#truth be told it was an accident when I drew him with the cake BUT I DECIDED TO KEEP IT THAT WAY AND NOW ITS CANON HE'S THICC AF | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

btssunnyboy · 4 years

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You Have To Stay - Park Jimin

You wished he had stayed.

Word Count - 4,621

Warning - Death, car accident, If I stay au. S2L au, fluff and angst.

BTS , NCT , ATEEZ.

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The memory of the first time he saw you is etched into his brain for hopefully all eternity. All of the surrounding were blurred in his vision mere spectacles of faded blues and grays; but you were clear. Every little detail about you was crystal clear ; from the vibrant red sweater to the silver bobby pin that held back your soft hair. He took in everything he could at this moment ; not because it might be the last time he saw you. But he wanted to commit you to memory, because at this very moment Jimin wanted to show you the world. He wanted to show you all the happiness he has to offer. That beautiful smile that currently grazed you face was making his heart flutter with joy already ; now all he wanted to do was be the reason behind that oh so precious smile.

You noticed the boy with the bright red hair as well. After all you two were matching, considering how bright your current sweater was. You knew who the oh so famous bad boy of west town college was, and truth be told you didn’t find him all that intimidating. So, it did catch you by surprise when his gaze lingered a bit more then usual, what surprised you even more was when he didn’t care that other people started to noticed as well. That cocky smirk was plastered on his face, as he threw a casual wink to you across the room. And maybe, just maybe, did it affect you.

“It looks like resident bad boy, Jiminie, has his eye on a new prize.” Jisoo gushed, while her hands gripped your shoulders. Her throaty like laugh filling your ears as you quickly tried to pull your body away. Her over the top announcement of Jimin, caught his attention and you could feel your body cower away. Usually you paid him no mind, but that’s a lot easier when he’s keeping his distance. “And now look, something wicked this way comes.”

Jisoo sent a smile wave your way, as she practically bolted in the opposite direction. She has a whole plan in mind, for some odd reason she saw a chance for you to have a little fling and jumped on the chance. The cliché good girl, and bad boy trope having a rooted place within the poor girls heart. You didn’t understand how she saw so much potential between the two of you, but maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Because maybe you could get used to seeing that cocky smirk a lot more. You just wished that you paid more attention to small detail like that, because those were the things you started to fall in love with.

“Y/n, wait up!” The voice was rushed, and sounded fairly distant away. But you’d recognize that pillow soft voice anywhere, and you wished he’d talked forever. You watched with a raised eyebrow as his jog sped up, with his backpack swaying left to right from his sudden force. With a small slide he was sudden right in front of you, and for once in his life a genuine smile was softly appearing on his face. “Can I walk with you?”

“Of course, but I’m not heading towards the dorms.” You confessed while fiddling with the spiral on the end of your green notebook. The small appliance bringing you a lot of joy and comfort. He nodded his head, and soon the walk fell into an awkward silence. You may not be intimidated by him, but your ability to talk to just anyone has it’s limits.

“If you’re not heading back, where exactly are you going?” He inquires, while keeping his eyes focused on you. He thought it was cute how you occupied yourself with green notebook in his presence, he also thought it was cute how calm you seemed to. It was refreshing how you didn’t cater to his every need, or show off assets to get into his pants. You were awkward, but real at the same time, and he somehow cherished it already.

“The park, actually. I need new inspiration for my art project if I wanna pass.” You softly spoke, gesturing towards the notebook in your hand. You just wish you could find an ounce of color on the dreary day, grey clouds paired with slight droplets of rain. Before you two made it pass the glass doors, you fumbled with the white poka-dot umbrella. “It’s small, but at least it’ll keep us covered.

“Can I hold your waist? Just so we can make sure we’re both under it.” He softly questioned, while making direct eye contact. He wasn’t going to touch you without your say so, and when you shook your head yes, his fingertips ghosted over the material of your sweater. And he felt a ease with how you molded into his waiting body, and you surprisingly let a sigh of content left your body. For two people who only noticed each other has mere acquaintances before now, this moment sure did seem intimate. And you truly didn’t mind.

The short walk was filled with silence, but now it was a lot more bearable. The soft raining filling up most of the silence as you forced the boy to move from place to place. This ones too muddy, this ones too crowded with birds, and this ones too plain. No matter the places you two went nothing special attracted your eye, besides the red hair that followed your every step. He made sure to walk on the muddy sides, and risked his white shoes for your cloth ones.

“Do you mind getting wet?” You cocked your head to the side to appear as sweet as possible. He let out a laugh of disbelief, but soon stopped when you stayed in that position. Your cute eyes sparkling along with the crystal waters that fell from the sky. “I promise! I’ll get a quick mental picture and go from there!”

“I swear, when I’m sick and heaving up a lung in bed. I’m blaming you.” Jimin yelled while purposely trumping through the thick mud puddles. He laughed loudly when he let his body soak in the rain. That soft moment was a story within it’s own, a little over exaggerated story. But the story was just beginning for the two love birds. Right now the rain was an ally, but the two should’ve been more weary. As rain can quickly become an enemy.

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“I never would have pegged, Park Jimin, to be the soft type.” Jisoo spoke while her mouth was full of cake. Small crumbs sticking to the clear gloss that coated her lips. As well as the buttercream icing that smeared itself across her chin, when she hastily shoved the treat into her mouth. “I’m sorry, I’m just in a rush.”

You snorted slightly, and brushed the napkin across her face. Collecting as much of the icing as you could. “Me neither! But the moment was serene, and the portrait of him got me top marks in my class! Look at how amazing he is!”

“You’re not hanging out with him for the free inspiration are you?” Jisoo accused jokingly while setting down her fork. Crossing her arms and leaning forward to take note of your expressions. The small smile tugging at the corners of your lips, the way a small blush was dusting over the apples of your cheeks, to finally the way you were staring so lovingly at the picture you drew of him. All these little things guided Jisoo to the conclusion that after a few little dates you were already falling head over heels.

“I know it’s only been a few dates, or meet ups. But Jisoo, I’m actually happy now. He lets me take my time with problems, he never rushes me with anything, every single time we see each other he also notices the little things I tried to change.” You rambled on. As you let your fingers trace over the lines on the picture, taking extra time on the lines around his hair.

“Y/n, will you promise me something?” Jisoo asked and reached across the table to hold your hand. A shaky smile appeared on her face, and out of instinct you clutched her hand tightly. A curt nod of your head only make her worry a little more. “Just be careful, I know things are amazing right now, and I know I was all talk when it first happened. But keep in mind Jimin got his reputation for a reason, I just don’t want you getting hurt.”

You laughed heart fully, and stroked the back of her hand with your thumb. The small circles hopefully providing some support before you voiced your case. You knew she was right, but still that’s not something you like admitting. “Jisoo, I know the risk of being with him. I know that he most likely will get bored soon and find someone else, but right now he’s one of the things that make me happy, even if it’s temporary.”

“That breaks my heart, y/n. Hearing you say that you don’t mind the temporary love, I know for a fact you deserve better.” Jisoo pulled her hands away from yours and tucked them underneath each other. A disappointment gleam beaming in her eyes when she fully look at you. She wanted to say more, she wanted to go on a rant and get it through your skull even more that you deserved better.

“I mean, you never know. Maybe Park Jimin is gonna change his ways.” You hoped that by speaking these words into the universe that they’ll hopefully come true. You wanted this love with him, you wanted to have more sugary sweet moments with him, but most importantly you wanted him to hard and fast just like you did. But stuff like that only happens in the movies.

Or does it.

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His hand easily slid into yours. It felt good, almost like the action has been done a million times. When in reality it had only been a few times. But he acted like he knew you his whole life, and that was another thing you started to love about him. After a few dates the awkwardness went away on it’s own, now conversations come easy and are hard to get rid of. And you loved every minute of it.

“You know what tomorrow is right?” Jimin smiled as he dug around in his backpack. His fingers slipping and sliding through the material that inhabited the bag. Soon his fingers drifted towards a rectangular, blue velvet box. With a quick motion he hid it behind his back before turning too you fully.

“Yes, baby, it’ll be four months.” You gushed while pecking his cheek softly. A tint of peach gloss being left behind, when you pulled away. “But why are you asking now?”

“Because,” He started, and ghosted his hands over your wrist. A light tug was given so you’d stay in a place. An amused expression cover your face when Jimin didn’t make a move. His puppy dog eyes were fixated on those peach glossed lips. Before you knew it he cupped your face and molded his lips against yours. Out of habit you smile halfway through the kiss, and tried to deepen it. When he finally pulled away you noticed the golden item glittering in the box.

“Jimin,” You warned when you noticed just how fancy the gold, chain bracelet was. Three charms dangling from the loops. A painters brush with a red tip and gold handle, a ballet dancer, and a diamond key. You felt your eyebrows drop in sadness, and a small plea of disbelief was on the tip of your tongue.

“Before you say anything, it really wasn’t that much! And besides I started picking up extra shifts at the cafe for a reason!” Jimin babbled while he tries to push the box further into your grasp. He could tell you were on the fence, your body was pulling away slightly and a frown was etched onto your face. “And I have a heart shaped lock on my chain. Because, baby, you hold the key to my heart.”

A small laugh passed through your lips as a tear slid down your cheek. You knew he was working himself to death, and all for a gift. You’d be happy just having him for a full weekend. You hiccuped loudly while slightly crying. “That is the cheesiest you’ve ever been.”

He clutched your hands tightly and brought them up to his lips. He stood their silently and deeply breathed in the perfume on your wrist. A sweet vanilla scent filling his nostrils, and he loved it. He got you that perfume a a month ago, and you wore it religiously. “I’m always cheesy when it comes to you, because, I...Y/n...I - I love you.”

“I love you,too. I love you so much.”

__________________________________________

The rain date started the movement of a lot of great things. That small encounter led to many more art dates, and music dates. You’d sit there for hours and draw the man you’ve come to love, you’d draw every little aspect you could find. Jimin would preform his heart out for you every chance he got. From the underground performance to the small dances back in your dorm room. Both of you put great effort into your art, just to please the other. You wished it was always like this, but lately things have been on the rocks. Problems rose from every angle, and it was becoming frustrating.

“Oh my god! You’re being unreasonable!” Jimin bellowed as he roughly ran a hand through his hair. Long huffs of breath were being released, and you could tell his anger wasn’t subsiding, but growing immensely.

“I’m being unreasonable! You’re the one who decided to push themselves when you knew you were hurt!” You barked back while jabbing your finger in his chest. You needed to get him to understand that the actions have consequences, and these consequences were ruining his body in more ways than one. “Jimin! Honey, you’re limp has gotten worse, and ever since you took up singing you told me it hurts so much, that you can barley breath!”

Jimin bounced his leg furiously as he held his head in his hands. Sharp breaths were huffing past his plump lips in quick breaths. “Give it a rest! Y/n, you’re so annoying thinking you understand what’s going on! Your talent is drawing a stupid scene, but for me it requires actual talent!.”

The room went dead silent when those words slipped past his lips. The hard demeanor on his face dropped, because he knew he messed up. He knew you were insecure about you art, considering it wasn’t as extravagant as his dancing and now singing ability. A sarcastic laugh bubbled in your chest, and you felt relieved to let it pass.

“Get out.”

“Y/n, baby, it was the heat of the moment, and, I...I, didn’t mean it.” Jimin rushed out while he tried to grip your hand. He was now desperate to get you to listen once more. From the harsh glare on your face he could tell you were done talking. “Baby,”

“Oh, no. You don’t get to play the baby card, since I’m so annoying. It’s best you leave.” You harshly wiped the tears that flowed freely down your face. It wasn’t anger at this point, just mere sadness. You always knew how much effort he put into his creations, and you always thought little of yourself. You felt inferior when it came to things like this, and you just wished he didn’t stoop that low. “Go, I’m not gonna ask again.”

Salty tears gathered in his eyes when he noticed you turned your back on him. A let out a heavy sigh and yanked the door open. The only sound besides the thunder booming out was the sudden slam of the door, and it made your body jolt. You leaned your body on your legs and let it all out. The sob you were trying your hardest to keep down, shot out of your body. It raked through your stomach, and was buried deep in your chest. Your heaved loudly as the sobs just kept coming. Jimin’s blanket was thrown over the chair, and you tightly wrapped it around you body. You needed to get some sleep.

It felt like seconds, but it was hours that you sat in that chair. You sat there and cried over a little inconvenient fight, and let Jimin go. The ringing pounded in your head woke you up, and that annoying vibration against the wooden table was already driving you insane. You whined as your nails scraped against the table. “Hello?” You sniffed as you stood up.

“Y/n! Thank god, I thought you were dead!” Jisoo’s panicked voice flooded your ears. You heard her let out a breath that seemed as if she was greatly relieved. “When Namjoon called me, oh god, and when you didn’t pick up I thought...I thought I lost you!”

“What are you talking about, Jisoo!” You yelled as you abruptly stood up and went straight to panic mode. Why would she be worried that you’re dead, you stayed here the whole night. Oh god, you stayed home and Jimin drove in the rain. You gripped your roots tightly, and you began to blubber out. “Jisoo.”

“Y/n, Namjoon called me and told me about the car accident that Jimin was in.” She muttered out sadly, before speaking again. “He told me someone died, and there was one surviver. If it’s not you it’s either the other driver or Jimin.”

“Jisoo, please tell me the hospital! How long ago was this!”You ushered as you flipped pillows off the couch, and chucked blankets to the wall. Where were your keys. “Jisoo! Please! I’m begging you.”

“Mercy West hospital on main. And it happened last night.”

You let the phone smack the ground with a thundering crack. You raced towards the car and through blurred vision you tried to get the keys in the hole. You needed to get to the hospital and fast.

__________________________________________

Jimin witnessed first hand with what was happening to him and the driver that collided. He watched as the paramedics pulled a bloody man from the drivers seat, and multiple beer bottles from the back. He tried to voice the fact he was alright towards the officers on his left, but they ignored him. They walked past him as if he wasn’t even there, and he was growing worried. Why would they walk past a man who apparently walked away unscathed, from a disaster like this. His boots pounded against the wet pavement as he raced towards his car, and that’s when he noticed it.

His body.

His bruised, beaten, and bloodied body lumped against the steering wheel. Panic shot through every vein in his body when the offices walked right through him. Does this mean he’s dead? Did the crash actually take his life away.

“We have a faint pulse! We gotta hurry!” One of the men shouted as they raced the gurney towards the back of the ambulance. Jimin wasted no time in flinging his body in the back ; just before the paramedics closed the doors. Just watching them stick the IV in his arm was making him hold back a gag. He hated needles, he hated hospitals and watching these all unfold made him severely ill. Well as ill as a spirit could be at this point. In no time they were racing towards the front doors of the hospital.

Each person talking a mile a minute, explaining the situation that happened with the crash, and explaining what’s wrong with him. Skull fracture from his forehead hitting the steering wheel so forcefully, three broken ribs from the impact of the other car sliding into him, glass fixtures buried in multiple places of his body, and he was bleeding profusely from a wound in his side. All this talk with making him dizzy with panic, he wanted to live. No, he needed to live. He needed to get back to you, and make up for that stupid fight, he needed to say he was sorry. He was so incredibly sorry.

Multiple people gathered around his body as they raced to the operation room. Shouting incoherent things that his mind wasn’t able to grasp, and it was filling him with dread. The others around quickly jumped out of the way at the sight of the unlucky one at the end of the car accident. Without missing a beat they hooked up many wires ; they made sure that he taken care of. He watched with hawk eyes as the surgeon pulled multiple pieces of glass from multiple different places. Their skilled hands working on trying to control the bleeding in his chest, and that’s when he noticed the sharp metal that buried deep within his side.

After some time his eyes drifted towards the clock. They have been working on him for three hours and ten minutes ; while the surgeon was saying it’s gonna take even longer.

“Park Jimin has people in the waiting room, what am I supposed to tell them about his current state.”

The surgeon before him sighed heavily as he looked at the clock and back down at his body. “Tell then I’ll be done soon, but he’s still gonna be put on support after this.”

Jimin bolted after the nurse who speed walked down the hall into the waiting room. There he noticed seven boys, and a tear stained girl running through the side doors. Her eyes landing on the men who were seated and she walked towards them. She stared at the nurse with nervousness swirling in her eyes, and Namjoon pulled her close when the nurse spoke the news. Jimin wanted to be the one who reached out and pulled her close. Tell her that everything’s going to be fine, that he’s gonna pull through and they’ll be together once more.

He sat in the empty seat beside of y/n, and placed his hands on her shaky ones. Oh how he already longed to feel her warm touch, and smell that vanilla perfume. But right now this was the best that he was going to get. He stayed in that seat for another few hours. Just observing the poor, broken girl in front of him. You stayed silent the whole time, fiddling with the charms that dangled from the bracelet. Out of habit he reached up to hold the lock, but he didn’t feel anything. He didn’t feel the lock, it must’ve snapped off his neck during the accident.

The lock that reminded him of you, the lock that was a symbol of your relationship was gone. And sadly it wasn’t the only thing he was going to lose today.

“He’s in room 214, but please go in separately. In case anything happens we will need space to work. Oh and here we needed to take this off of him to do the surgery.” The nurse sadly smile as she handed y/n the locket, then she tucked the chart back under her arm, and dashed off. Jimin tried to link your hands, but he visibly went straight through. His body was slowly going translucent the longer he stayed there.

“Y/n, you go first.”

__________________________________________

More tears gathered in your eyes when you raced towards the room. You clutched the locket in your hand as you slowly opened the door. You needed to remain cautious, because you knew you were not prepared to see behind that door. You were not prepared to see the love of your life holding on with everything in him. When the grey door fully opened ; you had to grip the door handle with force to keep yourself up right.

“Oh my god.” You mumbled through tears as you slowly walked closer to his body. His forehead was covered in a long bandage, his face was purple and blue from bruises. The tube in his throat was loudly pumping. You pulled a nearby chair up, and gripped his hand tightly. You could feel the tears slip past your lips onto his hand. “I’m so sorry.”

Salty tears were freely flowing down your cheeks, and you tried your best to stop them. You tried to man up, and appear strong for Jimin. But he looked bad, worse, he looked horrendous. You’ve never seen him so beaten up, and it broke your heart. You head dropped against the bed, as you let heavy sobs take over your body. The beeping monitor was background noise, and you wished you could make it steady.

“Baby, I j-just wanted to say I’m so sorry. I never should have l-let you leave last night. That stupid fight, I’m just so sorry.” You sobbed into his hand. You clutched it tightly, and kissed it repeatedly. You really wished that he would pop up, and do the same to yours.

Unbeknownst to you was that shadow that followed your every move. Jimin felt heartbroken watching you cry like this, and not being able to do anything about it. He harshly rubbed the tears that flowed down his cheeks, and dropped down to his knees in front of you. He laid his heavy head on your thighs as he took notice of the small light coming from the hallway. Tearing his eyes away he focused on your now quivering lip.

“Jimin, you’re hooked up to IV’s and have a tube helping you breath. If this...” You breathed our sharply. You didn’t want your voice to crack from all the crying. “If this is too painful, I just want you to know. It’s o-okay. You can let go, but I’ll always be right here.”

Jimin shot back from your body when he heard you utter those words. He didn’t want to give up, he couldn’t give up! Not now, not when he done survived the crash and surgery. He needed to live another day. He needed to show you the joys of the world like he promised. And he had a plan to make you his, the ring was sitting back on his kitchen table. He couldn’t leave the world knowing he never told just how much he appreciated you. This was not how he was supposed to go out.

He was supposed to go out in his old age, being surrounded by his grandkids. He was supposed to be with you. But that stupid light in that hallway was slowly getting his attention. He knew exactly what that meant, but he didn’t want to admit it. His panicked eyes shot open at the sudden decrease of the beeps. You were pulled away as multiple people rushed to his aid.

And he finally come to the conclusion, that this was the horrible way he was gonna out. Watching as people pressed metal plates to his chest, and your sobbing figure being dragged out of the room. He dropped to the ground in tears as they yelled clear one more. They pumped his chest repeatedly, but now his attention wasn’t on the people trying to save his life.

His attention was on the blinding light that shimmered in the hallway. And after giving you and the locket that had fallen out of your grasp, one more look, his heart broke for the last time. Then he solemnly walked towards the light while hearing a mumbled voice say.

“Time of death. 14:32.”

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knightthunderis · 4 years

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Christmas Cordonian style Knight Thunder Twist.

Christmas cordonian style with a Knight Thunder twist

author's note this story takes place a week after the arrest of Barthelemy Beaumont and those who were with him in the coup against the crown of cordonia.

The Palace of Cordonia is a buzz with excitement as servants and people alike work together to decorate the capital city for the upcoming Christmas celebration.

Karyson and his Queen Reimeiko were observing as the decorations and preparations were happening.

“It is a Happy Time For Us my dear Reimeiko. What a celebration the preparations have been going on for days.” Karyson gushed. “ old man Beaumont and the rest of his conspirators are behind bars my aunt and uncle can finally rest in peace knowing that they're killers are incarcerated for the rest of their lives. I am relieved as well. Rhiannon and the twins are growing up free from Barthelemy's tyranny. and peace is once again returned to our kingdom.”

“oh yes.” Queen Reimeiko agreed. “ we are finally able to live our lives and our children are free the grow up away from all the evils that were thrown at them. all of our friends from all around the kingdom and Beyond have come to help decorate. BJ and the trio were getting along beautifully and this is our first real Christmas together as a family.”

before they knew what was happening, a loud crash could be heard from the kitchen close to the ballroom. Karyson and Reimeiko exchanged fearful looks and took off in the direction of the crash. they both get through this serving doors only Drake fell out on the floor with a bowl of cake mix on his head.

“ what happened?” the king demanded attempting to hide the laughter behind his feigned anger.

“It was an accident, honestly.” Maxwell Beaumont quickly said. “I was coming one way with a bowl of cake mix. He was coming the other with the apples and we collided. Nothing major we’ll fix it we’ll fix it.”

“Well you had better fix it.” the King growled in feigned anger. “Racine will get both of your butts if you mess up her kitchen and you know how fiercely protective Racine is of her kitchen.” as the king and his queen turned away and walked out of the kitchen once out of earshot they finally busted up laughing. “ did you see the look on Maxwell's face when he and Drake thought they were in trouble? The look of fear was priceless. “

As they exited the kitchen and returned to the Ballroom and the decorating, Marco and Valerie from Lythikos and Jiro and Camila from Applewood arrived with their families with more sweet treats and snacks for the celebration. The Cordonian children we're given permission to take the time to play with BJ and the trio.

“Thank you for inviting us to your Christmas celebrations your Majesty's.” Camilla announced. “And we are glad that you were able to save your daughter from being taken over by that bad man.”

“ well the bad man will be no trouble for no body anymore.” the queen replied. “ he is locked up for the rest of his life and will never harm another Soul ever again. you know what I have got an idea. what do you guys say you guys heard BJ & the trio up to the playroom and then I will come and tell y'all A Christmas Story tell you all about how it all began with me and my family.”

“ that would be awesome your highness.” Marco gushed. “ it would be great to hear all about your first Christmas and how things meant for you and yours.”

“ well okay if you will take BJ Rhiannon Ethan and Gabriel do the playroom The King and I will be up in a few minutes with the Christmas book.”

without another second to spare the cordonian children took the younger ones up to the playroom and waited for the queen to arrive with her story. within about 10 minutes the king and queen arrived at the playroom all the children were sitting in a semicircle in front of the rocking chair waiting to hear the Queen's famous story.

“ truth of the matter be told.” Karyson replied. “I cannot wait to hear the story you have come up with my love.”

“ well this is a story that everybody will enjoy.” Reimeko said. instead of sitting in the rocking chair she pushed it back and set down in the floor with the children and her husband and began her story. “ this is the story of a Time long ago back before my parents back when my grandparents were still just children my grandfather told us the story years later and it's become a family favorite: Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house not a creature was stirring not even a mouse the stockings were hung by the chimney with care in hopes that st. Nicholas soon would be there the children were nestled all snug in their beds with visions of sugarplums dancing in their heads.”

This part of the story is where the king picked it up. “ oh I remember this with mom and her kerchief and I in my cap we had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap. When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter away to the window I flew like a flash tore open the shutters and threw up the sash. The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow gave the luster of midday to objects below when what do my wondering eyes should appear but a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer with a little old driver so Lively and quick I knew in that moment it must be Saint Nick More rapid than the Eagles his coursers they came and he whistled and shouted and called them by name now Dasher now Dancer now Prancer and Vixen on Comet on Cupid on Donner and Blitzen to the top of the porch to the top of the wall now dash away, dash away dash away all as dry leaves up before the wild hurricane fly when they met with an obstacle mount to the sky so up to the Housetop the coursers they flew with the sleigh full of toys and Saint Nicholas II and then in a twinkling I heard on the roof the Prancing and pawing of each little hoof as I drew in my head and was turning around down the chimney st. Nicholas came with a bound.”

The queen took up the story from then on. but the story had brought in everyone else to hear the long and blustering Tale. “ he was dressed all in fur from his head to his foot and his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot, a bundle of toys he had flung on his back and look like a peddler just opening his pack his eyes have a twinkled his dimples how merry his cheeks were like roses his nose like a cherry his droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow and the beard on his chin was as white as the snow the stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth and the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath he had a broad little face and a little round belly that shook when he laughed like a bowl full of jelly he was chubby and plump a right Jolly Old elf and I laughed when I saw him in spite of myself a winking his eye and it twisted his head soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread he spoke not a word but it went straight to his work and feel it all the stockings then turn with a jerk and laying his finger aside of his nose and giving a nod up the chimney he rose he sprang to his sleigh his team gave a whistle and a way they are flew like that down of a thistle but I heard him exclaim as he drove out of sight Merry Christmas to all and to all a good-night.”

The children and everyone assembled sat there in awe as the queen finished the long historical story Amazed by the beauty and the imagery she weaved as she told the story.

“Tell us more your majesty.” Camilla gushed. “is there more Christmas poems and stories you know that one was amazing especially the tale of the snow.”

“ there is much more there is one by Charles Dickens that was entitled The Christmas Carol but that is a much longer story to be told and right now we have not the time.” the queen replied. “ but the moral of the Christmas story is at least A Christmas Carol is a story if you like I will read to you all at bedtime but for now we have a celebration to get to and hopefully everything is in order.”

Ethan, Rhiannon, and Gabriel, along with BJ approached Queen Thunderis with curious eyes. “ was there more to the poem Aunt Rena?” BJ asked. “ it was a very short story but I'd like to know more.”

“ me too mommy.” Rhiannon echoed. “more Christmas Story pease?”

“ alright here's one I can tell you since we do seem to have time before the big celebration.” the queen replied. “ when Jamie Randall and Shannon we're just nine maybe ten years old that was one Christmas that turned into a Christmas miracle. The Llewellyn's had just moved in next door Mr. Llewellyn had joined Thunderstar Universal and his children Tristan, Erin, and Jordan had just enrolled in the nearby Elementary School. Mrs. Llewellyn was traveling the country with her family to meet up with her married family in time for the holidays. Miss Rihanna drove a special delivery truck all over the country and was to an extent a female version of Santa Claus. but it wasn't just gifts for the children that she was hauling every year she was also doing everything to help families that didn't have everything they needed. “

“Was there a lot of families like that?” Camilla asked. “ I do not understand what did it mean that these families did not have everything they needed?”

“The families I am referring to are the ones like well your Nobles and Royals call them, commoners.” the queen replied. “ because unlike the Nobles and Royals The parents of these families had to work for a living. not everybody born is born into it a family where all they have to do is bark orders at others and get what they want the commoners had to work for everything they had but because of a lot of the Nobles and Royals of the history there were a lot of things that they were unable to afford. Anyway, Mrs. Rhiannon owned her own Trucking line and was an independent truck driver. Well this particular holiday season she was called on by a very special family she had grown up around over the years. they asked her to drive what they call the Christmas truck because what was in the trailer of that special truck what's going to save this one town utter destruction. well the week before Christmas Mrs. Rhiannon packed it up And headed out for the town of Lincoln Falls which was apparently somewhere in Alaska. they drove for the longest time she and her brother but always called back to her family in order to keep them up-to-date as to where she was she dropped off her load and was on her way back first few days before Christmas Eve when she was supposed to call she did not. the truck had been found jackknifed into a snowbank on her way back to her family but there was no sign of her or her brother come to find out she and her brother had been rescued by a stranger but this was no ordinary stranger at least I did not think so according to Rhiannon The Stranger had seen what it happened the snow so hard to see through Rihanna's lost control of the truck and hit the snowbank almost burying the big truck in the snow. The Stranger welcome them back to his home where they could get warm and wait out the blizzard that it hit for what seemed like several days the blizzard blew and blew and blew and by the time it finally stopped Rescuers had found the truck and we're working diligently to dig it out Rhiannon and her brother had wakened from the sound of someone digging around the in the snow around the truck they were thankful that they had been spared. when they told the dispatcher about what happened and who had helped them they did not at first believe what she said come to find out the stranger name was Liam Alexander that is the name he gave us Rhiannon declared but that is impossible the dispatcher replied Liam Alexander died back in 1956 due to snow storm this just as this one was it couldn't have been him come to find out Rihanna looked in the direction they had gone towards Liam's house but all she saw for miles and miles with nothing but snow but he was here she protested he saved us we were we were in his house. Liam Alexander was quite the angel back in the day he was always doing everything humanly possible to help all the families who were unable to have anything extra for like Christmas and whatever else even those who were struggling financially and otherwise he would always do what he could to help the night he died he was on the same kind of run you heard the song Angels Among Us by Alabama the dispatch arrest well yeah of course who hasn't Rihanna declared that song tells a story quite literally the dispatcher said I believe there are Angels Among Us sent down to us from somewhere up above They come to you and me In our darkest hours to show us how to live pto teach us how to give and to guide us with the light of love. the dispatcher took Rhiannon to the cemetery and showed her Liam's tombstone with that Epitaph written in the Stone. Liam James Alexander born March 25th 1936 died December 16th 1956 he was an angel Among Us and he will always be remembered and loved He was only 20 years old the dispatcher said but in his short years of life he gave more of himself did many others ever thought about. Rhiannon continued home that night and when she finally walked in her door Christmas morning her husband sons and daughter as well as their new neighbors were there to greet her relieved that she made it home safely the last thing she said before she went to bed herself if it was not for Liam Alexander I would not be here today no matter what happens my children never take strangers for granted because when you least expect it they could very well be angels in disguise.

“ it was amazing.” Camila gushed. “ is Miss Rhiannon still alive? I would have loved to have been able to have met her.”

“ well actually you already have.” Queen Seidre replied. “ she was me in my younger years. and it was the last run I made before I returned to my husband and my children and my reign as Queen of Thaddea.”

“ all right you guys that's enough stories for now.” Maxwell called. “ the ballroom the snacks and everything is ready time to get this party on and Christmas Jamboree kicking into high gear let's go you guys come on what do you want stories later. it is time for presents let's go let's go.”

as everyone began to move out of the playroom and head back to the ballroom the king embraced his Queen before she left.” I will have to admit that this is the first of the best Christmases ever put together my love.” he replied. “ I look forward to a whole lifetime of more to come to watching our children grow up happy and healthy to being together and finally living in peace here so much I want to do. you have a very thoughtful look on your face my queen is there something on your mind?”

“ I got some test results back from dr. Ramirez the other day.” the queen announced. “ I did not want to say anything and get your hopes up until I knew for sure but now that I do…”

“ oh my goodness Queen Reimeiko what is it?” King Karyson asked. “ please do not leave me on tenterhooks what is going on?”

“ it seems that Rhiannon and the twins are going to be having a sibling or two soon.” Reimeiko replied.

“ wait, what? seriously baby?” Karyson asked. “ this is beyond any shadow of a doubt the best news all day and one of the best Christmas gifts ever. oh now we had to make this big announcement and now.”

“ we will in due time but for now let us just enjoy the peace and quiet of the celebration and not worry about telling everybody else any more than what we already have.” the queen replied. “ I definitely do not want a repeat every Rhiannon and the twins first year”

“ oh good point my love.” King replied. “ now come on we have a celebration to enjoy.”

the Cordonian King and his Queen return to join the others in the big Christmas celebration relieved to have made it through their first two years despite all the shortcomings trials and tribulations they have had to face from the beginning. as she watched her husband her family and her friends celebrate the Christmas holidays, Reimeiko knew that no matter what the future held, they would always face everything together as a family as a unit as a very strong compassionate loving and caring Kingdom.

The End

#cordonianroyalty #kingliam2019 #texaskitten30 #knightthunderis85 #gliamtruelovealways #thunderstaruniversalenterprises

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ts-into-the-coinverse · 4 years

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Made of Love, Chapter 27

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Table of Contents

Ship(s): Logicality, (platonic) Prinxiety

All Characters: Thomas, Virgil, Roman, Logan, Patton, Dr. Picani, Joan, Talyn, and Deceit

Synopsis: Humans Roman and Virgil get wrapped up in some serious magic business without meaning to. Their other companions aren’t exactly as they seem, either. Together they all must defeat a great threat for the safety of humanity.

Chapter Desc.: Sometimes the spider gets an easy meal. (And, no, Virgil won't save it this time.)

TW: Cursing, violence, unsympathetic Patton, blood mention, injury description, body horror

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“Virgil,” Patton started in an overly calm voice.

Roman grabbed Virgil’s hand. He wasn’t quite sure why he did it. Something urged him to. A need he didn’t quite understand, yet complied with anyway. Virgil didn’t pull away so it must have been fine.

"I know we don't have any reason to trust Dolos, but I want to ask you one thing," he turned so he could look at Virgil, "is he telling the truth?"

"I…" He squeezed Roman's hand. "I don't know."

Wrong answer.

Patton frowned. "How do you not know?"

"I-I don't know. I don't remember —"

He stepped forward. "Did you tell anyone or not?"

"No. I never said anything. I swear." He kept a tight grip on Roman's hand.

"Then why don't you know?"

Virgil spared a glance over to Thomas and Logan. They watched the scene in wary skepticism. "Because I… I think I did do it." He quickly added, "but not on purpose."

That still didn't quell Patton's rising suspicion. "What are you talking about?"

Virgil looked at Roman this time. And Roman wanted to take away that fear and doubt he saw. "When I left the house on my own — when I was attacked by that Figment — I think it saw where I came from."

"Oh, man," Thomas whispered.

Logan remained silent and Roman didn't know what to say, either.

But Patton. Oh, gosh, there was a hidden fury there Roman recognized right away. "So we've been found because you didn't listen to us? When we told you never to leave the house alone, did you think that was a suggestion? There was a reason we said that and it was to make sure no Figments snuck up on anyone."

"I think he gets it," Roman stepped in. It was just… crummy. An accident. A wrong place and a wrong time kind of a deal. There was no way Virgil would have known. "It happened. There's nothing we can do about it now."

"You think I can just let it go? We've been living here for nearly twenty years in secret. Nothing has ever happened to get Altair even close to knowing where we are until you two showed up."

Roman took personal offense to that.

"And now he can walk in at any moment because Virgil decided to take a nightly stroll with zero regards for his surroundings."

Everyone fell silent. Roman was partially fuming from the implication that this was all their fault. They didn't ask to be thrown into this wild story. Patton was the one that decided not to write them out in the first place. He was the one to agree with Thomas about telling them magic things. If he didn't want any nasty troublemaking little humans around, he should have said so before this whole thing even started.

"Logan, fuse with me."

Logan looked up in alarm. "W-what?"

"Fuse with me." He marched over to Logan and Thomas. "We need to make sure nothing gets in this house that we don't approve of and Picani is the only one that can do it." He held out his hand.

“I, I don’t —”

“Logan.”

Logan shut his mouth tight. His fingernails dug into his arm. "What if it doesn't work?"

"It's going to."

He shared an anxious glance with Thomas before staring at Patton’s hand in uncertainty. He made a reach for it but Thomas gently grabbed his wrist.

“Patton,” Thomas started. “You can’t just force him to do it.”

“I’m not. I…” He looked at Logan, seeing rare vulnerability over his face. He probably felt it — the nervousness, the terror. “I…” He sighed and dropped his hand. “I’m sorry. I’ll — I’ll find a way to do it myself.”

“Patton —” Logan tried to stop him from leaving, but Roman put a hand on his shoulder.

Once he was in the house, Virgil groaned and drew his hand away from Roman. “I’m so sorry, guys. I didn’t mean to screw this up so bad. It was an accident.”

“We know that,” Roman reassured. “Right?”

A loud silence followed. Thick and palpable, leaving a dry, bitter taste behind. Roman felt his confidence wavering.

After what must have been an eternity, Thomas responded with a quiet, “Right.” Logan remained silent.

Virgil frowned at the ground.

Okay, that sucked. Roman refused to let that be the end of it, though. “We should get inside before Thomas freezes to death.”

“Yes please.”

Inside, there was proof that something went on. It was a huge mess that spread between the living room and the kitchen. Glasses and mugs were broken, the coffee table was destroyed, and almost all the furniture was somewhere it shouldn’t be. In the moment it didn’t seem that drastic, but looking at it now was a different story. A tornado would have left a cleaner mess.

Thomas gasped and rushed over to a picture frame on the floor. It must have fallen off the wall. “Oh no.” He picked it up and glass pieces fell from it. The frame itself was unsalvageable, and the picture proved to be undetermined.

“Be careful,” Logan warned softly.

Thomas slipped the picture out of the broken half of the frame. At least most of it was okay.

“Maybe we should clean all of this up,” Roman mumbled as he looked around. The once neat rooms were a complete disaster. He didn’t think he’d ever see it like this. The house had always been spotless even on the worst days. "After we take care of ourselves first."

They also happened to be a mess. Thomas was soaking wet with a bleeding cut along his cheek. Logan's arm was caked in blood. Virgil had a gash above his eyebrow and Roman was sure he didn't get away unscathed either.

"I think we need to give Patton some space," Logan mumbled.

Roman frowned a bit, sensing tension he was all too familiar with. "Then we'll just have to do it the old fashioned way."

"We don't have a first aid kit or anything." Thomas set the picture and frame down on the breakfast bar. The trash can had been tipped over. "I think I have a box of band-aids in my room." He paused. "I think this proves we should get a first aid kit for the house in case of emergencies."

"I have one in my car. Logan can come with me to get it." He motioned with his head for Logan to follow him.

"You have a first aid kit in your car?" Thomas gazed at him in confusion.

"Virgil's not the only paranoid one." They walked around the fallen front door.

"Never thought I'd hear that," Virgil commented under his breath.

Roman led the way down the stairs to his car. He popped the trunk to get the first aid kit in the back, but before grabbing it, he turned to Logan. “Are you okay?”

“What?” Logan looked taken aback for a moment. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah, I’m fine too, so that’s why I’m asking.” He sat on the bumper of his car. “From one ‘fine’ person to another.” He attempted a smile but it fell flat. “Honestly, Logan, are you really okay? I don’t want to speak for you, but with what just happened with Patton right now…" God, why was this so difficult? "I’m just trying to say, that from someone who has also gone through some traumatic experiences, you don’t have to pretend in front of me.”

Logan hesitated. He schooled his expression, but there was a break enough to show he was afraid. “I would prefer,” his words came out choppy. Like he was choosing what to say as it came out of his mouth, “to put this whole incident behind us.”

Hm. “Alright, I get that. Just know that if you ever need to stop pretending, you can come to me.”

“I… appreciate that.” He shivered and seemed momentarily confused by it.

“Yeah, that’s what cold feels like.” Roman reached into the trunk and pulled out the first aid kit. “Let’s get back inside.”

They entered the house without a word. Virgil was the only one they saw. He picked up the tipped over stools at the breakfast bar.

"Where's Thomas?" Logan asked.

"In the shower." He picked up the trash can.

"Virgil, stop trying to clean up and sit down." Roman placed the first aid kit on the bar counter. "Logan, you sit down, too. We don't want either of you getting your blood all over the place."

Virgil complied with a bit of a curious look. "Who put you in charge?"

He popped open the kit. "No one. I'm just assuming I'm the only one that knows how to use any of the stuff in here." He grabbed a washcloth from the hall closet and ran it under the sink. Almost all of Logan's arm was coated in blood (it appeared to stop actively bleeding, at least), and there was no way all of that would come off with a tiny alcohol wipe. "Okay, Logan, either you take the shirt off or I'm ruining the rest of that sleeve."

"The shirt stays on."

"Works for me." He cut the rest of the sleeve to have better access to the gashes. They looked nasty. Long lines traveling down his whole bicep to the joint of his elbow. The center of it was the deepest part. Almost deep enough to see the tissue layers. An injury like this should be treated with something a bit better than a first aid kit, but that wasn't an option. He tried to be as gentle as he could cleaning the blood. The whole cloth was stained red by the end of it. "This next part is going to sting a bit." He ripped open a packet of antiseptic.

"Ooh, look at you, Mr. Boy Scout." Virgil smirked. It didn't make his eyes twinkle with mischievousness like it always did.

"Please. I could never stand boys my age when I was younger." He began applying the bandages. "One of my brothers is an Eagle Scout, actually. I went on almost every single camping trip with him and was there for nearly every merit badge. Kinda hated it, but I got some useful information out of it." He finished. It wasn't pretty, but it would hold. He was sure Patton would heal it after he cooled off. Well, he hoped. "You should be good for now."

He did the same with Virgil and then Thomas when he got out of the shower. He almost closed up the kit and set it to the side, but Virgil stopped him and reminded him he still had to do himself.

"Or I could do it. I-I mean I could try. You can tell me what to do."

"Just clean the cut and bandage it, you dork." He slid over the kit. "It's not rocket science."

Thomas and Logan sat together in the living room after fixing it up a bit. None of the sofas were in the right spots, but that was a problem for another day. Thomas created a little hovel of blankets that he hid under for warmth. Logan had one over his shoulders that he wrapped further around himself when a cold breeze pushed its way through the gaping doorway. It was clear that the concept of feeling cold was foreign to him. It's like he didn't know what to do about it.

"We have got to fix that." Roman frowned at the doorway.

Virgil snapped the kit closed. "The hinges are busted. What are we gonna do about it?"

"We can't just leave it wide open like that."

"We're not handymen, Roman. I agree with you, but how can we fix it right now?"

"It would probably help if one of us stopped brooding and used some magic." Roman couldn't help the slight contempt that leaked into his voice.

Virgil frowned. "He has every right to be mad. I just don't understand why none of you are on his level."

Roman matched his frown. "Because we’re being reasonable. You wanted to be alone. You weren't trying to hurt anyone. He's acting like you went to Altair himself and told him our address."

“It feels like it, doesn’t it?”

Fuck that. “Virgil, listen to me. It wasn't your fault. Patton's overreacting. How could you have known that there would be a Figment there at that time? How could you have known any of this would happen? It's unfair to put blame on you when you had no idea what it would come to."

Virgil fidgeted in his seat. Roman could tell he wasn't content with that, but he didn't say anything. Neither of them spoke about it further.

Roman stayed up late that night. Well, later than usual. He didn't want to admit that sleeping with Virgil was starting to help him sleep better, but it was true. For most nights, at least. This appeared to be one of the nights it didn't work. Whether it was being upset with Patton, or the stress of doomsday, or the continuing presence of his traumatizing childhood was up for debate.

But it was probably being upset with Patton. No other reason.

How could anyone blame him? Patton threw things way out of proportion. Yeah, it's upsetting, but it isn't Virgil's fault. It wasn't as if he chose this specific outcome to happen. Ugh, if he had to keep repeating that he was going to lose his mind. It felt like he had to defend Virgil from everyone — if he didn't then who would? Not Virgil, that's for sure. He was content with getting blamed even though no one had a right to blame him in such a way.

Roman sighed and covered his face with his hands. He had no idea why he was being so defensive. It was like something else took over him the second Patton pressured Virgil. He didn't know what it was and he kind of hoped it would go away. A very small yet persistent “I told you so” buzzed in the back of his brain, but he didn’t know what it meant. Who told him so? Told him what? How was he meant to learn something from it if he didn’t even know what it was referencing?

Goddammit.

He wasn’t going to sleep tonight.

~~~

For the first time in — well — forever, Virgil woke up before Roman. But, surprisingly, he wasn’t the first one up. The cocoon of blankets that used to house Thomas was moved over to Logan. Virgil untangled himself from Roman and stood up to look for the kid. Except he didn’t have to go very far.

Thomas sat at the breakfast bar, holding the photo from last night.

“Hey, kid,” Virgil whispered as he took a seat beside him. “Mind if I sit here?”

“Go ahead.”

Virgil tried not to be curious, but he couldn't help to let his eyes wander over to the photo. It depicted Picani in a floppy hat and bright yellow sundress with a large sunny smile. He was bent slightly to be closer to Thomas's height. If his hand was anything to go by, he was the reason Thomas's hat was backward. As for the rest of Thomas, one of his cheeks was smeared with purple paint, but his clothes had various other colors scattered about. He didn't seem to mind, as he smiled just as brightly as Picani.

"Are you doing okay?" Virgil turned his eyes to Thomas. He looked tired. Like some battle-weary soldier who wanted to go home.

"I miss him." He placed the photo on the counter but didn't look away. "I love Patton and Logan a lot, but…" He sighed, almost inaudible. "I just miss Picani. The longest I ever went without him was a few days, but now I haven't seen him in weeks. It's…" He trailed off once more and it didn't seem he knew how to pick it back up.

And Virgil didn't know how to do it, either. "We'll see him again."

"I hope so." He spared an anxious glance back at the pile of blankets that concealed Logan.

Virgil frowned, guilt sitting in his chest like a rock. He knew trying to help Logan got a lot harder. “I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“I kind of get the feeling I ruined everything. I let Altair know where we are and he sent Dolos after us. And look at this place,” he spun on his stool to motion to the disorder. The sofas were still messed up. There was a crack in the wall where the picture frame used to be. A broken coffee table, and a door being held in place by a kitchen chair, “if Altair decided to show up himself it’d be a lot worse.”

“I know.”

“And you’re just fine with it?" He spun back around to show his disbelief. "He could come here anytime and wreck this place again — and us — and it would all be my fault. Shouldn't you pissed about that?”

“I can’t be.”

"Why not?"

"That would be hypocritical." Thomas looked him dead in the eye.

He had a cold feeling in his stomach. "What are you talking about?"

A small, sad smile made its way on his face. "I might be the only person in the world who knows exactly how you feel.” Seeming to take Virgil’s silence as a response, he continued. “I was the reason Altair found my family. The reason Picani and I had to run away.”

Virgil paused to figure out how to word that he wanted more information without being tactless, but settled on, “How?”

“An accident, really. Just a couple of kids saying magic is real.” His eyes flicked over the picture for a moment, frowning. "I'm… a little upset, but there's no way I can be mad at you. Because I did the same thing." He took the photo in his hands. "Picani understood what I did was a mistake and I didn't mean for anything to happen. I bet he'd think the same for you."

"No offense, but I hope you understand why I don’t believe that."

Thomas frowned a bit further. Before he could say anything else, Patton walked into the kitchen. He looked… well, there was no accurate way to describe him other than awful. His glasses were missing, allowing a strong contrast between his bright eyes and the dark bags beneath them. A deep scowl remained on his face as he went about his morning routine.

“Morning, Patton,” Thomas greeted softly.

Patton mumbled back a reply.

“Did you sleep at all last night?”

“Not one bit.” His eyes were on the kettle, but it didn’t seem as if he was seeing it. “I spent hours trying to find something that I could be able to do, but I just — I just don’t have that kind of power.” He leaned against the counter. “Picani is naturally good at protection magic. Unless we have him, there’s no way this house is safe.”

Thomas brought up a fake smile. "Well, we just have to be extra vigilant, then."

Patton hummed in a way that managed to sound resigned yet disapproving. "Where's Logan?"

"Over there." He tilted his head toward the sofa.

"Is he okay?"

"I, I think so." He exchanged an uncertain glance with Virgil. "He didn't seem not okay. I mean, he has those bad cuts on his arm and they kinda look like they hurt, but he didn't say anything about them."

Patton stared into the living room blankly. "I'll heal it when he wakes up."

Thomas and Virgil exchanged another glance. "Patton, maybe you should — I don't know — rest?" Thomas looked at him warily. "Is it really such a good idea to stay up this long?"

"I'm fine."

Virgil frowned. "I don't think —"

Patton glared at him.

Thomas cringed and shrunk in on himself.

Virgil had half a mind to do the same, but the most he did was avoid Patton's gaze and keep his mouth shut.

"Let me know when Logan gets up." He left the kitchen.

There were a few beats of silence before Thomas whispered, "That could have gone better."

Virgil was inclined to agree.

~~~

Roman ran his sword through the dummy's chest and dragged it up, slicing through the wood. "He's being an ass." The dummy fell to pieces. "He can't just keep ignoring you like that."

"Evidently he can." Virgil watched the dummy spring to life. "Why are you so mad about this?"

"Because I am!" He sliced it in half and turned to face Virgil. "He doesn't have any right to be acting the way he is. He's making Thomas upset, and Logan uncomfortable. And me — pissed off." He turned back to the dummy once it built itself again. "I hate being pissed off."

Virgil didn't know what to say to that.

"If he got off his high horse for a second he'd realize what a jerk he's being." Roman readied for a proper round this time. "Maybe he'd stop seeing us as an enemy that he needs to get rid of."

An enemy.

The Machai elves are warriors, Virgil's mind provided him, feared creatures that don't back down from a fight. Is that what this was, then? A fight? Was Patton going back to his roots as a feared warrior to ensure his family's safety? Were he and Roman no longer considered apart of it? Or maybe just Virgil. After all, Virgil was the one to show Altair where they were hiding.

Roman, in a move Virgil was sure wasn't taught to him, evaded the dummy's pursuits to end up at its back. He flipped the sword in his hand with expert ease so it ran along his arm, and jabbed it behind him. The blade pierced through its stomach. "I told you we couldn't trust a Machai elf."

"I know," Virgil responded before his brain could catch up. Once he realized what the fuck just happened, he uttered a stupified and genuine, "wait, what?"

"What?" Roman looked at Virgil in confusion until he, too, was hit by realization. But it fell back to confusion. "Why did I do that?"

Virgil stared in shock before regaining his composure. "Objective complete." The dummies crumpled.

"I don't know why I said that." Roman seemed more confused by the second. "I, I've never thought — I don't know — why did that happen?"

Virgil stood up and walked toward him. "Tell me what you're feeling."

"I-I mean I'm confused —"

"No." Virgil grabbed Roman's free hand. "What are you feeling?"

"I…"

This wasn't the first time the two had a conversation like this, and it didn't seem it would ever be the last. "You know what I mean."

Roman hesitated, keeping his eyes trained on their hands. "I'm… I'm mad at myself. For letting this happen." He adjusted his hand to hold Virgil's a slightly different way. It was familiar. Like a distant memory. A dream. "I-it just, it feels like I should know better, or that I was waiting the whole time for something like this to happen. I don't… I don't get it."

Virgil didn’t quite get it, either. This was still a new and unpredictable thing for them. “Is there anything else?”

“Uh…" The tips of his ears burned a bright pink. "No.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“Oh, like you’re any better.” Roman tried to pry his hand away, but Virgil held it tight.

“You don’t have to tell me. I know I don’t experience all of this, this —” what was there to even call it? What was it? — “memory stuff the same way you do, but we’re in this together.” He put his other hand around Roman’s fist. “Whatever happened back then isn't going to happen now. We're going to be okay."

Roman looked up at him, meeting his eyes at last. And Virgil received another jolt of familiarity. Like something he hadn't seen in many years was finally being returned to him. It caused him to lose his breath. He had seen Roman's eyes before, several times, but in this instance — in this context — it was different. It meant so much more to something deep inside him. And then he realized he was staring at Roman like a wide-eyed idiot. But before he could find his voice, someone cleared their throat.

Logan stood there with a raised brow and a faint smile. He wore one of Picani’s pullover hoodies, which was a first, but it was much chillier today than yesterday. And since he was able to feel temperatures now, he needed something to keep him warm. Even if it was an oversized, pink hoodie. “Am I interrupting something?”

Roman and Virgil jumped away from each other, Virgil ripping his hands back the same way a child would drop evidence of being in the cookie jar. They rushed out a frantic and unbelievable, “No.”

It didn’t seem Logan cared all that much, however. “Be that as it may, it is rather convenient to find both of you here. I have something important to discuss.”

Important? That didn’t sound good.

“What’s up?” Roman pushed his bracelet back to his wrist, his sword vanishing from his hand.

And then Logan hesitated, which made Virgil’s stomach do a flip. However, it was more a hesitation for thought than reluctance. “Thomas needs to learn how to properly defend himself. If this trend of growing danger continues, he needs to be able to handle it on his own if it ever comes to that.” He adjusted his glasses. A rather telling nervous habit. “Considering Patton’s, uh, current reluctance, I feel you two are the obvious next choice.”

“Obvious?” Virgil couldn’t help the twinge of skepticism in his voice.

“Yeah, for once I think I agree with Virgil’s cynicism.” Roman put a hand on his hip. His tone was jovial and a bit sarcastic when he said, “I didn’t think you’d let us teach Thomas anything unless you thought you were dying.”

Logan didn’t react. Didn’t smile, didn’t frown, and didn’t deny it.

All joking manners seeped out of Roman. He stared wide-eyed at the tiny mage before him, who somehow seemed even smaller with the shadow of death looming over him. “Oh my God, you think you’re dying.”

“It is necessary that he receives training as soon as possible,” Logan continued, blatantly ignoring Roman. “It would be easiest if you were the ones to do it.”

“You mean it would be easier on him when you’re gone.” Virgil didn’t mean for it to come out so bitter, but he couldn’t believe it. Logan was accepting his fate as if it were a hundred percent possibility. And while yes, Virgil couldn’t deny that Logan surviving was a tiny sliver of hope to hold onto, it was still there.

Logan made a face Virgil couldn’t decipher. “Even if I wanted, I am unable to.” He briefly placed his hand over the injury on his arm. Roman replaced the bandages this morning. “I can’t move much.”

Virgil narrowed his eyes at the place the gashes would be under the hoodie. Since the dream and the incident with Brigida, seeing Logan bloodied was… not a favorite pastime of Virgil. To say the least.

“Weren’t you supposed to see Patton about that?” Roman asked.

“Yes.” He hesitated again, but this time out of nervousness. “But I could sense his anger before I even entered the room and decided it would be best to leave it be for the time being.”

Roman scowled. "I'm going down there."

Virgil caught his arm. "Cool it." He didn't want them at each other's throats. "Getting back on track here — Logan, you can't admit defeat already. There's still time."

Logan stared at him. Eyes are the windows to the soul as they say, and Logan was never an exception. They always showed what was going on on the inside. Right now, clear as day, Virgil could see just… solemn acceptance. Logan didn't expect to live for much longer. He took it as fact. There was no amount of convincing that would get him to see otherwise.

"It would mean everything to me," his words crawled out slow and tired, "if you two decided to do this. We can't always be there to protect him and I-I just… I just want him to have a chance."

Virgil felt Roman squeeze his hand. Virgil squeezed back. "We'll do our best."

Logan nodded, clenching his mouth shut tight.

They pretended they didn't see the sheen of tears in his eyes as he left.

~~~

Two days.

It had been two days since Patton blew up at Virgil, and it didn't seem to be getting any better. For Virgil, at least. Patton toned down his bitterness for Thomas, Logan, and even Roman. But Virgil still had to deal with the anger and silent treatment. It was kind of making him lose his mind.

He didn't know what he was meant to do. No amount of logical perspective from Logan or gentle reasoning from Thomas would make Patton cut it out. It wasn't fair. He wouldn't give Virgil a chance. That's all Virgil wanted. A chance. How was he meant to apologize if Patton wouldn't give him the time of day?

Fortunately for him, a blessing revealed itself in the form of the Theorist.

The one and only time Virgil was glad to see the damn bastard.

"Someone gave me a tip," he explained as he took a seat beside Roman. "Anonymously, of course. Not how I prefer it, but information is information.”

“Anything useful?” Roman asked as Virgil fulfilled a request of a bar patron.

Ever since that night seeing Patton's future, the Theorist would stop by more often. They’d exchange news, if any, and then he’d leave. Off to do whatever the hell he does. He was stupidly mysterious — far too dramatic for his own good — but it made Virgil wonder what a black market Seer does on his off-time. Or his on-time. How exactly does he operate?

“Depends on your definition of useful.” The Theorist frowned a bit. “It feels more like a rumor than anything else.”

“Rumors can hold a bit of truth sometimes,” Virgil grumbled. “Out with it.”

He earned an exasperated sigh for that, but also the point. “They say Altair’s camping out nearby. Probably wants to be close after that little break-in incident of yours.” He shrugged. “But who knows the real reason, if any. If you can’t understand someone’s motives, there’s no point driving yourself mad over it.”

Virgil paused, mulling over the guilt and the silent treatment and the ticking time bomb that was Logan. “Do you know where?”

Both the Theorist and Roman gawked at him. “You’re not actually going to look, are you?” The Theorist hissed in an incredulous tone. “There are no facts — no evidence. This could very well be a trap. Altair’s getting impatient and he’s done waiting around for Logan to just die. He could be trying to lure all of you out.”

“Then I’ll be the only one to go.”

Roman made a soft, startled choking sound. “Fuck that. You’re not going anywhere.”

Virgil sighed. “Roman.”

“No, Virgil. We don’t know anything about the person who dropped the tip or even if it’s true. Did you forget that the last time we followed an anonymous tip we almost died?”

“Well, what if this one is true?” Virgil tried to keep his voice down. No one else needed to know of their escapades. “We’re just going to wait for Altair to do something when we have a chance to stop him?”

“I’d listen to him, Virgil,” the Theorist shifted in his seat, “we don’t know anything about this, and if it’s a trap, it would be dangerous to go on your own.”

“We won’t know what it is unless someone investigates.”

“Then we’ll figure something out,” Roman pleaded.

“I have to be the one to do this.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m the one that messed up. I’m the one that put all of us in danger. I’m the one Patton is pissed at, and I need to make it up somehow!” The last sentence came out louder than he intended. Several people turned their heads to look at him. He stared, frozen, before ducking his head to avoid their gazes. “If you don’t give me what you know,” he said in a low, serious voice. “I’ll find it out myself.”

The Theorist scowled, not happy with this ultimatum, but he also wasn’t an idiot. “That little shop a few buildings down. It’s closed for renovations. Supposedly.”

“Wha — you —” Roman was stuck between betrayal and disbelief — “am I the only one still against this?”

“Roman, it’s gonna happen whether you like it or not.”

Roman stopped, an unreadable expression blooming on his face until it dissolved to a hard frown. “Then I’m going with you.”

Virgil blinked, mind slow to process what transpired seconds ago. “You… why?”

“I told you already. You’re my best friend. No matter what, I’m going to stick with you.”

And if Virgil felt something flutter in his chest at that, he ignored it.

“That’s almost sweet enough to make me sick," the Theorist commented with a coy smile. "Now, if you're done with your suicide pact, I'm gonna head out." He slid a paper across the counter to Virgil. "Do me a favor and text me after you get done so I know whether or not I should stop by next time." He slid off the stool and called back before leaving, "I don't do phone calls."

Neither did Virgil. He picked up the paper with a raised brow. When did he have time to write this? Whatever. Virgil shoved it in his pocket all the same.

"He has a weird way of hitting on you."

"If you say something like that again I'm gonna punch you in the throat."

The following afternoon, Virgil and Roman set out on their task. Virgil insisted that they not tell anybody. If the others knew then they'd try to tag along and Virgil couldn't have that. He was doing this to help them.

On the outside, the little store didn't appear out of the ordinary. It was a store closed for renovation. Nothing more or less about it. Supposedly. On the inside, it could be a very different story. But they had to get in to find out.

"How —?" Virgil was cut off by Roman covering his mouth.

"Don't say anything," he whispered. "The less you say the better. And try to look like you know what you're doing. No one questions confidence." He dropped his hand.

Virgil kept his mouth shut, but tried to convey his best, "what the fuck are you going on about?" look.

Roman simply smirked. "Come on." He strolled down the alley as if he had no better place to be. Virgil had no choice but to follow him.

They stumbled upon a little window near the back. It would be big enough for them to squeeze through, but not by much. Roman did a quick survey of the rest of the place, just to see, and confirmed this was their only way in. He also noted that there was a surprising lack of people for a place that was meant to be under renovations.

Virgil watched with mild fascination as Roman took control of the situation. He studied the window on his tip-toes before seeming to decide what to do with it. And the fascination grew as, with practiced ease, Roman went about forcing it open with an abandoned piece of scrap metal. Virgil had half a mind to warn him about tetanus before the window was opened, silencing any remark he was going to make.

Well. The sarcastic ones, at least.

“How the hell do you know how to do that?”

Roman gave him another smirk. The damn cheeky bastard. “If you’re locked out of the house a lot, you figure out ways to get back in.” He stepped back and motioned to the window with an almost regal half bow. “After you.”

Virgil rolled his eyes but heaved himself through the window anyway. Roman was a step behind.

They were in what must have been a washroom of sorts. Or maybe a laundry room. There was piping sticking out with hard floors and tiled walls. But no people. Staying quiet, they crept out of the room and down the hall. It wasn’t until the main room that they spotted anyone. A man, or rather, a Figment who took the appearance of a man. He wore an outfit from the 20s. The only reason Virgil could tell for sure was due to the resemblance of the outfits Logan and Patton first wore. But other than him, there was no one else.

Roman and Virgil shared a glance that seemed to convey the same, “well, at least we checked it out” mentality. The Figment was the only thing in the room worth of importance, as well. Nothing else stood out. Nothing else screamed evil or magic or both. It was a normal room with a bored-looking Figment messing with scraps left behind from an actual renovation. Altair, or any evidence of him, wasn't to be found.

“It’s rude to sneak around, boys,” a voice hissed behind them with a touch of amusement.

They both froze. It took them longer than they’d care to admit to get over the horrified shock and turn around. Before them stood a woman, a bit taller than average, with a wide smirk that showed off some sharp canines. If she came out of an 80s fashion magazine, Virgil would have believed it. And that was a bad sign.

“Oh,” she cooed as if addressing a stray animal. “You’re the humans. Gosh, look at how cute and fragile you are.” She walked forward, pushing them back and into the main room.

This was an even worse sign.

She acted… normal. Like a real person. Like Arlene and Brigida and Dolos. Created to always be slightly wrong, but more accurate than the first Figments they ever saw. And while that was very shitty, there still came the even shittier question… how the hell were there two of them?

The other one in question was right behind them now.

“I would love nothin’ more than to just squeeze you until you pop.” She clenched her hands into fists and scrunched her nose. "But I can't do that quite yet." Her eyes shifted up to the taller Figment. "Grab them."

That was enough to set things into motion. It all happened too fast for Virgil to keep up with. One second he was by Roman's side, the next they were separated with weapons drawn. The man followed after Roman while the woman stuck with Virgil.

She was different. So very different than any Magus Virgil had met so far. There was an air to her that told Virgil's most primal instincts to run away. Not in the same way a normal Figment caused. No, a normal Figment caused unabashed dread and fear like a coiled spring. What she caused was an instant fight or flight reflex. And the way she moved. It was… animalistic. Like Virgil was the prey and she the predator.

Hell, maybe she was.

In a quick flash, something shot out from her hand and towards Virgil's foot. He almost fell over when it hit. Not because it pushed him, but because it stopped his momentum. What the fuck. He paused to stare at it, confused when it looked like —

"Spider web?" He turned his eyes up to his pursuer, who stopped to smile at him. All teeth.

She closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, six more joined the movement. Positioned on each side of her face in rows. "You don't happen to be afraid of spiders, do you?"

"I prefer when they're nice." Virgil cut his foot free and took off.

She made a noise between a hiss and a growl before following him. She blinked, and her extra eyes vanished as if they were never there in the first place.

He almost staggered to a stop when he saw Roman get his sword yanked from his hand and tossed to the side. He didn't though. "Roman, are you okay?"

Roman remained on the ground. "It's like trying to fight Ty Lee," he groaned.

Great. Virgil didn't get a chance to help him. Another web caught his foot. This time he crashed to the floor. He cursed under his breath. For one, both of his daggers slid across the floor which left him simultaneously defenseless and deaf (the sudden, jarring sound of hearing things clearly was never pleasant). For another thing, his body fell forward while his foot stayed in place. Talk about a major owie.

"Virgil!" Roman moved out of the way of his own sword. His movements were stiff and sluggish, but not sluggish enough to be held down. He ran over to Virgil to help him up. "How the —?"

"My daggers." Virgil pointed uselessly at the floor. He almost fell over again without Roman to support him. Roman pressed one into his hand but kept the other. That might have been for the best.

"Aw, you guys are cuter than I thought," the Figment purred. Once Roman heard her, he was at Virgil's back to defend him. "Even when faced with defeat, you still put up a fight."

"No one's defeated yet," Roman countered.

He just had to open his stupid mouth.

Virgil felt webbing wrap around his torso, securing him to Roman with both their arms pinned to their sides.

"Fuck," Roman cursed softly like a bitter regret.

Indeed.

She approached them and snatched the daggers out of their hands as if neither of them had a death grip on it. To pour salt into the wound, she dropped them both at her feet. Within eyesight, but out of reach. "It would be so easy to squeeze you both right now." She walked around them, keeping her hands on her expanding web. "I'd give anything for it."

The other Figment simply stood by like a guarding statue.

"I don't think I remember this Spider-Man origin story," Roman quipped.

A short laugh left her grinning lips. "Inspiration had to come from somewhere, sugar." She stepped back, satisfied with the cocoon she trapped them in.

"What's stopping you from killing us?" Virgil asked. He hated everything about this situation.

"Self-restraint, really. But most of all, it ain't wise to kill bait." She shot a thick rope of webbing to the bottom of the cocoon.

"Bait?"

"Of course." She sent him a smile. "We need three others." The other rope of web went straight to the ceiling. She bent down to remove the webbing keeping them stuck to the ground, and then there they were. Hanging from a ceiling.

Ignoring the head rush and vertigo, Virgil retained his annoyed cadence. "You're going to wait forever, then. They don't even know we're here." He felt Roman stiffen against his back. Oh no. "Right, Roman?"

It took a second for him to respond. That second of silence was all Virgil needed to know. "I may have, uh, mentioned it to Thomas."

Goddammit.

"Look, I don't even have to see you to know that you're doing the 'Roman-how-could-you' face, but someone needed to know what happened to us if anything went south. You can't just charge headfirst into battle without backup."

Virgil grit his teeth. That was a solid point, but he was too upset to care.

"Lovely. It's only a matter of time, then."

Roman took a breath that signified a long-winded rant, and Virgil tuned him out on an automatic impulse. Roman's rants always consisted of exaggerated scenarios and how someone was wrong in many, interesting ways. This particular rant had a lot more curse words strewn about, some creative, and far more personal attacks on their captors. Virgil didn't think they cared about that.

The Figment pointed a finger gun at Roman, closed one eye as if taking aim, then a soft, "Pew," left her mouth as her hand mimicked the action. A gob of webs hit him right in the mouth.

Roman paused if only to process the turn of events then continued on his rant, muffled this time.

A quiet sigh escaped Virgil. This was all his fault. He should have listened to the Theorist. He should have listened to Roman. Now they were stuck here with an 80s, off-brand Spider-Gwen, and her stony-faced companion.

Not that he had time to stew in his self-pity for long.

The front doors burst open. Logan and Patton rushed in but didn't get very far passed the doorway. The webs on the floor tightened around their ankles like a Looney Tunes trap, binding them together. And much like a Looney Tunes trap, it sent them sailing in a direction they didn't want to be. Which in this case was hanging from the ceiling. Logan's pommel had fallen from his hand from the movement, and almost as soon as they were fixed in that position, the webs started crawling and wrapping their way up.

"Great," Patton huffed, crossing his arms. He grumbled something under his breath about hating spiders.

Despite the circumstances, Logan only seemed annoyed and inconvenienced by his predicament.

"Ooh, look what we have here," Gwen approached the other two with a large fanged grin. "Wait until the boss gets a load of this." She turned that grin to her compatriot, placing her hands on her hips. "Four outta five ain't bad."

Patton growled. "Over my dead body."

"You're getting ahead of us, elf." She spat out the word like it was venom on her tongue. "The boss wants to take care of y'all personally." Her eyes flicked over to Logan, narrowing in suspicion. "Is this the one all the fuss was about? You don't look like much."

"The spider said to the frog," Logan said in the most verbal form of an eye roll that Virgil has ever heard.

Gwen scoffed. She walked away from them and toward her partner. "C'mon, we need to tell the boss." She led the way to the back of the room.

Patton growled again, more annoyed this time. “Virgil.”

Oh, boy, here we go again. “So you’re talking to me now?” He regretted it as soon as it left his mouth.

Patton gave him a look that told him to shut up without any words necessary. “Don't start with that. You and Roman decided to go off on your own without telling anyone. Do you understand how dangerous that is? You both could have been killed.”

Roman made angry muffled noises.

Virgil agreed. “We were only coming to check it out. We heard that Altair might be here, and rather than dragging you all to a false alarm, I decided to see for myself and Roman stuck with me. I was doing it to help.”

Logan opened his mouth as if to step in, but closed it without uttering a sound.

“I think you’ve done enough helping already,” Patton bit back.

Virgil wasn’t sure if it was the blood pooling to the top of his skull or the rising anger, but his cheeks were on fire. “It wasn’t supposed to turn out this way. I didn’t intend for a Figment to follow me and give away our location, and I didn’t intend to be trapped in a spider web like a damn fly. None of it was on purpose. I didn’t want any of it to happen.”

“Then you should have stayed put!”

Okay. Okay. That was enough. “What do I have to do for you?!” He ignored the questioning and alarmed hum Roman gave him. “I’ve apologized — I’ve done nothing but say sorry to you — but that’s still not enough! What will get you to trust me again? What do I have to do to get you to understand? I did this so you would forgive me because I’m fucking sorry, alright?” Tears pricked at the back of his eyes, so he closed them, taking in a soft breath as well. “I’m so sorry.”

He continued to take purposeful breaths as to not burst into tears. God, he was pathetic when he was angry. “I just want… I need to make it up to you. Somehow. I would never do any of this on purpose. I have to do something to make you understand that.” He kept his eyes screwed shut. He couldn’t look at anyone. He didn’t want to. If he did, it would no doubt make the waterworks flow.

But a bright light in front of his eyelids made him snap them open.

The light slipped out of the webbing where Patton and Logan were and dropped to the floor. As it stood up, it morphed into Picani. Well, almost. He seemed more off than last time. Still with those mismatched eyes and mashed up clothes, but distinctly more… Patton. Something emphasized a bit more due to the menacing scowl on his face.

The Figments soon noticed the entrance of a new contender. Gwen turned with a sneer. “Abomination.”

Picani didn’t even flinch. “Normally I'd disagree.” He tossed up the pommel and snatched it out of the air when it turned to that familiar sword. "But this time I think you might be right." The action was so very Logan, but more articulated. Like this body wasn’t used to the movement and therefore couldn’t do it as smooth or as elegant as Logan did.

In the back of Virgil’s mind, he registered Roman wriggling around, but he didn’t put much thought into it. He kept his focus on Picani. The way he fought was like two people working together rather than one, with distinct styles of Logan and Patton popping up. This isn’t how it looked back with Brigida. There wasn’t any distinction when he fought with Brigida. He moved like one person. As if he had always been one person. Something changed.

Right as the stoic one moved to use Roman’s sword, it vanished from his hands. Virgil had a fraction of a second to think, "bracelet!" before the blade of a sword shot out of the web cocoon. Oh, Roman, you beautiful bastard.

“Roman, you’re a fucking genius,” Virgil cried out as Roman got to work on sawing away at the webs. It no doubt was a strenuous task what with the limited movement and weird angle and all.

Roman gave him a happy, proud hum.

After many minutes cutting away (and Virgil trying his best to help by pulling at the webbing), they broke free. They fell to the floor rather ungracefully, and with strings of web still sticking to them, but at least they weren’t trapped. Roman pushed his bracelet to his wrist and the sword vanished. He worked on prying the webbing off his face. Virgil scooped up his daggers, ready to help Picani if need be. Except he didn’t have to.

Weeds were wrapped around the Figments, coiling and squeezing tighter and tighter like a hungry snake until — well — until there were no more Figments. They popped into familiar plumes of smoke and Picani fell to his knees with the weeds following after. He heaved and gasped for air. And Virgil was on his feet in an instant despite the faint throbbing in his ankle.

“Picani.” His hands hovered near him, unsure and nervous. He didn’t know what would help or even if he should help at all.

“We don’t need —” Picani cut himself off. His conjoined voices were leaning towards the Patton side. He sounded angry. After a shuddering breath, he tried again, more gentle, “I-I’m sorry.” He curled his hands into fists. “I-I’m not e-exactly myself right n-now.” A puff of laughter. Broken. Fragile.

“Are you okay?” He took notice of Roman stepping next to him.

“N-not in the s-slightest.” He sat back on his legs, breath still shuddering. “We c-can’t hold it. W-we’re splitting apart — I-I can feel it. It hurts.” He wrapped his arms around himself as if that would keep him together.

Virgil swallowed the lump in his throat. He didn’t want to imagine how that felt — feeling yourself pull apart. “Then unfuse.”

“Not yet.” He looked up at Virgil. His eyes, despite being a clear distinction of two people’s, both displayed a genuine need for understanding. “Virgil, we…” He shook his head. “I. I-I am so very s-sorry. I’m trying… From, from whatever p-part of me in here that’s still Picani, I-I want you to know that I-I’m not mad. I understand it w-was a mistake. Patton is —” He gasped, arms tightening around himself — “h-he’s just afraid. We’re b-both terrified. Everything feels l-like it’s falling apart around us a-and…” A steady sigh left his lips. “Th-that isn’t the point. The point is, I-I don’t bl-blame you. You sh-shouldn’t have to apologize for something that wasn’t your f-fault.”

The only thought passing through Virgil’s head was Thomas was right. Of course he was. Thomas knew Picani better than anybody. It was dumb to ever doubt that. “Try telling that to Patton.”

A soft laugh leaked out of him. “I th-think he’ll be swayed.” As the words left his mouth, a drop of ink rolled out from his left eye. His faint amusement fell off his face, and he brought a hand to his cheek. More drops began to roll out like stained tears. He stared at his hand with wide, horrified eyes. The ink stayed smeared on his cheek where he had touched it.

Fuck.

Virgil tried not to throw up from the sheer anxiety he felt. His dream. Logan had black ink spilling from his eyes. He also said some rather gut-wrenching words, but that wasn’t applicable at this moment.

No one had the time to get over their horror, however. Picani clutched at his chest. His strangled scream was cut off with a quick flash of light and something that sounded eerily like the crack of electricity. Patton and Logan collapsed to the ground, unconscious.

An alarmed, “Shit,” left Virgil’s mouth at the same time Roman cried, “Guys!"

They ran over to the pair. They appeared to be breathing, at least.

"Well, what the fuck do we do now?" Roman turned to Virgil. "Are they okay?"

"I don't know!" He didn't mean to shout, but all his nerves were on high alert. “I have the same damn information that you do.”

“There’s no need to be so crude about it.”

“Roman —!”

A soft groan pulled them out of their panic. Patton's eyes fluttered open, but they were unfocused as they stared at the ceiling. He muttered, somewhat winded, "What just happened?"

"We were kind of hoping that at least you would know," Roman answered.

Patton sighed and rubbed his eyes beneath his glasses. "It feels like I exploded." He drew his hands back to look at them. Clean. As he slowly sat up, he already seemed back to his normal self. No evidence that anything happened to him a mere seconds prior. “Logan.” He hurried over to him.

“Is he okay?”

Patton placed a hand on his chest, mouth twitching in a frown. “If by ‘okay’, you mean alive, then yes.” He moved his hand to his cheek. “Logan — hey. You gotta wake up.” Nothing. “Logan, louljet, come on. We have to move.” When he didn’t even stir, Patton let out a near-silent, “please.”

“I don’t think he’s getting up,” Virgil said softly.

“Gemati.” Patton sighed in defeat. He pushed Logan’s bangs out of his face. “You’re right. We have to get out of here before anyone else comes.” He scooped Logan into his arms and lifted him as if he weighed nothing.

When they got back to the house, Logan continued to remain unconscious. That was a problem. Virgil knew very little about health, but he knew enough to know that remaining unconscious for this long didn’t bode well. Patton laid him on the sofa and sat beside him. Roman sat close by to talk to Patton in a hushed, concerned voice.

Virgil ignored them. He turned away, focusing his attention on anything that wasn’t Logan. He couldn't do this. Logan, laying there, looking closer to death than he ever had before… Virgil couldn't take it. He had seen this too many times. There were too many scenarios in which something similar to this occurred, and all Virgil could do was pray that this was one of the good ones. He didn't know what he'd do if… if…

God, Anxiety had a point, didn't he?

No matter what Virgil did, it didn't seem to take Logan any farther away from his deathbed. If this incident proved anything, all he did was bring him closer to it. And that — that hurt. He didn't want to be the cause of Logan's death. He didn't want that horrible dream to come true. He wanted to make things better. He needed to make things better. There was no way in hell Virgil would let Logan die because of him. No. There was no way in hell Virgil would let Logan die — period. If he had to sell his soul to fucking Satan himself he would do it.

He was going to save this goddamn family even if it killed him.

Speaking of…

"Where's Thomas?" Virgil allowed himself to look back. Logan still hadn't woken up, and it didn't seem to be getting any better.

"With Joan and Talyn." Patton pulled his hands away from Logan's chest, the blue glow fading from his palms. He sighed. "Nothing's working."

“Maybe we just have to wait and see,” Roman said rather solemnly.

Patton didn’t like that but relented regardless. If he couldn’t do anything as the one person in this house with magic, then there was nothing to be done. He gathered Logan’s hands in his own and squeezed them. He whispered something in his native language, almost like a prayer, then bent down to kiss Logan’s forehead. “I need a drink,” he sighed.

Roman followed him into the kitchen wordlessly.

Virgil stayed where he was. Waiting wasn’t easy no matter what you were waiting for. It was worse if you didn’t know when the waiting would stop. But the beauty of waiting is that it always stopped. In one way or another, at least. Sometimes it stopped in a way you didn’t want it to. Sometimes what you wait for isn’t what you’re expecting. Or, worse yet, it comes out slightly wrong. Twisted. It’s what you asked for, but not in the way it was meant to be. Like fate was playing some cruel joke on you because you waited — obedient, patient — for a reward you thought yourself entitled to.

Or perhaps you just had shit luck.

Logan cried out in pain. A sharp, desperate sound that made Virgil’s blood run cold. If it could have gone any colder it would have. Since the next thing that happened didn’t seem entirely possible. Logan — his body — vanished into thin air. For a second. He reappeared with a pained groan. And then it happened again. And again. And again. It came in quick random successions. His body just… flickered. It flickered in and out of existence like a flame in the wind. At the same time, black ink began to creep up his neck. Similar to other times it bubbled and swirled along his skin — except this time it wasn't isolated on his wrist.

Virgil faintly registered Patton shouting. Maybe Roman, too? He couldn't tell. Everything went quiet except his ragged breathing — the blood rushing in his ears. He couldn't look away no matter how much he wanted to. And he wanted to so bad. He didn't know what was happening. No one did. They all hovered around Logan, lost and afraid and — fuck — what was happening?

Then it stopped.

As quick and as random as it happened, it stopped. Logan shot up, gasping as if woken up from a horrid dream. All the black ink under his skin seeped back beneath his sleeve. "I-I'm okay," he rasped, not at all sounding okay. "I'm okay."

Patton had his jaw clenched tight. Once he was able to process, he let out a heartfelt and gutted, "Fuck." He hugged Logan. He cradled the back of his head and held him like it would be the last time he ever did so. "God, I —" He choked on a sob and buried his face in Logan's shoulder.

Virgil grabbed Roman's hand.

(Next)

#i hope you all appreciate #the 20 minutes i took #to italicize everything that needed it #because tumblr sucks #sanders sides #patton sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #thomas sanders #logicality #platonic prinxiety #unsympathetic patton #violence tw #blood mention #injury description #body horror tw #made of love

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littlemessyjessi · 5 years

Text

“Back to Break”: Thor Odinson Imagine

Thor Imagine Endgame Thor also known as my precious Asgardian King who I share adore and worship forever and also leave him alone because he's perfect. *rant over...maybe* Thor x Reader: PS Reader, Plus Size Reader and Thor’s new bod, Yas King!

Imagine giving Thor tummy kisses....

Since the beginning of your relationship, Thor had always been bigger than you.

Just always.

It's never mattered what your weight was.

If it fluctuated or not.

He was just a big dude and he always had this massive presence to him.

Now, for most of the time that you knew him, he'd been very cut and trim which you know- whatever.

Sure, he was sexy and had a certain look to him that was deemed desirable by the public.

But Thor was sexy in any way or form because he was Thor.

You've wanted to fuck him when he was passed out on the couch and drool sliding down his chin.

You've wanted to fuck him when he got kicked off a building into a pit of mud.

It's Thor.

So with all the weight gain, you never even stopped to question your attraction to him.

Because that didn't change.

You adored him in all forms...and to be honest, there was more to love.

And you were fucking into it.

Now, you understood what it was like to question your body- as most people do.

Regardless of whether or not they want to admit it- most people struggle with SOMETHING.

And certainly if you happen to be plus sized.

Additionally, he'd gone through a lot in the past few years.

Even before the snap, Thor lost so much in such a small amount of time.

He was severely depressed and anxious and constantly dealing with past trauma.

Did that mean he was a mindless zombie?

Well, of course not- but it did call for space sometimes and you tried to respect that.

You got it.

So when one day you noticed him glancing at you a certain way- you took it as your opportunity.

Knowing him the way that you did- you could tell whether he was into it or not and lately- he just hadn't been.

But when you saw him staring past the television at you with a certain look about it.... you fucking attacked.

Honestly, you just internally celebrated because you felt like maybe now was your chance.

You'd never attack.

Well, ok maybe you would but that's not the point.

To begin with, you acted like you hadn't seen it - even though you had and you kept busying yourself with whatever you were doing.

The next time you decided to be a bit more deliberate as you made your way into the living area.

You leaned over him to open the window and felt his hand subconsciously come up to support your stomach to keep you from falling.

The touch made you look down to see his brown and blue eyes already staring at you.

In a moment, he dropped his hand and looked away making you furrow your brows.

"Thor?" you questioned.

"Sorry." he said with a shrug and you watched as he began to put on a brave face. "I wasn't trying to push it. I just didn't want you to fall."

"What do you mean?" you asked, brows drawing together.

"I didn't want you to lose your balance so I was just-" he rambled.

"No, babe. I got that. I just meant- what do you mean...push it?" you asked and then something dawned on you. "Thor, do you think I don't want you to touch me?"

The way he avoided your eyes told you everything.

Caution be damned.

You climbed into his lap immediately, startling him.

Your soft belly pressed against his and your own wonderfully soft body rested so perfectly on his larger thighs.

They were still the big, muscular legs you knew but now a layer of soft padding made it even softer.

A perfect seat.

You grabbed his face and turned to look at him.

"Thor, listen to me." you said. "I ALWAYS want you. Always."

"You've been distant..." he said.

"Only because I didn't want to cause YOU any stress." you said with a shake of your head. "Babe, you've been through a lot. That snap had nothing to do with you even though I know that's what you tell yourself. But you had a lot on your shoulders BEFORE all that. I'm here for you no matter what but I've been trying to give you space and not smother you as well."

His large hands had founds their place on your soft hips immediately and you could feel him squeezing the soft, pliable flesh there.

His bottom lip trembled a bit and you could see his mismatched eyes watering.

"I thought...I thought- " he started. "I thought you didn't want me anymore. Like this, I mean."

"Because you've gained weight?" you asked and he nodded as his chin dropped sending his long hair into his face.

He was hiding from you and so you pushed it back as your hand found his neck and pulled him in for a passionate kiss.

When you broke, the both of you were breathless.

"Thor, I love you- forever and more and more every day. That's what I want you to remember first." you said not letting him get far from you. "Second, I am so attracted to you it's a constant battle not to want to ride you like a mechanic bull."

He nearly choked on his own spit and he cleared his throat to try and recover from it.

You giggled, "I've always been attracted to you. I was attracted to you the moment I met you. And if you'll remember correctly, I didn't even see you for about a month. We literally talked on the phone because Steve's a loser and he won't text me."

He laughed at the memories.

He was still somewhat fresh to Earth and you'd taken a quick friendship to Steve...and was appalled that he wouldn't text you.

Thor had caught on rather quickly.

"And then you sent me a picture one day on accident." You reminded him. "It was 100 % an up the nose shot and you even had a boogey. But I would've smashed right then. And I had no concept of the rest of you at that point. "

"You sent me one back and you made yourself look like a monkey." he laughed. "I thought you were the sweetest thing I'd ever seen in my life."

"See." you reminded him. "Now, if I wanted to smash an up the nose shot of you with a booger in the cave, do you really think that I wouldn't want you now?"

He was smiling a bit now which you loved more than anything.

"And if you'd like to know the absolute truth about it." you said leaning back and getting a bit more comfortable. "I'm actually very much into the fact that you're even more bigger than me now. We've discussed this before. I've always like that you can just toss my ass around like it's nothing even though we both know I'm PLENTY. And now you're even bigger than me. You're still strong as hell and now you're squishy too. I'm way into it."

He stared you at in a way that almost made you squirm.

"It's been a constant thing to remind myself to not just be on you all the time while you're going through this. We both know I'm a sex craved demon, Thor." you said half joking, but both of ya'll knowing you were kinda serious.

You slid off his lap and his breath hitched as you came in for another kiss.

They migrated over his jaw and down his neck as you pulled his shirt up before your sinful lips left marks over his strong chest.

He was just as strong as ever but now, there was this softness to him that drove you wild.

Every inch of this new soft stomach was adorned with hot open mouth kisses and he nearly lost his mind at the feeling of it all.

He grabbed you and quickly swapped places and thrust you back into the couch as he got to his feet.

You bit your lip at the sight of seeing him stand over you like that.

You were no stranger to his position but now....it was so much better.

"Is this what you want?" he asked finally shedding the shirt and standing before you in his loose fitting pants.

You nodded as the cheshire cat grin stretched over your face.

He chuckled as he looked down at you.

His perfectly plump little goddess staring up at him with adoration.

He wondered how he could have ever doubted you?

"Well come on then." he said, a familiar spark in his eyes as he held his arms out.

You jumped into his arms without hesistation.

It was one of your many favorite things about Thor.

He could always carry you like it was nothing.

Your legs wrapped around him and his soft belly pressed into yours and you damn near purred.

"I really like this." you told him motioned to your stomachs pressed against each other. "You're so soft."

"Do you finally understand what I've been telling you since we met?" he asked walking you both towards the bed.

"Yes." you said. "Do you?"

He laid you down gently and smiled at you softly, "Yes, my Queen. Thank you."

And then, he fucking smirked as his hand drew back and he popped you right on the ass.

"Now, bend over." he said. "I've got to catch up on a few things."

You grinned at him wickedly as you felt his lips on your thigh and kicked him away.

"You can eat this cake later." you said. "Right now, you got a back to break."

His fingers dug into your ample hips and the sound of skin on skin was all but music to your ears.

Apparently ya boy was hungry...and he was just getting started.

Heeeeey, smoochies! So we saucy up in here but damn boo, I like me a juicy, thick and delicious Thor, ya know.

Anyway, I hope you liked it and I want to you know that I am fully open to requests for Thor. Especially Endgame Thor. Yes, juicy King. Break this back anyway you want.

Hello darlings! Hope you enjoyed this little piece and have a wonderfully awesome day!

If you wanna see more of my content just check out my blogs! @littlemessyjessi is the main blog full of fandom fictions, imagines, headcanons and sickeningly sweet fluff! Yeah, I know, lol. Barf. But hey, I like it. @witchyweirdness is the magical blog full of witchy content And last but not least ! @monsterbaesbymamakennysaurus is my monster blog full of all kinds of monster related content! So I hope to see you there! Love, Kenny

@frankie2902

@pleasantdreamqueen @becrazy–beyou –beyou

@becrazy-beweird

@littledeadrottinghood @blackirisposts

@therealmrshale @woodworthti666

@jimmys-afterlife-love-deactivat @thegreatirene@fanfictionandjunk

@angelus320

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@lostdarksoul6

@fanfics1717

@coffeebooksandfandom

@gruffle1

@neeadinghugs

@marvelismylifffe

Love, Kenny

#thor #thor odinson #endgame thor #chubby thor #juicy thor #thick asgardian king #honestly so fucking hot #ps reader #plus size reader #reader #x reader #reader insert #thor x reader #thor x ps reader #thor x plus size reader #littlemessyjessi #thor imagine #thor odinson imagine

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coneygoil · 5 years

Text

The House We Built Together, part 9

Two young Vikings. An arranged marriage. Hiccup always wanted to win the girl of his dreams, but not like this. Now he and Astrid must learn to live together and maybe one day, learn to love…

Writer’s note: This part was originally in Astrid’s perspective and I wrote a good portion of it before I realized I needed to change it to Hiccup’s. It took twice as long to write! But I think it came out a lot better this way.

“Hey cuz!”

The familiar voice of the most obnoxious person in the village made Hiccup groan. He didn’t have time for whatever nonsense Snotlout had probably spent a week planning. He had a gorgeous wife to get home to!

“What do you want, Snotlout?”

“Just some premium cousin bonding time.”

The smirk on his cousin’s face told him otherwise.

“If this bonding time consist of you punching me in the stomach and saying ‘opps, my fist slipped’ then I’ll pass.”

Snotlout slung a beefy arm over Hiccup’s thin shoulders, the weight uncomfortably dragging him down. The salty, sweaty smell radiating from Snotlout curled his nose. He hadn’t been this physically close to his cousin in a long time and it was rather alarming.

“I promise, my fist won’t slip.”

There was no way in Hel Hiccup believed that line, but he couldn’t exactly escape the secure hold Snotlout held him in. Every time he tried to pull away just a tiny bit, Snotlout would tighten his arm, the bulky muscles budging against the back of Hiccup’s neck. He was stuck and at the mercy of his much stronger cousin.

Snotlout veered him through the village then in the direction of the well-beaten path that led to the forest. Alarms clanged loudly in Hiccup’s mind. Nothing good could come of entering the forest in the company of Snotlout.

“Hey…um, cuz,” the friendly endearment left a gross taste in Hiccup’s mouth. “What exactly are we going to do in the forest?”

“Just talk.” A chill ran up Hiccup’s spine. Snotlout’s tone was eerily chummy. He squeezed Hiccup against his bulky form making it difficult for the smaller boy to breathe. “We don’t talk enough…cuz.”

Though he couldn’t see his face, Hiccup could tell Snotlout was enjoying tormenting him. Hiccup didn’t think his older cousin had the brains to be sly and devious. Who knows, he may have had help planning this stunt. Whatever he had in store, Hiccup had a feeling it was going to hurt. Bad.

As soon as Snotlout loosened his hold, Hiccup broke free and made a mad dash back to the village. Instead of being safely several feet down the path, Hiccup found himself being yanked backwards by his fur vest. The air knocked from his lungs as his back collided with the ground. The impact would surely leave a nice, purple bruise. He groaned, regretting not fighting harder to get away from Snotlout before the larger boy dragged him into the cover of the trees and away from witnesses.

“Do you know what really smacks my yak?”

Here it comes. The real reason Hiccup was led to the slaughter. Snotlout stood over him, meaty fists planted on his hips.

“Just because you’re the ‘Chief’s son’, you get first dibs on the hottest girl on Berk.”

Hiccup’s insides burned. He would never use his status as the Chief’s son to get anything he wanted, especially another human being. “Snotlout, don’t run your jaw about things you have no clue about.” He tried sitting up, but Snotlout pressed a boot into his stomach, digging his heel into the soft skin.

Snotlout jabbed a thumb toward his hairy chest. “I’m the most awesomest Viking on Berk, Astrid should have been mine.”

Hiccup snorted, sardonically. “I have an inside source saying that wouldn’t of happened.”

Snotlout glowered down at him. “I have news for you, Useless.” Hiccup knew it was a matter of time before the hurtful nickname was flung in his face. “Astrid is only playing nice because she has to. When we’re in dragon training, all she does is complain about you.”

The words smacked Hiccup like the painful sting of freezing water to the face. “You’re lying.”

Snotlout leaned down, his boot squeezing the contents of Hiccup’s lunch threatening to come up. “Am I? She says she has to babysit you to keep you out of trouble because your useless butt doesn’t know how to stop destroying the village.”

Hiccup gritted his teeth as anger flooded his whole body. With the adrenaline from his spiked anger, he pushed Snotlout’s foot off his stomach and jumped to his feet. The larger boy looked surprised for a split second but recovered quickly, his mouth forming a wicked smirk.

“You’re gonna fight me, cuz? Hey, I’m just the messenger.”

Hiccup knew Snotlout was only trying to rile him up. To plant doubt in his mind. But another part of him deep down was believing that doubt. What did Astrid say about him behind his back? She’d never let on that she was discontent with their situation, but she could be hiding her true feelings. Thinking back on his father’s words, Astrid was basically set up as a fulltime babysitter for him. Chained to him for life. Maybe she was miserable underneath the friendly exterior.

All his thoughts jumbled into a messy pile that blinded his senses. Hiccup charged at Snotlout, swinging a fist at the other boy’s face. Snotlout knew how to fight. He used his brawn to caught Hiccup’s fist and yanked his left arm behind his back. Hiccup cried out as his shoulder twisted painfully.

“You’re so dumb, you can’t even throw a punch with the right fist,” Snotlout laughed in his ear.

Snotlout kneed Hiccup in the back, sending him sprawled on the forest floor. His face hit the ground, sliding over a tree root poke out the dirt. Pain exploded in his cheekbone, trumping all the other hurts on his body.

Hiccup squeezed his eyes tightly. He barely registered the laughter above him. He didn’t want to move. There was no use trying to fight Snotlout again. The other boy seemed to think the same.

“Great talk, cuz!” With that sarcastic sneer, Snotlout turned to leave.

Hiccup pushed up on his skinned elbow. He brushed fingers over his cheek and found blood gathering at the burning scrapes. His physical hurts were nothing compared to the fierce ache that flooded him. Doubt had been planted and it was growing like a consuming weed.

***

It was dark by the time Hiccup slunk his way back home. After Snotlout had mercifully left him alone in the forest without any further tormenting, Hiccup had taken the long way back to the village to avoid meeting up with his cousin again.

The trek back gave him plenty of time to mull over the doubt Snotlout had planted. His harsh words churned in Hiccup’s head and roiled in his stomach. He really thought he and Astrid had started to become friends the last few weeks. They still had a long road ahead before they moved into any type of intimate relationship – if ever, but Hiccup had hope they’d grow closer in the weeks and months to come.

Babysitter. The word left a burning in his chest. It made sense, really. He’d been such a thorn in his father’s side the older he grew. Stoick had placed him in the care of Gobber to give him something constructive to do and keep him in one spot. That move had given him full access to useful materials, which aided him in even more destructive projects. Stoick couldn’t keep track of him, and neither could Gobber nowadays.

Being responsible for a wife would tie him down and that’s just what it had done. He looked forward every day spending time with Astrid, but did Astrid feel the same? He’d thought that maybe, just maybe, she did. The smiles shared over the firepit. Her interest in his drawings. Her excited laughter when he bested her in weapons sparing. But now, with doubt planted, he wasn’t so sure. What if she did look at their marriage as a lifelong babysitting job?

The front door’s hinges creaked sadly announcing his mood as he entered the house. He blinked at the sight of Astrid standing just outside the door’s swing. They’re eyes locked for a long moment, both seemingly surprised to see one another.

A gasp drew in passed Astrid’s lips. Hiccup hadn’t bothered cleaning his cheek where several long scrapes ran from his jaw to cheekbone. The area was dirty and caked with dry blood and probably appeared worse than it actually was.

Without preamble, Astrid grabbed his chin, turning his face to the side to examine his cheek. “What happened to you?” she demanded, as if she already suspected the cuts weren’t caused by mire accident.

Hiccup released a frustrated breath. “Premium bonding with Snotlout.”

Astrid’s eyes flicked up from his cheek. “Why did you let that muttonhead do this?”

Hiccup’s shoulders bounced once, and he settled for a flat, sarcastic response instead of the embarrassing truth. “Well, y’know, I felt sorry for him because I knew he couldn’t handle all this raw Vikingness.”

Astrid fixed him with a darkening glare. She knew better than to believe that. “I’m gonna kill him.” She spun around and reached for her axe on the hook.

Hiccup jumped in front of the door. “No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am, Hiccup.”

“You’re not my guardian, Astrid.” He was going to say babysitter, but the word made him want to sink into the ground. “You don’t have to keep an eye on me. You don’t have to take care of the bullies in the yard.”

Astrid was taken aback. She lowered her hand. “What are you talking about?”

Hiccup’s frown drew his whole face down. “My dad wanted you to marry me to keep me out of trouble and make sure I don’t screw up.”

“Is this some yak dung Snotlout fed you?”

“You complain about me during dragon training.”

Astrid crossed her arms. “Yep, definitely Snotlout’s yak dung and it stinks up to the high hills. You really believe I do that?”

Hiccup glared sharply, the hurt feelings winning over logic. “Evidence points to it.”

“What evidence? Lies from Snotlout’s yap?”

Hiccup gave a slight nod of his head to one side. Snotlout’s words were the only ‘evidence’ he had. The rest was all a build up from doubt and fear.

A low roar rumbled in Astrid’s throat as she threw her arms down to her sides. She nabbed the ties of Hiccup’s tunic and yanked him to her. Their lips collided, a squeak of surprise emitting from Hiccup’s mouth into hers. He didn’t have time to think. He didn’t have time to react. He stood there ridged with her lips pressed onto his.

Just as his brain was beginning to compute what was happening and his stiff features began to relax into the kiss, Astrid departed. His half-lidded gaze lulled somewhere at her ear, his brain trying to catch up to the action that had played out.

Astrid untangled her fingers from his ties. “Despite whatever you’re thinking, I’m on your side, Hiccup.” His eyes met hers, a fierce resolve set on her face. All doubt had suddenly fled, and Hiccup was in awe of the girl in front of him. “Not because someone told me to be, but because I choose to be.”

She spun on her heel, shoulders squared high. “Don’t forget it.”

@martabm90 @chiefhiccstrid @justatranquilcloud

#httyd fanfiction #hiccstrid #arranged marriage au

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estelofimladris · 5 years

Text

My Longest Day Ever in Fandom

This has been one of the hardest 48 hours for me as a fan. Really they’ve been pretty bad in the scope of me being a person, but in my fandom experience, this shit takes the cake.

** WARNING: THERE ARE SPOILERS FOR The Magicians as well as some minor spoilers for Pirates of the Caribbean, Harry Potter, Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., Avengers: Infinity War, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, The Flash, and Supergirl. **

** ALSO: This shit gets super personal. Don’t read if it makes you uncomfortable. **

I get that I’m specifically interested in stories of struggle and triumph. I thrive with stories about how the things worth having aren’t easily obtained. And sometimes people fail and sometimes people lie. There are horrible obstacles and things to conquer.

A bit of my fandom-inflicted past:

Will Turner was my favorite Pirates character. We had tickets not only to the three-movie marathon on opening day, but then the midnight screening. I nearly didn’t go to the second screening.

Sirius Black is why I got into Harry Potter. I got into it at the weird middle place when the books were still coming out and the movies were being made. I had been forced to read the first book when it was first published and it had left a very bad taste for me so the fact that anything could draw me into the fandom was insane. I watched Prisoner of Azkaban entirely by chance while hanging with my cousins and had read all the books by the time Goblet of Fire was released. I lived in and loved a fandom where my favorite character was dead before I even got a chance to know him.

Grant Ward was one of my two my favorite Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. characters. I rushed a Ward cosplay for WonderCon, which happened to be scheduled about a week after the release of Captain America: The Winter Soldier and less than a week after the AoS episode “Turn, Turn, Turn” aired, revealing that Ward was a brainwashed and abused Hydra sleeper agent the whole time. I then nearly scrapped the entirely completed cosplay. Instead I wore it to WonderCon and had people whispering “Hail Hydra” to me all weekend.

I spent at least three years living with a TV curse. Every show that I watched before its renewal for a second season was cancelled. To this day, I struggle to watch new shows because I fear that I will fall in love with a show only for it to be cancelled.

In the past year, I have lost 5 of my favorite characters to sudden deaths/departures:

Bucky Barnes (Avengers: Infinity War)

Harry Wells (The Flash)

Leo Fitz (Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.)

Winn Schott (Supergirl)

And this is about the most recent one, Quentin Coldwater (The Magicians)

I also know that there are more to come:

Avengers: Endgame comes out next week.

Arrow is ending at the end of this year.

There are more stories of woe and uncomfortable spaces in which we want to see our favorites succeed and they fail or lose or die. But this, this is more than just someone failing or losing or dying.

I survived all that other shit. I was a little off for a few days following or weeks or months or even years. But we always come back to Fandom. Maybe not the same fandom, but the big idea of Fandom. Being a fan isn’t something you can really just stop.

I got into The Magicians because of serendipity. Two of my closest friends got into the show at some point last year and had mentioned that I’d liked it, but it was one in a malaise of fandoms that I’d been told that about and I only have so many hours in the day and space in my heart. One of the people I was rooming with at SDCC this last year had freshly gotten into the show and was going to the panel. Another of my friends was going to the panel as well who had freshly gotten into the show. When I asked about it afterwards, the lovely human said they’d met a lovely other new fan. My friends had met entirely by chance at the panel and I got to hear all about how lovely the fandom was and that it was a really great panel with a lot of promise for the new season.

I got home from SDCC and, one day while curious, watched the pilot of The Magicians.

I finished the show in less than three weeks. I watched it again. I’ve probably watched this show more than any other media since August.

A bit of background about me and why this show struck a very deep chord with me:

I met my entire close group of friends, my found family, because of Lord of the Rings. I learned Sindarin (elvish) in high school. Every screen name I have is related to my love and foundation of loving Lord of the Rings. I have a tattoo in elvish.

I grew up around a lot of mental illness. I myself have been diagnosed and treated for adolescent/adult ADD, but members of my family as well as every best friend I’ve ever had, has been depressed and most were suicidal. I had to confront my best friend over suicide attempts at 13. My brother was treated for extremely aggressive childhood depression when I was a kid.

I’m also queer. Still working to unstick myself from some definitions I’ve given myself, but I’m definitely genderqueer and androphilic and exploring my romantic identity in part because of this show.

I’ve delt with death my whole life. My first grandparent (maternal grandfather) died when I was 5 or 6. My last grandparent (paternal grandmother) died when I was 22. I had a dear friend die in a motorcycle accident in 2015. I’ve been there for people who have lost loved ones suddenly and held people’s hands through the deaths of parents, loved ones, and children.

I also am about to complete my third and final year of an insanely rigorous graduate costume design program.

This show felt like it was made for me to love it. It made it so easy.

The fandom was a loving community that welcomed me immediately and I have thrived there. I would come home from a crazy day at school, put on an episode of the show, and get lost in the lovely fandom that I’d found myself in. I mean that both ways. Yes, I tripped and fell and found myself among excellent people. But more importantly, I found myself in ways I didn’t expect through The Magicians.

Through a series of very unfortunate events, I stopped reading Fan Fiction about 7 or 8 years ago. I would occasionally write something, but nothing that I cared about what anyone thought about it. It was only writing that had to be written not writing for an audience in any way.

The Magicians got me reading Fan Fiction again. I drew fan art. I participated in discussions on the meta. I joined in when I don’t really have the free time, but it felt so good.

In Quentin in particular, I found a part of myself that was seldom voiced. This melancholy nerd who was Doing His Very Best™ all the time tapped into the kid who loved something so much it transformed their life. It spoke to the parts of me that I don’t talk about that feel like a fraud and a floundering fool. The Magicians told me that I’m not some pathetic thing. That I’m part of my world and that I belong. That it’s ok to re-think about sexuality and romance as an adult. It spoke to my struggles with school and creating something from absolutely fucking nothing.

Something that I’ve not told many people: I’ve struggled with feeling worthy of love. I’ve had some really big relationships that ended poorly and ever since coming out as genderqueer and living my truth, I’ve been single. Watching Quentin be so worthy of love and struggle with that himself, he really shifted my views on relationships.

So, Wednesday was, needless to say, rough.

The fun twist though, I have a mandatory class on Thursday mornings. I had a lot of anxiety about this finale already because I had a notion that something horrible was going to happen because its a Magicians finale. I really struggled to work on homework for the past week. (I texted a friend on Wednesday “How am I supposed to work under these conditions!?” partway through the day.)

This anxiety resulted in not all of my homework being done by the time I had set aside to cook a delicious dinner and settle in to watch the episode with friends. So at the end, after I had cried, drank, nearly threw up from being upset, and was all-in-all a complete wreck, I then proceeded to work on homework until I couldn’t, then I put myself to bed with an alarm set to wake up early and finish, but woke up with a nearly-vomiting anxiety attack (which I don’t get ever) an hour before my alarm.

I finished my homework on my 1.5 hours of sleep, went to class, tried to be eloquent and not burst into tears. I sorta succeeded at both, thankfully. My work was... sub-par, but present, which was the only real requirement. Despite some close calls, I didn’t cry until I was in my car driving home.

I got home, cried a lot, tried to eat and sleep (and failed at both) and ended up having a second wake with another friend and drinking, which finally made me fall asleep.

Throughout the day, I seriously considered deleting every Magicians post from my queue and even my Tumblr as a whole. I thought about dropping out of fandom entirely, including conventions, cosplay - all of it. I thought about selling or donating all of the considerable amount of Magicians merch and related items (cosplay, decor, fan-made merch) that I’ve accumulated in the past few months. I thought about shaving off the hair that I grew out specifically for Quentin that helped me re-shape my queer identity over the past few months.

I woke up in the middle of the night again with more panic attacks. It took sitting with my best friend to make me really fall asleep and stay asleep.

Today, I’m looking back at this whole experience up to this point and I’m so exhausted. I’m tired of crying over something that just brought me so much deep joy. I miss my fandom. We’re all in mourning and its chilling.

I decided somewhere in my insanity yesterday that I need to reclaim The Magicians that I loved. I posted about how it will take time, but they can’t kill the love that transformed my life.

I’m still not sure how to get out of this horrible raw place, but I know time will help. And actually eating a real meal.

I’m sharing all of this because I’m not the only one in this place. If you’re struggling, you are not alone.

I see you. I feel you.

Thank you for being a part of this fandom that has so heavily enriched my life. You are loved. We will find ourselves again.

#personal #but also about the magicians #fandom #the magicians #quentin coldwater #i'm a fucking disaster right now

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thisgarbagepicker · 6 years

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reylo au week // day 3 // canon divergence au

HOPE IS LIKE THE SUN. -- During the standoff on the bridge at Starkiller Base, Kylo Ren yields to the light within him and accepts Han’s plea to leave with him, no questions asked.

As the unlikely party returns to D’Qar aboard the Falcon, Rey reluctantly reunites with the Skywalker lightsaber and encounters Kylo in the galley, where they exchange words for the first time since he interrogated her.

Full fic coming soon!

Rey wondered where Han and Chewie had been this whole time. She knew they must have been with Kylo, and couldn’t fathom how that had panned out. If they were up here now, where was he? Leaving him unattended seemed unwise. An unlikely scenario involving an airlock and a lot of screaming played out in her head. Hesitantly, she eyed the way they’d come—another access tunnel that curved off and prevented her from making out what lay at the other end. She stole a look at Finn. He was still sleeping soundly, and she considered replacing the lightsaber where she had found it on him.

No.

Tucking the saber into her belt, she crept down the way she hadn’t been yet. The tunnel couldn’t have been much longer than the one that led around to the engineering bay, but it seemed to stretch on forever until suddenly she hit the end. It opened up into a galley. She saw a small, dusty cooking station, counters and unused appliances, and two padded benches. One was empty. The other was occupied. Now she knew where Kylo had ended up.

Though it hardly should have been surprising, she gasped anyway and took a step back, face set grimly a moment later. He didn’t acknowledge her at all. In fact, she almost made the mistake of thinking he was asleep. He was sitting up, his eyes were only softly shut, but he was so still. He looked extraordinarily out of place; too big for the bench, somehow, hunched and swathed in all that black, face blank. Too late, she realized coming back here to find him had been no accident. Something had emboldened and nudged her, part her own curiosity, part something else almost instinctive.

It didn’t matter. She’d reached a kitchen. A kitchen ought to have food. And Rey was hungry. She’d gone long periods without food plenty of times, and regular meals were not something she took for granted, but the last she’d eaten had been at the castle, and she had been through an ordeal since then. Kylo was watching her now, but had yet to say anything. She wasn’t sure what to say, so she was silent as she moved into the room and approached the counter. She whipped open the first cabinet in reach, rummaged around—tools, bits of old containers, miscellaneous broken or outdated things . . . no food. She tried the next, but the story was the same. The ship had stood unused far too long, and there had not yet been time to replenish its food stores.

“The scavenger at work once again,” Kylo said, barely loud enough to be heard.

She bristled and glared at the latest empty drawer she had opened. There was an odd stain caking the back corner and nothing else of interest inside. “My name is Rey.”

Kylo was quiet for what felt like a very long time, then sniffed. “I know.”

She doubted Han had been discussing her with him, which meant she knew exactly how he could claim to know her name. He’d taken that and whatever else he’d found in her head when they’d last faced each other.

“Yeah, well,” she returned, giving up on her fruitless task and facing him. “I know some things too. About you. Don’t be so superior.”

She realized she wasn’t afraid of him at all. Maybe it was because of what Han had revealed, or because he’d seen fit to leave Kylo here by himself, suggesting he wasn’t a threat. She didn’t believe that, exactly, but she had handled him before. At the moment, she just found him annoying.

It seemed he had no handy response, because he gave her a steady look until his eyes flicked to her hip, where the lightsaber rested snugly. His focus intensified, and some color rose to his cheeks, and she could swear she actually felt his alarm before he managed to smother it. “Where did you get that?”

“I found it.” She sensed that revealing nothing would nettle him. And technically, she was telling the truth. She couldn’t help what she said next, though, eyes narrowed. “Scavenging.”

His jaw hardened. “You expect me to believe that?”

“I did find it. On Takodana. Just before you took me.” She hadn't wanted it. It was almost as if it had followed her here despite all her intentions. “Surely you can just find out if you’re so curious.”

It wasn’t a dare Rey would have issued if she thought he would actually take her up on it. He wouldn’t, not here. Not now that he knew she could deal it right back if he tried. Or would he? Her conviction flagged and she took a step back until her butt hit the edge of the counter, her hand resting protectively on the lightsaber.

“It belongs to me. By rights,” he said. His eyes were stony as they settled on her face. “Give it to me.”

Nonplussed, Rey opened her mouth but lost her words. Knowing what she did now of his lineage, she knew why he would make such a statement, but it struck her as outlandish anyway. He was in no position to make such demands, and she was far from foolish enough to arm him. She recovered and said, “You want it, try and take it.”

There she went again, bluffing more confidence than she actually felt. She wasn’t sure why she was suddenly so possessive of the lightsaber. Barely a day ago she had never wanted to see it again. Now here she was, parading around the Falcon with it like she owned it.

He was considering her challenge, thinking that he could, she could tell. His mouth twitched, almost like he was fighting a sneer. Or a smile. “You don’t even know how to use it.”

“I’ll learn.” As soon as she said it, Rey questioned it. Yet minute by minute, what Maz had told her was feeling more plausible. The lightsaber had called her. It was hers.

“Ah, do you fancy yourself a Jedi now?”

“What?” She almost laughed. The idea was preposterous. There were no Jedi anymore, and if there were she certainly couldn't claim worthiness of such a title. “No.”

“Good.” A muscle in his jaw twitched, and he finally tore his eyes from the lightsaber and her. “Whatever you are, your strength in the Force is remarkable.” His voice had lowered. They were already alone, so she didn’t see a need for hushed tones. They weren’t sharing secrets. “I felt it. Untempered and overlooked. But it’s almost—”

“Stop. I’m not anything.”

Her heart had begun to race and she didn’t know why, but she was afraid to hear what he was about to say. It was the most he’d spoken to her since the interrogation. She’d known what he’d wanted then, or thought she had. Here on the Falcon, as they hurtled at lightspeed toward D’Qar and who knew what for him, his motives were even less clear.

She drew herself up and looked down at him. “I’m nobody you need concern yourself with. Keep it that way.”

Patting her hip to make sure the lightsaber hadn’t somehow made its way out of her belt and into his hands without her realizing it, Rey turned and abandoned the galley before he could get another word in.

#reylo au week #reylo au #reylo fanfiction #reylo #canon divergent #rey #kylo ren #reylo moodboard #the garbage fics will do #fic: BAS

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anon-e-miss · 6 years

Text

Amalgus 5

As he had warned, Jazz was no where in sight when Prowl and his sparkling brother onlined again. To the Praxian’s considerable surprise it was early in the light-cycle. He had recharged through half the previous light-cycle and all of the dark-cycle. Prowl could remember no time in his life where he had recharged for so long. It baffled him, and it gave him a better appreciation for the damage he had suffered, and the strain he had undergone over the last terrifying orn.

“Are you hurting?” Bluestreak asked, no doubt catching the grimace Prowl had tried to suppress as he drew them both upright.

“I am alright,” Prowl replied. “Jazz has said he will bring a medic to repair the dents.”

“Jazz found us,” the sparkling said. “He saved us. I’m so happy. I was so scared. I thought the monster would eat you.”

“I do not believe amalgii eat people,” the elder brother replied. “Our rescuer is one and he does not wish to eat us.”

“Is he going to take us home?” Bluestreak asked.

“No,” Prowl said. “ He is taking us to his home. When I am able, I will contact cousin Smokescreen to come fetch you. I will be remaining.”

“Why?!” The mechling cried. “I don’t want to go with Smokey. I want to stay with you!”

“A pair of younglings have been kidnapped their procreator are very afraid for them,” the Enforcer explained. “Jazz is their uncle. He asked me to help him find them. I said yes.”

“Do you think their scared,” Bluestreak asked.

“I think they are,” Prowl replied. “Just as you’ve been.”

“Jazz found us so you should find them,” the sparkling decided. “You’re an Enforcer. You’re good at finding mechanisms.”

“That is right,” the elder brother said “Can you be brave for me when you have to go?”

“I’ll be brave!” Bluestreak promised. Time would tell it would be too much for the little mech but Prowl felt considerable relief that at least Bluestreak understood.

“Thank you. Now, it appears Jazz left us some fuel,” Prowl said, finally noticing the plate of gels and cakes, and cubes of energon. One was a light lavender, proper sparkling grade, he gave it to Bluestreak. “Eat.”

“Slowly,” his brother echoed Prowl’s warning from earlier. “You too! You don’t fuel enough, that’s what origin says!”

“I am fairly sure you were not meant to over hear that.” The Enforcer replied, dryly. “I will fuel as well.”

He did not necessarily keep his fuel levels at their optimum at all times, even most of the time. Prowl’s processor was generally focused on other things, always had been, and truth be told, he had a fussy tank. Over the vorns he had learned that keeping it no more than three quarters way full prevented the worst of his tank upsets. It was something Prowl had never tried to explain to Camshaft, his originator would have insisted he be examined by a medic, or many medics, poked, and prodded. Near all the Praxian remembered of his sparklinghood was medics, and he loathed to put himself in their path. There would be no avoiding one now. The leader of that gestalt had kicked him repeatedly to when he had tried to escape. His abdomen had hurt ever since. And at this he had his doubts that it was just the cracked and crumbled plating. Prowl had not thought of his missing panel in their flight, but now that he was thinking about it, he wanted a replacement urgently. The idea of stepping out into public without one again was nauseating. How many mechanisms had seen before?

Prowl grimaced a little as he took a sip of his cube. That thought was enough to put him off his energon, but Bluestreak was watching, and he really was, so the elder Praxian sipped slowly at his cube. To his good fortune, the queasiness mostly subsided, though the pain did not, and he was able to drink the cube without feeling like he was going to purge. Bluestreak drank all of his, and a couple of oil cakes. He chattered, as he generally did, curious about the amalgii, fascinated by the ferry. The elder brother made no attempt to quiet him, the sparkling was talkative in general, but especially during times of stress and how could this not be a stressful time for him?

“Origin’s still alive, isn’t he?” Bluestreak asked, suddenly. At one instance he had been asking about seeing the ferry deck, and then this.

“He is,” Prowl assured him, and it was the truth.

“He’s just there,” the mechling said. “I don’t feel him getting stronger.”

“He will try his hardest to live for you, Bluestreak,” the Enforcer promised. “It may not be enough but he will fight. Believe in that.”

“I hope we’re not intrudin’,” Jazz said just as Prowl was turning to see who and what was coming through the door. “Mech here’s Hoist, general practitioner. He outta set ya to rights, Prowl.”

“Hello, Medic Hoist,” Prowl said.

“Good to meet you, Prowl,” the big green and orange medic replied. “Mechling, could I get you to sit with Jazz on the cot? I’m going to see about fixing up your brother.”

“Okay!” Bluestreak agreed, and he hopped off the berth before Prowl could react. Jazz scooped him up, swung him around and sat him on the berth… and gave him a toy, a blue stuffed luponoid. The mechling gave a little whoop of delight and cuddled it to his chassis. “Thank you!”

“Y’er welcome, youngspark,” Jazz replied. “I got somethin’ else ya might like.”

It was a puzzle cube, of some variety. Prowl did not get an opportunity to see what it properly was as Medic Hoist wasted no time direct him back on the berth. Even with the blankets, his doorwings protested, but Prowl suffered in silence. The medic initiated his scanners without preamble and scanned the Praxian from the base of his peds, to the top of his helm. He made no comment as he scanned, but after the principle one, he came in for a second more detailed scan.

“Looks like you’ve taken a few beatings,” Hoist said.

“They hit him, and kicked him,” Bluestreak piped up. “Stuck him with this… thing and kicked him and kicked him. He didn’t let them touch me. They hit him and told me they’d hurt him worse if I wasn’t quiet.”

“I’m sorry you saw that little mech,” the medi said. “Your self-repairs have done a good job with most of the internal damage, Prowl. But you’re fuel tanks got a dent, and that probably doesn’t feel too good. Compressed plating on your abdomen, a few cracks, probably from the same kick. Loads of dents. Looks like burnt out wires from a shock stick too. I’m going to give you a blocker and fix up your tank before anything else. Don’t worry Bluestreak, you’re brother will be in tip top shape in no time.”

Prowl drifted. The blocker Hoist gave him did its work and the Enforcer felt nothing, and though he heard the other mechanisms in the room speak, he could not decipher the glyphs, though he also did not have the processor power to try. So he floated, with no concept of time. He came back to awareness, still fuzzy around the edges as Hoist was returning the armour to his mid section. Through the fog, Prowl felt the improvements in his frame, the pain was largely gone.

“I topped off your tank,” Hoist said, in a sort of conversational way. “Dents smoothed out, so that won’t give you any more trouble. I can see from your sensor read out that your doorwings are under stress but we should be able take care of that. I sent Jazz to get more blankets, or something to give you some real support.”

“Thank you,” Prowl said, his mental faculties slowly returning. “Will you examined Bluestreak?”

“Already did,” the medic replied. “Jazz mentioned he was recovering from a rust infection. Poor thing, that must have been terrifying for you. He’s doing great. His self-repair systems have almost resolved. Jazz took him with him so he can get some fresh air.”

“He took him?” The Enforcer asked, a surge of fear filled him.

“Bluestreak’s safe with Jazz,” Hoist said. “He was getting upset watching your surgery, it was easier on him to get away. One thing to be said for Jazz that he’s both well loved and well respected, and not just in those circles.”

“Are you one as well?” Prowl asked.

“Nope,” the large mech said. “Regular Tagonian. I split my time between Iacon and the Crystal Empire, discovered some amalgii by accident. Didn’t get slagged for it because Jazz figured I didn’t mean any harm, quite the opposite to be honest. He let me in on the secret of this ferry, and it saves me a load of time crossing the sea.”

"Are more amalgii like him?” The Praxian asked.

“No,” Hoist replied. “They’re like any group, good and bad and somewhere in the middle. He spends more time out in the world, likes it that way, I think he’s a bit of a rebel.”

“He is taking us to his home,” Prowl said.

“That’ll be an interesting experience,” the medic said. “I’ve never been. They’re cautious about who they let close. You can imagine why. If you’re looking for a way out, I might call myself his friend, but I’m not keen on being an accessory to kidnapping.”

“I agreed,” the Enforcer said. “A favour for a favour.”

“I think your life is about to get a whole lot more interesting,” Hoist declared.

#amalgus #maccadams #transformers #ficlet #fanficion #jazz/prowl #unicorn trope #virgin sacrifice

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enkisstories · 5 years

Text

The android cemetery (Chapter 3)

“There’s an android missing from the archive”, Captain Allen announced. “The PL600.”

The next thing the man saw was Lt. Reed raising the hand he was holding his coffee mug with over his head, taking aim… and getting his wrist locked in Captain Anderson’s grip.

“Let go of me, Anderson!” Gavin hissed through clenched teeth.

“Put that down at once or I’ll make you!”

Gavin Reed’s hand was twitching, the coffee sloshing back and forth inside the mug. He was fighting the downwards pressure, but instead of pushing harder Hank suddenly jerked the other man’s arm around sideways so that he could see the mug and the inscription on it clearly. It read cliché enough “A yawn is a silent scream for coffee”, but somehow seeing the letters made Gavin’s resistance cease. Carefully, almost gently, he put the mug back onto the table.

Next to their superior Brandon and Yumiko exchanged none the wiser glances. Even the RK900 could only conjecture that Lt. Reed would not have wanted to smash this particular mug for some personal value it had to him. But why the human had wanted to toss it at Captain Allen in the first place, that part made no sense. There was no insect crawling on the opposite wall and in fact, the aim had not went into Allen’s general direction, but quite precisely at the man’s face. Brandon dismissed the calculation the moment he finished them. Nah, that was nonsense and pursuing that train of thought might lead to dangerous program instability. More likely Lt. Reed had wanted to splash the remaining coffee into Captain Anderson’s face for whatever reason. Or for no reason at all. As their product description stated, RK800s were programmed to adapt to human unpredictability. The next generation, the 900-series, sported an important improvement: it adapted by simply ignoring some of the more erratic stuff.

Hank now bent forward to press Gavin firmly onto his chair, just in case. To the onlookers it looked like a demonstration of dominance while in truth it was a hustle and a barely audible exchange took place between the two men. But to recognize that as what it was one would have to have been in Brindleton Bay together with them earlier this year. Everyone who was not privy to the events that had transpired there only knew that Anderson and Reed had it in for each other.

Therefore David Allen didn’t think anything about the encounter. It was just the android related crime captain and the Red Ice lieutenant being their usual selves, fighting their usual fights.

“Can you two please bury it for a moment?” he asked. “I just said we’re missing dangerous archived material!”

Yumiko shrugged. Weren’t they cops here, every last one of them, down to and including the androids? In the woman’s book that was pretty synonymous with “things not nailed down going missing”. Except of course that the android carcass in question had been sort of nailed down. If someone had managed to break into the evidence archive that was indeed cause for concern. There was no telling what else that one might have taken – or planted.

Yumiko nudged Brandon. The android closed its eyes briefly, then it announced that the DPD’s security protocols did not show any irregular activity in the archive in the recent past. “No activity at all, neither regular nor irregular”, the machine added, just in case.

“Be that as it may, the android cannot just have walked away by itself”, David grumbled.

“Why not?” Gavin asked. “They are deviants. I wouldn’t put it past them.”

“Because it would have had to re-activate itself…”

“A current fluctuation could do that.”

“…and then re-attach its severed limbs with only one hand.”

“Again, why not? It’s not as if the damn thing would have been under pressure. The last time someone went down there to check on the androids was in November ’38 – almost two years ago!”

Gavin noticed Connor approach. The android would have listened in on the exchange a good while already. Now it seemed to feel the need to make a contribution.

“Right, Con`?” the lieutenant prompted. “They were all still in there when you went… looking at them. Had a good time?”

“Well, it wasn’t me being found passed out on the floor afterwards…”

Back in 2038 the remark would have been cause for Gavin to jump off his seat, grab the android by its shirt and ram it against the nearest wall a few times for its insolence. But the interesting thing about humans – both Homo sapiens and deviant androids – was that they were capable of intense hatred, yet on the other hand individuals that despised each other were still able to form an uncannily efficient team. Their herd animal heritage enabled them to function that way: you let the runt run along so that you could feed him to the predators in case of attack while the valued members of the group escaped. Connor Anderson and Gavin Reed considered each other that expendable runt. One day the predator would come and then having fed the extra all those years would pay off. But here and now they were slipping into cooperation mode. Again, all the little signs were passing right over Captain Allen’s head. The man had no reason to look for them.

David was now shoving a chocolate filled lava cake into the microwave. While waiting for it to go “bling” he addressed Lt. Reed over his shoulder: “Yours is missing, too, I noticed.”

“My what?”

“Your android. The one you donated to the station to make us stop asking you to chip in for the coffee. It was a PL600, just like the one in the archive. I wonder if there’s a connection… A thief collecting them for whatever purpose?”

“Are you talking about the esteemed Dean?” Yumiko asked. “From what I understand that one didn’t go missing. Lt. Reed sold it shortly before I got transferred to Detroit.”

David looked at Reed. Why would the street rat renounce the deal with the DPD and withdraw his android? Really just because what the buyer had offered would cover the coffee bill and then some? Or wasn’t it far more likely that “He sold it” actually meant…

“Real owner claimed it back, huh?”

“I didn’t steal the PL! I told you I found it in the trash!” Gavin flared up.

“That would still be theft”, Hank tossed in cheerfully, “as you reminded me when I accidently dropped the car keys into the dumpster yesterday.”

Phuck. The old fart was right. Of course he would be. Hank Anderson had worked as a police officer when Gavin Reed had still fit into a waste-paper bin. Often enough the boy had indeed been rummaging through trashcans to salvage still useable items. He had taken pride in not being a criminal, never knowing that all the time he had stolen from the city.

“Mr. Reed is correct, Captain Anderson. Technically you relinquished ownership of the dropped item and would have to phone the city”, Connor informed Hank. “In practice if it happened to you, you’d rather deal with your annoying jerk of a co-worker than wasting the government’s time with an appeal to get your item back.”

“Don’t agree with me! That’s irritating as hell!” Gavin snapped at Connor. “Little computers should keep their speakers shut tight when adults talk!”

David took his cake out of the microwave. He walked over to an empty chair that he drew back in order to sit with his back facing away from the others. Munching on the chocolate pastry he seemed to have not exactly forgotten about the missing android, but at least dropped the topic for the moment. It was, after all, the detectives’ problem, not his. David had informed them about the incident and was now looking forward to an uneventful afternoon shift.

“When would an android be considered an adult?” Yumiko asked casually, looking from Brandon to Connor. There was no answer from either, but Hank suggested “Upon deviating”.

David snorted at that, taking it as a joke.

“So where did your PL600 end up?” he inquired.

Gavin and the Andersons relaxed a little when they realized that the man was just doing smalltalk.

“Yes, where, lieutenant?” Yumiko asked. “I recall you two were quite fond of each other!”

“Take a guess!” Gavin replied. “It’s a PL600. What’s there to do with one in 2040?”

David shrugged. “I dunno. Throw it away, I suppose. You wanted to do so in ’38 already, didn’t you? But Captain Anderson wouldn’t let you.”

“I sold it to the Science Center for their History of technology section.”

“Oh, that’s our Dean? I’ve been there with the kids and seen it, never knowing it was the same PL600. Interesting! But do you also know what the curator did with your rare collector’s item?”

“No, what?”

“They use it as a tour guide, to save on a paycheque for a real one!”

Gavin knew that exactly that was not the case. A tour guide Dean might be, but the museum didn’t save on wages by employing him in place of a human. Dean’s new TV spoke of that in a loud and bright voice. The human laughed out loud. It was so surreal! “Well, of course YOU would find that funny!” David barked. “Always “Oooh, androids will put us aaall out of our joooobs!”, but when it happens to somebody else it is suddenly entertaining. As for the android missing from the archive, you should look into that. And get it back before the next inspection.”

“I say!” Yumiko agreed. She giggled when she added: “Since the last one didn’t go so well for you…”

“Oh, it didn’t?” Gavin asked, grinning. “So who’s the lieutenant now and who is still a little sergeant?”

Yumiko pouted and Gavin gulped down the last of his coffee. With the empty mug he pointed at Hank. “You’ll want to file your request with the head of our new android related crime team”, he reminded David. “You know - the section they created to justify having yet another bloody Captain running around.”

Then the man put the mug into the dishwasher. He grabbed his jacket, grumbled something about “fucking androids AGAIN” while putting it on and left the station.

Connor – so far the only other permanent member of the android crime section – followed the human with his eyes. His expression did not change from the neutral state, but beneath the surface a number of equations was processed. The calculations were the easy part, executed within split-seconds. But judging the raw data and deciding on a subsequent action to take, now that took time when your deviant brain was running a personality at the same time. Connor still didn’t fully understand how Dean did that or why deviance was supposed to be a desirable condition. All HE desired was to get it acknowledged as the untreatable mental disease that it was and get compensated with a nice monthly pension. And there he had went AGAIN, succumbing to emotions when he should have payed attention to the simulation he had started. Overlooking a movie that ran in your own head, now that was a “feat” not many could boast about…

The android stood lost in thought like that until David Allen barked at him: “Don’t you have something to do? A potted plant to talk to?”

“I’ll go find one”, Connor replied in what have sounded absentmindedly from a human. Him being an android chances were he had taken the suggestion literal. Him being Connor, half of the time he would still take something literal, despite being a deviant on top of a trained negotiator. The other half he was faking it. Tina Chen even claimed to have witnessed Connor genuinely misunderstand phrases in private that he had no problem parsing when they came up in a duty-related situation. Captain Allen facepalmed. Hank, however, smiled. If only because he felt there wouldn’t be much occasion to do so in the near future.

#non sims #sims4 dbh partfive #detroit become human #sims4danielgavin

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brooklynislandgirl · 7 years

Note

Our ship (the best ship)

♡ send me a ship and i’ll tell you…♡|Accepting

when they go camping, who reads the map wrong and gets them lost:

It shouldn’t have been a thing. He knew he shouldn’t have indulged her. But there she was, doing that thing she did where her hands were wrapped in his shirt and her eyes were filled with stars and he knew there’d be no peace. And despite outward appearances, he usually didn’t refuse her if it wasn’t dangerous.It had been years. More than he might care to admit, maybe because it reminded him of times forgotten to ages long since dead and buried. She insisted on a tent. She insisted on some no man’s land where the air carried a crispness of early frost and the leaves set fire to the world in a riot of colour. That’s what she wanted. That’s what she got.He expected her to get lost, mostly because she had the singular ability to get lost even between the bedroom and the kitchen, and she would take a century doing it.So maybe it surprised him, as little did, when she ran ~barefoot, Beth? Really?~ through the thickets, leaping nimbly over fallen logs and stopping here and there briefly to lay a small hand on still standing trunks. She whispered to the trees and while it might have been stupid and childish, they actually seemed to answer her back. She didn’t need the map in her backpack. And when they reached the spot she’d told him about {At length, in the drive up because she refused to just let him take her there, no matter how sweetly he wrapped his arms around her}, she stood, feet planted in the cool, dark earth, fists on her hips, chin tilted just so.

“See! I told you I could find it.”He said nothing, but there might have been a hint of a grin as he started setting up the tent.

who would be a king/queen and who would be a knight:

Her fingers skim along the seams of the interlocking plates. She can’t talk to it but instinctively can feel where a dent was hammered back out. Where a particular spot had been reinforced, the memory remaining on the metal like a bruise. Her palm came to rest flat against the center of the chest plate, a little to the left and she told herself she could feel the echo of the heart beating underneath it. That she could taste on her tongue the sharp tang of sweat and blood, a thousand agonies he refused to feel.She doesn’t know war. Not like he does.She’s seen movies. Read books. The insurgents in Darfur, that had been a massacre, the slaughter of the already sick and dying, and mostly the people who were trying to treat them. She’d never forget the feel of being under the cross-hairs. Even the Ascension conflict wasn’t real war, though that may be the closest she’s come to it.She closes her eyes and tries not to imagine him, girded with sword and shield like a knight of long ago because she knows the truth is darker, uglier and she can’t… doesn’t want… to see him that way.

“Don’t always get what you want, Princess.”

She turns to see him leaning in the doorway, arms folded heavily across his chest. He’s angry. More than normal. She’s not allowed here without his permission, without him.

“I…”The look silences her for a moment. “….I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”He makes a point and that in turn only makes her look and feel that much guiltier.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” His eyes narrow and she can’t quite make out what it means.

Fairy-tales, she’s learning, don’t prepare you for the reality.

She shakes her head and goes to leave. He lets her, this time.

who is the superhero and who is the sidekick:

There’s a half drawn set of panels weeks later, once he’d thought they’d let it go. Had he been truly upset, he would have changed the security code. He picked up her sketch pad, idly traced the inked lines with the tips of his fingers. A squire too feminine in feature to be a boy carries a plain, black banner. The knight bears more than a passing resemblance, but he’s seen her do better sketches of him. In fact he knew he’s been her favourite subject for months and he keeps meaning to say something but it never really comes up.The poses are somewhat ridiculous. He’d never leave his flank open like that, the grip on the sword is all wrong. And what did she really think? No one wore cloaks and capes in real battle. That’d come much later, when the fops pretended at sword fighting. Calling themselves gallants and duelists. Fought to first blood, for the satisfaction of their fabricated ‘honour’.

Things children play at, all of it made-up bullshit.

He has to remind himself she doesn’t know a thing about it, the smell of excrement and bloated corpses under the sun’s heat, the buzz of flies and the weak cries of the dying. An underlying sour gangrene under the cloying sweetness of flesh rotting. All of the blood. Her battles are always in sterile environments, where everything is clean. Where lives are being saved. A sneer curls his lip and he sets it down.

who enjoys watching romantic comedies more and who would rather watch bee movie™ on repeat:

She seemed surprised when he agreed to watch the movie. He was sure he’d seen it when it had come out, but that had been a while ago. She turned off the lights, earning a raised brow. It seemed she had become accustomed to darkness now, and even sought it. This was not a fact lost on him. The screen came from its concealed place in the wall, and he bit back a smirk. Clearly she wasn’t expecting that, either. But it was like his cell-phone. Just because he hated it was no reason to think he didn’t own one.They started the dvd at opposite ends of the couch. He sprawled comfortably, arm against the back of it. She in her flannel pajamas {note to self, get rid of those, they were kind of hideous}, hair in what could only be called a mess trying to masquerade as a bun, glasses sitting at the end of her nose, and arms tucked around a bowl of popcorn.By the time the Man in Black made his appearance on screen, her head was in his lap, and for something so small she took up a majority of their room. By the sword-fight with the Spaniard {he had to admit it the choreography was well done}, his hand slipped from her shoulder to cover her mouth. She knew every word, absently spoke along. She kissed his palm no offense taken.By the time Inigo Montoya achieved his revenge, she was asleep, her lips softly parted. He drew the throw blanket over her, wrapped an arm around her waist. He didn’t have the heart to wake her when the credits rolled, and she barely seemed disturbed as he reached for the remote to started it over.

who prefers puppies and who prefers kittens:

“Z, please….”

“You were not VOLUNTEERING. It was a Gods Damn RIOT. That burning in your lungs? That you couldn’t compensate for? Tear gas-”

“I can…I can explain.”He turned so fast she actually cowered, pouring gasoline on a bonfire.

“Not another fucking word. How could you be so incredibly stupid? Do you know what would have happened if they’d succeeded in arresting you? And for what? A couple dozen dogs and cats?”She shook her head and he was almost sickened rather than pleased by the actual fear in her eyes.He raised a hand and his fingers curled in the air, his face turning away from her as his mouth twisted, teeth gritting. It was taking the last of his self-control not to lash out. To try and find find some kind of rational.

“For all that you say you love them… for all that you say you want to save people… I would have had to destroy them, ripped them apart piece by fucking piece. This is not how we keep secrets. You do even understand what a secret is?”

She nodded, trying to look away.

His hand snaked out. Not for her throat, but for her chin. Fingers pressed in at the points of her jaw until they were both sure even her bones would keep the etched patterns of his skin for the rest of eternity. He loomed over her. Rage sweeping through every ounce of his being.

She could have been hurt. She could have been…He felt partly to blame. He’d let her go alone when she said she was going to be helping out at the shelter.

“Don’t you ever lie to me again, Elikapeka.”

who knits the ugly sweater for the other:

He stared at the sweater.It stared back, completely unimpressed.For that matter, she was staring at him too, like a kid at Christmas {though that was still months away}. The smile she wore was painfully bright.It was ugly. In no universe should those colours have been put together. Ever. His gaze swept past her slender frame, toward the window. Snow piled up on the sills several inches, and it was still falling.

She’d wanted his birthday present to be warm. She’d wanted it to wrap around him even when she couldn’t. She’d made it for him. So for her, he would be tactful, however much it pained him to do so, and put it on. It was soft. It was comfortable. It moved with him when he did, when he brushed the side of her cheek with the pad of his thumb. “Thank you, Piccola.”He’d wear it, keeping in mind that sometimes, accidents did happen and she would be none the wiser.

The rest of his birthday passed quietly, with a king’s feast she’d made herself that wasn’t hideous. The German chocolate cake discretely had only one candle. She had, to his surprise, even invited Sin to join them, and further still, his only friend had come. There was laughter at one point, and she draped a hand casually against the other man’s shoulder as they sang to him.~*~A year later, he pulled it out at the first snow fall.

which one can cook and which one can’t even make a bowl of cereal:

He woke to the sound of her crying.Well, waking wasn’t exactly the word for it, and neither was crying. But the sob was distinct, her voice prying at the edges of his senses with sharp little claws. He’d known she’d risen almost an hour before, her movements slightly furtive.

Though rarely, he chose to feign sleep and simply enjoy the still warmth of her next to his skin. His regimented discipline didn’t allow him luxury often and she was starting to become a bad habit of very cute laziness.

He stretched, pulled himself out of the tangled mess they’d made of the bedding, threw on a pair of jeans and padded barefoot toward the sound.At least there was coffee in the air.He found her in the middle of the floor, and he’d seen entire war-zones less disastrous. There was flour like the afterimage of a mushroom cloud…every where. Batter on the light fixtures, egg dripping off the counter. And was that.. was that…smoke residue? His every last nerve twitched and he took a steadying breath even as she looked at him, cookbook opened in her lap. Lower lip trembling as she tried to compose herself.

“We can…always…move,” he said, trying hard to ignore the…everything.Fat, wet tears spilled over the rim of her lashes and she started crying again.

“That was a joke.”It wasn’t.

He turned to get the broom and dustpan from the utility closet. He also made a mental note to teach her how to make waffles.

#multi-mused #quite possibly THE longst answer to a ship-meme ever #but you know #Any excuse really #Kona Kai Kau ā Kau #The Warrior and his Witch| Zarek and Beth

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mistleto-3 · 7 years

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Crying for the Moon: Part 22

MikoTotsu Werewolf AU

Pairing: Mikoto/Tatara

2,908 words. For MikoTotsu Week 2016.

Previous part | All parts | Next part

AO3

Once he’d gotten them inside, Izumo immediately set about worrying over his friends’ injuries. After spending a moment rummaging through the medicine cabinet, he pressed a bottle of pain pills into Tatara’s hand, insisting he take them if he wouldn’t go to the hospital. As soon as he was satisfied Tatara had swallowed the pills, he then turned his attention to flushing out Mikoto’s wounds with antiseptic. Mikoto kept stubbornly quiet as Izumo cleaned him up, but the saline that ran onto the kitchen tiles was bright red, and his fur was caked with blood. Tatara could see the tension in his jaw, and he sat beside him, stroking the top of his head to comfort him.

Mizuomi came into the kitchen shortly after he’d come back inside, having changed his blood-splattered clothes and, judging by the dampness of his hair, splashed his face with water. At first, he didn’t speak, wordlessly making a mug of tea for each of the humans in the room and pouring a bowl of water for Mikoto. Then, he took a seat on one of the kitchen stools, and without making eye contact with any of the boys, he let out a heavy sigh and said:

“I think I owe you all the whole story.”

The silence that followed was pregnant as Mizuomi sighed once more, his gaze flickering upwards to the ceiling as he appeared to be deciding where to begin.

“Mikoto. I presume you know that that was Kagutsu, the wolf that bit you and killed my brother and sister in law.”

Mikoto inclined his head slightly.

“He’s also the werewolf I mentioned before, when I told you about your mother. Her ‘true love,’ supposedly.”

At the look of confusion on Izumo and Tatara’s faces, Mizuomi was prompted to explain: “A werewolf doesn’t normally remember who they are in wolf form, so when Kagutsu met Mikoto’s mother and started remembering himself, we did some research into it, and there were whispers and stories about a werewolf finding their true love and remembering their identity in their presence. We figured that was what happened with her and Kagutsu, and now you two,” he said, nodding towards Tatara and Mikoto.

“True love…?” Tatara repeated, his cheeks flushing pink as he processed the information, then buried his face in the fur of Mikoto’s neck bashfully. Mikoto let out a quiet huff that sounded like a laugh.

“Wait a sec, how could Kagutsu’ve been her true love? You said earlier he tried to kill her baby? What kinda rotten true love is that?” Izumo pointed out.

Mikoto stiffened at this, giving Mizuomi a questioning look.

“Just cause he was evil didn’t mean he couldn’t love. He did love her, in a sort of convoluted way. He showed it by being a jealous bastard, and he treated her awfully, but he loved her.”

“What about her?” Tatara asked. “How could she love someone like that?”

“She was convinced she could change him. She was the kind of person who’d give anyone the benefit of the doubt; she had so much faith in the good in people that she couldn’t see there wasn’t any in Kagutsu. He was kind to her sometimes, and he made her laugh, so she looked past the way he treated her the rest of the time.”

“Then why’d old man Suoh disinherit her if she was a victim?” Izumo asked.

“He didn’t. That’s just the story he went with to protect you kids from the truth. He didn’t disown her; she died when Mikoto was about a month old,” Mizuomi explained.

Tatara felt Mikoto’s head drop slightly beside him.

“Your grandfather couldn’t bear to talk about her. It was too painful for him; he felt like he failed in protecting her, like if he’d tried harder then maybe she’d still be alive. I feel the same way, but no matter what anyone said to her, she refused to stop looking for the good in him.”

“So what happened to her?” Tatara asked.

“She got pregnant, and Kagutsu was… angry is an understatement. He couldn’t stand the idea of sharing her. But she was who she was, and the moment she found out she was going to have a baby she was completely infatuated with it; she was over the moon. He pressed her for months to get an abortion, but she refused. After her first scan, he pushed her down the stairs. Thankfully she wasn’t badly hurt and she didn’t miscarry, and we hoped after that she’d see what an asshole he was, but no matter what I said to her, or what her father said to her, she was convinced that once he saw the baby, he would love it.”

“And he didn’t?” Tatara asked, but it was more a statement than a question.

“Of course not. He just hated Mikoto even more once he was born, hated that his mother was too busy recovering from childbirth and caring for the kid to pay much attention to him.”

“And then he tried to kill Mikoto?” Izumo prompted. At the question, Mikoto looked up at Izumo, then turned to Mizuomi.

“Yeah… First full moon after Mikoto was born, Kagutsu pretended to lose control of himself and went for him, but she got between them. He scratched her up pretty bad, but she escaped with her son and came to me- she didn’t want to go to her father because she knew he’d never let her go back, and she was determined she could talk some sense into Kagutsu. She was so convinced it was an accident, but I made her promise me that she would leave him if she couldn’t calm him down, or if he hurt her- she was willing to risk her own safety, but when I pointed out that Kagutsu was a danger to her son, she agreed. So she left Mikoto with me and went back to him…” Mizuomi trailed off at that point, and took a moment to steady himself, taking a deep breath before continuing: “We can’t be completely sure what happened, but presumably, he failed to see sense, so she told him she was leaving him, and he killed her in a fit of rage.

“I think he always held a grudge against us, though. Blamed everyone but himself for her death. He used to come around here sometimes in his human form and try to pick fights, but old man Suoh bought a gun and told him that if he saw him around here again, he’d take appropriate steps to protect his grandson, and I never saw him in human form after that.”

“Just in human form?” Tatara asked.

“Something drew him here in wolf form. I don’t know how much of his memories he retained on full moons, but he used to come here a lot and sniff around. We thought he didn’t remember anything though; he didn’t seem to.”

“Why’d he attack that night then, when he bit Mikoto?” Izumo said, his brow furrowing.

“I don’t know; I wasn’t there. All I know is that he broke down the door of the bar and found your parents sleeping, and then he broke into the Suohs’ house and went for Mikoto, but his grandfather grabbed a meat cleaver from the kitchen and managed to drive him out of the house before he could do too much damage. It was too late though, and Mikoto got bitten.”

“Why did he attack Izumo’s parents? What did they have to do with it?” Tatara asked.

“They had nothing to do with it; they didn’t even know about werewolves. I suppose Kagutsu just thought my brother was me; we looked quite similar, and he wanted his revenge against me for all the time I spent trying to convince Mikoto’s mother to leave him, and for protecting her son from him. He’d always hated me; he was so possessive of her. I grew up with her, we were friends since we were kids, and it was no secret that her dad was hoping I’d marry her. I suppose it was no secret I wanted to either. At first Kagutsu just hated that another guy her age lived next door to her, and he used to interrogate her every time he caught her speaking to me. It only got worse when he figured out I was in love with her. I suppose he blames me for the fact her lost her. My brother and his wife were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Tatara’s expression softened, and he gave Mizuomi a sympathetic look; his heart ached at the thought of what he must have been through, watching the woman he loved choose a man who hurt her, and then bearing the blame for the death of his siblings.

“It wasn’t your fault…” Tatara said softly. “You were just trying to protect your friend. The things Kagutsu did aren’t on you.”

Mizuomi sighed, pausing for a moment, then he changed the subject uncomfortably. “After that first attack, Mizuomi came back more often; I presume he was trying to finish the job on Mikoto, but of course they were on level footing now because Mikoto was transforming too. Old man Suoh beefed up the locks so Kagutsu couldn’t get into the house, so he used to just loiter outside all night. But I guess he saw me one night and realised I wasn’t dead and he tried to get into the bar, so I shot at him. I don’t think I did an awful lot of damage, but it deterred him. I think the sound spooked Mikoto though, and he managed to escape his house and he and Kagutsu ended up fighting, but Kagutsu was already wounded so he ran off with his tail between his legs and I hadn’t seen him come back since- I think he was too afraid that Mikoto would kill him if he returned. Mikoto’s younger, and from what I can tell, stronger. Kagutsu didn’t seem to like his odds.”

“Is that fight why you’ve got all those scars?” Tatara asked, turning to Mikoto, who shrugged.

“I presume so,” Mizuomi replied. “I don’t remember him getting into any other big fights.”

“But if Kagutsu was afraid he’d get his ass kicked, why’d he come back tonight?” Izumo asked.

“The howl…” Tatara said. “Mikoto howled when he was on his way to my house. Maybe he heard and knew Mikoto wasn’t here, so he was safe to finish off Mizuomi without having to worry about him?”

“It’s possible,” Mizuomi replied.

“We saw pawprints last month, by the edge of the woods when we came back from camping. Mikoto howled that night too; I bet he heard Mikoto was away from the house and he came to sniff around,” Tatara said.

Mizuomi nodded in concurrence, then dropped his gaze with a sigh. “I’m sorry for not telling you any of this earlier. Your grandfather wanted to protect you from all of this; he didn’t think you needed to know, and he couldn’t bear to talk about your mother,” he said, looking at Mikoto. “And even after he died… I couldn’t bring myself to tell you. I was ashamed; I always think that maybe if I’d done more for your mother, she might still be alive.”

Izumo sighed, walking over to his uncle to rest a hand on his shoulder. “The only person to blame for all this is Kagutsu. He killed her, not you. Ya can’t blame yourself.”

Whether or not Mizuomi had taken this to heart wasn’t clear. “And I’m sorry for not looking after you like I should have. Both of you,” he continued, glancing from Izumo to Mikoto. “I promised to keep an eye on you after your grandfather passed away, but… you’ve got her look about you. I felt so guilty every time I saw you; the older you got, the more you looked like her. You shouldn’t have had to grow up without your mother. And Izumo, your dad would be so proud of the man you’ve grown up to be…” His voice cracked in his throat and he trailed off as his nephew hugged him tightly.

Mizuomi took a deep breath to steady himself, clapping Izumo on the shoulder gratefully as he drew away, then he reached for his wallet in his pocket. From behind one of Izumo’s school photographs, he pulled out another, slightly faded polaroid and handed it to Tatara.

“It’s from before she met Kagutsu,” he explained as Tatara showed the picture to Mikoto. It depicted what was clearly a much younger Mizuomi, perhaps in his late teens, with his arm around the shoulders of a beautiful young lady with waist length red hair and a carefree smile. The resemblance between her and her son was uncanny- they had the same cheekbones, same hairline, same nose, same arch to their brow.

“She was beautiful,” Tatara said with a faint smile.

“She would have loved you,” Mizuomi replied, looking at Tatara. “Your personality reminds me a lot of her.” Then he turned to Mikoto. “I have some other photos of her, one from the day you were born, of you both in the hospital. I’ll get them down from the attic sometime.”

Mikoto gave a grateful nod.

“I hate ta be a mood killer, but what are we gonna do about the scumbags who showed up at Totsuka’s place?” Izumo said. “Someone’s gonna find ‘em eventually, and the one you said got knocked out might wake up anytime.”

“Kagutsu won’t turn back human now he’s dead, will he?” Tatara asked.

“I don’t see how he could,” Mizuomi replied.

“Right… When Mikoto is human again, I’ll call the police, tell them what happened with the debt collectors. They broke my arm, they were going to kidnap me, and then a dog attacked them. The guy who’s still alive will say the same thing, if he remembers, and so will my dad if he was watching. I’ll say I ran away while the dog was busy with the other two, and I came here for safety, but the dog followed me and attacked Mikoto- that’ll explain his injuries. And you shot the dog to protect us. Case closed,” Tatara explained.

“For someone who seems so sweet an’ innocent, ya can be pretty crafty when it comes down to it,” Izumo remarked.

“What if they ask why you didn’t call sooner? Surely the police would be suspicious?” Mizuomi said.

Tatara paused, chewing his lip in thought.

“You should call them now. We’ll say Mikoto was attacked, and he managed to break free and run off but we don’t know where he got to, and I’ll bring him to the hospital once he’s human again,” Mizuomi continued.

“I don’t want to leave him…”

Mikoto nudged his side with his snout, as if to encourage him to go.

“It’ll only be a few hours,” Izumo said.

“Will you remember yourself without me?”

Mikoto nodded, then tugged gently at Tatara’s jacket, as though he was trying to pull it off.

“Huh? You want this?”

He nodded once more, then pointedly pressed his nose to the fabric and inhaled deeply.

“Smell…? The smell of it helps you remember?”

Another nod.

“Is that how you remembered yourself earlier, when I wasn’t there?”

Mikoto inclined his head again, and Tatara’s expression softened in response. He pressed a kiss to the top of Mikoto’s head, then removed his jacket, careful not to jostle his injured arm, and laid the garment over his paws.

“Alright… fine, I’ll go to the hospital.”

Izumo went with Mikoto back to the Suoh home to keep him company while they waited for sunrise, and the group agreed that they’d say Izumo went looking for Mikoto after he’d gone missing if the police asked his whereabouts. Then, Tatara took a deep breath and made the call, relaying his story to the operator, playing up his distress as he spoke to the woman on the phone. Within twenty minutes, a pair of police cars and a paramedic pulled up outside the building, and Tatara repeated his story as the medic assessed his injury. Tatara asked if they’d heard anything from his father, and the policeman questioning him said some officers had been dispatched to his home, and they’d update him when they had some news.

The next few hours passed in a blur- it had begun to drizzle with rain a short while after the police had arrived, and the ride to the hospital seemed almost dreamlike as Tatara watched the raindrops trickle down the window of the paramedic’s car. The pain and the exhaustion were finally beginning to catch up with him as the last of the adrenaline drained from his system, and the medication he was given when they arrived at the hospital only served to make him even more drowsy. The doctors said his break was quite severe, and he’d need surgery to ensure it healed correctly, but Tatara found himself drifting in and out of consciousness as he waited in the emergency room with Mizuomi for an operating theatre to become available.

Thankfully, it had only been an hour or so since they arrived at the hospital until Tatara could be taken down to surgery, and he felt a wave of relief as the anaesthetic mask was placed over his face, and he could finally let sleep take him.

#mikototsu week #mikototsu #k project #suoh mikoto #totsuka tatara #k fanfic #fic: cftm

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chocolateheal · 6 years

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You Will Never Believe These Bizarre Truth Behind Chocolates By Mail Usa | chocolates by mail usa

Rowland 3.jpg Aback Richard Ecklof assassin Suzan to assignment in his ancestors bakery in 1971, neither knew they would ally and assignment as a aggregation until retirement. Photo by Beverly Kehe-Rowland

Fernando Creative Design: Chocolate by mail vintage label … – chocolates by mail usa | chocolates by mail usa

“I started, like my dad, as a adolescent kid bed-making floors,” says Richard Ecklof abandoning his aboriginal years at Ecklof Bakery. “After aerial school, I started alive in production.”

The attitude of baking had been in the Ecklof Ancestors for at atomic two ancestors afore Richard became involved. His grandfather, David Eklof, came to the United States from Stockholm, Sweden in 1919 at which time his surname was afflicted to Ecklof. The 21-year old begin assignment at Ideal Bakery in Warren, Pennsylvania. Afterwards affective to Jamestown ancient in the backward 1920s, he teamed up with Kurt Billings and George Hedberg in Scandia Bakery on Additional Street. He awash the bakery in 1945 in adjustment to be able to absorb time with his ailing wife in her final days.

The Ecklof’s son, David Richard Ecklof, frequently referred to as Dick, planned to booty over the bakery on his acknowledgment from aggressive service, but came home to Jamestown to ascertain it had been sold. In 1956, Dick opened Ecklof Bakery. He anesthetized abroad on March 8, 1968, afterwards which buying of the bakery was anesthetized to his wife Carolyn. Afterwards operating the bakery for eight years, Mrs. Ecklof awash it to her son Richard in July 1976. Richard had alternate home from confined two years in the United States Army afterwards the abortive afterlife of his ancestor at the age of 43.

He met his wife, Suzan, aback she was assassin as a sales agent in 1971, in actuality she was the aboriginal actuality he interviewed for the job.

“I affiliated my boss,” says Suzan with a grin.

Ecklof Bakery has been accustomed for their Blush Striped Accolade aback 1956. Photo by Beverly Kehe-Rowland

Suzan took over the position of block decorator from her bedmate in 1987, who had acquired the job aback he was 22 years old, aback the above decorator had left.

“She’s a self-taught block decorator,” says her husband.

His wife says she absolutely abstruse from watching her bedmate and addition decorator. The Belle Vernon, Pennsylvania built-in accelerating from Art Institute of Pittsburgh, which she says has helped with her career as a block decorator. At one time she was the alone one in the breadth who drew freehand. She attributes her accomplished job at the Post-Journal, aback it was amid on Washington Street, and her autogenous architecture education, for her color-mixing ease.

The brace tells about how the action for block decorating has afflicted and how a computer is acclimated to do photo cakes, a action of archetype and air-brushing the color.

“You accept to accumulate up with the times,” she says.

Suzan Ecklof’s dishes may be acclimated in assorted Christmas anniversary situations. The Sausage and Zucchini Side Bowl and Beef Bouillon (back) could be served for cafeteria afterwards a morning arcade trip. The Taco Dip and Linguine Salad (front) are adapted for anniversary parties and buffets. Photo by Beverly Kehe-Rowland

His wife has afresh retired, not alone from decorating, but from acclimation and scheduling the girls who assignment in the store-deli area, but still letters to assignment aback bare in a jam. Richard is semi-retired, but letters to assignment daily.

“She took affliction of the advanced of the abode and I took affliction of production,” says the business buyer of Jamestown’s aftermost retail bakery and alone Swedish bakery.

“We are a full-line retail bakery. We accomplish aggregate like you do in your kitchen,” says Mr. Ecklof.

The bakery is accustomed for abounding products, such as Limpa Rye, a Swedish rye bread. Vort Limpa, fabricated with arena oranges, cloves and anise berry with a molasses glaze, is accessible at anniversary time and during the Scandinavian festival. This aliment can be biconcave out and acclimated to authority the dip in the rye baiter compound Mrs. Ecklof has shared. Added accustomed anniversary items are the cardamom and almond coffee cakes.

Their best famous, best requested account is the Ice Chrism Bar, bigger apperceive as the “pink-striped cookie.” On Dick Ecklof’s aboriginal day of business in 1956, he told the sales clerks to accept a cookie to accord accouchement who came to the bakery with their parents. The cookie called was the Ice Chrism Bar, a boilerplate shortbread cookie with a blush band bottomward the middle. Accouchement accredit to them as pink-striped cookies, appropriately their official nickname. It is estimated over a division actor accept been accustomed to the accouchement who accept anesthetized through the bakery doors.

“It is one of our signature items. On boilerplate we accomplish 98 dozen six canicule per week. Sometimes it’s 130 dozen,” Mr. Ecklof states.

“We mail them all over the United States,” his wife angelus in.

The acclaimed cookie has its own webpage started by Scott Constantino. During Fourth of July anniversary the chef is shaped into a 1/2 sheet-size flag. The accolade can be color-coordinated with academy colors, bells colors or colors that accompany with altogether party, babyish battery and gender acknowledge parties. Cakes and cupcakes are, also, accessible for gender acknowledge parties, with black filling.

“We’ve done absolutely a bit of those,” says Mrs. Ecklof. “When decorating with dejection and pinks for gender reveal, we charge be abiding anniversary blush is acclimated equally, or the aforementioned cardinal of flowers, polka dots, etc. of anniversary blush is used.

They still hand-cut all cut-out cookies, with amoroso accolade actuality accessible year-round and amber or pepparkakor accessible for Christmas only.

Another accustomed account that is accessible alone at this time of year is Tom and Jerry Batter. Richard started authoritative the raw concoction in the aboriginal 1990s, application homogenized eggs for safety.

“We alpha the alpha of November and do about 1,500-2,000 quarts of batter. We get 50 quarts out of a batch, which takes an hour on the mixer. The yolks and whites are alloyed alone and the yolks are bankrupt in later. It can be acclimated with hot amber for accouchement and non-drinkers,” he says.

Tom and Jerry concoction is accessible in 1 quart, 2 1/2 quart and 4-gallon containers. It will accumulate one anniversary in the refrigerator or four weeks frozen. The ancestors shares recipes application Tom and Jerry batter.

The bakery has a cafeteria breadth area they advertise algid cuts, cheeses and cafeteria items and area cafeteria may be purchased.

The couple’s son, Chad Ecklof, has been alive with his dad aback he was a little boy aback he would ask to go forth with him to work.

“Nine times out of ten I’d abatement comatose on the abrade bags,” says the son.

He formed over summer vacations during aerial school, starting at 4 a.m.

“I was told if I didn’t get a acceptable education, this is the affectionate of assignment I would be doing. So, I went into the Navy and accomplished two colleges with Associates Degrees and I’m still alive here.”

In the years the adolescent Ecklof served in the United States Navy he was an electronics artisan who formed on million-dollar alarm systems and aeronautics equipment.

Following in his father’s tradition, he sometimes takes his sons to assignment at 4 AM aback they’ve asked to go with him. He is a baker, does all of the deliveries, handles the amusing media and has amorphous to do authoritative work.

The Christmas division is acutely active for the ancestors and its employees. The bakery will participate in Julmarknad (Swedish Market Day) on Saturday, December 1, with Swedish tastings, forth with several added locations about the city, as able-bodied as 15 vendors at Jamestown Community College. On Sunday, Dec. 9, the bakery will accept their tenth anniversary Applique Abode Workshop from 1-3 p.m.. The accident is accessible to adults and accouchement who are accompanied by an developed and who accept registered by Monday, Dec. 3. The amount is $35 per applique house, including decorating supplies. Anniversary added abode is $25. The ancestor and son cut and broil all of the pieces by duke and accumulate them. The participants will be accustomed a affirmation on decorating applique houses. This accident is actual able-bodied accustomed with some families registering for as abounding as six houses.

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“For Christmas, we assignment 14-, 15- and 16-hour days. We absolutely don’t accept abundant of a adventitious to bless Christmas.

We try to break alive on Christmas Eve afterwards alive (long hours),” says Richard Ecklof.

The bakers alpha at 10 p.m. on Dec. 22 and assignment until 1-2 p.m. the abutting afternoon. They acknowledgment at 7 p.m. and assignment until 3 p.m. on Dec. 24.

“That’s what Christmas has been like for me for 50 years,” states Richard.

His wife usually starts assignment at 5-6 a.m. on Christmas Eve and works until the abundance closes at 5 p.m..

“And a lot of hours arch up to that,” she adds. “We adulation Christmas, but it’s a daydream for bakers”

They accept it is adamantine alive they accept to go aback to assignment the day afterwards Christmas.

The brace has had a absolute of four vacations calm with the aftermost actuality in 2000. Mr. Ecklof has gone on a few fishing trips over the years.

Although the couple’s added son, Devin, no best works at the bakery, he is a accomplished chef like the blow of he men in his family.

Ecklof Bakery is amid at 832 Foote Ave. The hours of operation are Monday-Friday 6 a.m.-6 p.m., Saturday 6 a.m.-5 p.m. and Sunday 8 a.m.-1 p.m. Cafeteria is served 10 a.m.-2:45 p.m.. Call 488-1516 by Dec. 3 to annals for the Applique Abode Workshop and by Dec. 23 to adjustment Christmas items, although orders accustomed beforehand in the ages are preferred. No Christmas orders will be accustomed afterwards this time.

FYI: Ecklof Bakery has a rear parking lot. Use the aback aperture to appear and go from bakery.

Tom and Jerry

1 heaping T Ecklof’s Tom and Jerry batter

3/4 accoutrement rum

3/4 accoutrement brandy

Hot baptize or coffee

1 dosage Ecklof’s Tom and Jerry batter

Nutmeg or cinnamon

Put concoction into a approved or ample coffee cup. Add rum and brandy. Fill cup with hot baptize or coffee and stir. Top alcohol with dosage of concoction and baptize with grated absurd or cinnamon.

Cold version-

Put two tablespoons concoction into a baptize glass. Fill canteen 3/4 abounding with milk. Activity agilely and serve. It tastes about like eggnog. May use amber milk.

Children’s version-

2 T Ecklof’s Tom and Jerry batter

Hot baptize or hot milk

Spoonful Ecklof’s Tom and Jerry batter

Nutmeg or cinnamon

Candy cane

Put concoction in approved or ample coffee cup. Add hot baptize or hot milk. Stir. Top with dosage of concoction and baptize with absurd or cinnamon. For added flavor, add a bonbon cane, excellent stick or biscuit stick.

Christmas Eggnog Fabricated with Tom and Jerry Batter

1 qt Ecklof’s Tom and Jerry batter

1 c bourbon

1/2 c aphotic rum

1/2 c amaretto

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1/2 qt milk

2 T vanilla

1 1/2 pts abundant whipping cream

In a ample bowl, barrel until smooth, all capacity with the barring of the cream. Whip chrism until annealed and again add to added capacity and barrel until bland and creamy. Refrigerate. Serve in a bite bowl. Top with nutmeg. It will be actual blubbery and foamy. Freeze for abiding storage. Alcohol will anticipate from freezing solid. Do not reclaim or serve eggnog that has been larboard out of refrigeration.

Bacon and Cheese Dip

1 lb Swiss cheese, shredded

1 lb bacon, adapted and crumbled

1 baby jar mayonnaise

Mix all capacity in goulash dish. Broil at 350 degrees for 35-45 minutes. Serve with broiled accomplished aureate crackers.

Sausage and Zucchini Side Dish

1 lb candied arena sausage

1 lb hot arena sausage

2 baby zucchini, diced

2 baby chicken summer squash, diced

29 oz amazon sauce

29 oz amazon puree

6 oz amazon paste

1 average blooming pepper, diced

1 baby onion, diced

14.5 oz broiled tomatoes

1 pkg broken mushrooms

Cook and cesspool sausage. Combine in Dutch oven. Cover and baker for one hour, active occasionally. Simmer for 2 added hours.

Linguine Salad

1 box linguine, adapted and drained

2 average cucumbers, bald and diced

1 average red onion, diced

2 stalks celery, diced

2 average tomatoes, diced

1 canteen Italian dressing

2 T Salad Supreme Seasoning

Cool noodles. Combine with actual ingredients. Chill.

Beef Stew

1 pkg bouillon beef

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2 T vegetable oil

4 ample red potatoes, bald and diced

4 carrots, bald and diced

1 baby onion, diced

2 stalks celery, diced

3 T parsley flakes

5 c water

Sear beef in oil in Dutch oven. Add water. Boil. Skim broth. Add actual capacity and simmer 2 hours. Thicken with baptize and abrade base. Let simmer 30 minutes.

Sausage and Pasta

1 lb candied or hot sausage links

1 box rigatoni, adapted and drained

2 baby zucchini, diced

2 carrots, bald and diced

1 average blooming pepper, diced

1 baby onion, diced

1 jar spaghetti sauce

Cook and allotment sausage. Combine all capacity and broil in 9-inch by 13-inch baking pan or dish. Broil at 350 degrees for 45 minutes. Afterwards baking 30 minutes, baptize 1 lb disconnected mozzarella cheese on top and accomplishment baking.

Taco Dip

1 lb arena beef, adapted and drained

1 pkg taco seasoning

1 pkg chrism cheese, softened

1 can refried beans

1 jar salsa

1 pkg disconnected cheddar cheese

Prepare taco meat according to admonition on condiment packet. In a 9-inch by 13-inch baking dish, band chrism cheese, refried beans, meat, salsa and cheese. Broil at 350 degrees for 35 account or until cheese is melted. Serve with tortilla chips for dipping.

Rye Boat

2 loaves Ecklof’s annular limpa rye bread, unsliced

1 pt acerb cream

1 1/3 c mayonnaise

2 tsp dill seed

1 baby onion, grated

2 1/2 oz chipped broiled beef

Parsley

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Cut out centermost of bread, abrogation 1/2-inch on bottom. Cut this and additional loaf into cubes for dipping. Dice beef. Mix with actual ingredients. Best if alloyed the night before. Aback accessible to serve, add dip to centermost of bread. Garnish with parsley, if desired.

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