.”

“What, a boyfriend?”

“No. Love.” She said. You both shared a knowing look, dating back years.

It told you the struggle you had been through, from how the love you first perceived at both the orphanage and from Jo was not true. It was just a ploy, another step in their scheme. Even if you didn’t love yourself in that period, or even now, it was still there. From Lou, a motherly love was unlike no other.

And from Spike…that was the love you always wanted. Someone who understood you, stood by your side when times were rough, and was willing to go to the ends of the galaxy to be with you.

Spike couldn't help himself. His admiration for you felt like it was going to burst out of his chest. Loving you was so easy, so peaceful. For a moment, he forgot where you both were and why you were in Yun. It honestly felt like meeting her mother and sitting down for some coffee, like normal people do. He just loved you so much.

He leaned over, planting a kiss on your cheek. His lips lingered for a moment, a smile enveloping in his kiss.

“Well isn't that sweet?” Lou said. “Oh, those were the days..” Lou sighed dramatically.

“She says that, like she doesn’t have a boyfriend of her own.” Jeanie added. Lou elbowed her softly, pressing her lips together. They both began to bicker, insults thrown between the both of them. You and Spike just watched as they both laughed from their shots from one another, your hand reaching for his.

“Ready to go home?” He whispered in your ear.

“I’m already home.” You whispered back, looking deep into Spike’s soul.

Your home, where you belonged, was right beside you. Holding your hand.

“Now these pancakes..” The red haired woman spoke through bites, nodding. “These pancakes are always delicious. No matter the day.”

She took a sip of her coffee, and let her utensils clank against the plate. She dabbed at the corners of her mouth and hummed. “I tell you, Lou, you are just the best.”

Her bodyguard that stood behind her was still, like he was a mannequin. Lou took notice of how quiet it was besides the hums of the refrigerators and the oven in the back. She also noticed just how hot her face was, and the grip on her cleaning rag.

“I’m glad you liked it.” She took the plate and put in a plastic bin, her back to Jo just a second. “Anything else I can get you?”

Jo had her hands clasped in front of her, one of those polite, unnerving smiles on her face. Her red lips were pressed together as she just stared at Lou. It was like she was frozen, just holding her gaze on her for so long. The seconds ticked by slowly, neither of them moving an inch.

“You know…some chocolate pie is nice.” She finally said. “And another moment of your time.”

Lou nodded, grabbing a slice and setting it in front of Jo. She carefully placed a fork next to her on a napkin.

“Any troubles?” Lou tried to grin as happily as she could, but it was damn near impossible. She already knew what she was going to ask. “I’ve been told I could be a good therapist if I wanted to.”

“I sure hope so.” Jo said, twirling her fork against the plate, small scraping sounds heard as she did.

“Got any new visitors lately?”

Peace always comes and goes.

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