#wish I could keep a cactus alive

[prinnay]

Best friends!

Acrylic, watercolors on canvas board 12 x 16

[thebearer]

baby blues |carmen berzatto x reader|

prompt: two blue lines change all your plans, and carmen doesn't take it well. or how you tell carmen you're pregnant.

read the entire dad!carmen berzatto masterlist here!

contains: language, pregnancy, angst, carmen's an asshole, alludes to past parent trauma, hurt/comfort.

"Shit."

The hiss of your tone bounced off the green tiles of your bathroom, an eerie echo that rang dully through your mind. A reminder that this was all too real, happening right now in front of you- to you.

After weeks of what you thought was a stomach bug- retching at almost anything, exhaustion, aches- you had come to realize it might not just be a virus when you looked at the unopened box of tampons under the sink.

You were late.

A frantic trip to Walgreens, an hour of avoidance out of pure fear, three glasses of water, and two tests later; you were here. Looking at the two mocking blue lines on both tests. You were pregnant.

You called your best friend, Alicia, unsure of who else to confide in. Scared, emotional, overwhelmed, you sobbed into the phone, hand holding your head on the edge of the bed. "Carmen is gonna lose his shit."

"Carmen is not gonna lose his shit." Alicia soothed over your heaving gasps. "He will be fine. You both will be fine. You're married. What's the issue?"

You shook your head, swiping your thumb under your eyes. "You don't... Carmen and I haven't, like, ever really talked about kids." You muttered. It was mostly true. You hadn't really, other than euphoric pillow talk ramblings where you both were just bubbly with love, spilling shared wishes under sheets.

"I thought you said you wanted kids?"

"Yeah, but not now." You sobbed into the phone. "I don't... I don't think I'm ready to be a mom. I'm not gonna be good at that. I don't-I don't know anything about kids! And-And I can barely cook, and- Alicia, I couldn't keep our cactus alive! I killed our fucking cactus, and you think I'm ready for a kid?"

Alicia laughed lightly on the other end. "Ok, true, but you won't kill your kid. You'll be much more attached to it than the cactus." She countered easily, calmly. "And you'll be a good mom, babe. I know you'll be. And Carmen knows too. You know he does. Call your OBGYN and get an appointment. Make sure this is legit and get your vitamins and let me know what you need from me."

Two days later, you were laid on the cool paper at the doctor's office, eyes wide watching her drag the wand over your tummy. Seven weeks. The ultrasound clutched in your hand had an arrow where the baby was, it was still so small. A blip, a splotch right on your plans.

You decided to tell Carmen that night. He knew something was off with you, starting to get more and more suspicious. It was only a matter of time.

"Hey, baby." You grinned as excited as you could when he came home.

"Hey," Carmen chirped, grinning back at you when you kissed him sweetly, a little longer than usual, not that he minded. "How are you doin', baby? Good day?"

"Yeah, it was." You quipped, throat tightening, desperately trying to keep your voice from cracking. "I, uh, I have a surprise for you."

"A surprise?" Carmen's brows lifted, dropping his bag by the door. "What kinda surprise, huh? Somethin' under this?" He teased, hand sliding up your shorts, palming at your ass and making you squirm.

You couldn't help the fleeting thought that he wouldn't be able to do that for long. Not when a baby was in the house. Your throat burned with tears at the thought.

"No." You shook your head. "Just... Here, sit right here for me and I'll be right back." You kissed his cheek sweetly, running to the spare bedroom for the ultrasound. You wondered if this would be the baby's nursery. Or maybe upstairs in the makeshift workout room Carmen used. It felt odd planning this type of thing, thinking about this.

Your hands were sweaty, trying not to wrinkle the printed photo. It was your first after all. The first picture of many. Ones you secretly hoped would line the walls of your house. Pictures of the baby, with you and Carmen.

You hoped Carmen would be in them.

That horrid thought always made it's way back into your mind, rattling you to your core.

"Close your eyes." You tried to sing-song, playful and light like you usually would. The kind of tone that was silly, left Carmen grinning and doing what you said. Instead, it sounded tired.

Carmen still covered his eyes anyways. You took a soft breath, placing the photo in front of him. "Ok, y-you can open." You whispered.

Carmen's brow lifted, looking at you carefully before down at the table. He stilled, face unmoving, body halted, eyes zoned in on the ultrasound.

"Wh-What-What is this?" Carmen's tone was hushed, tight, like his chest felt. He was sure this wasn't what he thought it was. It couldn't be.

"I, um, you know I-I've been feeling not great." You started, wringing your hands in front of him. "And I... I haven't had my period in a while, so I went to the store and... and I got a test, and it was..." You motioned down to the ultrasound. "I'm pregnant, Carmen."

The house was still. That same eerie stillness creeping back in, looming over both of you in such a sickening way, it had your stomach twisting.

Carmen blinked, shaky hands picking up the ultrasound, refusing to look at you. "Oh."

"Oh?" You repeated. "Carmen, I-I said I'm pregnant."

"No, no, I, uh, yeah, I-I heard you." Carmen nodded, leg bouncing under the table. "I just... I thought you were on birth control."

"Carmen, what?" You snapped. "I am."

"Then-Then how the fuck-"

"-Oh, don't you fuckin' dare, Berzatto." You hissed, rolling your eyes at him, snatching the ultrasound off the table.

"I'm not fuckin' blaming you, but-but how?" Carmen could feel his heart rate rising, ears ringing and head spinning with that old, familiar feeling of a panic attack coming on.

"How?" You gawked at him. "Carmen, it's not, like, a one-hundred percent guarantee, and-and... Come on, Carmen, we've been fucking a lot lately."

"I don't..." Carmen stopped himself, his hand rubbing over his eyes. Your heart skipped, chest aching with fear when you looked at him. Carmen pushed his chair out, standing and pacing around the kitchen, hands on his hips, lips in a thin line. "I-I need to think. Fuck, I need to think, just-just..."

You tracked him, your own heart hammering loud in your ears. Carmen snatched his cigarettes, hands shaking when he turned them over in his hands slowly. You could practically hear his thoughts, when the baby is here, he can't smoke anymore.

"I need a fuckin' second, ok? I need to fuckin' think!" Carmen boomed, voice thundering off the walls, making you jump. Carmen snatched his lighter and Spirits, stomping out the front door, the slam of the door the last thing you heard before the house settled and stilled again. Your worst possible scenario played out in front of you, becoming a reality too.

You were alone.

"Cousin, can I ask you, what the fuck your fuckin' problem is?" Richie grit, sliding beside Carmen. "The fuck are you being such a jagoff about, right now?"

"I'm being a jagoff?" Carmen snapped, slamming the knife down. His eyes were wild, hair even wilder. Curls matted and sticking out like they did when Carmen was stressed, when he'd ran his hands through them too much.

"Yeah, you're bein' a fuckin' jagoff." Richie countered, voice raising over Carmen's. "You look like shit, you smell like shit, and you're treatin' everyone here like fuckin' shit. So what's the fuckin' issue?"

"Fuck you, Richie, alright? Fuck you. Get the fuck outta my fuckin' face!" Carmen roared, the vein in his neck protruding when he did, sending the few chefs still in the kitchen retreating before they were screamed at next.

"Y'know why don't you just fuckin' calm down? Makin' everyone here fuckin' miserable with your bad attitude. No wonder-" Richie stopped, eyes flicking down to Carmen. His shoulders dropped, sighing heavy at his own revelation. "What'd you do?"

"What? What did I... Fuck off, I'm not in the-"

"-Nah, Cousin. What did you do?" Richie shook his head. "Why's she not here today, huh?"

"I'm right here." Natalie muttered, turning the corner, balancing two cups and a large work bag. "I had to take Chelle to Pete's office so he can take her to dance, and traffic was..." Natalie laughed cynically, shaking her head.

Carmen felt his stomach twist, jaw tightening. That would be you two before you knew it. All over the place, late to shit because of the kid. Just like Sugar and fucking Pete. That made him Pete.

"Not you, but I'm glad to see you. How are you?" Richie muttered, pressing a chaste kiss to Sugar's cheek. "Carmen fucked up."

"I did not-"

"-You fucked up? On what, bear?" Natalie blinked, frowning lightly. "Oh, before I forget, where's my favorite sister in law? I have her-" Richie gave her a pointed look. Sugar stopped, face falling in realization. "Oh, that's... Carm, what did you do?"

"Can you two just fuck off? Fuck!" Carmen roared, kicking a pot under the table.

"Wow, anger issues much?" Sugar rolled her eyes at his dramatics. "Is this what you did? Is that why she isn't here?"

"No, Natalie, you're pissin' me the fuck off-"

"Alright!" Richie clapped his hands, cutting them both off. "Family meeting. Ok? Meeting time. Right now."

"I don't have time-" Carmen started, Richie just clapping his hands on his shoulders, shoving him away from the table.

"Natalie, family meeting." Richie waved her in.

"Family meeting?" Fak turned the corner, eyes lit up hopefully.

"Not with you, you fuckin'..." Richie huffed, shaking his head. "Me, Nat, and Carm are having a meeting. Do your jobs, ok? Don't bother us, just... handle it, alright? Thank you. Every second counts and all that bullshit." Richie nodded towards the staff, shutting Carmen's office door behind him.

"Carm, you... Are you ok?" Natalie winced, looking at her younger brother.

Carmen ran his hands over his eyes, slumped in his desk chair, knees bouncing nervously. His breaths labored and ragged in his hands. Richie's eyes cut to Natalie's.

"Cousin," Richie's voice was softer this time. "What is goin' on?"

Carmen took a shaky breath in, Richie stilling at the sound of his emotions. "You... You were right. I fucked up." Carmen muttered. "I fucked up. I fucked up so bad." Carmen's voice was tight, thick with tears he was trying to choke back.

Natalie stepped forward slowly. "Carmen, what did you do?" She said as calmly as she could. "Just-Just tell us, and we'll... we'll try and help you."

"Did you cheat on her?" Richie asked, brows furrowed in disgust.

"No, what? Why the... No, no, no, I-I..." Carmen leaned back in the chair, hands knotted in his hair. "She's pregnant."

Richie and Natalie paused, both sighing slightly in relief. "Oh my God, that's great!"

"Yeah, I mean, Cousin, I thought you... I'm glad you didn't, but that's great!"

"Aw, is that why she's been sick? Poor thing. I knew it! You know Pete said that, and I-" Natalie started, Carmen's sudden jerk of his body, sitting in the chair with frantic eyes stopped her.

"I don't know!" Carmen blurted, shaking his head, refusing to look at them. At their furrowed brows of concern. He couldn't face them. Tell them what he'd done.

"You don't know?" Sugar frowned in confusion. "You don't know if she's pregnant?"

"I-I..." Carmen felt his chest tightening, burning with that familiar ache. He tried to breathe in, slow and long, counting back from ten like his therapist told him, but his chest still ached. "I left."

The room filled with that same eerie silence, the one that seemed to be following him around lately. The one that crept into the room when you showed him the ultrasound, the same one that followed him into the restaurant last night.

"You left?"

"You fuckin' what?"

Natalie and Richie gawked, eyes wide and frantic, looking down at Carmen.

"Cousin... What the fuck? You don't... Holy shit." Richie muttered, shaking his head.

"Carmen, have you lost your mind?" Natalie snapped. She was angry- no, furious. "You left your wife? You left your pregnant wife?"

"Yes, fuck, yes, I just... I needed to fuckin' think!" Carmen threw his hands out. "I can't think! She just... We weren't planning it and-and then... I just needed to think!"

"Then think at home! Or-Or with the person you're having a baby with, Carmen, Jesus!" Natalie roared back.

"Cousin, you... you fucked up." Richie said solemnly, nodding in agreement. "I mean, I've done a lot of shit. A lot, ok? Just ask Tiff. But I...I never fuckin' left."

"No, she just fuckin' left you, right? Tiff couldn't take you bein' an-"

"Hey, woah, take it fuckin' easy, Cousin. Watch it. This ain't about me." Richie snarled, finger jabbing in Carmen's direction. "I didn't fuck this up, ok? You did. This is your shit. We're just tryin' to fuckin' help you, so why don't you do all that de-escelatin' bullshit and take a fuckin' breath and relax."

Carmen's teeth ground tight, eyes flickering over to Natalie. "I'm with Richie on this." She snapped. "You did fuck up. Huge."

Carmen could feel the burn, rising in his throat. Was it fear? Vomit? Tears? Regret? All of the above?

"I know, I know, fuck, I know." Carmen muttered, falling back into the chair. "I just... I know, and-and now I don't know..." Carmen could feel his heart rate, waves of guilt and realization crashing over him, leaving him feeling sick.

Carmen stood quickly, hands tangled in his hair, pacing in the small area of the office. "Holy shit, she's gonna leave me. She-She's gonna leave me, and-and... Fuck! Why do I always do this? I always fuck up! Always! Like... What the fuck? Why-Why-"

"-Carmen." Sugar said slowly, hands on his shoulders, stopping him. "Hey, breathe. Breathe. Just... Just relax, ok?"

"No, no, no, I-I can't fuckin' relax. I-I got to-" Carmen rambled, his chest squeezing, burning.

"Carm, look, just... Just do the breathing thing. Listen to Natalie." Richie nodded towards Sugar. "And we'll get it handled, alright? We can't fix this until you calm the fuck down."

"Richie," Natalie hissed, rolling her eyes in irritation. "Carmen, breath in through your nose, out through your mouth. Innnnn and Out." She mimicked for him, slow pulls of air and soft exhales.

Carmen could hear you. Hear you in his head telling him to calm down, feel your hands on his cheeks, your soft praises and coos. His heart ached but it tricked his mind enough to listen, shaky rasps of air falling in and out until he was on sitting in the chair, knee bouncing with adrenaline.

Natalie shook her head lightly, looking over at Richie, then Carmen. "You need to go talk to her."

"I know. I know, Nat, but I got a dinner rush-"

"Carmen." Natalie sneered, in that tone. The tone she used usually with her own kids. A tone of finality.

"I got it covered, Cousin, alright? I got it." Richie nodded, patting Carmen on his back. "Just... Go figure your shit out."

"Yeah." Natalie huffed, eyes narrowed at her younger brother. "You better bring that poor girl some flowers or something. Better make it up to her, Carmen, that is so gross of you."

Carmen nodded softly, grabbing his back pack, shedding his apron. "I-I'll have my phone on me-"

"-Go!" Richie and Natalie yelled in unison.

"I got it, Cousin." Richie shook his head.

"Yeah, and you have other things to worry about." Natalie snapped. "More important things, like your marriage, and your kid."

Carmen's heart skipped at that. It sounded weird, unnatural. His kid. Mind racing back to images of you with his niece and nephew. How Chelle took to you so naturally when you first met her, cradling her in your arms while Natalie scampered off for a shower. Carmen's heart swelled at the thought, how he had watched you, how good you were at it.

He knew you'd be a good mom. Had no doubt about that. That wasn't the issue. No, the problem was him.

Carmen Berzatto, who's family was the epitome of chaos, and who's genes this baby would have. Would the baby have your eyes and his crippling anxiety? His curls and his coping skills? Your nose and smile, and his family's addiction gene?

You would be the perfect mom. You were already so perfect in every way to Carmen. Too kind and forgiving and funny and sweet to him, he couldn't understand why you loved him sometimes. You would be good no matter what.

You'd be better without him.

His mind screamed it over and over. He couldn't shake the thought last night, sitting on the steps of your home, chain smoking through half a pack while his mind raced, horrible voices mocking and sneering at him, telling him he wasn't good enough; that he wouldn't be good enough. That you would be better off alone.

Then he was walking. Walking as fast as he could away from your home, back to the restaurant, where he could distract himself. Where he could trick his mind to focus on anything else other than you.

It didn't work, of course. It never did.

His mind still raced, all the way back to your home- his home. The home he shared with you. The place you bought for the future; your future together. A future that now, looked like it would be a little fuller.

You gripped the porcelain of the toilet seat, stomach lurching again, spilling the contents of- you didn't even know what. How there was anything left, you weren't sure.

Your nose burned with tears, head drumming with a dull ache, throat burning with the acidity flare of bile. And worst of all, the only person you wanted was Carmen.

You were furious, hurt, just... confused with him, but your body still ached for him. For him to come in, rub your back and coo at you. Settle you and calm you, like he always did.

The front door closed softly, the thud of the latch echoing through the all too still house. Anchovy chirped and trilled, Carmen's soft, raspy greeting back to him making your body jolt.

You stayed still, waiting and quiet with each muffled footstep of Carmen's, his sneakers falling closer and closer until the door opened gently. Your gaze on his, watching him with wide, red rimmed eyes from the bathroom floor. His own reflecting down on you, hand still gripping the door knob.

"You... You're still sick?" Carmen asked, awkward and unsure. He didn't know what to say, where to even begin.

"Yeah." You sneered, hand slapping on the knob, flushing the toilet. "Guess that'll be happening for a while."

Carmen flinched at your tone. You were angry. No, you were hurt. The revelation made him feel like he needed to throw up next, the ache in his stomach rivaling the one in his chest.

You pushed up off the tub, Carmen's hands reaching to help you. You slapped them away with a menacing scoff. "Don't touch me." You snapped. "I've got it."

Carmen nodded, backing out slowly, giving you space to brush your teeth. He didn't miss the tremor in your hands when you held the toothbrush, refusing to meet his eyes in the mirror.

"I..." Carmen's voice shook, a squeak of a word that had wobbled when he spoke. "I, uh, I-I'm sorry."

Your eyes flashed to his furiously, lips pursing. "I know that's... fuck, that's not..." Carmen sighed heavily, a grounding breath to soothe his nerves, get the shake out of his voice. "I don't know what-what else to say other than... I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?" You sneered, turning to him, your tone unnervingly calm. "You're fucking sorry?"

"Yeah, I-"

"-You left me!" You roared, chest heaving with fury. Your fears and sadness had turned into rage, pure rage.

"I go outside to check on you, and you're gone! Who the fuck does that, Carmen? What the fuck is wrong with you?" You screamed.

"I-I don't know, I just..." Carmen's chest tightened, strangling his words. The pounding in his chest had returned, as had the queasiness in his stomach.

"You just? Just what, Carmen? Just don't want to be with me anymore?" Your voice cracked, tears brimming your waterline.

The silence was back. Uncomfortably loud and suffocating. Neither one of you moved, just stared at each other through heaving chests.

"I-I..." Carmen swallowed the bile rising in his throat. "How could you... You think I-I don't want to be with you?"

"Well, what else am I supposed to think, Carmen?" You scoffed, throwing your hands out in exasperation. "You left!"

Carmen winced at the harshness of your tone. "I didn't... I just needed to think-"

"-Think?" You scoffed. "Think about what exactly, Carmen? Huh? Whether you were going to stay-"

"-No! Fuck, no!" Carmen barked, mind racing and overwhelmed. Hands trembling, heart pounding, he stared at you. "About... About how it would be. About how I would be."

"How you would be?"

"Yeah, how I would be." Carmen snaps, a little too defensive even for his own liking. It was habit, even after years of trying to be better, it still crept out at times.

Carmen took a breath, turning to you. "I'm... I don't think I'm going to be a good dad."

Your own heart sunk, a dull ache in your chest, heavy with the weight of his words. The fall of his face, lips curling downward. "Carmen," You said softly. "Why-Why would you... We've talked about having kids before."

"Yeah, but not... I thought I had time." Carmen admitted, hands shaking when he crossed his arms over his chest to still them. "I-I thought I would have some time to-to get my shit together."

You paused, watching his face crumble. The deep breath he took to keep himself from crying- from breaking. "I don't- I don't wanna be a bad dad. I don't wanna fuck this kid up." Carmen whispered, eyes darting everywhere but your own. He couldn't look at you when he said it, sure when he saw the sorrow in your own eyes he would crumble at your feet.

"Carmen," You said softly, taking a step towards him. He took one back, distancing himself. He knew what you were going to do. Reach out and comfort him, make him feel better- he didn't deserve that.

"Carm, please," You begged lightly. "You... You know you're gonna be a good dad-"

"-No, no, I don't know that." Carmen scoffed, shaking his head. "I mean, my fuckin' dad was a piece of shit, so was his dad, so-so will I. And-And I don't wanna do that to this kid. I don't wanna do that to you."

"Stop." You snapped, lips pressed together, sniffling to keep your own tears at bay. "Just...Just stop. Ok? Stop. You're... Do you really think I would have married you if I thought that bad of you? Do you think I would have ever even entertained the thought of having a baby with you, starting a family, if I thought you'd be shitty?"

Carmen's own eyes shone with unshed tears. You blinked, wiping the hot tears that ran down your cheeks away. "I'm scared, too. I-I called Alicia over you because I didn't know what to do. I didn't know how you would react." You admitted.

Carmen nodded, you could see the hurt in his eyes. "So you knew I would react like this? You didn't tell me because you knew I'd be a bad-"

"-No, I didn't tell you because I know you don't like surprises." You snapped. "I know you don't like to be fuckin' blindsided and-and shocked. I don't either. I knew it would shock you. I knew it wasn't apart of our plan right now." You held his gaze, eyes hard when you met his.

"But I never thought you'd be a bad dad." Your tone was firm. It made Carmen's heart swell. "I still don't think you'd be a bad dad, for the record. I think you're an asshole, and I'm furious with you." You said pointedly.

Carmen nodded. "Yeah, yeah, I... I don't blame you f'that." He muttered, looking down at his hands, wedding band shining almost mockingly back up at him. "Sugar's pissed at me. Richie, too." He paused, eyes lifting to yours. "I'm mad at me too."

"Yeah? Me too." You sigh, looking at him. "You can't just leave-"

"-I know." Carmen nodded. "I-I know. I don't... I'm sorry." Carmen looked at you, shoulders falling slightly. "I'm so sorry."

You nodded gently, wiping your eyes with the back of your hands. "This is not how I thought this would go, honestly." You admitted with a small, wet laugh.

"Which part?" Carmen hummed, hesitantly reaching out to wipe your tear stained cheek with the pad of his thumb.

"All of it." You sighed. "But telling you. I-I always thought I'd do one of those cute, little Pinteresty things and surprise you."

"Yeah? 'm sorry." Carmen muttered, his heart fluttering with guilt again. "Maybe next time?"

You scoffed, rolling your eyes at him. Damn him, making you smile when you were supposed to be mad at him- you were still mad at him. But you were tired even more. Exhausted emotionally, physically- you just wanted to crawl into bed.

Carmen pulled you closer to him, his hand running down your spine. "Maybe you can do that cutesy shit to tell everyone else." He suggested. "I mean... Fuck, well, I-I told Richie and-and Sugar, but... Tina? Or all them?"

You bit back a smile, the curl of your lips betraying you. "Yeah." You hum, your body betraying you as you sunk into Carmen's chest.

"Here," Carmen muttered, pulling you close to him. "I'll get you in bed, and I'll go on the couch-"

"-No," You sighed, shuffled steps down the hall. "I don't... Just sleep in the bed with me."

Carmen hesitated. "No, I-I can stay on the couch. I know you don't-"

"-I can't sleep without you, Carm." You pleaded. "I didn't sleep at all last night, and-and... I just want to sleep."

Carmen nodded, following you into the shared bedroom. Stripping out of his jeans, trading them for sweatpants, before climbing in the bed with you. You stayed on your side, Carmen on his own. There was still tension, still lingering feelings of that familiar eeriness, but there was also comfortability.

Carmen would make it up to you. He'd be at every appointment, paint the nursery- be everything you knew he would be. Later. In the coming weeks as you two welcomed, embraced the baby coming. You'd get to tell everyone in your cutesy way like you'd dreamed. Tina's reaction would make you cry, and the baby shower would make you sob. You'd mull over baby names for hours with Carmen, going back and forth, testing each name tentatively until you found the perfect one.

For now, you were happy just to know Carmen was here with you. You were happy just to sleep. There was still so much ahead of you- of both of you.

[breadbrobin]

friendship bracelets

leo valdez x reader — heroes of olympus

[gn!child of demeter reader]

summary: friendship bracelets are a love language in themselves. it’s a shame leo can’t wear the ones you make him.

warnings: little bit of swearing, possibly ooc leo, fluff, food and eating, leo forgets to eat sometimes.

word count: 1.2k

(so i wrote a leo fic too uhhhh. anyway. i love him and i have always loved him and i will always love him, so here’s a lil gift from me to you and uhhh yeah enjoy!)

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you’d given leo two bracelets. one was at the wilderness school. it was flimsy and made of red and yellow beads, held together by an elastic tie you’d smuggled into the school. the second was after your first quest. you’d managed to get some leather straps and made a braided leather bracelet for him.

he thought you’d made them for your other friends too, but he soon found out that he was the only one to get a matching leather bracelet with you.

“i don’t have enough for everyone,” was your excuse as you hid your rolls of leather threads and straps under your pillow. “i wish i could.”

that was good enough for him.

he soon realised, though, that he couldn’t wear them.

the risk of them burning was far too high, and after he nearly melted the beaded one when he got too excited one day, he decided to stop wearing them.

they held pride of place on his bedside table though. they were right beside his three-day-old water glass and the shrivelled pot plant you’d given him that you swore he’d be able to keep alive.

“it’s a cactus, leo! you can’t kill a cactus.”

he killed the cactus. or, at least, he mostly killed the cactus. you’d even named it jeremiah in the hopes that it would make him remember to water it, but he’d known a jeremiah once and hated his guts, so it hadn’t really helped much.

so leo valdez was a plant-killing, bracelet ignoring bastard. what was new?

oh, nothing. just the fact that he was madly in love with you.

maybe it was the bracelets, or your insistence that he would be able to keep a little cactus alive, or your uncontrollable laughter as he showed you the wilted plant, or maybe even the way you used your influence over plants to heal the little cactus and bring it back to life.

whatever it was, he was totally screwed. so screwed, in fact, that he took to staring at the two bracelets on his table every night before going to sleep, wishing he could wear them to see the look on your face.

leo worked hard. he always did. once he got into something, he didn’t stop until it was finished. sometimes, that meant ignoring his body’s need for food and water.

you marched into bunker 9 with a bag in hand. “leo valdez!”

he looked up from his workbench. “what did i do? whatever it was, it wasn’t me. i swear.”

“yeah, you didn’t do anything. like eat! i didn’t see you at breakfast or lunch!” you sat on his workbench beside him and placed the bag down in front of his busy hands. “it’s three o’clock now, so i bought you food.”

“i really have to—“

“eat? yes, you do.”

“no, but—“

“and drink water? that too. there’s a water bottle in there.”

“y/n—“

“leo, if you don’t eat your food i’ll break your hands so you can’t work anymore and then i’ll spoon feed you chicken soup every day until your hands are better.”

he looked up at you, offended. “i hate chicken soup.”

you smiled and leaned forward. “i know. so eat your fucking food.”

he raised his hands in defeat. “okay, fine.” he set his tools down and opened the bag with a teasing roll of his eyes. “if it pleases you so.”

“it does, indeed.”

as he ate, you walked around the bunker as you did every time, your hands behind your back like you were at an art gallery. to you, it was a gallery. bunker 9 was like the inside of leo’s mind: chaotic, messy, always moving and changing, and covered in memories of you. there were polaroid pictures that you’d given him pinned to a cork board. the whiteboard beside it read: ‘meet y/n for campfire’. there was even a note you’d scrawled to him in Ancient Greek a few weeks ago: ‘don’t forget to eat, dumbass.’ Apparently, he hadn’t listened to that one.

you walked back over just as he finished his food. he made to hand the back bag to you, but you stopped him. “you didn’t get everything.”

he frowned and opened the bag again, looking inside. “what are you— oh!”

he reached in and pulled out a leather bracelet. it was similar to the one you’d made him before, but tidier. you’d clearly gotten better at making them. “it’s beautiful, but, y/n, you know i can’t—“

“you can’t wear them because you’ll burn them. i know. put it on.” you smiled knowingly.

he put it on warily. it was nice, and his heart fluttered a little at the gesture, but he still couldn’t wear it out of fear.

“now burn it.”

his eyes widened and his eyebrows raised. “what?”

“burn it.”

“i’m not gonna—“

“do you trust me?”

“sometimes, like when you tell me to burn your hard work, i don’t, no.”

you stepped forward and tightened the bracelet on his wrist. “leo. burn it. or i will.”

he frowned up at you. “you’re very scary today.”

“thank you,” you smiled, stepping back. “just trust me.”

he sighed and shook his head, but lit his hand and lower arm on fire, watching forlornly as the bracelet melted to nothing—hold on. he extinguished the fire. the bracelet was still there. “how did you—?”

“talked to lou ellen. there’s a spell on that one. i had to get her to do it as i made it, but it won’t burn. it’s magic.” you smiled proudly, rocking back and forth on your heels.

he looked at you in shock and stood up. “you made a fire resistant bracelet for me?”

you shrugged. “of course, i did. and look!” you extended your wrist to him, showing a matching one. “i made a better one for me too!”

he looked from your wrist to your face with his signature impish grin. “thought you didn’t have enough to make anymore.”

you shrugged. “maybe i underestimated myself.”

“maybe you did.”

for a moment, you just smiled at each other, and he thought he could have kissed you right there and maybe (just maybe) from the look on your face you wouldn’t push him away, but then you slipped your hand into his and pulled him to another work bench. his hand was still warm, as always. “now, tell me what this is, because i have no idea.”

so, as he explained how one of his many projects worked and you hung onto his every word and held his hand tightly, he couldn’t help but feel a little warmer than usual.

and maybe, when you left that afternoon, leaving him to continue his work, pressing a kiss to his cheek like you always did, he could summon the courage to pull you back in for a kiss on your lips, like he’d always wanted. and maybe your friendship bracelets would turn into something more.

but, even if they didn’t, he knew he’d fall asleep that night without staring at his bedside table. he’d stare at his wrist instead. and he’d never take that bracelet off. ever. not even if the gods themselves required him to.

[pupkashi]

nanami kento has a green thumb

a/n: hi hi friends ! I’m back with another nanami one shot ? drabble ? idk what this is considered anymore,, i hope you guys enjoy !! i write something similar on my old blog so this is loosely inspired by that :3 let me know what y’all think <3

wordcount: 1,181

masterlist

nanami kento has a green thumb, he’s only ever bought one plant in his life, and he’s kept it alive for five years now.

you’ve bought a multitude of plants in your life, and each and every one of them have met the same twisted fate: death.

nanami learned about your love for plants after the first couple dates, telling you that surely there’s no way you managed to dry out a cactus. and you, as sad as it was, showed him the picture of the dried cactus, a frown on your face as you explained to him that your love for plants just wasn’t meant to be; you were star crossed lovers.

so when you began dating, kento found himself in the plant nursery, getting you a small succulent that he hoped would survive.

“you only have to water it once every two weeks, just feel the soil and if it’s dry then water it” he explains to you, making sure his every word is heard before handing you the small plant. there’s worry in your eyes as you hold the plant gently.

“I’ll do my very best little guy” you say to the plant, looking up at your boyfriend and smiling widely. “thank you kento” he can only smile, pressing a kiss to your lips before taking in the sight of you and your sparkling eyes.

there’s no way someone as gentle and life as you could kill a plant that was easy to take care of, right?

when nanami comes over a month later he can help but let his eyes wander to the spot that you had claimed as the succulents home, only to find the plant nowhere in sight.

“okay the popcorn is ready, did you find the movie?” you ask, smiling as you settle onto the couch next to your boyfriend, “what’s wrong?” you ask, eyes following his and your whole demeanor shifts.

“y/n” his voice is soft as he turns to look at you, “where’s the plant i gave you?”

he knows. you know he knows. he knows you know he knows. and you wish he didn’t know you knew all that.

“you have to hear me out” you begin, setting the popcorn down and taking his hands in yours. “i really tried i did! i watered him like you said and he just started dying! i googled what to do and do i did that but then it just got worse so i didn’t water him and then he just- he was all yellow and dead!” you cried out, squeezing his hands before resting your head on his chest, landing with a small ‘thump.’

“okay, okay,” he smiles, arms wrapping around you and holding you tightly, “maybe he had a bacteria or a parasite i didn’t catch when i had bought him” he reasons, “I’ll get you another one, I’m sure you’ll be able to keep it alive” a smile of reassurance on his face as he kisses the top of your head.

two weeks later when he brings you yet another successful you take it in with weary arms, as careful with it as you��d be a newborn. everyday you talked to it, checking it’s soil and making sure it was healthy. and it was!

for one more week. then it began to wilt, despite the soul being moist. and so you watered it, because it needed water, right? it’s what google said.

and so succulent #2 was dead within the month. death by overwatering.

nanami didn’t gift you anymore plants, deciding that maybe when it came to plants you really were doomed.

he opted instead on buying a couple more plants for his own apartment, letting you name them and sending you updates on them.

when the two of you moved in together you were beyond ecstatic. you were finally gonna have plants in your home and they’d live longer than a month!

the home you’d bought had a small garden in the back, and you had envisioned an array of flowers you could plant. maybe your bad luck was only with house plants, you thought, outdoor plants are a lot easier right?

and so nanami watched as you brought home flower seeds and fertilizer, the gears in his head turning as he pieces together the plan you’d kept secret from him.

kento didn’t dare say a word to you, watching as you researched endlessly on the laptop, trying to keep the screen out of his sight but failing miserably.

“you need help with anything my love?” he asked, watching you haul a bag of soil across the yard.

“I’m fine, thank you honey!” you called out, smiling widely as you continued working, praying that these flowers would grow.

and they did! they grew beautifully and bloomed larger than you could have ever hoped for.

nanami watched as you snapped pictures of the blooming flowers, bright eyed and buzzing with excitement as he smiled next you.

“I’m so proud of you” he smiled, kissing your forehead as you boasted on and on about your now prized flowers.

nanami kento has a green thumb. one he used to help your garden of flowers out everytime after you worked on it. you’d slip into the shower and he’s rush outside, hastily and quietly gardening and trying to make sure you were doing the right things (half the time you were way off.)

“we’re you in the garden?” you asked once, noticing the speck of soil on his shorts.

“i just wanted to see how it was coming along, it look amazing darling” he smiled, hiding his very dirty hands in his pockets.

he would never tell you, nothing in the world could force the truth out of him no matter the circumstances. seeing the pure joy and accomplishment and your face was enough for him to bury his secret deep down and throw the key away.

for as long as he could, kento kept up with you Garden and every house plant you brought in, caring for them properly and letting you have all the praise for it. he didn’t mind, your happiness was all he ever wanted.

nanami kento had a green thumb, you had a black thumb. but maybe that’s what made you two destined for each other.

you eventually did find out though, when he had one too many shots and began apologizing profusely to you, spilling his secret and begging you to not leave him.

your hurt and anger came and went in a couple minutes, the sheer love and devotion of your lovers actions hitting you like ocean waves. all you could do is hold him tightly, kissing his face and telling him how much you love him.

come morning you’d confront him, asking him just how hard he had to work to keep alive the five orchids you brought home.

or in which you can’t keep a plant alive to save your life, but kento could do it with his eyes closed. he’s willing to live a life of lies in the garden to see you happy.

taglist (send an ask to be added!): @chilichopsticks @anime-for-the-sleepless @4sat0ruu @safaia-47 @nanamikentoseyebags

[choicesficwriterscreations]

April OC of the Month: Olivia Hadley

Please welcome April 2024's MC of the Month! Each month, we highlight one MC or OC on our Meet My MC / OC List. They are selected randomly on the Wheel of Names, and eligibility requirements can be found here. We accept MC / OC profiles on an ongoing basis. Please feel free to send yours in!

This month’s OC of the month is…

@storyofmychoices's Olivia Hadley!

More below...

In your own words, tell us what you like most about your MC / OC.

Olivia is literally sunshine. She is the most genuine and empathetic person. She constantly looks for ways to help others and make life better for those who are not as fortunate as she is. She always tries to make everyone she meets (especially children) feel special and heard/appreciated. It doesn’t matter if she knows them or not. She looks out for everyone. She is just a good person with the most beautiful heart and soul. She is so precious to me. In an ideal world, there would be a lot more Olivia’s to help us all feel special.

Do you feel your MC / OC is like you at all? How are you alike or different?

I do think Olivia and I have a lot in common. While I wish I could be as kind and empathetic as Olivia, I am still human, and I make mistakes. I try really hard to live by the principles of “leave the world a little better than you found it” (even if it’s just putting away a grocery cart someone left or picking up one piece of trash in a parking lot) and “be kind whenever possible; it is always possible” (this one is a little harder, but I try every single day to show kindness to everyone, even when I cannot show it to myself). I feel those principles also represent Olivia, she’s just better at it than me.

I also think we have similar occupations. We both wanted to be veterinarians and then learned we’d have to put animals down. Then we both switched to Pediatric Medicine. Olivia stuck with it. I decided to be a teacher because Pediatricians need to know how to deliver babies, and that’s a hard pass for me. Childbirth might be a miracle, but it’s disgusting (IMHO) lol. But we both work closely with children and try to make a positive impact on their lives. We both do whatever we can to create a safe place where children can tell us stuff they don’t know if they can share with their parents yet (questioning their sexual identity or gender). I’ve been very lucky to help several transgender elementary students feel more confident and accepted as well as work with parents to help them help their child. I’ve also worked with students with abusive home lives or their families can’t afford basic needs so I’ve gone out of my way to try to help them through anonymous donations and gift cards through the school. Anything I can do to ease even one struggle, I will do it and I think that is very much the person Olivia is. Olivia will always look out for anyone in her life. 

As for differences, Olivia is a little more confident than I am. I drink far more coffee than she does. We both love plants, but she keeps them alive better than I do. I try, but I don’t always succeed, though a cactus I got as a gift from a student 3 years ago just bloomed for the first time this month, so I’m super excited for that. Maybe Olivia is finally rubbing off?

What is most important to your MC / OC? What is their motivation in life?

Olivia’s motivation is truly to make the world a better place. She knows that it’s not always easy, and there are so many struggles and so many hardships. She really wants to make a difference in the lives of those closest to her as well as in the community she serves. She knows she can’t conquer world hunger or global peace, but if she can make a difference to people around her then maybe those people can help some others and things would ripple out from there. 

After she has children, her motivation splits. She’ll never stop caring about those around her or the patients she sees, but her children are her first priority.

What are their biggest pet peeves/dislikes?

Olivia doesn’t like gossip. She doesn’t like when people talk about others behind their back in a negative way. It makes her feel uncomfortable. She doesn’t like passive aggressive responses to situations. She genuinely believes that people are good, and if we all just try to have a little more empathy and understanding, the world would be a better place. 

She doesn't like rudeness, pettiness, or dishonesty.

Olivia prefers order and organization, so she dislikes chaos and messy places. 

If your MC / OC could change one thing - anything - what would it be?

If Olivia could change anything, she’d find a cure for childhood cancer. She takes each case to heart and watching children struggle is something that is very hard for her. She would never trade her time at Edenbrook for anything, and she feels guilty for even thinking it, but she is grateful when she opens her own practice that most of her cases become regular checkups and normal/everyday illnesses.

What is your MC / OC’s favorite quote or song?

“My favorite things in life don't cost any money. It's really clear that the most precious resource we all have is time." — Steve Jobs

“You are the sum total of everything you’ve ever seen, heard, eaten, smelled, been told, forgot - it’s all there. Everything influences each of us, and because of that, I try to make sure that my experiences are positive.” ― Maya Angelou

"It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye." —Antoine de Saint-Exupery

"Courage doesn't always roar. Sometimes courage is the little voice at the end of the day that says I'll try again tomorrow." — Mary Anne Radmacher

“Even miracles take a little time.” — Fairy GodMother (Cinderella) 

“Happily ever after is about finding happiness within yourself and holding on to it through any storm that comes your way." —Chris Colfer

Is there anything else you’d like to share about your MC / OC?  (It can be why you created them, how they’ve inspired you, or you could write a little blurb as if it is coming from your OC - an acceptance speech. :) )

Ahhh what else to say about my precious Olivia?! She truly brings me so much joy.  

If you’ve been in this fandom long enough, you’ll remember I was an Ethan romancer when OH first released. I enjoyed Ethan/MC’s dynamic. They totally reminded me of Thomas Hunt x MC. However, just before the pandemic, I wrote Bryce, thinking it was a one off thing, but as the world started to shut down, things got darker and scarier, Bryce Lahela’s sunshine and encouragement was something that resonated with me. I tried to make Olivia fit in the role of MC, but I just didn’t like the setup of MC with Bryce. So I made Olivia an original character. Taking her out of that MC role gave me so much more freedom with her and so much more freedom for telling her and Bryce’s story. I loved being able to see where each story would take them. I’m eternally grateful to Olivia (and Bryce) for helping me get through the Covid Pandemic. Having her and Bryce and their friends and family helped me have something positive and hope-filled to hold onto.

Olivia is actually really competitive. You might not see it or notice it at first, but if you’ve ever been a part of any competition with her, you’ll see she will not hold back. 

Olivia has a black belt in taekwondo, even though she never talks about it. She got it in High School. She wanted to do something to challenge herself and she wasn’t participating in any team sports, though she did try to get a pingpong team started in her school but it never took off. 

Olivia volunteered with Habitat for Humanity for a summer in the Dominican Republic.

Olivia has Scottish roots and has always dreamed of going to Scotland. She hasn’t gotten there yet, but one day!

Olivia is almost as lucky to have such good friends in Casey and Merida as I am to have @jerzwriter and @lilyoffandoms in my life. I can’t even begin to express how special they are to me and how I treasure their friendship.

Thank you to everyone who has ever supported Olivia. She is truly a special character who is so close to my heart. The fact that she is truly an original character and you still adore her means so much to me. I can’t say thank you enough. The amount of serotonin I get from writing and sharing her with you should be illegal, and then when anyone interacts, my heart explodes with unicorns and rainbows and all the sunshine. I’m eternally grateful for the support of Olivia, Bryce, and their little world. Thank you!!! 

[the-minecraft-bat]

unhinged word vomit incoming read at your own risk

my "true" scarian interpretation at the moment is that they were never truly healthy but they weren't always toxic. grian is the issue haver and with or without meaning to he hurts scar a lot. they get together in 3rd life after dancing around each other for ages and there's problems in the relationship but they're generally going in a good direction. it's just that they're stuck in third life lol. the cactus ring fight traumatises them both, so after third life they break up without really talking about it and that's where everything gets worse. in last life they were not okay. double life grian is an abusive soulmate. cheating and putting down scar's skills and interests. i think that by secret life, they're doing better, but they still haven't had a real conversation. there's these lingering feelings of love and resentment. they were almost going to team up but i don't think they would've been ready. grian wanted to but he still acted like scar was somehow his last option, even though they work well together. grian constantly acts like scar is a liability and tries to protect him, even though scar is just as good a player as him. there's truth to it in 3rd life. i will give it to him that grian is the one who builds their base and the creeper farm and makes all their plans. scar even says it in his iconic line "for everything you did to keep me alive this long.." but the truth is more complicated. grian doesn't see the value in scar's social power. all he sees is scar dying and being on his red life and he instead of taking it seriously he's running around with a bee? why won't he listen to grian, grian knows how to keep them safe! ironically grian causes a lot of scar's deaths throughout the series, but it think the guilt about this only worsens this feeling of responsibility. this way of thinking is a pattern for grian. he refuses to change his perception of scar from here. which is why in double life he barely communicates with him and does not take anything scar does seriously. double life scarian is the direct result and worse version of third life scarian. this next thing is more fanon but i think they view what happened in third life differently. i imagine scar idealises it as this loving relationship against all odds whereas grian remembers it as a horror story where the man he loved kept dying. the truth is somewhere in the middle. they have these opposing views in different areas as well. scar loves being in love with grian. grian finds romance stressful and wishes he could get rid of these feelings (mentally he's drawing hearts around scar in pink glitter gellpen). i think it's canon that grian takes the life series and especially winning more seriously than scar. it's so interesting that scar won secret life though. grian's view of scar as this fool who needs his help to survive is proven untrue. if there's a next life series he can't constantly put scar down for being bad at surviving without clearly being wrong about it (though i imagine he could still find a way to talk himself into believing he's right). idk they're soooo interesting i hope they keep killing each other forever. i hope they talk it out and get married and divorced and married. above all i want scar to kill grian for once i think it would be cathartic

[passivenovember]

Happy Valentines Day!

Dedicated to my babies over in the smut cave. Thanks for making everyday so saturated in horniness that I can’t feel anything but love. You’re the best.

And to @cherrydreamer , who is so good I’m pretty sure God could learn a thing or two.

--

Steve’s not his boyfriend. Billy ties honesty around each wrist to keep himself in place whenever things start to feel a little too much like a roll of party balloons.

And they always do, with Steve. Because Steve’s an idiot.

He’s full of shining romance. He parks the Beemer outside Billy’s house every morning before school even though Billy’s got a car because Steve hopes, against all hope, that Billy will roll over and be his girlfriend.

That he’ll let Steve hold his hand and carry his books and allow Steve to drive them to school. Billy and Max, fighting over the radio station and tracking mud onto the floors while Steve grins like a moron.

Harrington has a death wish disguised as chivalry.

Because even though Billy aims to chew his head off and Neil would probably bury them both alive if he ever caught on, Steve climbs through bedroom windows and tucks notes onto mattress pillows and in between the slots of lockers because he’s got flowers growing out his ass.

Love’s gonna win out, for him.

Billy doesn’t get it. 

The hope. The peppery, love-sick gestures. He could pick them by the handful, each colored for a different moronic display of Steve’s lingering affection. 

And it’s not that Billy hates flowers, it’s just. 

It’s spring. 

It’s the promise of the days getting longer and air gusting warmer and the hope that even though he’s still living like a stoned crab under the ever-present weight of his father, Billy could relax into Steve’s attention and summer will drape itself over the land. 

If he just gave in, July would burn hot on his shoulder blades.

–

Billy doesn’t give in. 

He can’t.

He could lie and say it’s all part of some rude awakening. He’ll take Steve’s dick up his ass, down his throat, blooming like cactus blossoms between both hands, but he doesn’t love him.

But, turns out, as January melts into six more weeks of winter and Heather’s warning that this thing between Billy and Steve’ll vanish as soon as the ground starts to thaw, Steve gets restless.

Billy can’t blame him. Knows they’ve both got a lesbian ear-worm chewing their confidence to shit. 

Heather urges Billy to stop being such a piranha and Robin tells Steve he’s gonna get his heart smashed and tossed like a new penny into the ocean. Lost. Forgotten on its descent to the bottom of the hapless sea. 

And to be honest, no one’s ever been able to guess why Steve chose this. Billy, in all his pathetic glory. 

But he did. He picked Billy like a thorn from his side.

And they hammer themselves into something like the mockery of a relationship because that’s what people do. They fuck. They smoke pot and dry hump and fuck again, each chewing on the idea that maybe this won’t last. 

Billy’s good at ignoring it and Heather and himself until the weekend before Valentines Day. 

Steve pulls out of him. Rolls onto his back and says, “You never gaze at me,” even though his spunk is cooling the sheets under Billy’s naked thighs.

Billy shifts on the pillow, blowing smoke at the ceiling so it won’t end up in Steve’s eyes.

Steve won’t look at him.

He’s got the sheets tucked up around his chest, arms crossed over their slick face like he’s ashamed of himself, maybe, for the first time ever. Regretful of Billy. Of this thing between them.

Billy frowns. “I don’t do what?”

“You don’t gaze at me,” Steve tells him, Adam’s Apple bobbing like he needs a cool drink. “Y’know. Like when you see a pretty girl–”

“Don’t like girls, remember?”

“Okay, then,” Steve rolls onto his side, propping himself seriously on one elbow. “Say it’s a cute guy. Handsome.”

“Alright.”

“When you see a handsome guy, you know? In a nice car, do you ever–”

“Is it a fast car?”

Steve blinks. “Does it matter?”

“‘Course it does,” Billy sucks on his smoke again, teasing, “Fast car’s a sign of taste. And to be able to afford that kinda car you’ve gotta have money. And in my experience, any guy with money’s got a cock on him.”

“Every guy’s got a cock.”

“Yeah, but not every cock’s a good one,” Billy winks, “Ain’t that right, Rolls Royce?”

Steve turns red, all the way down his chest. Billy has the familiar urge to pin him to the mattress and lick at his nipples, see if they taste like strawberry jam when he blushes like that.

But Steve’s eyebrows are threaded together. Serious, when he says, “You’re saying the only thing that’d trap you in a gaze is a nice car?”

Billy shrugs. “I don’t gaze.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“I could, though,” Billy looks over at him, guilty for the thrill that rolls through him at the sight of Steve, naked and pissed off. “If we’re talking about a fast car, and a rich guy, and a nice cock–”

“Forget it,” Steve snaps, sitting until the sheets pool around his waist. “Forget I said anything, alright?” Harrington jostles the bed, swinging his legs over one side. He reaches for his pants, tugging them on so roughly Billy’s worried he’ll give himself rug burn. 

Billy puffs on his cigarette. “Where you going, pretty boy?”

“Gotta piss.”

“You’re putting clothes on for that?”

Steve drops his pants as if they’ve caught fire. “Maybe I’ll leave.”

Billy snorts. “You live here.”

“Well, I’m not gonna kick you out,” Steve snaps. Annoyed. He’s never been this irritated with Billy before. So pressed he won’t even look at him.

Steve always looks at him. 

Gazes. 

It’s not a great feeling.

Billy props himself against the headboard, trying to backtrack whatever landmine he ate shit over. Steve’s seething on the edge of the mattress, so far away he might as well be in Asia. So close Billy can map the constellations between his shoulder blades. “Come here,” Billy says softly.

Steve shakes his head. 

“Steve.”

“You’re such an asshole sometimes.”

“I know,” Billy pinches the butt between his teeth. “Come here anyway.”

One moment yawns into the next and then Steve’s toes follow each other back onto the mattress. He tucks under the sheets, eyes tacked to the ceiling. 

“What,” Steve says. Taught and fragile. Bitchy.

Billy chokes on a swell of something. Swallows it down. “You don’t wanna cuddle?” He asks, exactly how Steve always does. Batting his eyelashes where he knows Harrington can see. 

But Steve won’t budge. He crosses his arms. “Tell me what you want and I’ll consider it.”

And Billy. 

He’s a pro at flipping the script. At hiding in plain sight. He’s been pretending to want this and nothing more if it means he’ll get Steve. A couple nights a week fucking in a bed he never sleeps in, watching every flash of desperate pleasure on Harrington’s face because there’s no chance he’ll run into the weight of anything when he’s caught in orgasm land. 

Billy doesn’t say the only time he feels good is when Steve comes. Doesn’t own up to the way it gets him through the swell of night, the memory of being so close to someone who’s good because it’s his nature. 

Steve never has to try. He’s perfect.

And Billy isn’t ready to admit anything. That he recognizes it. Feels Steve’s brilliance like a twisting knife in the back; Tell me what you want–

Billy clears his throat. “Do you want me to leave?”

The possibility makes him nauseous. Steve takes the cigarette that’s handed to him, perfect plush lips closing around the butt of the thing.

“Tell me, baby. I’ll go right now. You’ll never have to see me again–”

“God, you’re a dumbass, too, you know that?” Steve hands the cigarette over, jaw tense. “If I wanted you gone I would’ve kicked you out forever ago.”

“You. You mean tonight, or–”

“Yeah,” Steve tells him softly. “Months before that. Before I fell in love with you.”

Billy chews on their cigarette and watches Steve in between puffs. The way his lashes flutter when he’s trying not to give the side eye. 

Billy feels haunted. By everything. His future. The way Steve’s so free with his words and his truth, tossing them at Billy like red roses and rotting tomatoes. Steve says he loves him, and Billy’s heard it before. Steve’s sentiment gets lost in the roiling anger that makes Billy who he is. 

But tonight, it’s silenced.

Steve’s I love you’s have that effect on him. Cutting all the noise from the sky as his attention drapes over Billy like the lid of a coffin. Like sunlight, too. 

Daylight.

Billy turns to face him, his wrist cracking under the weight of his head. “Do you want me to gaze at you more?” He asks.  

Steve chews on a mouthful of smoke and then blows it at the ceiling until it looks like a cloud.

A bunny or an anvil. Something.

“I could,” Billy says. “You’ve got everything that grabs my attention, you know?”

“What? Money and cars and–”

“Yeah, but. It’s not only that shit, I was. I was kidding.”

Steve blinks. “You were kidding?”

“Mostly.”

“Mostly,” Steve says, as if tasting the caramel drop word on his tongue. He shifts on the mattress, glancing over and away again. Teasing. “Alright. What else about me grabs your attention?”

“You’re really gonna make me spell it out for you? Itemized list style?”

Steve’s demeanor falls flat again. A punctured balloon trickling from the sky. “Never mind,” He says, “Forget it. You obviously don’t feel the same about me as I do about you–”

“You make me laugh, okay?” Billy spits. 

He swallows thickly. Fiddles with the lip of the sheets. His words burn like acid. He’s cut to the bone. 

“I like the way you drum on your knee when there’s a song you dig. You have passions. You read, but you’re not very good at it. You help me study even though you mispronounce everything. You’re kind.”

And suddenly, Steve’s looking at him. Through him, too, past every swirling atom, toggling layers of bullshit and titanium walls meant to keep everyone out.

But under the cosmic starfall of Steve’s gaze and his attention and his love–

Billy’s walls never stood a chance.

“I like you,” Billy grits. 

There. 

He said it. He told the truth and now Harrington can out a lid on those eyes and stop looking at Billy like he ran over the family dog–

“You mean it?” Steve asks.

As if Billy’s saying something else. Like he’s admitting to a crime, or accepting a ticket to go anywhere in the universe.

Billy frowns, not understanding. “I guess so.”

Steve watches him for another endless, yawning moment. “Prove it.” He says, and finishes the cigarette.

–

It’s kind of how Max was, in that weird space between Billy’s first I’m Sorry and where they are now. 

Billy had to work for it because Billy has to work for everything. It’s like purgatory. Paying out of pocket for all the shit he’s done wrong in his life. 

Steve says, “prove it,” and Billy doesn’t really believe him at first. 

They aren’t together. Billy isn’t his fucking girlfriend, and Steve’s old enough that he’s supposed to have stopped wishing for grand gestures. 

Doesn’t he know that shit isn’t real? That husbands get their wives flowers because they got caught fucking their secretaries, and boyfriends only tuck fuzzy animals into their girlfriends arms to apologize for getting drunk and covering her in bruises?

But the more Billy turns it over in his hands, the more he realizes he should’ve seen this coming.

Steve’s got a pension for anything sappy and romantic. 

He goes hog wild for John Huges and sets money aside for February 15th, when all the Valentine’s candy is on sale. He sings the Ronettes at the top of his lungs when Billy’s pissed off, wiggling his hips and begging Billy to be his little baby. 

Steve pretends not to trace love hearts on storefront windows. He ignores thoughts of dinner reservations and avoids all conversation of expensive springtime bouquets until someone asks his opinion, and suddenly Steve’s a florist. 

Last year he even helped Max and her Nerdy friends plan a romantic double date night, complaining all the while even though he made Billy hide with him in the back room so they could spy–

And.

It hits Billy like a freight train.

“No,” Billy tells himself. He shakes his head, curls catching obnoxiously on the pillow beneath him. “No way–”

He’s not asking the Nerd Squad for help/

He’d never hear the end of it. They’d roast him alive and it would cost him every cent in his California fund. Curly top would accuse him, all over again, of not being suave or good or smart enough for someone like Steve, and the rest would co-sign without ever saying a word, and–

No.

Billy isn’t going to put himself through that type of ego-death all for a pair of legs, and that’s final.

But just as he starts to doze off, dreams lapping at his toes like warm ocean water, Billy settles with the fact that he has no other choice.

It’s his ego or Steve, and if Billy doesn’t play this right he’ll never love again.

–

“He says you never gaze at him?”

Billy digs his nails into his palm. “That’s what I said.”

“Steve’s kind of confusing.”

“You’re telling me.”

“I mean, it’s so weird,” Max’s shoes thump against the base of the couch, filling their empty house on Cherry lane with music. “You throw plenty of gaze at him.”

“I know, right?”

“You are gay-ze,” Max teases.

And if Billy were any less desperate, he might stick a wet thumb in her ear for that one. But he’s on his last leg. He’s tearing his curls out by the root. He’s climbing the walls, he’s–

Max frowns. “Tough crowd.”

“It was funny,” Billy tries, smile stiff and unnatural. “I was gonna laugh, but–”

“But you’re worried if you don’t do something grand and rom-com perfect Steve’ll dump you.”

Billy glares at her. “There’s nothing to dump. We aren’t dating.”

“Sure,” Max says slyly. 

She’s such a little shit. She’s the worst.

Billy bites against the urge to bully her. To pinch her arm and revert back to his old self to get what he wants out of the situation.

Max shrugs her knobby little shoulders and admits, “Steve’s not that hard to romance.”

Billy drops the act entirely. “How the fuck would you know that?”

“When he helped Lucas and Mike plan our double-date last year he gave this obnoxious speech about how girls pretend like we want diamonds and flashy declarations, but really it’s the thought that counts.”

But. “Steve’s not a girl,” Billy thunks his head on the back of the couch, exhausted.

This is bullshit.

This is so difficult–

“It’s not like you could afford to do anything obnoxious even if you wanted to,” Max tells him. 

And Billy gets that it’s meant to be reassuring.

Steve was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. Anything he wants he can get for himself, including expensive bouquets and five-star dinners. Hell, he could get himself off, too. Doesn’t need Billy for anything. Not really. 

But that’s half the trouble.

If Billy can’t live up to the Valentine's Steve can plan for himself, he doesn’t know why he’s trying. 

Why he’s losing sleep, sick to his stomach over the thought that this might be it.

“Stop spiraling,” Max sits on the coffee table in front of him, knocking their toes together until Billy pins her with a heat-less glare. “When you imagine a perfect day with Steve–”

“I’m not talking about this with you.”

“Why? Max demands, “Because it involves a lot of open mouthed kisses?”

“Just tell me what you think he would like.”

“A handjob, probably.”

Billy sits ramrod straight. “Max, let’s watch the mouth.”

“Don’t take it out on me. I’m pretty sure that’s what every guy wants.”

“Steve’s not every guy, he’s. He’s fucking perfect and he was born in a castle and he’s always had anything he’s ever wanted and I’m a piece of shit–” 

“Billy, you’re fine,” Max tells him. Because, of course, she sees right through Billy’s vitriol.

He’s made of glass.

He’s a window. A crystal slipper, plummeting to its brain-shattered death.

Max knocks their toes together again. “Even if you served him a burnt pot of macaroni on a dirty plate, tucked over a sticky dining room table, he’d love it.”

“Why,” Billy snaps, “Because it’s me.”

“Because it’s you,” She says, eyes blue and earnest. “Now, walk me through your perfect date.”

–

In the end, mop top and the wheeler kid think it’s sweet that Billy’s trying in the first place.

They give him his blessing.

On February 14th, a day that’s so cloud-covered and rain drenched that Billy almost wants to call the whole parade off and stay in bed until the sun rises red and new, Steve’s dorks manage to get him out of the house.

His parents are in Rome, because.

Of course they’re in Rome. The city of love.

And Billy’s been shaking hard enough to cause an Earthquake since the second he got into the shower this morning, but Max smiles and says, “Tonight, Hawkins is the most romantic place in the world.”

So Billy chooses hope.

They light candles. They decorate. Billy orders heart-shaped pizza because he’d probably give them food poisoning if he tried to cook, and suddenly it’s 5:00.

The dorks clear out.

When the front door opens, Steve runs headfirst into a hallway covered in wilting daisy petals. He’s immediately tangled in the strings of four stubborn Get Well balloons because Max tried her best.

He drops his shopping bags when he sees the candles.

He almost brains it on the stairs, because Billy’s waiting in a suit, collar uncomfortably tight around the knob of his throat.

“Billy–” He says, with tears in his eyes.

But Billy’s gotta spit it out, before the words choke him to death. He takes the stairs two at a time, arriving at the bottom.

“Steve,” He says, kind of breathless. “I don’t just like you. I love you, and. Max helped me plan this because I’m an idiot. And the balloons are all wrong and I didn’t cook you anything, not even macaroni, but I love you, and--”

“It’s perfect,” Steve tells him.

And Billy doesn’t want to brag, but.

He proves it. Seals the deal with a kiss.

[llamagoddessofficial]

Thank you @cams4 for an adorable Sans x OC commission 🥺 I love plant mages, if I could pick any magic power it would probably be something plant related <3

---

Calypso came in from the rain, closing the backdoor behind her, cutting off the sound of the downpour that had quickly descended over the skeleton household. She pulled off her coat and hung it up beside the door, moving into the kitchen with a collection of cut plant stalks in one hand. The stems were long but not that thick, the ends dotted with what looked like hundreds of clusters of tiny balls.

When she arrived in the kitchen, Sans was already there. He was leaning on the countertop, casually, a cup of coffee in hand and an easy smile on his face.

(She hadn’t seen the way he jumped at the sound of her coming in. Though it wasn't unusual for her to come over, he hadn't been expecting to see her. She hadn’t seen how he pulled at his dirty shirt, counting the stains and wishing he’d worn something less gross. She hadn’t seen how he scrabbled at some dirty plates he’d bought down from his room and teleported them into the sink- and she hadn’t seen the three poses he’d attempted, before settling on the most casual-seeming one.)

“hey caly.” He said, smooth and warm.

... Calypso’s fern-green eyes only needed to land on him for a few moments, before he already felt himself slightly losing his cool, cheekbones prickling and threatening to flush blue. He swallowed, shifting his weight a little more onto one foot.

She visibly brightened. Raindrops hung suspended in her golden hair, like dozens of little pearls. “Sans! You’re up early!”

Sans was up early. 11am- early for him. He winked. “yup, i can’t be-leaf it either. whatcha doin’ out in the rain?”

His joke earned a modest snort, despite the innumerable amount of times he’d said that same joke to her. “Just some gardening for Papyrus. Is he home yet?” 

“not yet. still working out, probably.”

He didn’t really understand why Calypso bothered with gardening. She was a mage- capable of making plant life grow on command. And yet she often still insisted on taking the long route.

“... I just think it’s much more rewarding to let the plants grow themselves, and help them along a bit. Listen to them, rather than forcing them to make the journey faster. They’re just as pretty when they’re growing as they are when they’re grown.”

... He didn’t get it. The only plant he’d managed to keep alive was a little potted cactus she’d given him a few months ago, a creature who sat happily on his windowsill and seemed to thrive on his neglect. If he had plant powers he’d use them all the time.

... But maybe there was an element of comfort, to him, about the fact that the girl he was so hopelessly head-over-heels for preferred a fixer-upper to something already perfect.

“what’s pap growin’ now, then?” He asked.

“He likes dahlias, so I’ve just planted some. He described them as ‘POSITIVELY MATHEMATICAL’.” She drew a vase out of the cupboard, filling it with water and dropping the large trimmings in. “They might take a while to grow, but that’s alright.”

Sans couldn’t help but chuckle. Of course his brother was obsessed with such a symmetrical flower.

“gotta admit, i’m comin’ up short on dahlia puns.” He supported his chin on his elbow, swirling the remaining dredges of coffee in his cup. Talking to her... it just made him feel so... relaxed. So okay. “what’re the ones in the vase, then?”

“Just some of the hydrangea. It’s getting huge, now. It’s good to garden them when it’s raining.” She gently rearranged them. “I thought they’d look nice inside, when they bloomed.”

He grinned. “bet they’ll be bloomin’ unbelievable.”

...

Calypso suddenly shifted. She looked... nervous? She bit her lip.

... Sans immediately felt himself shift too, instinctively, smile losing a few millimetres. He lowered his mug.

“... something... wrong?” He asked, carefully, after a few moments of silence.

She had no idea how much that single sentence meant, coming from him. Sans, famously terrified of any emotional subject, had a tendency to evacuate the room even when his closest friends got too upset. But with her, he felt a degree of comfort he’d only felt before around family. 

... He wanted to make sure she was okay.

“N-no, not at all.” She needlessly adjusted the flower in the vase again. “I’m fine. Uhm... It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

The thought of her not being able to tell him something made him feel itchy. 

“... you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. but, uh... you can tell me anything, heh.” He was wearing his most disarming smile. “‘sides, if it’s botherin’ you, it’s usually better to get it out.”

If Papyrus had been in the room he would’ve fainted at the sight of Sans not only avoiding the easy way out of the conversation (just accepting her 'I'm fine'), but actively pushing for greater emotional honesty.

As a monster, he had exceptional hearing. He didn’t want to tell her that he could hear her heartbeat getting faster.

“I’m...” Her eyes darted around, focusing on anything that wasn’t him. Were her cheeks getting red? Shit, had one of his jokes landed badly? He racked his mind for anything he could've said to make her upset. “Y-you’re right. It’s... it’ll be better to get it out.”

He was getting nervous now. Was it bad? Should he be concerned? “mhm.”

She stared at the hydrangea. She fidgeted with the side of the countertop, took a breath in...

“I... I really like you.”

...

...

“.......... huh?”

“... Like... erm...” She tucked some hair behind her ear, still not looking at him. “... Romantically.”

...

Not what he was expecting to hear.

...

The sound of the rain outside filled the room. Sans stood there, staring at her blankly, waiting for the punchline. Waiting for her to start laughing, grin and say it was a prank. Waiting for the gotcha!

There was no way she liked him. It was too good to be true.

... Not when he liked her so much, too. 

Calypso glanced at him- his expression must’ve been something else, because she immediately looked away again. He could smell regret starting to seep out of her.

“I-I mean... it doesn’t matter. You don’t have to do anything. It’s no big deal.” She laced her fingers together, then unlaced them, tapping them on the countertop, as unsure of how to stand as he had been minutes earlier. “I just, uhm... figured you should know... nothing has to change though. A-and it’s fine, I’ll probably-” 

Her cheeks were getting progressively redder and redder, and her voice progressively smaller and smaller. She was being honest. 

“i-i like you too,” he blurted. 

...

She finally looked at him. She stared at him as blankly as he’d stared at her. 

... He had to let go of his mug, for fear of cracking the handle. 

“... romantically.”

Calypso's face flushed. As it did, her eyes glimmered green for a split second- and every bud on hydrangeas in the vase instantly opened, a vivid bunch of bubblegum pink.

It kinda matched the shade on her cheeks.

...

“Y-you... do?” Her voice cracked.

His Soul was in his mouth. If it turned out she was pranking him, he’d never forgive her. don’t laugh at me. 

“... you sound like you don’t believe me.” He said, as playfully as he could, in the state he was in. He could feel his eyelights all but twinkling in his sockets, they were probably embarrassingly big and fuzzy.

“I... w-well. You’re just... you’re so cool, and I...”

... Sans laughed. He couldn’t help it. It was a short sound, he covered his mouth- she quickly gave him a quizzical look. Though she seemed comforted by the sound. 

i feel like my bones are gonna fall apart.

“i-i’m sorry. i just...” He dragged his hand down his face, his grin was so big it was starting to ache. “i can’t believe you said that. that’s exactly how i feel about you.”

The hydrangeas went from pink to red. Again, just like her face. “... You think I’m... cool?”

He had word vomit. “who wouldn’t?”

He was so... excited? Happy? He couldn’t put his finger on it. He wasn’t used to not knowing exactly how he felt.

...

“... I didn’t know you could go that colour.” Calypso giggled, gently.

Sans quickly became self-conscious of the amount of magic he could feel prickling in his cheekbones. His face must’ve been absolutely cerulean; he itched his cheekbone, letting out a weak chuckle of his own and glancing away. 

“guess, uh... my crush confessing to me blue me away, heheh...”

...

She reached across, and took one of his skeletal hands in hers.

He stared at the two limbs, entwined. Warmth spread through his chest. Whatever he was feeling, he really liked it.

...

“pap is gonna lose his shit when he finds out.”

“I know, right?”

[dmwrites]

“You know, in a perfect world, there is no senseless violence.”

“That sounds so boring.”

Pearl turned to look down at Grian, who was laying face-up on the picnic blanket.

“Boring? Is senseless violence interesting to you?” Pearl asked, holding her paintbrush dangerously close to Grian’s nose.

“Well, I mean, not all senseless violence.” Grian amended. “Like, funny senseless violence is interesting. If I don't get to kill Scar at least once a day, what’s the point, you know? Might as well go back to bed.”

Pearl chuckled, returning to her painting. “Fair point.”

“What made you say that, anyway? Was the sibling picnic getting to tame for you?” Grian squinted at Pearl, blocking out the sun with his hand.

“Just thinking…” Pearl murmured, sticking out her tongue and turning her head to one side.

“Thinking about what?” Grian prompted.

“I’m not telling you.”

“Tell me!”

“No.”

“Tell me now!”

“Okay, fine, but only if you promise never to tell another living soul.”

“I promise.”

“Chicken butt.”

Grian groaned in annoyance as Pearl giggled at her own stupid joke.

“I wish I could tell you how dumb you’re being, but I’d probably do the exact same thing.” Grian told her.

They fell silent for a bit after that. The breeze lazily drifted by, ruffling their hair. There were sweet smelling flowers all over the hillside, and the sun was beaming down in the most comfortable way. Grian closed his eyes and listened to Pearl’s paintbrush move across the paper.

“It’s interesting that you said Scar before.” Pearl said after a while.

“Hmm?” Grian cracked an eye open to look at her again.

“Talking about your senseless violence and killing.” Pearl considered the page in front of her, and then put down the paintbrush. “Hey Gri? What was it like, being in third life?”

Grian sat up rather quickly and he could finally see what it was Pearl had been working on the whole time. A desert, and cactus. Two figures, too far away to make out, standing right in front of each other. And a dark cloud of many beings overhead.

Pearl watched him, curious. How she knew what to paint, and why, was a conversation for another time, perhaps. But she was right on time, clever to bring it up on the one year anniversary. Otherwise he would have said nothing. But, today, Grian took a deep breath and spoke.

“It’s a different feeling then anything you’ve ever felt. A desperation that claws at your insides, shredding any thought that isn’t to keep you and him alive…”

[radioactivepeasant]

Fic Prompts: Free Day Thursday

We return once more to the Meddling Mar au, in which Jak’s childhood self and the Explorer uncle messed with the time map and got back to Haven after only 5 years had passed. Now we move from the end of Jak 2 to the beginning of Jak 3

Jak didn’t struggle when they came to arrest him.

He didn't fight back when he was handcuffed and dragged into an air train, even though he could have slaughtered every one of them in a second.

He didn't even protest. He was in shock.

Everything he'd been through, everything this city had subjected him to, and now they were throwing him away.

He'd been taken from whatever poor fools brought him into this world, kept under Samos’s thumb as their weapon in training. Handed over to Errol to be tortured into their perfect monster. Sent into battle before he was even physically mature. And now that Kor was dead and the Precursor Stone was beyond their reach, Jak had outlived his usefulness. Even Samos seemed to think so, keeping silent during the sham trial.

Of course, Jak had also wondered if that was retribution for his defiance of the old man.

How long he stood in the hold, glazed over and shell-shocked, he couldn't guess. What finally broke him free of his trance was a flicker of movement in the corner of his eye. Discreetly, Jak shifted his stance to give him a better look. That couldn't have been who he thought he'd seen!

In the very back of the hold, near the hatch to the cockpit, two crates full of emergency supplies were kept locked to the floor. Most air trains had them -- one in case of a water landing, one in case of crashes. A small, round face peeped out from behind the crates, locked eyes with Jak, and ducked down again.

It took every ounce of Jak’s self-control to keep from stiffening.

Mar?!

[[MORE]]

What could have possessed him to stow away?!

Wherever they were going, Jak hoped there would be a place for Mar to escape-

The ramp lowered, and Jak's heart sank.

The sun was rising over a dusty expanse of nothing. This was dry desert, with barely a hint of life outside the perversely vibrant cactus dotting the horizon. Already heat shimmered between uneven towers of rock, like a portal between sweeping dunes and hard scrublands. Jak stared into this gateway to hell and understood then why they'd pulled him from his hammock in the middle of the night. This wasn't actually a banishment. This was an execution.

Ashelin shot him a worried look as he was dragged from the ship into the rising heat, but she said nothing. Jak locked eyes with her, ignoring Count Veger's smug reading of his "sentence".

Please- he tried his hardest to convey without a sound, Don't let him do this.

"This is a death sentence and you know it," Ashelin spat, "At least have the guts to admit to that."

"Your protests were overruled!" Veger looked far too smug. "This dark eco filled...thing is far too dangerous to run free."

He flapped a hand at the guards holding Jak.

"Drop the cargo!"

"Overruled by who?!" Daxter demanded, interrupting what promised to be an overly verbose protest from Pecker. "We want a recount!"

The count turned with a sneer. "Oh? I see you wish to join him?"

Predictably, Pecker immediately backpedaled. Jak tuned out his patronizing suggestion to "drink lots of water" -- did the birdbrain see any water around here?! -- and made urgent eye contact with Daxter.

"Go back to the city, Dax," he said sharply.

Don't die out here with me. I've gotten you into enough trouble. Don't leave Mar alone.

Ashelin wouldn't meet his eyes as she released the handcuffs.

"I'm sorry," she said half-heartedly, "The council is far too powerful. There's nothing I-"

She looked away, clearly embarrassed by her own meager apology.

"I know," Jak answered dully.

Can't overrule an entire city if they all want me dead.

He blinked and looked down as something was pressed into his hand. It was a beacon of some kind, already activated and flashing. What was-?

She's...trying to help me?

"You just stay alive," Ashelin said brusquely, "That's an order. Someone will find you, I promise."

She took a step back, then reluctantly turned back to the shuttle.

"Oh, and don't worry about the poor little Heir you've been dragging around," Veger purred, looking down his short nose at Jak.

"Freed from your deplorable influence, he'll be able to meet his full potential under my tutelage."

Jak tensed.

That's what this was about.

It wasn’t about him!

Well, it was. The other him.

Veger was after Mar.

Mar wouldn't be safe in the city if he went back.

Jak’s eyes flicked from Veger to Ashelin to Mar, and then to Daxter. He saw understanding in his best friend's eyes. Daxter understood the risks too. The ottsel was going to have to be ready to fight the instant they made it back to Haven.

Keeping his hands low, and his movements small, Jak spelled out take the kid to Sig. Stay safe.

The ramp began to rise up as the engines roared to life, and Jak pulled his scarf up to block the plumes of dust raised by the turbines. He heard a cry, then several more shouts; surprise, indignation, or anger, he couldn't tell. A small hand slipped into his own, and then he was being pulled towards the rock turrets.

"Don't look back!" Daxter's voice rang shrilly in his ear as a familiar weight landed on Jak’s shoulder. "Junior jumped out before I could stop him! Run! Run before Velcro turns that ship around!"

"This is madness!" The unwelcome voice of Pecker grated on Jak’s ears. "What are you doing?!"

Relief was overpowered by anger in that moment. That stupid kid! If he'd just kept his head down and stayed hidden, he and Daxter could've had a chance to escape! Now all four of them were going to die if they didn't find water and shelter!

Jak darted through the space between the rocks -- the one he'd thought of as the gateway to hell -- and pulled Mar to the side with him.

Mirages shimmered across an expanse of rocky soil and cactus plants-

"Ay! I told you not to touch that, my love! Look at your finger-"

Jak blinked, and the memory dissipated like smoke. Where had he heard that before? There weren't plants like this in Haven. And while there were plenty of thorny growths in Sandover, the phrasing didn't sound like anyone Jak had known.

Beside him, Mar held up a hand, fingers splayed, and squinted at it as if trying to read it. He tilted his head, then frowned and dropped his hand.

"Can't see the lighthouse," he said with a dejected look.

"Lighthouse? What lighthouse?" Daxter asked.

The little boy shrugged expressively. "Don't know. I know there's a lighthouse in the Wasteland that's supposed to save travelers, but I don’t know where it is."

Well, a lighthouse meant a lighthouse keeper, and that meant shelter. It was better than wandering aimlessly under an unforgiving sun until their legs gave out, anyway.

The boys picked their way between haphazard piles of red rock and scrubby bushes, seeking shade. Now and then, Daxter stopped to try to scrape dew off the leaves, but it was barely enough to wet their tongues.

All the while, the hum of the air train grew louder.

They needed to hide.

Jak scanned the rocks with gritted teeth, silently praying that one would have a cave or recess. There wasn't enough dark eco in his body to transform: if he had to make a hole in the rocks, he'd have to do it under his regular power. But not here. They were too close to the air train.

"Pecker," he said sharply, "Fly up."

"And let them -- raaawk! -- spot me? No thank you!" the moncaw snapped.

Jak picked up the bird hybrid and bodily tossed him into the air.

"Fly. Up." He glared at him. "Look for shelter, or anything that looks like people live there. If the air train is far enough away, we'll run for the next rock tower."

Daxter frowned. "We won't be able to do that for long," he warned. "Remember how tired we got just crossing the magma gorge back in Sandover? I got a feeling this heat is gonna really take it out of us."

Already sweat rolled down their necks, taking precious moisture from their bodies. Jak slipped his goggles down around his neck and unwrapped his scarf. Every fiber of his body told him that he was going to regret this decision, but what choice did he have? When the full length of the cloth had been shaken out -- some two feet in all -- he draped it unceremoniously over Mar's head.

"Cover up. That's about the only shade you're going to get out here."

Mar wound the scarf around his neck and face twice, but the excess still fluttered down over his chest. Just as well. That was more of him to be slightly shielded from the sun. Mar wrinkled his nose and gagged behind the scarf.

"Smells gross," he complained.

Jak ignored him and set about tying his hair up into a makeshift knot on top of his skull. If he could keep it off his neck, his body might be able to cool off a little more efficiently, but he couldn’t guarantee it. When finished, he set his goggles back in place and scanned the horizon with them.

We're on our own, now.

[incarnateirony]

MAAM. MAAM THATS NOT HOW THAT WORKS MAAM NOT EVEN IN MAGIC LAND MAAM. CHECK THE FUCKING CHEMICAL BALANCES IN YOUR WATER FOR THE CHANGES. ALSO YOU ONLY LEARNED ABOUT USING JERICHO BLOSSOMS FROM ME WHICH WAS PART OF MY WORK, THANKS FOR CATCHING UP AND TRYING TO BE A HORTICULTURIST AFTER ME TOO.

Cernunnos and the fuckin jericho blossom. [rubs temples]

You know this woman constantly talked about having a black thumb and killing plants? "I can't even keep a cactus alive." She didn't even want to be assed to water her grandmother's plants and she had like one potted vine thing that she let grow like a ragdoll until it'd start dying and water again. Second I got my own place I planted my own garden that she couldn't kill. I start a weed business. I start banging around in her brain and she's suddenly a big plant master with her holy water

fuck me running

You are being replaced.

Also "the jericho rose only behaves if" holy fuck. It's literally a plant. The plant, with its revival function, should work anywhere there is water, and a climate that won't develop mold or mildew/rot from oversaturation. You're fucking up if you can only make it "work" in one place off of your weird biases.

That's not magic Shea, that's incompetence.

Jericho blossoms have no native property that would make them affiliated with Cernunnos beyond you being too ignorant to find a more locally appropriate plant. Jericho Blossoms are from the other side of the fucking WORLD.

You didn't pick it because it's a Flower That Represents Cernunnos. You picked it because you learned what it was from me, and it was the Closest Associable Thing You Could Imagine for Cernunnos.

Anyway thanks for communicating things I couldn't dig out of your mind, like another way to jack your altar. Odds are your flower freaking the fuck out any time it's not being charged actively is me, so lmao ok. Sis it's all me. You literally signed your address to me, there ain't shit for warding you can do about it. I own that house, not you.

I need you to keep in mind you're the same dumb cunt that made the lemons and alkaline post, because you're too retarded to understand that plants need different levels of acid in their water. Or that Al-Qali started in alchemy like all these motherfucking processes as above so below you understand negative fucking zilch of. Yeah, KC region has chokingly high alkaline, what you're experiencing is you Put The Metaphorical Lemon In The Holy Water and now it's acidic enough for your plants to break down the native minerals in the city deposits as food and make a better biodome

Thanks for coming to my Ted Fucking Talk of "projects Shealyn has negative IQ points in but tries to mimic me on anyway"

What you're experiencing is your holy water is turning acidic. There's no pre-installed Make Plants Grow Just Cuz blessing included as a feature on holy water as a default, life itself is a complex art. Again, not something you can just wish vaguely at. Your holy water is turning acidic, Shealyn.

The plants you are describing, by and large, thrive in a 5-7 ph, depending, with about 6 as a sustainable average that most could do ok in. The regional tap water runs 8.5-9 or even higher depending on where you are, so without the acid, they get rootbound and that's why they dwarf. You were growing dwarfs. Your holy water is turning acidic and ironically, MY plants are thriving now, see how that works?

You are being replaced.

Even your holy water is adding to the breaking down of the minerals. As above, so below, bitch, you're being broken down. It's all acid and lemons in here, baby.

I REPEAT. YOU ARE EXPERIENCING YOUR HOLY WATER TURNING ACIDIC TO THE TUNE OF ALMOST HALF ITS PH VALUE. AT LEAST A THIRD. THE ACIDIC WATER IS FLUSHING THE SALTS FROM THE BODY OF THE EARTH THAT HAVE BOUND THE PLANT'S GROWTH AND ARE CORRODING THE MINERALS TO BECOME FOOD.

ME EAT YOU WHOLE.

GO AHEAD. GET AN AQUARIUM KIT. COMPARE YOUR LIKE SHOWER OR BATHROOM TAP WATER OR SOME AVERAGE NEW TAP WATER THAT HASNT BEEN FILTERED TO YOUR ALTAR WATER. IF YOU AREN'T LYING ABOUT THE PLANT CHANGES THEN THERE IS GOING TO BE A NOTICEABLE ACIDITY DIFFERENCE.

[missameliep]

From lovers to strangers (Colt Kaneko x MC)

Book: Ride or Day (post canon)

Pairing: Colt Kaneko x Ellie Wheeler (MC) (past relationship)

Rating: Teen and Up (the swearing, kissing)

Word count: 3,4k

A/N: this is my submission to the first @choicesprompts : August 15th - August 31, the prompt is in bold. I hope I made it on time!

Forgive any mistakes, there was no editing this time, and it's been a really long time since I wrote for Colt.

The cool wind pushes my hair back as I walk along the familiar path, every step taking me deeper into the past. It’s been years since I’ve been here; everything is different.

Everything is the same.

I’m not paying attention to the present as I walk, I’m too lost in memories of long ago. That’s why I don’t notice the person walking towards me until I hear a familiar voice call my name.

I freeze. It can’t be. What are the odds?

I lift my head as my eyes dart wildly around before finally landing on a face I’d recognize anywhere, even now.

“It’s you.”

The late afternoon sun cast its light over us and our long shadows on the ground almost touch, but we do not. The gap between us is larger than the few feet that keeps us apart. An entire Grand Canyon separate us.

Swaggering in my direction, sporting a worn leather jacket that looks almost the same, he eyes me with curiousity until stopping a few feet away from me.

His voice echoes, filling the distance.

“Who else?”

I am not offended by the tone nor the insinuation that my previous statement was stupid. He is right. Who else but he could be here in this place and know my name?

I am surprised nevertheless.

His jet-black hair is longer and dances with the wind. The black mass of hair moves away revealing a fresh cut over his eyebrow that will leave another small scar on his beautiful face. Some of those scars were not there when we met, reminding me that time has not stopped since the evening we said our goodbyes.

It didn’t stop for me – though sometimes it stretched endlessly in my attempts to convince myself I was in the right path, pursuing the right dreams – and it certainly didn’t stop for him.

Nearly a decade went by.

Nothing remains the same.

Neither of us is the same.

Over the years, whenever I came to visit my father, I avoided places I could run into him, which was easier than I first assumed. Even the times I met with Ximena and Toby. Just picked a different club, a different crowd. It’s a big city. We could both be here at LA at the same time and oblivious about the other, coexisting in different universes, moving on and never meeting. No matter how much, deep deep deep down I wished we would meet.

This time, however, when I booked my flight, I picked one earlier than necessary, giving me two entire free days before my three-day lecture at UCLA.

I wanted to come here.

It was an unexplainable urge that possessed me ever since Roger found that box in the closet. It was like opening a faded pink Pandora’s box.

Instead of all the evils, the box contained one too large Black Sabbath t-shirt, a silly cactus that used to be in my car, a couple of instant pictures and that old phone. After so long, I was amazed it still worked, keeping pictures and messages alive from a different version of me. Little tokens and treasures in the palm of my hand. Too many memories came rushing back from a part of my life that I have tried to bury deep inside.

I didn’t say a word to Roger about the Mercy Park Crew, gangs or heists. I called it all garbage and lied about throwing that stuff away.

Ever since that day, I wanted to see the garage and visit this place. A walk down memory lane was not enough. I needed an entire tour to the past to remind myself of that rush of energy and life. I considered taking a jump off this cliffside and dive into the ocean even if it’s no longer summer and I’m not a rebellious eighteen-year-old anymore, looking for adventure and trying to prove myself.

Maybe I would find what I have lost.

Maybe I would find something to help me close this chapter of my life before moving to the next one. A chapter I don’t feel ready for. Maybe I’m just getting cold feet. People say that happens often, right?

I didn’t expect that he would be here. Not in person at least. I didn’t expect to see him so soon. Or at all. But he is right there in front of me. If I just reach out, I can touch him. Though I won’t.

My mouth opened in spite of being emptied of words and then closed.

Expectantly, he stared at me.

I know not what to say. Maybe I should leave. That is the wise choice. But I don’t turn around.

As if he was one of the samples in the lab, I study him. His unsmiling face and enygmatic eyes. My gaze roams further down. Like black tendrils crawling beneath the edge of his white t-shirt to the side of his neck, there are pieces of a tattoo I have never seen. Does he have as many tattoos as his father once had? Is it because of him? I wonder what is drawn in his skin, if they symbolize victories or losses, and how far the needle touched it. I wonder if his pains are etched in his skin as mine are in my heart.

“Why you’re staring like I’m some fucking ghost, Ellie?”

“Sorry, Colt.” Saying his name after so long is bitter and liberating at once, like removing a foreign body that has been stuck in your throat all too long. “I was not expecting to see you...”

A smirk curls the corner of his mouth, and he’s that nineteen year old boy again, the twinkling in his eyes while thinking about a clever comeback.

“Then you shouldn’t come to my spot...”

There is humour in his quip, undeniably, and something that edges irritation. Is it Colt being Colt or did he want me to be looking for him?

I don’t let myself linger in that thought. I shouldn’t presume anything or expect to be able to read him now.

I force myself to break eye contact and smile towards the cliff, answering with a joke of my own like I used to, “The garage must be doing good if it bought you the sea coast...”

He snorts with laughter, and I dare throw a glance at him over my shoulder. There’s only amusement in his expression now.

“I told you. Someday I was gonna rule this city. One cliff at a time.”

“Solid investment.”

We share a quick laugh, almost too intimate.

I tuck a lock of hair behind my ear, and his eyes accompany the motion with undivided interest. A shiver runs down my spine but I tell him the same protocolar thing I do whenever I meet some colleague or student and I feel wary on how to carry on a conversation.

“You look good.”

His lips are drawn inside his mouth in that familiar way before relaxing into a small smile that still makes my heart accelerate.

“Thanks.” The corner of his lip and an eyebrow raise at me. “Are you fishing for compliments?”

“I have a mirror, so I don’t need to fish for compliments...” I mimicked his dull tone and his eyes widened for a fraction of a second, before his expression returned to the usual resting bitch face.

“No ulterior motives?”

“Do I need one?” I snort and stare him down. “I'm just making conversation...”

A gush of wind blows our hair and pulls his jacket back. I bow, lowering my gaze to the ground to protect my eyes and his shadow has earned a pair of black wings ready to fly over the Pacific ocean. Like the myth.

As he zips up the jacket, the wings are gone.

I don't share this thought, but the tragic Icarus remains in my mind. Too young, too eager, too close to the sun. But for a fraction of his life, he flew. How many of us can say the same?

Colt glances at the ocean and back at my face, studying me. It’s so similar to the way he did the night we met. I wonder what he sees now. Would he tell me again I don’t belong here? Or that I am trying too hard? He wouldn’t be wrong.

“You're obviously hot...” his voice comes almost like a whisper, gently carried by the wind, “but the best parts of you were not your looks...”

My entire face warms with a rush of blood. I am not easily flattered, I know how attractive and accomplished I am, but his words somehow hit me differently and he knows it.

His gaze lowers in appreciation. Soon, however, the smile disappears when his eyes narrow staring at the diamond ring in my finger.

There is no use in hiding it now, but I do it anyway, shoving my hands deep in my coat pockets.

“Do you still dive?”

His gaze quickly return to mine and he waits a beat before answering my question.

“Sometimes...” His lips roll inside his mouth. “So, is that why you’re here?”

“Maybe...”

“Are you looking for company or a nudge? I can push you.”

“Always so helpful...”

“I am a helpful guy.” He takes a step forward, edging me and the cliff, and wiggles his brows. “Just say the word.”

“It’s too cold. And the sea looks rather unfriendly. I’ll probably have cramps and drown...”

He tsks me and I throw him an inquisitive glance.

“None of that would ever stop you...”

“What can I say? I am much wiser now.”

“Did the East turn you into an old boring wimpy?”

“I’m older, not old.” I cross my arms in front of my chest and look at him in defiance. “I am no longer young and stupid.”

“You were rarely stupid.”

“Thanks.” I emphatically roll my eyes and take a step back. He follows, still keeping the distance.

We both look at the ocean in silence. The roar of the waves reminding me of the dangers bellow.

“You regret?”

“What?”

“Things...”

“Wow. Could you be any more vague?” I laugh and play with my hair, curling a lock around my fingers over and over. He tries to look cool, but the way his eyes don’t waver from my face indicate eagerness for an answer.

“A fashion intervention was totally necessary back then.”

“Can’t disagree with that,” he snorted with laughter.

“Jerk.”

“Don’t come at me for agreeing with you!”

I don’t hold the laugh.

“What about the rest?”

“There are no do-overs,” I shrugg, looking back at him, “so, what’s the point? The past is not a place we can live, right?”

I try to come as nonchalant, and if he suspects I am not entire honest about it, he doesn’t say anything.

“Are you back?”

My negative comes in a shake of head.

I take a deep breath, letting the salty misty fill my lungs. The sun is slowly descending towards the ocean, painting the sky in orange shades.

“I missed this...”

“What?”

“Everything. The sunset. The ocean.”

“I heard there’s an entire ocean on the other side... Just take the I-95.”

“I already did that... It’s nice.” I lift my hands and deftly braid my hair to avoid it from getting into my face and mouth as the wind blows stronger. “It’s actually conveniently close. Beautiful sunsets. No jams. Unlike here. But...”

When I stop talking, he kicks a small rock and it falls over the cliff. I kick one too, while dancing around what we don’t talk about.

“You miss it here.”

A lump forms in my throat and I don’t trust my voice, so I nod.

He nods too and his hair falls to his face for a moment.

This is the complete opposite of what I imagined meeting Colt would be like. There are no passionate kisses nor angry shouting and fingers pointing at each other’s faces.

Years ago I desired meeting him face to face with all my heart. First in a naive and hopeful way, as if it was possible to resume what we had, ignoring that we lived in different worlds.

With each passing week without news from him, that earlier feeling turned bitter. Resentful, even. I wondered why he never reached out. How could he forget me that quickly, while I still loved him? Many times I wanted to march into the restored garage and shout that question to his face. Why did I expect that he would not forget me?

I hated myself more than I hated him for being so naive. I spiralled into self-loathing and cheap booze before focusing on the one thing I was ever good at: studying.

He moves, protecting his eyes with a hand from the dust blown by the wind, and deliberately gets closer as if about to say something. Perhaps changing his mind halfway through it, he simply shoves his hands inside his pockets and stares at the horizon.

In silence, I stand beside him.

The dusking sky is almost purple with splashes of orange and red and it is breathtaking.

I search my brain for anything else to say.

I don’t want to talk about the few but intense months we had. I don’t want to talk about the dreams and expectations that crumpled or the way I don’t fit in the roles expected from me. I don’t want to tell him I don’t know who I am or what I want anymore.

I silenced about those things to my therapist and my fiance, I will not disclose it to a stranger.

Stranger.

From lovers to strangers.

That is what we are now.

What is left to be said if you cannot say what truly matters? Do we talk about the weather or how horrible traffic is? Maybe something more controversial like what he thinks about the candidates running for Senate or what he makes of those guys who still believe in flat Earth?

I don’t want to talk about any of that either. I fear if I open my mouth now, the truths I have hidden inside me will spill like a broken dam.

Tears prickled at the back of my eyes. I press my tongue to my palate and blink them away. I force myself not to break, not to give in first.

I don’t want him to know how much I have missed him and ached for him and hated him and worked so hard to not think about him. Every unsaid word and broken promise consumed me. I once was a girl with love in my eyes but now I don’t have love nor hate for him, I am long past the hope and the anger. I don’t know what I have.

“Are you thinking about doing it?” he asked me quietly.

“Excuse me?”

“The jump.”

By his tone and the way he stares at me, I suspect he doesn’t mean the literal dive from the cliffside. Either way, I don't have an answer.

“I don’t know.”

“What’s stopping you?”

“What if I drown?”

“I wouldn’t let you...”

“Why should I trust you?”

“You shouldn’t. You should trust yourself. That’s the only thing we have in the end of the day, right?”

“Doesn’t it get lonely?”

“Only if you think about it...”

A blanket of purple and deep blue is covering the sky and I can barely make his face as the sun disappears into the ocean, taking the dive I won’t.

For a moment, Colt looks over his shoulder, distracted by the roar of a bike’s engine in the distance.

“What if it is not like I remember?”

“There is this Greek dude that wrote something like you can’t swim twice in the same river or some shit like that... Things change. It can be worse. It can be better. Who knows? But it won’t be the same anyway...”

“That is less encouraging than you think...”

“It was not supposed to be. You always knew better and never needed that kind of thing...”

“Who said I didn’t? Maybe I wasn’t as strong as you guys thought...”

“You are Ellie Wheeler. You take no shit from punk heads... Your students agree with that moto.” Colt elbowed me and I chuckled.

“How do you even know that?”

“Who says I know anything?”

I wrapped my arms, pulling my coat tighter around myself.

“What if I don’t want to jump?”

“Then you don’t.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

Years lying about acceptance and moving on crumple inside. It is Colt. I can’t help it. I feel. I feel so much. I am hit by feelings like the waves hitting the rocky shore. I crumple. I want to reach out. I want to know if I can have those feelings back, even if it will destroy me.

“Was that what you thought when you walked away from me?”

“I never walked away from you.”

“That’s bull and you know it.”

“I did what I had to do. Just like you.”

He tries to move away but I block his path.

“What do you mean?”

“We better not go there. You don’t live in the past, right?” he give me his back. “You need a ride?”

“I never moved on... from you.”

“Aren’t you engaged?”

I muttered a string of swearing against my fisted hand.

“I don’t know if I can do that. Any of that. I'm not like them.”

“You can.” He put a hand on my shoulder. “I saw you at Langston.”

“You did? When?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Tell me.”

“It was some presentation. You were doing good. Great actually, like your friend said you were... when you spoke to that packed auditorium, people were just eating in your hand... You were fucking brilliant, Ellie! I was so proud of you and I knew right there and then. I just had to step away and let you go on and live your life, do all that great stuff you’re destined to. Last week, I heard Ximena bragging about your lecture at UCLA and that you’re like this big shot and people come to hear you talk about this dope drug you created... She just talks about you even if she has no idea what this shit even is about... You inspire people, El.”

“Fuck you!” I pushed him and I felt the salty of my tears reach my lips. “How dare you? How dare you decide something that important without telling me?”

“Hey! What else was I supposed to do?”

“Stay. Talk to me. Anything. Just don’t make assumptions about me!”

“I am a criminal, El. I was on the run. I shouldn’t even be there!”

“You had my number... You knew where I lived... It didn’t have to be in the middle of campus.”

“I did for you. We can’t play dream house. You can’t introduce me to your colleagues or your financiers. I probably stole shit from them.”

The tears wouldn’t stop streaming down my face now, no matter how many times I brushed them. I wanted to be angry with him and shout. But I was sad. I could rationally understand what he said and why he did it. This was the closure I was looking for, then why doesn’t it feel like an ending?

Unexpectedly, his arms pulled me against his chest, and I buried my face in his neck.

“That hurt me so much...” I sobbed against his skin, and his hand stroked my back in a soothing motion. “I hated you. I hated me.”

Despite my resistance, I was pulled even closer, his arms impossibly tight around me.

“I love you. Always did. I just couldn’t be a fucking moron and drag you with me.”

When I managed to look up at his face, he was already looking down at me.

“I want to jump.”

“Now? Have you lost it? It’s too damn dark –”

When my lips touched his, it silenced him.

Colt was right.

It was not the same.

The kiss felt familiar and strangely new at once.

As our lips glided against the other’s and when our tongues finally met, it felt like riding a bike. Even if it wasn’t like that first time, the thrill from each ride and from moving faster and faster never failed to rush my heart. Just like being in this embrace.

His hand delved into my hair and he pulled me closer like I was the air he needed to breath. I got that. I finally felt like breathing again.

I touched his neck, letting the tips of my fingers trace the tattoo, making him shiver. His lips touched my neck, retuning the courtesy and shooing every coherent thought from my brain.

The world had submerged into darkness and the moon was over our heads when we parted breathless many minutes or hours later.

Who knows and who cares?

We made no promises and said nothing we could regret.

But as he held my hand and guided me to his bike, I knew I had made my choice.

I jumped.

We both did.

[thedo0zyslider]

Distraction - Chapter 3: Promises - 1k words

Scar and Grian make promises, ones that they aren't sure they can keep. But there sure all hell try too. if this chapter is a little rough, its bc i forgot the original idea for it. alas it needs to happen for ultimate angst potential!!!!

A03 Link

Getting caught a few times didn’t stop Grian and Scar’s meetups, not at all. It probably encouraged them, more than anything, since they kept going at full force. They really had no intention of ever stopping, because this was intoxicating , addicting , enjoyable ; it was a lot of things Scar couldn’t describe. All he knew was that he left every meetup burning for more , more of the soft touches and the passionate kisses, and Grian was more than happy to keep on giving. He gave the gift of his presence like it was Christmas, and Scar was receiving all the presents.

The two now sat at the abandoned building BigB had first made, cuddled up behind a wall. They’d decided to be more discreet for once, meeting up under the moonlight like a true forbidden love story. Apparently, sneaking away from the mansion was much harder than sneaking away from the Rock, and everytime the Bad Boy complained of it Scar cheekily suggested not flooding and burning the place next time. Grian had whacked him with a wing a few times, but the teasing and play fights had long since ceased.

Grian was sitting comfortably in Scar’s lap, and was currently snuggling closer. Normally, Scar would be smiling with fondness at just how cuddly Grian would be, but no tonight. He could tell something was off by the other’s almost stiff movements, the little avian had begun clinging to him like his life depended on it, and that wasn’t good. It reminded Scar of huddling together on cold and fearful desert nights.

“G?” He asked softly. “I can tell something’s wrong, so what is it?”

The admin took a moment to respond, burying the side of his face into Scar’s shirt. “Well, we’re both red now,” He began. “And I was worried about us having to fight each other, especially because our groups are enemies and all…” Ah, so that was the problem. Well, no matter, nothing Scar’s normal swagger and reassurance couldn’t quell.

"Promise not to kill me?" Scar muttered into fluffy blonde hair, a little too lighthearted for the moment.

"Only if you don't kill me first." His avian hummed in response, shifting slightly so he could look up at the sky.

"I suppose that's fair." He sighed, chuckling just a little.

"You suppose!? " Grian exclaimed, lighting punching Scar's arm when he started to giggle wildly. Despite the amused response, the brunette still felt as if he’d missed something, like he’d forgotten an important detail.

"What if we're the last two alive again?" Grian muttered only a moment later, quiet enough Scar initially had to strain to hear how broken his tone sounded. Oh , so that was what he’d missed, which was embarrassing, it was a pretty big detail to forget. "I..I can't do it again.." The avian's voice became louder as he spoke, more panicked. Claws started to dig into the fabric of Scar's shirt, almost ripping it.

"It won't happen again, G." He soothed, letting Grian twist in his arms until they were face to face. He twitched in discomfort at the thought, at the memory of the last time. He’d rather kill himself than do that again.

"How do you know that?" Grian eyes were wide and searching his face, they were scared . Scar hadn’t seen that look since…since their last few days in the desert; since the cactus ring. He didn’t like it. He wished he could magically wipe the frown of Grian’s face, make him laugh and smile until he forgot his fear for good. But he wasn’t a magician, not here, so all he could do was over comfort that might mean nothing later.

All he could do instead was let Grian hold his face and ask, “What if we have to do it again?”

"I couldn’t…kill you…" Scar muttered, pulling Grian to his chest once more and wrapping him into the tightest hug he could manage. He didn’t want to do it again, he couldn’t, but he wouldn’t have to. This wasn’t Third Life. There was no red army, they weren’t in the desert, they couldn't possibly be the last two alive again, it was statistically impossible. Probably. At least that’s what Scar had been telling himself since they began seeing each other again.

"You might have to!" Talons gripped his shoulders tight enough to rip the fabric of his shirt a second time and dig into his skin. "Please, I can't…I don't…." The avian sobbed, burying his nose against Scar’s neck. I can’t kill you again, went unsaid. Scar let Grian cry in his arms as long as he needed too, offering nothing but soothing murmurs and tentative wing pets, which he hoped were working. He was never sure if they did. He didn’t think of what they had just discussed, but the avian could tell when he was holding back his own emotions, even in such a destroyed state; Grian could tell that Scar was purposefully leaving his grip gentle, avoiding clutching onto him because Grian was the one who needed comfort in that moment. Their relationship was funny like that, it seemed.

"Only kill me if there's not a lot of people left, okay?" Grian whispered a moment later between hiccups, and Scar just now felt how wet his shirt had become over the past few minutes. He sighed softly, resting his chin on top of the smaller’s head. He held him tighter, closer, more protectively. He vowed silently that nothing would hurt the avian like that ever again, not even Scar himself, not if he could help it. Even if he had to kill himself to do it.

"Okay." Scar muttered a response, resting his chin on top of the smaller’s head. The brunette knew he probably couldn;t do that, not unless the bloodlust of a red overtook him completely. But he’d try, and only would try such a thing for the person currently in his arms.

"Promise?" Grian wanted a conformation, a promise that could be broken as easily as it could be forged.

"I promise." Scar buried his face into Grian’s hair once more, shutting his eyes.

They fell asleep there, like that, together. Scar pressed soft, comforting kisses to Grian’s scalp, only able to hug the smaller as he sobbed himself to sleep against his torn and bloody shirt. The brunette could care less about waking up with back pain, damp clothes, and questions from his teammates. For now all he cared about was the birdie restlessly sleeping in his arms, and how to keep them both alive, and how to avoid fate.

[anonymityisfunwriter]

Comfortember: Flowers

One of the hallmarks of your presence was flowers.

You kept them everywhere in your apartment. 

Now, Bucky wasn't a plant person. He didn't have a green thumb. He could barely keep the little cactus on the windowsill alive. 

Very little of it made sense to him. Scientific names of flowers, why different plants needed different climates to survive, how you could tell the difference.

He could, however, listen to you talk about flowers and plants and all that other nature stuff all day, but it had very little to do with any interest in starting a plant nursery and everything to do with the way you'd glisten and gleam with your entire face lit up as you told him about your newest addition to your garden. 

It was a little comical to Bucky. You didn't think you were very smart. He only wished that you could see yourself from his point of view when you rattled off dozens of scientific names of plants and flowers he had no idea existed, or when you would start explaining the long history of flowers being used as symbols in literature like it was common knowledge. 

To be fair, it was easier for you. To keep a plant alive didn't take all that much effort for you, and on the very slim chance a plant died on your watch, you could always bring it back with a wave of your hand. 

Because of that, you'd told Bucky that he didn't have to watch over your plants a million times. You told him that it wasn't a big deal and you didn't want to add another responsibility to his normal routine. 

And usually, that was fine for Bucky. You normally were only gone a few days. 

This time, he was going on day 22. It happened every once in a while. A mission that wouldn't go right in spite of everyone's best efforts. You called him whenever you got a minute to yourself to keep him posted on how you were doing and how the assignment was progressing, but the separation was always taxing.  

He knew you would always come back. In that he had faith. There really wasn't another choice but to have faith, he wouldn't and couldn't accept any other fate.

But it was always a little sad when the plants that adorned your apartment started to wilt, slowly drooping down day by day, going limp with lifelessness. Instead of walking by a windowsill filled with little reminders of you, he was haunted by the absence of you. 

He noticed it on day 7. The slight drooping of leaves and stems as he walked around the apartment, your two pets following him around as he took in the slightly depressing sight.

His heartstrings were already strained from the absence of his person. And watching as one of the things you loved most in the world slowly wither away, he couldn't take it. But especially on day 10, when one of your more fickle plants, some kind of orchid or something, started losing its petals. 

He didn't care about plants. Not in the slightest. But when he woke that morning to see orchid petals on the floor, horror struck in his heart as he gasped with sorrow. 

All of day 10 and 11, he spent asking anyone who would listen about reviving an orchid. 

He dragged Sam into his apartment, citing an emergency. And when they got to the apartment, Bucky gestured to the flower petals on the floor. He was so desperate, he asked Sam how he should fix it, figuring Sam had learned a thing or two about plants when you two lived together. Instead of anything remotely helpful, Sam looked at him strangely. "Don't you just water it?"

"No," Bucky sighs like Sam should already know this. "You can't just water an orchid."

"Why not?"

"I don't know." 

"Look at you," Sam teases, nudging Bucky with his elbow as Bucky stares at all your slowly dying plants. "All domestic now, watering plants, massacring orchids." 

"Why do I even bother asking you for help?"

"Honestly, no idea."

On day 12, he got to researching. Bucky still wasn't very good at the whole Internet, smartphone thing, but for you he was willing to try. He spent hours trying to identify your plants, writing down how each one needed to be cared for. 

And he had to hand it to you, because you made it look so easy. 

Bright and early on day 13, he got to work. Working his way through each and every plant in the apartment, cross-referencing his scribbled notes. He spent almost an entire day hunched over, checking the humidity points in the apartment, misting plants, drenching others, shifting pots so they faced the sun correctly. 

His heart almost shattered when another petal fell that day. But he persevered, following his researched methods to a T.  

And finally, when he woke on day 14, he noticed some slight improvements. 

And by day 24, things were looking pretty good. Except maybe for an annoyed dog and cat that were looking at him like an obsessive crazy person. And Bucky could concede that maybe they had a point. 

And he was so glad he was a slightly obsessive crazy person, because on day 25 you called with the best news he'd heard in the last 25 days: you were finally coming back home. 

13 hours later, you were bounding into Bucky's tight embrace, chucking your bag on the floor to greet him, Alpine, and Max. He scooped you up into an overzealous hug that quite literally swept you off your feet. When he reluctantly put you down, you immediately caught sight of Bucky's hard work.

"Oh." You clutch your chest, your heart swelling with the sweetness and thoughtfulness of Bucky tending to all of the plants around the apartment. You knew firsthand how tricky, especially your lovely orchid. "You didn't have to do that."

"Ah," he dismissively waves his hand with a noncommittal grunt. "Was nothing."

Grumpy Sunshine Series Grumpy Sunshine Drabbles

Grumpy Sunshine Taglist: @marianita195 @meli18gonzalez @ludicbouquetfromearth @matchat3a @famousbreadcherryblossomsstuff @valoraxx  @blue786sworld @buckyandgeraltsupremacy @geminigengar @ansaturn @ecolle @lexhalstead3 @ybflkmj @mediocre-daydreams @shanye1112 @thegirlnextdoorssister @toomanyfanficsbruh @moonlightreader649 @breathtaking-cynthia @mirikusashes @beans-and-toast @niyahcoca @katiechikin @elxvrr

[wtl-archive]

Intermission 03: Monster Line Epilogue

Read all the pages in order here.

Blog Info

Artist Credit: NugatorySheep

Okay. We can finally talk about him. Because this? This is the last you're ever gonna see of him. (Which, to be fair, was the original intention.)

This was always planned. I know I've said that before, but I think it needs to be restated.

Before I had any idea how much I'd fall in love with these characters or their stories, before I had any idea of how I wanted anything organized, before I had any plans to keep Druid around after the first chapter, before I even had the explanation for what happened to Druid's timeline to have it be so bleak in the first place, I had this scene in my head. Its one of the only elements of his story that managed to stick throughout all the changes to the plot and all the additions to the story. This one bit stuck, and I actually managed to keep it close to how I initially envisioned it.

In the grand scheme of thing this isn't some revolutionary moment. I think that's why I managed to keep it at all, because in terms of getting Druid back into the story after chapter one it isn't absolutely mandatory, but it's not detrimental either. It has significance, but if it were never in the story to begin with the entire AU wouldn't fall apart. Besides the fact that it has Cactus' cameo, there's nothing objectively wrong with it. But this still means a lot to me, and it's not something I'm willing to just throw away.

When I first started scripting this AU, it was meant to be a series of snapshots in each of theses timelines. You get a glimpse of what the world is like, but there's plenty of room for people to fill in the gaps with their own interpretations about things. There's cliffhangers and unanswered questions that you're never supposed to get an answer for. You visit for a bit, get a snippet of the world's story, then you leave. Think the Twilight Zone, Black Mirror, or Love Death and Robots.

I like to joke a lot that I was going to kill Druid at the end of the first chapter, and while his death was pretty much an unavoidable ending for him even after I decided to make him a more permanent member of the cast, the original ending for him wasn't quite as simple as that. He would manage to capture White, and he would still get fully corrupted in the process, but that was it. We would never see him again, dead or alive. His final fate would be a mystery.

What we would see however, is where the bubble ended up: back at the temple, where the only sentient life that wasn't a gem monster was waiting. The oldest version of this was not a cactus Steven, just a generic plant Steven with a few other variants that were an array of different plants/veggies/fruits. And, now that all of the other Diamonds were caught, they would begin the process of healing the gems, starting with Pearl. Druid's timeline might be bleak, but this little moment gives a potential way out of the nightmare. Maybe there's still a chance for the gems to find a cure even if Druid can't.

You might think that's terrible storytelling, and that an ending should more satisfying than that. I'll agree to disagree. This story might be unorthodox, but it's not bad. There's things I wish I had done differently, but this isn't one of them.

So much of this AU's story got changed, deleted and shifted around. So much of it got taken out of my hands. That's to be expected of course given the nature of it, and I certainly wasn't expecting to be able to keep all of my original vision intact, that's just unrealistic. I said yes to a lot of things, some of which in hindsight probably shouldn't have. I tried my best to be accommodating at every possible turn. I tried, I did my best, and somehow it wasn't enough. Everyone thought that I didn't care. A year and half of work, but sure, I didn't care!

This first chapter was the one thing I could say was actually mine. Besides some things here and there, it was all me. Its the one territory that I owned, and it was the only thing I had left that I could say with any real confidence I did all on my own. This was me.

I'm saying all of this so you can understand why it bothered me so much when I was told to just delete it. There were so many things that I was okay throwing away prior to this. I removed a bunch of posts from the blog. I gave away two of my favorite characters. I relinquished control of so many things. This was the last thing that was MINE. This was ALL. I. HAD. LEFT. I was so tired of saying yes, or being pressured into doing what everyone else wanted to do. So for once in my worthless life, I said "no". I said no, and I wasn't going to give any other answer, Cappy and Liam be dammed.

Fact of the matter is, Cappy and Liam stopped being a problem for me the second they walked out the door, it was everyone else making it my problem that continued to make working on this AU a fucking nightmare. Cactus' overarching role in this AU was irrelevant the moment Cappy left, but this cameo was decided upon well before then and the original agreement was just this cameo and nothing more. All the stuff that was planned after that was just a bonus. This intermission was finished before he chose to leave. It still would've happened regardless of whether or not Cappy decided to expand Cactus to have his own timeline, and I refused to destroy the one thing I had left because of other people insisting Cappy keep being an issue for me despite him having fucked off months prior.

At the time I said no and left my answer at that. I didn't bother trying to pour out my heart and explain why this was so important to me because, well, every other time I tried to say no and explain why, it didn't matter. Any time my opinion was different, there was nothing I could say that would convince anyone to side with me. Despite being the supposed leader of this project, my voice was completely useless and I had no authority. Whenever I tried to set my foot down, I was the bad guy. It was always a fight and I always lost. This time there wasn't going to be a chance to fight, because I wasn't going to change my mind.

Just for once I wish I could get someone to take me seriously without having to be an asshole about it first.

[peachfuzznygma]

Paul Dano's representation of The Riddler is something I deeply enjoy, too. He is less excentric than other versions of Riddler since he's portrayed like a quiet and creepy guy instead of an extravagant guy. I think that could be even more realistic when it comes to his character.

I have more plants, too. Flowers and not only plants. I have a cactus, succulents, begonias and even some mint. Do you like plants, pretty riddler boy?

–🦴

i also like paul’s creepy and quiet riddler!!! even tho i’m not looking for realism in dc media, it feels the most realistic for our current time. and relevant. can’t believe i’ve been fanboying over a 4chan streamer for like 1,5 years

i love plants!!! i wish that i knew how to keep them alive. so i just stick to dried flowers. been planning on getting a pothos when it gets warmer. they’re somewhat easy so i’ll try my best not to kill it in like a month