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inaris-mage-of-storms · 1 year

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}{ The Canary in the Gold Mine }{ AO3 }{ next part }{

}{ Empires AU }{ elf Scott, canary Jimmy, and goblin Fwhip }{ content warning: imprisonment, suicidal thoughts }{

The problem with living life free as a bird was that sometimes a bird winds up caged.

Scott had found himself in lots of metaphorical cages over the years. Lost in ruins and temples with a few more turns than he expected, tied up in relationships that didn't last, caught between an alley wall and the anger of a misjudged mark, even a jail cell or two. Sticky situations were plentiful for a man with sticky fingers.

The problem with this particular cage was that it wasn't metaphorical.

The very real and very solid metal cage Scott found himself in now dangled over an open cavern at the edge of a goblin city deep underground. Scott didn't mind being underground for long periods of time – his crystalline magic meant he was just as comfortable in the depths of a cave as he was in an open field – but he very much minded not having a choice in the matter. It had been five days now since the elf had tried and failed to escape some old goblin ruins with a gold statuette in hand. He'd almost gotten away, but the blizzard that blew in while he was underground blocked off his exit and allowed his pursuers to catch up with him before he could find an alternate route.

Scott leaned against the bars and scowled in the direction of the buildings that lined the edge of the cavern. One of them contained his guard, a rude man who had taken great pleasure in throwing Scott into the cage and greater pleasure in rummaging through his confiscated belongings. He'd been stripped of everything he had on him except his pants and shirt. His bag, his jewelry, even his colorful coat and hat were gone. Scott's iridescent dagger now hung from the goblin's belt, and the contents of his coinpurse had no doubt been added to the guard's own.

"It took me weeks to get that just the way I wanted it," Scott muttered to himself, more upset about losing the dagger than the coins. Still, it wouldn't be that difficult to replace, having been made from crystals he produced himself. He'd hoped to make another one to pick the lock with, but he needed something solid, preferably a rock or mineral, to act as a core for his magic to crystallize around. For a cage hanging from the ceiling of a rocky cave, his prison was disappointingly clean of debris without even the most minuscule of pebbles to be found.

Scott put a hand over his growling stomach, hoping the guard would extend the mechanical bridge over to him soon to bring food and water. He'd been fed once on day three of his imprisonment, and hoped that didn't mean he had to wait until day six for his next meal. By now he was even kind of looking forward to the meager, questionable serving of pork he'd been reluctant to eat the last time.

After a few more hours of staring at the ceiling and contemplating all the ways he could escape the cavern if he could only get the door open, the creaking and groaning of pulleys and pistons caught Scott's attention. The bridge was in motion, and when it came to a stop just outside the bars of the cage, the guard crossed over to him and unlocked a smaller door near the bottom of the bars. He slid in a fresh bucket of water and a wooden plate with a single pork chop and a piece of bread, while another guard stood across the way and aimed a crossbow in case Scott tried to make a run for it. Scott tried not to show his eagerness in reaching for the food, only the slightest twitch of an ear betraying his interest.

"How long exactly do you plan on keeping me here?" he asked, managing to sound disdainful instead of desperate. The fact he was being given food and water at all meant, he hoped, that he wouldn't just be left in the cage to rot.

The guard shrugged. "Until the king has time to deal with you. And who knows when that'll be. He's a busy man." He gave Scott a nasty grin. "I wouldn't be so eager for your audience with King Fwhip if I were you. The punishment for theft is usually death."

"Seems a bit excessive for a single little statue," said Scott. The guard only smirked and returned to the guardhouse with his companion, retracting the bridge behind them.

Scott ate slowly, hoping to make his meager meal last. He set aside the bread for later, leaned his head back on the bars, and closed his eyes. He listened to the sounds of life coming from the city and the mines, full of goblins going about their business. Picks and hammers rang out, minecarts rattled, snorts and grunts filled the pig pens, and voices called back and forth in the marketplace. Occasional distant explosions sounded from somewhere deeper in the gold mines. Soft clicks and chirrups rose from the cave floor below his cage, evidence of the sculk that lined it. Once a shrieker called out, followed by distant nervous laughter after a beat of silence.

A brief flutter of wings cut through the soundscape, and Scott opened his eyes to see yellow. The brilliant feathers stood out against the darker, dimmer colors of the cave, and for a moment Scott thought he might have fallen asleep and dreamed the canary that perched on the door to the cage. The bird tilted its head, watching him quizzically, and didn't disappear when Scott blinked and rubbed the fatigue from his eyes.

"Hello there," he said softly. "What's a pretty thing like you doing in a depressing place like this, huh?" The canary chirped, and he smiled to hear birdsong again. Scott looked at his bread, contemplating, then broke off a piece and tossed it toward the edge. The canary eyed the distance between Scott and the bread, then hopped down to the cage floor and pecked at it.

Scott fed the canary a few more crumbs, keeping his movements slow and some distance between them so as not to scare off the little bird. It didn't take long for the canary to hop closer, peering up at Scott. He smiled and offered another small chunk of bread, setting it next to him, and after eating the morsel the canary hopped onto Scott's knee and chirped up at him.

He kept his hands still, unwilling to risk losing the stray sunbeam that graced his cage just yet. "Pretty bird," he cooed softly at it. "What a beautiful little bird you are." The canary rustled his feathers and tweeted at him again, and Scott laughed. "I'm glad you decided to come say hi. I hope you aren't trapped down here like I am."

The canary sat with him and sang, and for a little while the bars of the cage felt far less confining. Eventually the bird jumped down from his knee and fluttered away. Scott watched it leave, both grateful for the temporary distraction and a little bitter that it was probably the last birdsong he would be hearing for a while.

Two days later the canary returned, and Scott's heart leaped when he rolled over under his single thin blanket to see the flash of yellow. He curbed his excitement in time to sit up slowly instead of suddenly, still not wanting to frighten the canary.

"Aw, my sunbeam came back," he said happily, and the canary chirped. "That or I've started hallucinating after a week here. I think it's been a week, anyway." Scott had been trying to use the ebb and flow of the noises from the city to keep track of the days, but with no sun and nothing to do but sleep, he was beginning to struggle with the count.

He scraped a softer piece from the inside of what was left of his now very stale bread and presented the offering. The canary accepted it, then fluttered up to Scott's shoulder and nudged its head against his cheek before settled into the crook of his neck.

"Oh!" Scott kept his exclamation soft. "Decided you like me, huh?" Carefully, slowly, he reached up a finger and stroked the canary's breast feathers. The bird chirped happily, rustling its wings and leaning into the touch. Scott knew the warmth he felt on the feathers was probably from proximity to some lava stream or factory vent, especially given the time of year, but he pet his little canary and pretended the feathers were sun-warmed instead.

He sat and talked to the bird, regaling it with stories of his adventures and misadventures. The canary made an excellent audience, occasionally tilting its head or chirping at key points of the tale. Scott knew it was probably only responding to changes in his tone, but he smiled and pretended the canary knew exactly what he was saying and was enjoying the story.

The canary was still there when the guard brought Scott's food and water, and the guard scowled when he saw it. "Shoo, little pest," he said roughly. The canary stayed where it was and tweeted indignantly. Scott bit back a smile, not wanting to anger his only source of sustenance, but was grateful the goblin made no move to drive away his bird.

As soon as the guard was gone Scott pulled a bite off the fresh bread and offered it to the canary. "You probably don't mind the old stuff, but this is much better I'm sure." The canary accepted the first bite from his fingers, but when Scott offered a second one it pushed its head against his wrist instead.

"You don't want it?" asked Scott. The bird peeped once and pushed against Scott again. "You want me to eat it?" There was a twitter that Scott took to mean yes, and he obediently ate some of the bread before switching to the pork. The canary seemed satisfied, hopping down to perch on Scott's leg while he ate.

Scott lost track of the days entirely somewhere around the three week mark. As the weeks stretched into months without even a hint to when there might be a change in his situation, the elf could feel the isolation wearing him down. He couldn't remember the last time he'd stayed in one place for any length of time unless there was something sufficiently interesting to keep his attention. The inside of a cage in a dark corner of a cavern was anything but interesting. Scott paced every step of the small cage hundreds of times over. He slept, shouted, begged, sulked, and repeated the process all over again.

He asked the guard over and over how much longer he would be imprisoned, but if the goblin answered him at all it was only to say "King Fwhip will get to you when he gets to you, thief," or some variation thereof. Eventually Scott stopped asking, his hope waning and his dislike for the unseen goblin king growing. It was only his canary's frequent visits that kept him from contemplating drowning himself in his water bucket or looping the blanket around his neck. Sometimes the bird showed up several days in a row and sometimes it was gone for what must have been five, six, seven days, but it always returned, and every time it rekindled the smallest spark of his dying hope.

It was one of the times the canary was gone for longer that Scott found himself alternating between staring at how thin his wrists had gotten and how much wider the gap between the bars seemed. He knew he didn't have the strength left to pull off the acrobatics required to even have a chance at making it across the chasm he dangled over, but the longer he was imprisoned the less he cared about falling onto dripstone or triggering a shrieker. Assuming he survived the drop in the first place, the roar of a warden seemed like a mercy compared to what he was certain by now was eternal imprisonment.

He was laying on the floor and trying to decide if his head would fit between the bars when the canary returned, landing in front of his face and chirping in greeting. Scott managed a smile but didn't lift his head. "Hi Sunbeam," he greeted in a hoarse voice. "Missed you."

The canary tilted its head and chirped again, and Scott imagined he could hear concern in the lovely notes. "Your bread's over there, if you want it. Sorry, I don't quite feel like sitting up today." He closed his eyes, and the canary sang out more concern before nestling under Scott's chin.

"Pretty bird," he mumbled. "You smell like fresh air again today. Like flowers. Is it spring? Or maybe even summer." He sighed, and the canary chirped quietly. "I miss flowers."

He didn't open his eyes when he heard the bridge extending over from the guardhouse, or when he heard the gate rattle with the latest delivery. What did get him to raise his heavy eyelids was angry chattering from his canary, and he sat up when the bird fluttered away from Scott and toward the guard as he tried to leave. It flapped around his face, seeming to scold him. The guard scowled, making a swipe at it, but the canary danced out of his reach and landed in Scott's hands with more scolding chirps.

"One of these days I'm going to catch you and have a nice canary stew," spat the guard as he walked away. Scott imagined whatever the canary trilled out next wasn't anything suited for polite company should it be translated, and he smiled and pulled the bird close to his chest.

"He's a nasty one, isn't he?" he murmured to the canary. "I'm glad he's not my only company down here." The canary settled further into his hands, peeping happily, and Scott pressed a gentle kiss to its feathered head.

The canary sat with him a little longer before wriggling out of his hold, and Scott felt a pang of disappointment at how soon the bird was leaving him. "Already?" He tried not to pout. It wasn't fair to make the canary stay in a cage any longer than it wanted to just to alleviate his own loneliness.

"Don't stay away so long this time, yeah?" He swallowed against the lump in his throat. "I don't know how much more of this I can…" He laughed bitterly. "Look at me, staking my sanity on a bird."

The canary gave a few chirps Scott imagined sounded sorrowful before it took off. He watched it fly up and out of sight, then sighed and lay down again to dream of warm sunlight and wildflowers waving in the breeze. He was dreaming of birdsong when he began to wake up again, and realized the melody was continuing even as he opened his eyes and felt cold iron under him instead of soft grass.

"Sunbeam?" He sat up, not feeling as if he had slept very long, and was delighted but confused at the canary returning twice in one day.

He spotted a glimpse of red against the bright yellow, and his breath caught. "Is that a poppy?" he breathed. The canary chirped around its beakful of flower stem and hopped down to him, dropping the poppy on his knee. Scott picked it up and gazed at it reverently, tracing a finger over the thin petals.

"Thank you," he whispered, and imagined the canary looked very pleased with itself. "It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Except for you, of course," he added, and the canary's chirping laughter filled the cage until there was no room left for loneliness.

Some of Scott's water ration went toward keeping the poppy fresh as long as he could, and as far as he was concerned it was water well-spent. As the days passed, though, even that couldn't keep the petals from crumbling. The day after he accepted the blossom was a lost cause, the canary brought him another one, and he smiled. When that faded the bird brought another one, and another, replacing each poppy regularly. Scott treasured each poppy almost as much as he treasured the canary's visits. With a poppy in his hair and the canary against his cheek as he spun more stories, he could almost pretend he was exactly where he wanted to be. Most days the canary's feathers were warm from the sun, making the name Scott bestowed up on it even more fitting.

The entire time he had been imprisoned Scott's meals had never been regular, but the bucket of water was enough to last for about three days and it was never longer than that until his next delivery. It had been a while since Scott had thrown a fit and screamed obscenities toward the guardhouse, so when the fourth day without a meal came and went, he couldn't think of a reason why. When his canary came to see him on the sixth day, it landed on the edge of the empty bucket and chirped questioningly.

"Dunno," mumbled Scott in response from where he lay curled up on his blanket. "Drank the last of it three days or so ago. Maybe that's how they've decided to finally get rid of me." He paused to lick his dry lips, but it gave him no real relief. "Guess I should be glad my magic is from thermal crystals instead of water. It'll kill me slower." He made a face at the thought. "Maybe 'glad' is the wrong word."

The sounds that erupted from the canary were angry and agitated, and Scott could have sworn he saw one of the small clawed feet stomp in frustration. He heard the mechanical bridge start moving, and as the guard approached he managed to scramble to his knees so he could reach for the fresh water bucket as soon as it was set down. Scott was so focused on restraining himself from chugging it all at once that it took a moment to register the canary was still chirping angrily as it fluttered around the guard's head.

"That's quite enough out of you – ouch!" The guard was trying to walk away, but the canary had tangled its talons in a tuft of hair and yanked as it pecked at his head. "Rotten thing!" The guard swiped at the canary and made contact, backhanding the little bird hard against a bar of the cage. The canary landed on the cage floor, and the guard walked away and retracted the bridge behind him.

"Sunbeam!" Scott crawled over to the canary and gathered it in his hands. To his relief the canary's chest still rose and fell, and after a moment that must have been brief but seemed to Scott to drag on, its eyes opened and it peeped at him a few times. "Oh, thank goodness," breathed Scott, cradling his canary close to his chest. "Are you hurt?" The canary chirped reassuringly, hopping to its feet and bumping its head against Scott's chin.

It sat with Scott a while longer, nestling happily in his hands and singing just as strongly as ever, and only moved to leave when Scott began yawning. "Come back soon," whispered Scott, kissing the canary's head before opening his hands. When the bird returned two days later, Scott's next meal had been delivered by a different guard, and the canary inspected the pork and bread closely before settling on Scott's shoulder with a satisfied chirp.

Scott laughed. "What, did you have something to do with this?" he teased. "Run this place, do you?" The canary twittered, and Scott smiled before sighing. "Be nice if you did. Maybe you could put a word in with this goblin king I've heard so much about." He rolled his eyes. "He's a bastard is what he is," he muttered into his bread. "'He'll get to you when he gets to you' they keep telling me. Worst imprisonment ever. Zero out of ten for accommodations and service both, would not recommend."

The canary's chirps sounded apologetic, and Scott stroked its breast with a finger. "Aw, it's not your fault, pretty bird. I know you don't really run the place. You can fly anywhere you want and yet you keep coming down here just to see me. I'm grateful for that."

The weeks continued to pass, and other than the new guard, nothing changed. His canary visited frequently, still bringing him a fresh poppy whenever the old one faded. Then a day came when the canary brought him an orange oak leaf instead of a poppy, and chirped at Scott apologetically when he accepted the offering. "It's still beautiful," said Scott, rolling the stem between his fingers and watching the leaf spin as he did so. He was grateful for the marker of time; it must be autumn on the surface now. "Did I tell you yet about the time I - "

An explosion from the mines interrupted him; it sounded like the usual controlled blasts he was used to hearing, but this time much closer, and the cage swayed a little. Scott looked up, wondering just how close to the dripstone cavern the miners planned to get. Another blast sounded, rattling the cage and shaking dust and debris loose from the ceiling. The canary chirped and chattered angrily, then took flight and darted away from the cage.

More dust settled over the cage at the next explosion, and as Scott put a hand on the cage floor to steady himself as it swayed, his fingers brushed against a pebble. It was the only one he could see; the top of the cage had angled most of the falling debris away, but one was enough. With his heart pounding with hope for the first time in months, Scott picked up the little rock and cupped it between his hands.

"Come on, take," he muttered, feeling the heat between his palms as he tried to gather enough magic to crystallize. When he peeked at the pebble and saw the iridescent sheen of a thin crystal coating around it, he almost cried with joy. He kept going, coaxing the budding crystals into a thin, elongated shape. He wouldn't be able to manage anything as substantial as a weapon, but all he needed was something he could use as a lockpick. Sweat beaded on his forehead from the heat of the crystal and the effort of forcing it to grow so quickly with so little strength, but with the possibility of freedom within his grasp, he kept pushing.

The canary returned just as Scott deemed the small crystal to be sufficient for what he needed it to do, landing on the cage bars as Scott reached through to feel for the lock. "Look, Sunbeam, I found a pebble to crystallize," said Scott eagerly in response to the canary's questioning chirp. He slid the pick into the lock and rotated it, feeling for the pins. "I don't know yet how I'll make it across, but I – ouch!"

He almost dropped the pick, staring at the canary in shock. The canary pecked at his hand again, harder this time, and trilled at him sharply. "Stop that," hissed Scott. He tried again to pick the lock, but the canary hopped onto his hand and dug its talons in, pecking repeatedly and fluttering its wings. Scott gave up and tried to pull his hand back inside the cage to try again later, but the canary grabbed the pick in its talons and yanked it away from him. It dropped it over the edge into the chasm, then landed back inside the cage and sang Scott a series of agitated chirps.

"That was my only chance to get out," said Scott in despair, staring in the direction the lockpick had fallen. "I don't have any way to make another one. I don't...I don't have the strength left to make another one, even if I had another core." He'd had a glimpse of a way out of the hell he'd found himself in, and now it was gone. He sat back against the bars and drew up his knees, vision blurring, and buried his head in his arms.

The canary chirped, its scolds turning to sorrow, and fluttered over to Scott's knee. "Go away," said Scott in a muffled voice. The canary nestled against his hair and chirped again. "I said go away!" Scott lifted his head and glared at the canary through his tears. "I don't want to see you right now!" The canary seemed to flinch away from his sharp tone. It warbled sadly and flew away, leaving Scott to cry out his frustration.

Several meals passed without the canary's return; the third was barely eaten, and the fourth went untouched. The bridge rattled with what must be the delivery of the fifth, but Scott remained where he lay with his eyes closed and ignored the sound of the gate opening in favor of going back to sleep. Or he tried to; it must have been the door, not the gate, because hands grabbed his arm and jerked him roughly to his feet.

"Up you get, thief," said his guard, and a second goblin snapped manacles around his wrist while he blinked sleep out of his eyes. "Time for your audience with the king, now that he's back."

"Back?" echoed Scott groggily. "He hasn't...even been here?" If he'd had a little more strength he might have found it in him to be angry about having never been given that particular bit of information, but as it was he just stumbled along when the two guards marched him out of the cage and across the bridge. There was a flash of yellow somewhere near the ceiling, and Scott almost cried to see it. He cupped his hands and held them out as best he could, and the canary dove down to nestle into his hold with a series of chirps and tweets.

"Hi Sunbeam," Scott choked out. "I'm sorry I yelled at you." He lifted his hands, the chains between his manacles jangling with the movement, and the canary pressed itself against his cheek. "Will you stay with me?" he whispered. "It will be nice to not be alone when I learn how I'm going to die. Not that you have to stay for that part," he added when the canary trilled sadly. "I wouldn't ask that of you."

The sounds he'd spent so many months listening to were so much louder as he was led into the city proper, and his ears twitched as he tried to hear everything at once. Curious goblins stared as they went by, but Scott couldn't bring himself to care for more than a passing second about how disheveled and dirty he must be. His guards led him into an ornate building and stopped in front of a grand throne, forcing Scott to his knees as they knelt themselves, and after bowing his head for a brief moment Scott looked up at the man who held his fate.

Despite the grandiosity of the room, the handsome king sprawled across the throne was modestly dressed in what Scott recognized as a typical goblin miner's garb. Only a slightly finer weave of the red and gold tunic belted over the outfit and a simple gold circlet gave any indication of his status. The jewelry that adorned his fingers and ears were no more than any other goblin seemed to wear, and the only unique accessory was a large yellow feather on a leather tie around his neck. The color was familiar, and if it weren't for the size Scott might have thought the feather came from the wings of the canary nestled quietly in his hands.

"We come to present the prisoner to your highness King Fwhip," said his guard. "The charge is theft. He was captured this past winter in the western ruins, in possession of a statue of one of the Old Ones, found to have been taken from an altar in that place."

"Do you deny these charges, elf?" asked the king, staring at him with an unreadable look. Before Scott could answer, the king spotted the canary and sat up straight, raising an eyebrow. "Now that's an interesting friend you have there."

Remembering the previous guard's rough treatment of his little bird, Scott clutched the canary closer to his chest as fear flooded through him. "Don't hurt him," he pleaded. "Please don't hurt him. I'll accept whatever punishment you see fit, just please - "

King Fwhip laughed, and laughed hard. Scott was too exhausted and fearful to be able to tell if the sound held any malice or cruelty in it, and could only hope the canary would be able to fly away if the king ordered for it to be killed as retribution for a prisoner keeping a pet. The canary peeked out of Scott's hands and chirped in a tone reminiscent of its past scoldings but softer.

The king's chuckles died down, and he wiped a tear from his eye before holding out a hand. Scott stared as his canary slipped out of his hands and perched on the king's finger. "Hello there, my little gold nugget," crooned the king as the canary pressed against his cheek. "So this is why you didn't come say hi when I got back." He pressed a gentle kiss to the bird's head. "'Don't hurt him,' he says! As if I could even dream of hurting my greatest treasure."

"What?" said Scott in disbelief as the canary chirped happily at the king. Then in a blink, the canary changed forms. What Scott had taken for a very pretty bird, it turned out, was actually a very pretty man with golden hair, golden wings, and kind brown eyes. He sat perched in Fwhip's lap with an arm around the king's neck and gave Scott an apologetic glance. "...What."

The king settled back in his seat with an arm around the canary's waist and appraised Scott with an amused smirk. "Back to business. Do you deny the charge of theft that's been presented against you?"

Scott stared, taken aback by the revelation that his canary was neither a typical canary nor his, and couldn't find the wit or charm that had saved his skin on more than one occasion in the past. "No," he said simply. "I don't deny the charge."

"Then, as you don't deny that you stole the statue you were found in possession of - "

"A statue that we didn't even know existed and was recovered when he was captured," interrupted the canary, and grinned sheepishly when Fwhip gave him a sharp look.

" - as you don't deny the charges," continued the king, "you are hereby found guilty of theft of a sacred artifact from goblin lands. Now, your punishment." He pretended to ignore the pleading look the canary was giving him. "Is it true the statue was recovered?"

"Yes, your highness," said one of the guards. "It was taken from the elf upon his capture and has been stored safely in the royal vault."

"Good, good," said Fwhip. "Did he make any attempt to escape while he was imprisoned?"

"None, your highness," said the guard. Scott breathed in sharply and glanced at the canary, who was trying very hard to look as innocent as possible.

Fwhip's tail curled thoughtfully. "Well then! We take theft very, very seriously here. But the object was recovered, it's only your first offense in Gobland, you readily admitted to your crime, and you behaved yourself while imprisoned – and more importantly, going by the hole that's currently being stared into the side of my head, my Jimmy has taken a liking to you." He put a hand against the canary's face and pushed him back lightly, getting a grumble in return.

"I sentence you to five years imprisonment," continued Fwhip. "Minus the time already spent in the cage, you'll spend the rest of it as a worker in the gold mines. You'll be given three - " Jimmy whined at him, and he rolled his eyes. " - four days to rest and recover in your new quarters before you begin work."

Scott's head swam as he tried to process the goblin king's verdict. He had entered the throne room expecting death, or worse, to be thrown back into the damned cage. Five years was no small length of time, but he would take five years of hard work over even five weeks of endless confinement and boredom.

His – no, Jimmy – didn't seem quite as pleased with Scott's punishment as Scott was. "Aw, Fwhip," he pleaded, tilting his head and giving the king a wide-eyed look and a soft pout, "he's been down here since before the solstice! Can't he work the fields with me instead?"

"Absolutely not," said Fwhip. "If he's on the surface he'll just make a run for it the first chance he gets. And you'll let him, you big softy." He tapped Jimmy's nose, and his words were stern but the look in his eyes was fond. "There's a reason you're in charge of my farmers and not my guards."

"Rude," grumbled Jimmy, but he was almost smiling. "I would make an excellent lawman, thank you very much."

"Sure you would," said Fwhip sarcastically. Scott could have gagged at the soft look the two of them gave one another, and might have done if he hadn't been busy appreciating how well love enhanced both Fwhip's and Jimmy's already good-looking features. Fwhip gestured for Scott to be taken away, and as the guards obeyed, Jimmy pressed a kiss to Fwhip's cheek before following as Scott was taken to wherever he would be staying.

The guards led him into a room inside a barracks and unlocked his manacles, with firm instructions to remain there until someone came to collect him in a few days to begin his work. Jimmy remained in the room with him even as a key turned in the lock as the guards left, and if Scott hadn't already seen the window he might have been more concerned about that. It was small and barred, but there was enough room for a small bird to fly through easily.

"I hope you aren't angry that I didn't say anything," said Jimmy, and Scott turned from his examination of the room – not much larger than the cage, really, but there was a bed and a dresser and a chair – to see the canary wringing his hands anxiously. "It's just that, well, the last time I showed myself to a prisoner they just got angry that I wouldn't steal the keys and let them out or anything like that."

"You were pretty adamant about not letting me pick the lock," said Scott. "Was it because you knew it would make my sentence worse?" He sat on the edge of the bed; he knew he had surely been on more comfortable surfaces than the thin straw-stuffed mattress, but after almost a year on an iron floor, it was the softest thing he had ever felt.

"I mean, sort of." Jimmy sat on the wooden chair, running fingers through his hair. "That and I could see how weak you were. I didn't want you to fall to your death or anything. But also…" His wings rustled and he tilted his head. "I mean, I like you, I really do. But you're still a prisoner, and even though I'm not a goblin, as long as I live in Gobland then Fwhip is still my king, you know?" He shrugged. "And more importantly, he's my...my partner."

The ends of Jimmy's ears were red, and Scott wondered if the relationship was new or if the canary simply had a modest nature. "How long have you two been together?" he asked.

"Oh, gosh." Jimmy scratched the back of his head. "I can't even remember. Must be six, seven harvests at least." Modest, then. Scott bit back a smirk and the urge to tease him; he never was able to resist a man who blushed easily.

Jimmy stood and stepped toward the window before turning back to Scott. "I'll let you get some rest. They should be bringing you some food soon, and starting tomorrow it'll be twice a day. If not, let me know and I'll take care of it." He grinned, and Scott smiled back. "We're pretty busy on the surface this time of year so I don't know how often I can come see you for a while, but I'll check on you when I can."

Scott nodded. "Thank you," he said, and his throat felt thick. "For...for everything. You didn't have any reason to, but you saved my life."

Jimmy smiled. "I got curious, and you turned out to be a good person," he said. "And you tell good stories. Besides, I doubt Fwhip would have actually had you killed over a single statue. He's too good of a man for that."

Scott shook his head. "I don't mean just the sentencing," he said softly. "Being locked up like that, with little idea how long it had been and no idea how much longer it would be?" He shuddered. "Even with your visits I almost did something stupid more than once. Without them…"

A sorrowful chirp from Jimmy's throat startled him, and he smiled at the embarrassed look on the canary's face. "Can I...is it okay if I hug you?" asked Jimmy.

Scott blinked. "I – sure?" He gave Jimmy a sly look. "If it won't get me killed, anyway. Pretty sure fooling around with a king's lover is a faster ticket to the gallows than any theft," he teased.

As he'd predicted, Jimmy turned red, and Scott laughed. "It's just a hug!" exclaimed Jimmy. "You...oh, you're going to be an absolute menace, aren't you?"

"I certainly try," said Scott cheerily.

Jimmy wrapped his arms around him in a tight embrace, and if he'd been a little less exhausted from everything Scott might have been embarrassed at how easily the simple touch brought tears to his eyes. He returned the hug and relaxed into Jimmy's hold when Jimmy folded his wings around them both. He didn't even realize he'd closed his eyes until Jimmy shifted and startled him out of the light doze he'd fallen into.

"Get some sleep," said Jimmy gently. He stepped away from Scott, changed back into a bird, and flew out of the small window. Scott stretched out on the straw mattress and fell asleep. When a knock on the door and the smell of stew roused him, a pressed poppy lay on the windowsill, and he smiled. Five years was a long time to spend working a gold mine, but he had a feeling the time was going to fly by.

}{ next part }{

#i spent a few nights with no electricity and no running water during this month's debacle #to distract myself from the misery of a humid Oklahoma night with no air con I told myself a bedtime story #enjoy :D #empiresshipping #flower husbands #fwhimmy #imprisonment cw #suicidal thoughts cw #file: storm writes things #canary in the gold mine au

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eluminium · 2 months

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SKIZZ WEEK 5!!! THE GRIND CONTINIUES!!!

How the fuck did this one GET SO LONG????? AND HOW DID I FINISH IT IN TIME??? IT'S A MIRACLE!!!! I probably won't be able to finish day 6 on time due to LIFE STUFF but TRUST ME I AM GOING TO GET THE DAYS I MISSED DONE.

As always: @skizzlemanweek is the goat for giving us all these prompts!

Prompt 5: Stars/Hearts

A serene desert night. Something surprisingly rare, but more common in solo worlds. The hostile mobs keep away while the passive and neutral have long since fallen asleep. Out in the endless dunes, nothing moves. A true quiet.

That quiet swiftly comes to an end when a man with tussled black and grey hair crawls out of his tent. A simple t-shirt and a pair of loose shorts cover his scarred body, very unlike his usual outfit of choice. In his grip is a ridiculously large bath towel and a thicker blanket as well as a lantern. His feet are bare of any dress, and he relishes the feeling of sand brushing against them. What he likes less is the sudden chill graciously given to him by the desert’s nightly winds. He quickly ties the blanket around him like a cape.

“Brrrr! I’m freezing my butt off! Kevin! Come out here!” He calls into the night. The previously still as a coffin tent bursts into activity as a “Woof!” erupts out of it. A medium-sized reddish-brown dog leaps out and bounces over to the man’s side. His tail wags like a metronome on steroids.

The man's hearty laugh soars over the desert dunes as he leans down to give his dog some TLC. “Who’s my big puppy? Who’s my favorite in the whole wide world? Who’s my Kevin Bubbles Malone Jimmy Madeye Dugan? Yes, you are! You are!” He coos as Kevin rolls around and coats his fur in sand. When the man stands back up, Kevin copies him. The dog takes a few steps before-

“No, boy, don’t!” He borderline begs, but it’s too late. Sand goes flying everywhere as Kevin rids himself of the coarse and itchy feeling.

“Augh! Bubbles! Bad dog! Now I got sand in my jibblets!” He pouts while trying to brush said sand off. Kevin tilts his head but otherwise continues to pant at him.

He sighs with frustration and fondness as he walks away from the tent. "I can't be mad at you for long, it's not fair" He grumbles as Kevin walks attentively by his side, sniffing the air in search of any stray mobs who would dare to show their faces. But the desert is still quiet. Only the steps of the man and his dog as well as the lonely winds echo through the landscape. They keep walking with a clear goal in mind, each step intentional.

Until the man spots his destination in the distance. A giant vaguely circular glass donut-looking thing. The moonlight reflects beautifully off its slightly wonky surface, casting the area around it in an ethereal glow. With a cheer the man breaks out into a run, his loyal Kevin right behind him barking up a storm.

"Here it is, Kevin! Our overnight home!" He explains excitedly while throwing the giant towel over his shoulder so he can summon a silk touch pickaxe from his inventory. With it, he breaks just a few blocks of glass and steps inside. Kevin jumps in after with no hesitation. With everyone accounted for, the hole disappears as he refiles it. He wastes no time getting to work by spreading the massive towel over the sand. It's big enough to take up most of the ground inside the glass donut. After that, he places down a few other supplies before he unties his blanket cape.

"Sleeping under the desert stars on a clear night has been a bucket list item for a while, dude. I can't believe I'm finally doing this!" He says as he lays down on the towel. However, a cringe crosses his face when he feels the packed sand against his back. "Ouch! I thought it would be softer!" He exclaims. His solution is to wiggle his body around and create an imprint of his body into the sand. It's better...but not by much. It's good enough for now though, and he calls over Kevin who happily snuggles up to him.

With no more distractions, the man turns his eyes to the sky. And what a sight it is. A massive tapestry of light and color upon an ink-black background greets him. Hundreds if not thousands of stars scattered across the sky in an undescribable dance. The moon, ever the overachiever, shines bright and full. The spectacle of the scene before him fills every bit of his body with childlike wonder. He almost feels out of breath, and he's just lying there!

"Woah..." He mumbles.

With a clumsy hand, he points toward six stars located near each other. "See that Kevin? That's the Pickaxe." His hand then moves towards seven new stars. "And that's the Universal Bell." For a last time, he points to a cluster. "And that's the Head of the Great Dragon."

Suddenly, a distant feeling of fear hits him. His hand falls back down to Earth, and a frown decorates his face. "We really are miniscule, huh Kevin? We're tiny, insignificant little ants in the face of the Universe. Isn't that crazy?" Maybe he's the crazy one for talking to his dog alone in the desert. Kevin, for his part, continues to snore.

"Nothing we do matters on that scale. We can create a million solo worlds, yet it won't even make a blip on the radar!" He continues, the slight fear building strength in his chest.

"It's so vast. Borderline infinite. And I'm just one player out of millions...Maybe one of them is looking up right now, thinking the same thing. Mathematically that's gotta be the case. A million's a big number, and there's probably even more than that..." This ramble has to stop if he wants to keep that existential crisis at bay. Because at this rate he's on the minecart heading to the stress station!

He sighs and refocuses his eyes on the sky. It glows back at him just as before.

"Maybe we gotta focus less on what we can influence in the big picture and more on what we can influence in the small picture." He says, trying to inject some optimism into his tone. "Maybe the only impact we really need to make is the impact on those around us. Friends, family, other loved ones..."

He looks down at his beloved canine companion sleeping next to him. A smile creeps up on his face. Even just looking at Kevin's peaceful mug makes a happiness bubble in him. He giggles to himself. "I guess you're doing great on that front, Bubbles," He pets Kevin's head carefully to not wake him up. Afterward, he looks back up in the sky.

"I could talk to my brothers more. Maybe invite Dop, Top, and Bop to do some silly challenges together. Or I could hit up Logic and get him to show me his newest duds. Maybe Pearlie Pop can help me build something for the fun!" Yeah! Yeah, that would be delightful! That would be great!

...Except that all of them are parts of servers he has no access to. And are also very busy. Well, that takes the wind out of his sails.

"Man, this sucks!" He pouts, trying to drown the genuine pang of loneliness with overdramatic sulking. But there's no one around to find it funny. His palm falls to his face.

"Dang it, Skizz!" Now he's just back in the sad. He shakes his head, this is not a productive mindset to have while alone in the desert under the infinite sky!

"You know what? They'll invite me to Hermitcraft next season. Then I'll have all the time in the world to hang out with my buddies!" He claims dramatically to bullshit his way out of this.

Then he stops.

Impulse is being cagey lately...Gem accidentally referred to him as a Hermit...Tango seems uncharacteristically excited about season 10...

Could it be?

A part of his mind screeches on instinct. Of course not! This hasn't been the first time he thought he was gonna get invited! And him? Hermitcraft? Yeah, sure. Like that would ever happen!

But, perhaps just this once, the other parts of his mind beat back those thoughts, and he gets to indulge in the possibility. Him on Hermicraft. With his friends. His brothers. And so many new people to get to know. A happy smile settles on his face at the thought. Wouldn't that be something? To have a proper home server again? Be able to look at the sky with those he loves the most.

With that scenario in his mind, the starry sky above him doesn't look nearly as beautifully intimidating. Because if he's with his friends, he's in the right place. His place.

Eager to quit while he's ahead and to prevent those doubting thoughts from making a comeback, he summons the final pieces of his glass donut stargazing sleep place thing. Some glass, and a pillow. The glass is quickly used to cover the ceiling so no spiders or sandstorms could ruin his nap. The pillow lands where the indent of his head is under the sand. Somehow, Kevin doesn't stir, still sleeping away peacefully. The man, now very tired, lays back down on his towel and cozied up in the thick blanket. He gives a quick kiss to his dog's head, mumbles a "good night" and passes out on the spot.

But before he sinks into the sweet comfy unconsciousness, a vague memory, almost a dream, comes to him. It's a fragment of something players can never fully remember, but they hold it dear all the same.

Does it know that we love it? That the universe is kind?

Sometimes, through the noise of its thoughts, it hears the universe, yes.

#skizzleman #skizz week 5 #skizz week #my writing #hermitfic #dose of skizz #I WILL COMPLETE THIS #I SWEAR #I SHALL DO SKIZZ WEEK #AND BE HAPPY ABOUT IT

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bowieandqueen11 · 2 years

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Mr. Spooktacular / Jimmy McGill Imagine

Request: GIRLLLL YOU WRITE FOR BETTER CALL SAUL???? IM ABSOLUTELY FOAMING AT THE MOUTH YOU ALWAYS KNOW WHAT'S UP IM DYING!!!! i would like to request something for Halloween with jimmy but idk what, something fluffy up to you! dealers choice! im so excited to see how you write him ♥️♥️

This is such a lovely request and I’ve made it so stupid @offbrand-slasher I’m so sorry I just feel like he’d be the type of guy to love dressing up to answer the door lmao ily!!

(I do not own Better Call Saul or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @santavenganza.)

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

‘Mwahahah, have a spooktacular Halloween! And don’t forget kids, to tell your lovely nanas and bobos where to come for some treats that don’t look like they’ve been shot out from a Chocolate Factory....’

Jimmy’s voice trails out as the kids recede down the outer apartment block stairs, shaking their pumpkin buckets in their hands to try and suss how many sweets they bagged this time; his smile finally drops as the last bit of mummy toilet paper disappears over the pavement, and he rubs his chin contemplatively as he turns and shuts the door, once again, behind him. It takes him a moment to realise he’s managed to wipe off half of the gaudy cream ‘Dracula-esque’ makeup off his chin (as he had sardonically called it when he picked the half-price tube off the drug store shelf on your joint way back from the office that afternoon). When he sees it smeared across his fingers, he whines in exasperation and makes you chortle as he begins to try and wipe it off onto the bin bag looking cape he’s tied across his shoulders.

Pulling his fake teeth out, he points over to where you’re lounging on the couch, half-caught in a stretched yawn by his wagging pointer finger. ‘What, exactly, are you laughing at? I hope it’s not my stunning outfit - this thing cost me nearly twenty bucks, but I think it was worth it.’ He finishes his sad scan over his cheap nylon trousers and fake blood stained frilled shirt with a small smile and ostentatious flick back of his gelled hair. ‘At least it’s got great re-use value: I’ll be able to wear it into HHM next week and still look more sprightly than Howard does.’

You shake your head with as much indignation on Hamlin’s behalf as you can, but Jimmy still smiles and comes shimmying his shoulders towards you. Pressing the palm of your hand to your lips, you try to stop the snorting laugh from busting out as Jimmy drops the near empty candy bowl on the table and kneels down to start dumping freshly opened bags of hard sweets into its depths. Bless his heart, he looks so happy, so childlike and innocent again as he meticulously opens the plastic and grins at the way the sweets fall between his fingers. He’s humming gently to himself, an old country tune his father often used to listen to in the small store shop when Autumn time began to roll around the dusty grounds; when the two of them used to stay late after closing shop to huddle on overturned milk crates in the middle of the shop floor and choose a bag of sweets to share after the Halloween sales were over again for the year. Back in the days when Chuck used to roll up punctiliously after his extra evening classes and be glad to see Jimmy enjoying himself through the store window, sighing sweet relief as he perched down next to his brother and stayed there until the sun would begin to flood over the heads of the golden cornfields and blind his tired eyes.

He blinks back to himself, not realising he had been staring down at his hands for the past thirty seconds, when you gently kick your bare feet against the expanse of his back. He looks behind him, rising up to kneel between your knees and waiting, tenderly and expectantly and as if he had all the time in the world to just gaze and admire you, for you to speak.

‘You know’, you start ‘it wasn’t even the outfit. It was the fact that they were literal nine year olds you were shouting elder law rhetoric at, Jimmy.’ You affectionately run your hand over his greased up hair, and appreciate the way his shoulders shiver as his head leans back to follow your touch.

‘Phhh’, he waves a hand, and quickly uses it to grab your retreating wrist and place it back on top of his head, like a lonely puppy just begging for someone to show him love. You run your finger down the shell of his ear, teasingly pulling at the lobe as he watches you with eyes wide enough to store all the burning love of the universe within, before snaking your hand into his shirt pocket and nicking one of the candy bars he had slotted in there to eat later. He bats his plastic cape behind him with a twisted frown, which soon falls into a pleading pout as he watches you unwrap and take a bite out of his caramel bar.

‘One: trust me, it’s never too early to get legal advice. They’ll be old people too one day! And trust me, Jimmy McGill will be a family brand for years to come - name up in lights kind of thing. Two: I think you’ll find... that was mine.’

‘Too bad, now it belongs to me.’

You take another bite and chew obnoxiously extravagantly, moaning after each swallow and pretending not to notice the way Jimmy’s eyes rove over your face with a flash of irk and clouding adamant awe. He comes scrambling towards you, crawling on his hands and knees until he’s levered himself up onto the sofa beside you. For a while, it’s peaceful: Jimmy lowers your head onto your shoulder, careful to turn his cheek so the makeup is just lingering above your skin. You wrap your arms tightly around his midriff and squeeze, and Jimmy snorts out a deep breath as he settles back to rest against your chest, the heavy weight in his chest flowing out of his body and bustling away to linger in the dark shadows that cut across the corners of the room, just slight out of the edge of his vision. He turns his head back towards the light: towards you, and tries to focus again on the double bill of horror movie that begins to roll to a close on the cable tv.

Yet he can’t help himself. It takes less than ten minutes for his focus to wander, for his mind to claw its way back up to you, and the tilt of his head further up your neck soon follows. Like the soft moonlight dying away under the douse of the raging sun, he peers up at you from behind hooded, love struck eyes and just watches the flickers of black and white dance over your face. Without even batting an eye, you lower the half-eaten chocolate bar to his lips and shove it into his mouth so he can share a bite.

Your reverie is broken by the sharp sound of another trick or treater knocking fervently at the door.

‘Ooh, there’s the next lot to fall victim to my-’, he stops as he jumps out of your arms and spins round to face you, wiping the fake teeth back off the table and shoving them into his mouth. With an exaggerated comical baring of his teeth and raised eyebrows at you, he holds out his arms loosely in front of his chest and pretends to take small tip toe steps towards you. ‘The victims of my sharp wit and dashing legal pricing.’

‘You know, when you walk around like that you look more like a zombie than a vampire.’

He drops his arms, ignoring the sound of bustling, giggling footsteps marching around on the small veranda outside the door, and the constant ringing of the front bell. Scrambling towards you like a rat being bashed at with a brush, he launches: tickling your sides until you’re begging for him to stop.

‘You know, you’ve just lost your cuddling privileges for the night.’

#better call saul #jimmy mcgill #saul goodman #better call saul imagine #jimmy mcgill imagine #saul goodman imagine #jimmy mcgill x reader #saul goodman x reader #halloween #halloween imagine #bob odenkirk #breaking bad #breaking bad imagine #jimmy mcgill fluff #saul goodman fluff #bcs #bcs imagine #better call saul fluff

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endless-summer-soldier · 8 months

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you see me - bonus chapter

pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

summary: Bucky has grown used to a life of solitude after a mysterious accident leaves him forgettable. every person he comes in contact has no memory of him the moment he walks away. until he meets a cute girl at a record store who actual remembers him.

a/n: I had to write a little something in memory of my guy Jimmy Buffett <3. just a little fluff between two of our favorites during a tough time.

taglist: @sebsgirl71479

word count: 1.2k

series playlist

series masterlist

“Good morning love,” Bucky said as Y/N walked into the kitchen. He studied her face and immediately identified the look of distress. “What’s the matter?”

She looked at him with a devastated expression, “Jimmy Buffett died.”

“Oh baby,” he walked toward her, enveloping her in his strong arms, “I’m so sorry.”

“I just…I don’t know how to feel right now.” The death was unexpected. Jimmy Buffett was one of the artists she loved because of her dad. She had fond memories of them listening to Buffett during long car rides and holiday weekend cookouts. And while Bucky knew this about Y/N, he didn’t know how to comfort her best. These memories were deeply personal, it was almost as if she was losing her father all over again.

“Today is your day. We can do whatever you want,” Bucky said.

“I think we need…margaritas.”

“Right now?” he asked, preparing to pour a large mug of coffee for his wife.

She gave him a soft smile, “Coffee first, but then I think we should go somewhere. With margaritas and TouchTunes.” He chuckled to himself, thinking about how much money his wife had already invested into TouchTunes.

“Whatever you want my dear.”

They enjoyed their breakfast together and then prepared to celebrate the late island rock god. Y/N wore a bright Caribbean blue dress and picked out a Hawaiian shirt for Bucky. It wasn’t his style in the slightest, but this wasn’t the day to protest. He would do anything she asked of him.

They walked hand in hand into the nearby tiki bar situated along the Chicago river. As Y/N expected, it was crowded for two on a Saturday. The place was filled with hawaiian shirts and bucket hats as parrot heads gathered to pour one out for Jimmy. Bucky navigated the bar to get them some drinks as Y/N secured a high top. She looked out onto the river, watching as tourists explored the city on such a beautiful day. Bucky returned and placed a chartreuse beverage in front of her. She smiled at him as they clinked the plastic cups together and took their first sips. Y/N downed close to half the margarita, despite the fake lime taste.

“Maybe I should’ve opted for the party bucket,” Bucky teased.

She shook her head, “Honestly, I don’t think I can drink more than one of these.”

“One honorary margarita for Jimmy, then we can switch to something more palatable.”

“Deal,” she agreed. They sipped the citrus concoction as fellow Buffett fans approached their table and shared some of their favorite memories. The Margaritaville radio continued to play, as fans sang along to their favorite tunes. Frozen margaritas and tropical drinks spilled over the plastic cups and patrons danced and swung their arms around each other. As beautiful as the tribute was, it all became a bit much for Y/N and Bucky spotted her discomfort immediately.

“You okay?” he asked, placing a hand over hers.

“Yeah, just a lot happening.”

“Let’s finish this round and go somewhere else,” he suggested.

With that, she chugged the remainder of her drink and Bucky followed her lead.

They left the tiki bar without a destination in mind. Until Bucky took her hand and led her toward the corner store. Once inside Bucky grabbed a six pack of Landshark while Y/N found a family size bag of lightly salted potato chips. As they met back up at the register, Bucky slid a bag of peanut M&M’s across the counter with the rest of their order. Y/N eyed him and he explained, “You’ll want those later.” She grinned at him, knowing he was right.

They took their bag of goods and Bucky collected her hand in his, leading the way.

“Where are we going?” Y/N asked once she realized they weren’t heading home.

“I have an idea,” Bucky stated, continuing his trek. Y/N knew better than to question him. When he set his mind to something, there was no sense in arguing. They continued walking, past the bars and restaurants, past the hordes of tourists, towards the water. And as they approached the shore of Lake Michigan, Y/N smiled. Bucky found a quiet spot for them to sit in the sand. The morning beach crowd was floundering as families packed up their camp to head back to the suburbs and the twenty-year-olds had passed out from overconsumption.

“This is perfect,” she smiled at him. He cracked open a beer and handed it to her. She took a long sip and looked out on the lake.

“I didn’t expect to feel this sad.”

“No?” Bucky asked, hoping she would continue.

“With my dad, at least I knew it was coming. He was sick for a while and we knew we didn’t have much time. But Buffett…I mean I thought I’d get to see him live again. I wanted to bring you! And now he’s just…gone.”

Bucky didn’t have words, and he knew she didn’t need them. Instead he ran his hand up and down her back.

“I just…he was one of the few connections I still had with my dad. And now he’s gone.” She started to tear up and Bucky pulled her in closer to him.

“Just because he’s gone doesn't mean your connection with your dad disappeared. Buffett’s legacy will live on through his music. All you have to do is put on one of his songs and it’ll bring you back to the simpler times you had with your dad. It’s sad that he’s gone now, but that won’t change the memories you have of your father.”

“You’re right, I know I’m being silly.”

“You aren’t being silly. Grief impacts us all differently. But the only thing we can do is move forward.”

She nodded and rested her head on his shoulder. She raised her beer bottle and leaned it in towards his.

“Here’s to Jimmy. I hope he’s up there eating that cheeseburger in paradise,” she smiled.

Bucky chuckled and clinked his bottle with hers. They sipped and Y/N started playing some of his music on her phone. The two of them sat drinking beers, sharing laughs, and looking out on the water.

Once the six pack was finished, Y/N turned toward Bucky and asked, “You want to do something crazy?”

“I don’t know, do I?” he replied with skepticism.

“Come on,” she stood up and ran towards the lake, shedding her dress as she ran. Bucky darted after her, stripping down to his boxers. Y/N ran into the lake first, squealing as the cold water caressed her legs. Bucky wasn’t far behind and scooped her into his arms, momentarily protecting her from the icy chill. He trudged further into the water as she clung to him. Once the water was up to Bucky’s waist he counted to three and dropped down, dunking both of them into the waves. They both emerged from the water with smiles on their faces. He tucked a piece of wet hair behind her ear and ran his thumb up and down her jaw. She stood on her tiptoes and planted a sweet kiss on his lips. Then she took his hand and pulled him further into the water. They splashed and teased one another before Bucky pulled her close again and they floated in each other's arms.

“Thank you,” she finally said to him.

“For what?”

“For turning this day into one I will always remember with fondness.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x y/n #rip jimmy buffett #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff

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basil-the-bulbasaur · 10 months

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To no one's surprise, I have not finished the first part of the Hadestown AU, so here's team rancher designs.

[ID: Drawing of Jimmy holding a wooden bucket, his expression looks shocked. His clothes are reminiscent of ancient Greek clothing: white fabric covering his shoulder and torso, tied with a blue sash. He is wearing more modern pants, a blue neckerchief, brown gloves, and yellow tinted googles on his head. He has bird feet, clipped yellow bird wings, and the silly little feathered ears. To the right of Jimmy there are sketches of bird feet. End ID]

[ID: Drawing of Jimmy and Tango sitting on the ground hugging, Jimmy facing away from the viewer. Tango's head is buried in Jimmy's shoulder and his legs are wrapped around his waist. Jimmy's outfit is the same as in the previous image although the different angle shows that the white fabric wraps around his neck without covering the rest of his back, leaving room for his now slightly charred wings. Tango is wearing black pants and red boots. He is wearing a black chlamys (cloak) over his red shirt rather than a vest. He has red tinted googles on his head and red fingerless gloves on his burnt hands. In one hand he is holding a goat horn, although the view is mostly covered by Jimmy's wings. In the background is a messy graphite sketch of the burnt ranch. End ID]

[ID: A drawing of Tango standing with one hand outstretched as if reaching for something. He is drawn as a pointy humanoid packrat. His outfit is much the same except without the googles or boots. His shirt is longer and more chiton (tunic) like, it is cinched under the breast with a black belt. In this drawing his chlamys is pinned by a half-red, half-black heart shaped brooch. His hands are burnt, as well as part of his snout, on Tango's left arm the burn scars go far enough up his arm to be visible past the glove. Sculk has started growing on his feet and tail. The end of his tail is yellow-orange and vaguely oak-leaf-shaped. Around Tango are a variety of graphite sketches and notes written in cursive. To his lower right it says, "Accidentally drew him way too tall, whoops". Above him is a note that says, "Goats: stag beetles". To the left of his head is a sketch of the warden, and below him there are two sketches of the warden labeled, "Mole warden?" To the right of his head is a sketch of a kukri knife. End ID]

They will be drawn as rats, because I'm me, and I already have rat designs for nearly every life series character, but very few human designs. But I started making designs specifically for this AU during the 1 week since March that I drew humans, so you get human (kinda) drawings.

The first 2 drawings are yellow-life ranchers. I don't know why I did that; they aren't going to be yellow at any point in this comic. But the third is red life tango.

The first part is going to be 6 pages and they've already been sketched out, so hopefully I can get it out soon (although my friend/beta reader/person-who-listens-to-all-my-rantings keeps telling me to "not overwork myself." sighs/(light hearted)).

#trafficblr #traffic smp #trafficshipping #that hug might be the gayest thing I've ever drawn #traffic smp fanart #jimmy solidarity #tangotek #team rancher #ranchers duo #team ranchers #solidaritytek #double life smp #dlsmp #dlsmp fanart #hadestown ranchers au #oh! funfact: I forgot to draw tango's gloves on the poster #I'm currently ignoring that #attacus the artist

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farlydatau · 7 months

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stormyoceans · 2 months

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what's the song that plays during glasshouse also is it possible to share a list of songs/music that's not known much in the series

NOBODY MOVE THIS IS MY TIME I HAVE AN EXCUSE TO MAKE A MASTERPOST OF THE VICE VERSA SOUNDTRACK AKA THEE BEST SOUNDTRACK IN TELEVISION HISTORY SO WITHOUT FURTHER ADO HERE WE GO!!!!!!!!!!

OFFICIAL OST

have i found – sea tawinan

the key – jimmy jitaraphol, sea tawinan

complicated – indy thanathat

by my side – jimmy jitaraphol

madly in love – jimmy jitaraphol, sea tawinan

INSERT SONGS

miracle – sofa [it’s the one that puen sings at the bar in episode 2 and that talay sings back to him at the beach in our skyy episode 2]

love – paradox [talay sings an acoustic version of it to puen in episode 6]

city – three man down [hourglass hug in episode 12] (SORRY BUT THIS WILL ALWAYS BE A PUENTALAY SONG TO ME)

INSTRUMENTALS

actually let me just say something real quick before moving on: this is by no means a comprehensive list as 1) i’ve decided to leave out the upbeat tracks to focus on the more emotional and meaningful ones, 2) i’ve put only the ones that were recognized by two different music identifier apps, and 3) there are genuinely SO MANY instrumental songs in this show and they can change SO QUICKLY (only in the glasshouse scene at the end of episode 4 they used 5 different tracks ;;;;;; [AND YOU CAN BET I PUT THEM ALL IN THIS LIST]) so it’s hard to recognize every single one of them. i definitely missed a lot and i also didn't specify all the scenes you can find a specific song in, but hopefully this still can be a good starting point.

speak without words – we dream of eden, christopher galovan [puen wearing the bucket hat in episode 1]

the echo of you – at the end of time, nothing [‘what if i have a problem one day? who should i go to?’ ‘me.’ in episode 2 // 'don't tell me after spending time together, we turn out to be each other's portkeys.' 'if it's you, i'm okay.' in episode 3]

beautiful days, faraway – itay kashti [drunken kiss in episode 2]

i love clouds - rymdklang soundtracks ['to be my wife, you must endure.' in episode 2]

once every 20 years – at the end of times, nothing [talay and puen meeting at the park in episode 2 // nivea bathtub scene (my beloved) in episode 3 // greyllery kiss in episode 8 // beach kiss in our skyy episode 2]

shooting star – rachel meyer [puen repeating a line from the movie to talay in episode 3 // talay under the rain in episode 4 // ‘do we get along well?’ in episode 7]

elusive dream – at the end of time, nothing [shy puen in episode 4 // snow falling in episode 5]

distant echo - jakob ahlbom [puen and talay drawing on each other's back in episode 4 // talay saying what he missed about puen in episode 6 // 'where there's you, there's me.' in episode 8 // puen giving talay the friend credits folder and shirt in episode 12]

wind land – TURPAK [‘so? will they fall in love?’ ‘i guess they will.’ in episode 4 // puen directing talay in episode 8]

holding on to hope – christopher galovan [‘are you hitting on anyone right at the moment?’ in episode 4 // puen and talay recreating a scene from their movie in episode 9]

flight of the inner bird – yehezkel raz, sivan talmor [‘how about we fall in love with each other?’ in episode 4]

pulchra – at the end of times, nothing [‘been waiting for you’ in episode 4]

and they call me daddy - christian andersen [puen apologizing to talay at the glasshouse in episode 4 // talay learning puen's past from pang in episode 9 // talay remembering puen singing to him in episode 11] (DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH I HATE THAT PUEN SAYS 'sleep on daddy's lap here' WHILE THIS SONGS PLAYS IN THE BACKGROUND AND BY HATE I MEAN I WANT TO KISS PìX ON THE MOUTH)

love - ben winwood ['there's one more thing about the characters that i don't understand.' in episode 4] (GOES INSANE)

the ground after a summer rain - at the end of times, nothing [glasshouse kiss in episode 4] (GETS DRAGGED INTO A PADDED ROOM)

materialising – of water [puen asking talay to move in with him in episode 5 // puen hugging talay to sleep in episode 6]

glimmer light – amaranth cove [‘i freaking missed you’ in episode 6]

distant shores – amaranth cove [puen massaging talay's ear to sleep in episode 6 // talay reaching the secret island in episode 11]

you are the reason – francis wells [almost kiss in episode 7]

everything comes to an end – of water [talay leaving friend credits in episode 7 // 'where is the person who promised to go back with me?' in episode 9]

heavy clouds drawn back – be still the earth [talay meeting puen on the way to the secret island in episode 9]

the sky is no limit – at the end of times, nothing [bucket hat reveal in episode 9 // talay reading puen's 'wish' in episode 11 // 'without work, i can survive. without him, i can't.' in episode 12] (NEEDS TO BE HEAVILY SEDATED)

telekinesis – tellsonic [bathtub kiss in episode 10]

any given place – of water [talay at the glasshouse in episode 11]

#SORRY FOR THE LATE REPLY ANON I HAD TO GATHER ALL THE LINKS AND STUFF #BUT THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ASKING THIS YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW HAPPY IT MADE ME #hope this can be helpful and that you're having a wonderful day!!!!!! 💜#vice versa #m: ask #i love being insane about this show so much #even if it's just for myself and one other person #happy sobs

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jimmyssnuggs · 2 months

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it was hallie’s second halloween, but her first one being able to walk, so teagan had dressed the one year old up as piglet from winnie the pooh.

it was jimmy’s idea, mostly due to the fact he had stumbled across a picture of a baby dressed as piglet, and “needed to see his favorite baby in it.”

teagan agrees, and goes searching for the perfect costume option for teagan. along the way, she stumbles across a tigger adult onesie and pooh adult onesie, selecting jimmy and her respective sizes.

it was decided they would be doing a family costume, so she’s placing the order for all their costumes.

now, it’s the day of, and jimmy is at practice when teagan decides to surprise him. she’s collecting hallie from her crib, throwing on the cute pink costume and filling up a basket with a variety of candy and driving to the rink.

“upie upie.” hallie is making grabby hands at her mom as she unbuckles her from the car seat.

“yeah bug, we’re going to go see immy,” hallie coos at her daughter, smiling at the giggles that escape her lips. “oh, you’re just the cutest little baby on the planet.” she tickles her daughters stomach as she scoops her into her arms before placing her in the stroller.

hallie waves at the media girls before hopping out of her stroller, moving to go behind the bench and tapping on the glass. “immy!” she says, but nobody pays her attention because they can’t hear her. “immy!” she tries again, this time successfully because heads are whipping toward the one year old.

“bug!” jimmy skates toward where she is, opening the door to the ice before scooping her up.

“be careful with her jim.” teagan is handing him the bucket of candy for hallie to pass out to the hockey team.

“we’re not allowed to have candy during the season.” one of jimmys teammates snaps at hallie, and loud wails can be heard escaping the one year old.

her small hand is fisting jimmy’s shirt, sobbing into his shoulder. “immy.” she chokes out, needing his comfort.

teagan is helped on the ice, placing a hand on her daughters back. “hey bug, mama’s here.” she coos, sending the nastiest glare toward the man who made her daughter cry.

“well, i’m the coach and i say today we can let them have one piece of candy each.” motzko looks to hallie.

hallie sniffles, moving her head off jimmy’s shoulder and looking at the candy. he lifts it up, and she takes a piece to hand to ollie. “dis one?”

“yes hallie, that’s my favorite!” ollie gives her a smile, skating off to the side to let someone else get one from the baby. one by one, they get a piece from the toddler.

the last person in line is the guy who made hallie cry, and she’s scowling at him. “no,” she babbles, turning to squish jimmys cheeks. “immy.” she takes a piece of candy to hand it to him, and he shoots her a smile in return.

“thank you bug. have i told you how much i love your costume?”

“t’anks.” she pats jimmy cheek, placing a wet kiss there.

“just wait till you see the adult onesies i got us jim. they go with her costume.” teagan wiggles her eyebrows at her boyfriend.

jimmys face pales, and the team bursts into laughter.

#teagan x jimmy #q chats about her aus #q’s au’s #q writes

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holidayvisa · 3 months

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1 February 2024 - I rode my scooter to the pickup spot in Henderson. When I got to Henderson, a really nice New Zealander wished me a good morning and a lovely day! He was just a dude in a high-vis shirt with a bucket of cleaning supplies and some nitrile gloves cleaning graffiti, and he wanted to make my day 🥰🥰 As Cam and Jordan pulled up, Jordan gave me a mana wave out the window before they pulled into the parking lot, and I could immediately feel the mana! A huge smile appeared on my face, and my day was made! I hopped in the van, and we drove to Piha. I led most of the day, and it went really smoothly! Cam brought six sandwiches for six clients, but only five showed up... so... I got to eat a client sandwich with beetroot and avocado😋🤤😋🤤. I felt really good about running the top of the fourth abseil. The clients had a blast!

When I got home, I hung out with Jimmy, Maddie, and Arnie. We took Maddie to the night markets, and it was both Maddie's first time as well as Arnie's first time going to the night market. We all had a good time, walking around, and smelling the delicious food. I got some veggie dumplings, and I shared some with Maddie; she LOVED the veggie dumplings! Arnie bought some dessert to share. We went home, Jimmy dropped Maddie off, and the three of us enjoyed our desserts (Arnie is dishing out the desserts in the photos above) while watching my GoPro videos of Piha Canyon from today. Jimmy and Arnie loved watching the canyoning videos! They asked to see more videos, so I showed them the video from rafting the Zion Narrows and the canyoneering descent of Heaps Canyon. They LOVED watching these videos! Jimmy is going to take me to Massey to check out a motorcycle for sale on facebook marketplace 🤞.

I'm grateful to the nice stranger that started off my day with a friendly greeting. I'm grateful to Jordan for giving me some of his mana first thing in the morning. I'm grateful to Cam for his mentorship. I'm grateful for a fun-filled day in the canyon. Now that I'm getting the hang of the canyon, I'm able to be more fun and less serious, which is really cozy. I'm grateful for Jimmy, his energy, his enthusiasm, his generosity, and most of all his friendship. I'm grateful for Arnie and his generosity and friendship too. I've got a really good thing going here. I can't believe how different I'm feeling here and now in New Zealand than I was in Cairns in December. I'm so lucky to have ended up here - like geographically here in New Zealand, but also like here at AWOL with Cam and Jordan and like here at the sharehouse on Fitzwater Place with Arnie and Jimmy (and sometimes Maddie). How lucky am I!

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elijahtheghostof · 4 months

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Fanfic! Ghost X Toast. Jimmy Casket. Hurt/comfort, angst with a bit of fluff. Flashbacks to childhood, head canons

Johnny Ghost’s head was spinning, his vision blurry…He was in a windowless room. He was underground…it was a basement, *his* basement. Toast was squatting down in front of him, looking glum and concerned.

Oh no…Ghost instantly didn’t like that look on his face. This couldn’t be, not…again…

“J-Johnny?” He asked, finding his voice hoarse and raspy. He tried to stand up, only to be stopped short by a metal chain being pulled taut. Soon Ghost realized that his wrists were cuffed together, affixed to a chain on the wall that gave him little room to move. His ankles chained to the ground.

He felt…sticky, uncomfortably sticky, like he had poured juice all over himself and allowed it to dry. Why was he so sticky? He knew why he was sticky…he was coated in blood...“Johnny,” It was then that the tears began, hot and burning and rolling down his cheeks, “please tell me it didn’t happen again…”

Toast looked at him with a strange mixture of sorrow, affection, and pity. He warily brought his hand to Ghost’s cheek, stroked it. It would have felt nice, if it wasn’t for what he saw on Toast’s hand when he retracted it. Ghost’s eyes widened in horror. Blood…he had gotten blood all over Toast’s fingertips.

He was coated in blood.

Toast let out a heavy sigh. “I’m afraid so, sir, I’m afraid so…” And to try and stop Ghost from crying, Toast locked their lips in the softest of kisses. Once he pulled away, they too were covered in blood. He looked like he was trying his best not to spit it out…

“I’m going to wash you off sir, ok?” He spoke softly, like he was talking to a wounded animal, walking on eggshells.

Toast had a bucket of warm, soapy water, as well as a sponge. He looked like he was trying not to cringe as he peeled away the blood drenched clothing that clung onto Ghost’s body. As he removed each article, first Ghost’s hoodie and shirt, and then his pants and underthings, he placed them in a zip lock baggie that he would later burn.

Ghost sat there, naked in his chains with his head down, desolate and crying.

The proudly proclaimed paranormal investigator extraordinaire looked so small at that moment. And as Toast gave him a sponge bath, Ghost just cried. Toast gently lifted his poor lover’s arm, and rubbed the sponge along it. There was a drain on the floor beneath them, the two of them were well prepared for this.

Ghost tried not to look at it…the water that was now tinted red. It was in the streams of water circling the drain…it was in the bucket.

He looked to the floor, brown fringe covering his face. “Why…Toast?” He asked between the crying, his voice nothing but a whisper.

“What is it, sir?” Toast asked in his thick British accent.

“Why do you protect me? Why don’t you just turn me in? I’m just like one of those *freaks* that we hunt down, I’m no better than them! I—I hurt people! I don’t mean to, I don’t wanna, but I hurt people…”

“Because I love you, Johnny.” Toast replied seriously. “You’re not the one doing all of this...”

Ghost seemed to go quiet…and soon enough Toast noticed that even his crying had stopped.

Then, something incredibly jarring happened.

“Aww! that was *real* sentimental, Toasty!! “HAHAHA! Stab stab stab! Hey…do you wanna know my secret? I killed that girl, Toasty, and you’re next!” Jimmy Casket pulled as hard as he could against his bindings, there came a sickening clank as the metal was forcibly pulled taut. He was like a wild animal that wouldn’t be caged.

Toast backed away, a disgusted look on his face, and disengaged with the creature known as Jimmy Casket.

“What’s the matter, Toasty? Don’t you wanna know my secret?! HAHAHA!! Come closer…and I’ll tell you—My mother was a man!” He suddenly shouted. “Hey!” He exclaimed, “Why would you say that about my mama?!” He pouted like a child before erupting into laughter once more. Drool ran down his chin.

Toast pinched the bridge of his nose. This wasn’t good…Johnny shifting like this. He should have had Ghost in safer containment. He didn’t want Jimmy to escape, hurt, or even *kill* someone else, hurt Ghost, or get him taken away by the police…Unfortunately, by ‘better containment’ he meant the large dog crate kept in the basement for such events.

“You’re not getting away from me this time, Batman!!…I'm gonna put ya, in a casket, because my name, is Jimmy Casket, HAHAHA!”

All Toast could do was helplessly watch the madman ramble, and hope that his lover returned to him soon.

And as he looked at Ghost, he thought about the little boy he had met all of those years ago. He had just arrived in America to study overseas. He had given his nannies the slip so he could go outside and ‘investigate.’

At the end of the street filled with polished, well maintained mansions, he found a large and dilapidated house. It looked completely abandoned, and exactly where Toast wanted to continue his investigations.

Compared to his ghost hunting life in the future, the house ended up being nothing out of the ordinary. A few cobwebs here and there, broken and abandoned furniture. Looking back, the house was likely not even haunted at all.

However, there was one thing that stood out. When Toast saw him for the first time, he gasped, “Ghost!!” He dropped his torch, but then quickly scrambled to the ground to pick it up.

Standing in front of him, was a horribly filthy, scruffy boy a little younger than he was. He looked like he hadn’t seen a bath or a good meal in ages! And to top it off he had a black eye. His hair was brown and matted, it matched his eyes. He wore nothing but a hole ridden, illfited shirt that went down well past his knees, it looked like it belonged to an adult. Toast, meanwhile, was in stark contrast to the boy. At the age of only eight, his jet black hair was well maintained, slick back with gel. He wore a fine black waistcoat that was perfectly tailored to him, as well as dress pants and nice loafers. The filthy boy in front of him wasn’t even wearing shoes…

After squinting his eyes to the harsh ray light from the flashlight, the boy spoke. “Umm, Yes!” Suddenly, he seemed confident and excited. “My name is Ghost! Johnny Ghost! Who are you?”

He stammered for a name, not wanting to reveal himself as the grandson of the Queen of England, and by extension, the prince. “And I’m Johnny…Johnny—Toast…” He trailed off, pursed his lips together. His cheeks flushed a bright pink. There was no way Ghost was going to believe him. It was the first thing that had come to his mind, it had rhymed with ghost…

“That’s a cool name!!” Ghost replied naively.

‘Toast’ was surprised. But then, he grew confident and said, “Yes! Johnny Toast at your service.” He took a playful bow.

And of course, neither of them knew it at that time, that both of their ridiculous, absurd names were fake. But, they stuck.

Toast looked behind Ghost curiously, stared at an odd pile of boxes. “What’s that in the corner?” Toast asked.

“Oh! That’s Cardboard Friend, we used to be best friends, but now he sorta scares me…” He seemed to grow unhappy. But it only lasted so long, as the boy’s eagerness quickly returned to him when his filthy hand reached out to grab Toast’s arm:

“I wanna go ghost hunting!” He exclaimed confidently.

“You want to go ghost hunting?” Toast asked the scruffy boy, bemused.

Ghost was practically skipping circles around him.

“Yes! And I want to lead this team!” He held his dirty chin up high.

“Ok,” Toast laughed, “‘sir’” he had really only said it as a joke. But that too seemed to stick around.

The two young boys searched for ghosts for hours, played. When something was two high up for either of them to properly investigate, Toast let the filthy six year old boy climb onto his shoulders.

Eventually, Toast got hungry, and Ghost graciously offered him some food from the nearby dumpster. Apparently, that was where Ghost ate…

Toast smiled at the kind offer, but declined, proposing that they should go and get food at his house instead.

When he had brought Ghost home, his nannies acted as if he had brought home a three legged dog he had found in an alleyway. They were not pleased, but eventually, and with enough pestering, agreed to let Ghost stay, for now…

The nannies wanted Ghost to take a bath, *immediately but Ghost didn’t seem to share their sentiment. He argued it indignantly. Toast couldn’t understand why, the boy was filthy! Toast offered to take a bath with him, but one of the nannies had scolded him for it, “Johnathan Windsor! You are on no account getting into that filthy water!”

After being cleaned and fed, it was time for bed. The nannies had set Ghost up on the floor next to Toast’s bed. However, once the nannies had left and turned off the lights, Toast reached down, and grasped Ghost’s arm. He pulled Ghost up onto the bed with him, causing the strange boy to laugh as Toast wrapped his arms around him. Ghost curled his cold body up into Toast’s warm chest, and Toast rested his chin on the boy’s head. Their fingers interlocked. He remembered the sound of Ghost breathing. He had had more fun with the strange boy that day than he ever had in his entire stuffy, royal life. Toast suddenly felt this responsibility to take care of the scruffy boy, to protect him…

There was an investigation, but days turned into weeks, and Ghost’s parents were never found. Ghost wasn’t even identified as a pre-existing person, on *any* database in *any* country. And Toast’s family had the resources to be sure of that. The house that he had found Ghost in had been abandoned for nearly a decade. It had belonged to one ‘Officer Timothy Casket’. But he had been dead for just as long.

“Mummy, please!” He had begged on the phone in his thick British accent, “I found him eating out of a dumpster! Can’t we keep him?” And after that long call to London, Ghost was allowed to stay with Toast for good.

Everyday, Ghost led him on the strangest, most ridiculous antics, from ghost hunting to getting scars.

Their first ever case was at a restaurant. Ghost somehow cracked the case with a wad of bubblegum and a pan of the restaurant’s soup. The ‘ghost’ was actually the owner’s three year old daughter who got herself stuck in the ventilation system…

Toast found that he loved ghost hunting just as much as Ghost did. He was enamored by learning and researching as much as he possibly could on the subject. He would go to the library, and check out a red wagon’s worth of books on it. He would tell Ghost everything that they said in great detail, because Ghost couldn’t read. He stayed up late into the night, long past the point of Ghost falling asleep on him, reading the books or scouring the internet for anything related to the subject. He realized that one day, he too wanted to write a book about ghost hunting and the supernatural.

When they weren’t ghost hunting, Ghost took him sledding down the roof, and orchestrated a western style shooting between the two of them with snowman heads. He was just so fun. Once, while they were out playing in the street, Ghost had said, “Johnny! Pick up that brick, look at the sky, and throw it straight up! It’s so much fun!” Ghost had gotten in big trouble for that…

The nannies never did like Toast’s companion. They would ask things like, “Why does he call you toast?? Why do you call him sir?!” They also didn’t like him because he tended to stare. He never directly asked for anything, if he wanted a hug from Toast, he would just put himself in front of him until the older boy figured it out. Or if he was hungry, he would just stare at the nannies. It really creeped them out, but eventually, they got the hang of it.

All of this didn’t matter though, because Toast loved him.

For Ghost’s 12th birthday, well, it wasn’t actually his birthday, but rather, the day that he had found Ghost in that old house, he bought him a video camera. It had night vision and everything, perfect to recount their paranormal investigations.

Ghost came up with this ridiculously endearing intro. He would sling his arm over Toast’s shoulders every time, to make sure they were both in the frame, and he would always have the biggest, goofiest smile on his face before he spoke in a loud, booming voice. “GREETINGS FELLOW ADVENTURERS! I am Johnny Ghost! Paranormal investigator, extraordinaire! I’m here with my partner, Johnny Toast! And today, we’re investigating the mystery of the lunch lady’s meat locker!” It made Toast so inexplicably happy to see Ghost happy.

One day, when the two of them were simply relaxing in their room, Ghost’s head laying on Toast’s lap, Toast asked, “Why do you like ghost hunting so much, Johnny?”

Ghost perked up, “Hm? Well, strange things keep on happening to me, and I want to know why.”

Toast nodded, then paused for a moment.

“Do you…ever want to talk about it?”

“Talk about what, Johnny?”

“Well…the time before I found you”

Ghost paused, his eye twitched, “No…it’s bad. Makes my head hurt, And, and I—I can’t even remember it either so what’s the point?”

Johnny nodded sternly, he didn’t believe Ghost’s conflicted answers, but he accepted them. “Alright, sir”

Things became dark for the next few years…

People, so many people started to go missing in their quiet town in North Carolina. And Ghost…he started acting strange.The nannies told him that Ghost needed help that they couldn’t provide. So, Ghost was sent away for a while, and strangely, the disappearances miraculously stopped. Toast visited Ghost in the hospital every single day. “They’re going to help you” He would say, and whatever other helpless words of encouragement he could think of. Strangely, despite how useless Toast felt in the situation, his presence somehow managed to calm Ghost down and keep him in control.

Ghost was discharged from the hospital just in time for high school. It was soon after that that the boys shared their first kiss.

The two of them were on cloud nine for a while after that. The only thing that ruined it was Toast meeting Jimmy Casket for the first time…

He had found Ghost, well, more like Ghost’s body, crazed, red eyed, and in his underpants. His blood splattered form was crouched over a mutilated corpse, knife firmly clenched in his hand. Jimmy had been *eating* the man’s small intestine…

And that was the first time that Toast had to ‘take care of it’…

Life went back to as close as ‘normal’ as it could. Toast was adamant on not abandoning the beyond traumatized Ghost after what they had both discovered. So, the two of them resumed their ghost hunting. The nannies made Ghost get a job at McDonald’s, he rode a scooter to work in the bad side of town. And Ghost forbade Toast from *ever* visiting him at work because it was somehow ‘embarrassing.’ It was kinda adorable to watch Ghost scream and blush when Toast showed up anyways…

A few years after highschool, Toast lost Ghost, and by extension, he had lost everything. From the constant news coverage, it was very clear that Jimmy was constantly fronting. And to Toast’s complete and utter horror, he rose to be one of the world’s most renowned serial killers. He was using *Ghost’s* body, the boy that Toast promised himself he would protect, to commit these horrible crimes. He was hurting people, he was going to hurt Ghost, and eventually, he was going to get the love of Toast’s life locked away in prison forever.

So, Toast used the ghost hunting abilities he and Ghost had honed for nearly a decade for another purpose. He hunted Jimmy Casket down. It had taken years, but eventually, he had been able to capture the murderer, contained him. And somehow, with Toast’s presence, Ghost returned to the surface.

Ghost didn’t remember what had happened over the past few years, his time without Toast, Jimmy Casket’s killing sprees. But Toast was glad for it.

The two of them finally, officially founded P.I.E. Paranormal investigators extraordinaire! The company that they had been dreaming about since they were children. And, case by case, they quickly grew to prominence and fame for their ghost hunting abilities.

Now, Jimmy only came out sometimes, when Ghost was distressed or overwhelmed, triggered by the sight of blood. And when that happened, Toast knew what to do.

And, that took them to where they were today.

After half an hour to forty five minutes of Jimmy’s rambling and threats, more than enough time for Toast to make his cup of tea and finish it, Toast had finally managed to wait him out. Casket was likely bored without anything to stab…

Toast was alerted to the shift by the sound of Ghost crying again...

Toast was crouched down at Johnny’s side immediately. His eyes held that softness all over again. He spoke to Ghost gently, like he was a wounded animal. “Welcome back, sir…I’m going to finish washing you off, ok?”

And so, he did just that. The only sounds being that of Ghost crying, and the water. Said water had to be changed several times…it grew red so fast…

“Johnny…” Ghost’s voice was like a whisper, his face hidden under his fringe. “…can I have a hug?” His tone was cracked and broken.

Toast was surprised. Ghost *never* verbally expressed when he wanted affection, he had too much pride for that. Though, it had always been obvious to Toast that he yearned for it.

Toast nodded, “Of course, sir.” And then, he hugged Ghost, blood and all.

He towel dried his partner, finishing off by rubbing the towel over the boy’s head. Once he was done, Ghost’s mop of brown hair was fluffy and clean.

After that, the both of them knew what had to happen next.

Ghost had long ago made Toast *promise* that it would be this way, that no matter what, he would protect himself from Jimmy. He said that he would never forgive himself if something happened to Toast because of Casket. And to drive his point in further, he swore that he would kill himself if he ever killed Toast. It scared Toast enough to be careful.

Toast held Ghost’s face in his hands for a moment, took in the painful sight of the usually loud and extroverted man, now crying and defeated. And then, he kissed him.

Toast laid a pair of pajamas out, close enough for Ghost to reach. Then, he traversed up the basement stairs. With his own body safely on the other side, he tossed the key down to the basement. He quickly shut and locked the door before he heard the sound of the metal making contact with the ground.

He waited outside for a good ten minutes. Then, he knocked on the door, and asked, “Sir, are you settled?”

He got a weak reply in the affirmative. From his voice alone, Toast could tell that it was Ghost. Jimmy’s voice was high pitched, and the killer wasn’t smart enough to be able to impersonate Ghost.

When Toast came back, Ghost had locked himself in the dog crate. Whenever Jimmy came out, they always quarantined Ghost for seventy two hours after the fact, in case of any resurgences. It was a brutal experience for everyone involved.

There was a mountain of blankets underneath Ghost, to try and make it as comfortable as possible, but how could it be, really? He was fully dressed, and had tossed both keys away from himself. Ghost was curled up in on himself, silent.

Toast walked down the stairs, that worried look still plaster on his face. He picked up the two keys, pocketed them. Then, he crouched down next to his lover.

“Sir, can I get you to eat anything?

Ghost just shook his head. “No…” he replied glumly.

Toast just sighed, “alright then, sir.”

And so he sat down on the ground next to his lover.

#jimmy casket #johnny toast #pie venturiantale #johnny ghost #toastedghost #venturiantale #venturiantale pie #centurion

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coyotescribbles · 4 months

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Fishing the knife out of the garment pile, Leda pressed the tip into the keyhole and jimmied it side to side until she heard a small click as the lock sprang open. Her heart was in her throat as she carefully removed it from the loops and deposited it in the laundry tub, before prying the rusty shackle off of her ankle.

It was harder to unlock the heavy iron collar, but she eventually managed, leaving those in the tub as well.

Only then did she crawl over to where Mara had quietly cried herself to sleep, and gently shake her awake, hushing her before she could say anything.

"Shh, hold still," she whispered, picking up the lock on Mara's own collar and picking that one open as well.

"Leda, what are you doing?" Mara asked under her breath, her small voice shaking.

"Getting us out of here," she replied, "c'mon."

Mara offered no argument as she took her by the hand and tiptoed out to the kitchen, where she helped her quietly gather up armfuls of cheeses and cured meats that were carted back to the laundry. Another trip fetched tin cups and bowls and a serving spoon, as well as a handful of spare flints from the basket by the hearth. The noisier items were bundled up in old clothes, and then rolled with the pilfered food into sheets to form two neat bundles.

"Put these on, you're gonna want them" Leda whispered, handing Mara a bundle of clothes consisting of a heavy woolen shirt, a shawl, and thick woolen socks; the shirt hung almost to her knees, and she had to roll the sleeve up to her elbows, and the socks were so loose that she had to tie torn strips of cloth around the tops to keep them from falling off. By the time she was dressed, and had her bundle tied across her back, she barely looked like a girl at all.

Neither did Leda, for that matter.

The last thing she gathered up was a torn wool blanket, which she rolled up and, with Mara's help, wrapped around the top of her supply bundle. Then, with silent footfalls, the pair slipped out of the laundry, back out into the kitchen, and started for the back door.

On the way, though, Leda paused. "Wait a second…"

Her gaze fell on the buckets of old kitchen oil set beneath the counter, and she remembered how their final escape attempt as kittens had been foiled.

Unbidden, she remembered all the abuses they had suffered at the innkeeper's hands.

(All the abuses Mara had suffered at that horrid woman's hands.)

She couldn't let them be chased down again. This was going to be their last escape, she swore it.

Snatching up a bucket, she hurried to the dining area and splashed the greasy oil across the wooden floors and furniture. A second bucket followed, and a third left a trail of oil from the dining room, through the kitchen, to the door.

Her heart was hammering deafeningly in her ears as she crouched by the door and fumbled with a flint while Mara huddled against the wall nearby, knowing that any second someone could wake up and catch them and then it would be over and she couldn't let that happen-

A spark flew from the flint.

It hit the puddled oil and sizzled.

A second spark followed, then a third, and a fourth.

The oil hissed and spat.

And then a tongue of flame licked up. In moments, the blaze was creeping across the floor, lapping at every bit of fuel it encountered.

Choking on a gasp, Leda grabbed Mara's arm, and the two of them fled across the courtyard and across the back pasture, towards the rickety wooden fence that butted up against the treeline.

There, she paused one last time, looking back at the inn. It all seemed eerily calm under the light of the moons, the warm orange glow filling the kitchen looking almost inviting from a distance.

"Leda, c'mon!" Mara pleaded, tugging on her arm.

One moment more. One moment to take it all in as she watched the fire begin to creep higher, consuming everything in its path like a ravenous animal. They were far enough away that the alarmed squealing of the horses was barely a whisper.

If the innkeeper was screaming, too, she couldn't hear it, and that was the only thing she regretted as she finally turned away and fled into the forest with Mara at her side.

#Vagabonds #Leda & Mara #The kittens escape from hell and send an evil old hag back in their place #This is part of a bigger story but I needed to get this scene written out while the idea was fresh in my mind

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untilthenextencore · 1 year

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Old Habits Die Hard Ch. 5~...

Robert didn't understand it. How was it that even with that little tiff in the books & on its way to being smoothed over, he hardly felt any better? After that slight admonishment, the rest of the night was more or less a non-issue. It was a blur still. Drinks. Handshaking & backslaps. Congratulatory messages all around.

Along with that came several volleys of that same old question as to if the behemoth will rise again & when? All of which he did his best to evade & avoid. Though this time he was a little less off-handedly acid-tongued.

Her words still reverberated in his head. As did her look of abject disgust at his earlier behavior.

But really, it was hard to tell which affected him more, the image of her distaste at his earlier childishness & acting so "beneath him".

The memories of Mexico months earlier...

Or the sight he was confronted with then. Her on Pagey's arm. On his lap. Taking care of him. Primping his curls again. Patting his sweat away with a towel amidst kisses. Jimmy sitting happily & holding court with her sitting pretty on his lap.

Robert felt like a satellite just then. Or a meteor. He didn't know which. Making his rounds of the crowds of fans & friends... Only to then crash near if not into her.

And crash he did, into the dark depths of backstage, just in earshot (if not eyeline) of the two of them in one of their many clinches. The darkness giving Jimmy license to get a little more bold. At least from what he could tell. Jimmy was mauling her happily. Salt & pepper hair obscuring the curve of her neck. Where his lips were then attached to no doubt.

Or so he could tell by her voice as it lilted above her soft giggles to hush an endearing. "Jimmy... You know this collar can only cover so much, darling." As she did her best to keep his jacket from falling off her shoulders.

He didn't see much else, turning heel & leaving. Apparently, they had the same idea. As it is while he was on his way out of the backstage area he hears a faint yet familiar. "Bye, Robert!" Followed by an equally familiar. "Yeah, bye mate!" Robert turned to see Gati waving at him as Jimmy wrapped an arm tighter around her as he led her briskly away & out back into the crowd. Into the night. Into the ether.

The rest of the night was a blur of pints. Pints passed to him & Pints he got himself. Congratulations or consolations. He wasn't even fucking sure anymore.

When the dust settled & the dream clouds (or drink clouds) parted though he might not realize it, he felt that mystical force pulling or pushing him. The satellite was on the move. The asteroid prepping himself for the inevitable crash.

Before he knew it, Robert found himself outside the door of Pagey's room with a little wrapped present in tow. He didn't know what to expect when he knocked on the door. Gati in a sheet. Gati wrapped in the blanket. Gati in another one of Pagey's shirts? If he were thinking straight what actually ended up confronting him would've made sense. Pagey fisting a bottle of champagne & looking a little tousled.

Bed rumpled.

Shit.

"Hello, Robert. What brings you around?" Jimmy smiled, eyes falling to note the prize or present Robert brought with him. That same familiar wry smile curved his lips. Content with the fact that it was he who held the true prize.

"Oh, nothing much. I just figured since we were both still around you might like to have lunch..."

The grin widened, curving one side of the mouth higher than the other. "I see... Well come in, come in! Not sure I can make lunch, mate. But perhaps tea. Y'see Gati is still getting ready for the day. We had a long night..."

"Ah yes, Gati..." Despite it all, Robert did his best to appear off-hand about it all. He tried his best - albeit in vain - not to let those last words nor the lascivious sounding chuckle that followed get to him, as he made his way into the suite. Delightfully disheveled everything was. A bucket of partially melted ice on a mini table to the right that had clearly housed the bottle of champagne that was then in Pagey's possession. It now held two discarded flutes; one with a discernably pinkish red lip print. The aforementioned rumpled bedclothes. Pagey's clothes from the day before lay tossed about. And a very tell-tale slip dress cast to the floor.

That came as a blow to Robert.

Despite his best efforts to try to shield that from prying eyes, he knew Pagey's own inscrutable gaze could see all. He knew him too well not to. Robert knew that well. That fact was driven home when his gaze lifted from the slip dress to find Pagey's gaze locked straight on him. The grin never wavered.

However he hardly had any time to contemplate that before a soft voice rang out from the bathroom.

"Jimmy have you seen my hair clip? I still can't find it anywhere! I-- oh!... Hello, Robert."

It was then that Gati appeared. Appearing around the corner out of the powder room as she fastened a swath of fabric around her bust, hair wrapped in a turban, with a towel wrapped & slung around her waist. Her body swathed in a sheen. Damp with dew still.

Talk about knockout.

Robert couldn't feel his own breath. He wasn't even sure if she was breathing. His words left him. She seemed to be moving in slow motion. Patting herself dry with another towel as she crossed the room, affixing herself willingly to Jimmy's side.

Jimmy's arm slunk around her waist, hand splaying on her lower stomach & teasingly clawing through the cascading droplets on her midsection. This made Gati giggle & writhe a bit, clearly ticklish, before turning to cup Jimmy's shadowed jaw to press kisses to his cheek. His grin then brightened as it was followed by a chuckle.

More claiming.

Classic Pagey.

"No, luv. I haven't seen it. I'm sure it's around somewhere. It'll turn up." He returned her kisses as his fingers danced along her damp midsection, making her wriggle & gasp.

"Jimmy!" She squealed, beginning to giggle again as she tried to still his hand. "Jimmy! Jimmy that's enough! Please!" Then adding as his lips traced a familiar path down her neck, drawing Robert's eyes to a bit of soft bruising along the nape.

Hickeys.

Damn Jim.

"Jimmy! Jimmy, please! Not in front of Robert! It's bad enough you've marked me so already! Oh, I'm gonna have a wonderful time covering this later for work."

Just for good measure, Jimmy gave her nape a quick little nibble & suck, making both Gati & Robert squirm, albeit for different reasons. Unlike Gati, Robert wasn't in much of a mood for giggling & squealing. Jimmy's chuckling & self-satisfied smiling didn't make it any better.

Recovering after her little joy filled fits, Gati did her best to compose herself. A small smirk threatening to spread across her lips as she turns to the guitarist beside her & asked. "By the way Jimmy... Have you seen your scarf as of late? Your favorite white one?"

Jimmy whipped his head around, taking stock of where his things lie around the room. No scarf in sight. It wasn't until he noticed Gati give him a pointed look as she adjusted the tie on her "top" that he twigged. "Luv!" He broke out in incredulous laughter. "You didn't!"

"I did! I thought it cute this way. Don't you think so?" Gati asked offhandedly, while fluffing the "bow".

"I do, darling!" He nodded, then leaning in to hush an addition which Robert could still hear. "You'll find out just how much when it's back on the floor later..." Another kiss to the neck & cheek followed. As did more kisses from Gati in return along with giggles.

Robert was helpless but to watch. Watch Jimmy as he fully enjoyed & reveled in something he got only a taste of before being carried away by the wind & his own insecurities. Something he hesitated to allow himself to enjoy in full as he might've in times before. It wasn't the seventies anymore. Apparently, seventies or not, Jimmy had no such qualms or reservations.

Jimmy just chuckled, before bringing Gati's attention to something of great importance. "Gati luv, it seems Robert here came to invite us to tea or lunch or what have you. He also brought a present for you."

"Is that so?" Gati turned to face Robert, motioning to the box clasped in his hands. "Is that for me?"

Robert nodded, rasping a soft "Yeah..." as he passed over the box for Gati to inspect.

"Thank you. That's very sweet of you." Beneath the bowed ribbon, she could make out the words, "Fine Mexican Chocolate". She smiled. "Now Robert! Where on earth did you find this?"

At last, some of Robert's bravado came back. "Oh, I have my ways..."

"I'm sure you do. Or so they say..." She giggled, luring a laugh out of him as well. "Whatever made you buy me this?"

"I just wanted to apologize for last night..." Robert's words caught Page's attention. The dark-haired guitarist raised an eyebrow as he took another swig from the bottle of champagne, cutting his eyes at Robert.

Robert explained. "It seems that during the interview with MTV Gati picked up on something I said that went sideways. She spoke up & out later on. Wildly protective of you she is! She gave me quite a tongue-lashing. Well earned I'd say. Though of course, I meant no harm."

"Oh, of course..." Jimmy murmured against the mouth of the bottle with a smirk.

"She confronted me. Defended you tirelessly in fact. That's quite a little spitfire you have on your hands, mate!" Robert laughed.

Though the laugh faltered a bit on his lips as Jimmy - chest puffed with pride & with his grin as wide & bright & proud as it's ever been - clutched Gati tighter as she nibbled one of the chocolates & grinned as he declared. "Don't I know it! S'part of what I like about her so much." He turned to Gati with a proud smile. "Thank you, darling."

Now the bravado fell again as Jimmy licked his lips after yet another kiss, murmuring. "Mmmm, chocolate."

More giggles followed, Gati asking. "Tastes better with champagne, no?"

"I think..." Jimmy replied with a nod, tilting the champagne bottle slightly to her after she finished her last bite. "Tastes better on your lips..." Taking her lips in yet another kiss, humming in delight as he relished the mingled taste of champagne, chocolate and her.

Robert was dumbfounded. He felt relieved that the tiff was now well & truly behind them. Glad she enjoyed his present so as well. He didn't foresee Jimmy enjoying the present as much as Gati. Certainly, he didn't foresee Jimmy enjoying it in such a way either. How did Jimmy become the victor to whom all the spoils belonged to & went? The champagne. The chocolates. And her?

Robert was pulled from his contemplating his quandaries by more of Gati's giggles cascading into his thoughts, into his ears & her lyrical soft voice asking. "Well... Back on topic... Must I dress for dinner or whatever it is? Anything special?..."

"No, not at all. Very come as you are sort of place. Er, that is, wear what you like!" Robert corrected himself.

"Great! Sounds wonderful!" Gati clapped once before going over to a suitcase lying open nearby. "Mind if I borrow something, Jimmy?"

"Not at all! Take what you like, luv!" He smiled as she picked up a blouse & headed back into the powder room, announcing.

"I won't be long!" Gati then making Jimmy's grin widen as she added. "Oh! Here you go, Jimmy. Almost forgot. Don't want to misplace this!"

A dainty, delicate, manicured hand then appeared holding out a very treasured item from the cracked open door. A slightly damp & elegantly rumpled scarf, which until then had been her makeshift top. Jimmy took it with his thanks & evident great pleasure, gladly & proudly draping it around his shoulders as his accessory for the day.

For Robert it made his knees go weak. His blood felt like it was bubbling. Scalding. His heart felt like it was pumping out steam. And he felt a very familiar throb between his legs then grow all the more keener.

The same feeling intensified when she returned shortly thereafter. Very lightly made up. Black miniskirt & heels. Hair loose, wavy & still somewhat damp. A shirt that is very decidedly too big for her - very decidedly Jimmy's - tied under her bust.

Yet again, Jimmy's grin widened to a truly Cheshire cat level.

Yet again Robert's jaw fell.

Either way the effect was the same.

K.O.

Knock. Out.

Hope you enjoy~!

Thanks to @firethatgrewsolow for some dialogue coaching~!

As ever this is forever under construction~

#untilthenextencore #led zeppelin fanfic #led zeppelin fanfiction #led zeppelin fan fiction #led zeppelin fan fic #robert plant fanfic #robert plant fanfiction #robert plant fan fic #robert plant fan fiction #jimmy page fanfic #jimmy page fanfiction #jimmy page fan fic #jimmy page fan fiction #old habits die hard fic

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