#and now this week they gave someone a 7 minute yellow card (supposed to be 10 mins)

[6ebe]

Why is the Gallagher prem so unserious we’ve had major officiating controversies two weeks in a row

#like. last week was the missed red card bc the TMO didn’t want to check bc the commentator had flagged it first #(the TMO was caught saying this on live broadcast bc his mic was on) #and now this week they gave someone a 7 minute yellow card (supposed to be 10 mins) #and outside of the egregious errors there’s been some right silliness in other matches too #some refs are just allowing forward passing now but some are really strict abt it #I mean I every ref Is enforcing different laws thw quality of officiating atm is just subpar #like i get it’s the sports equivalent of the french constitution bc it literally has so many laws it’s insane and impossible to enforce them #all (bc some cancel eachother out…) #but errors of this magnitude cannot be happening every weekend it’s terrible for Pr in a time where the sport is already suffering

[grey-water-colors]

After All This Time (Bucky x Fem!Reader) Part 4

It's short, but I cried writing it. I've hit a bit of a writers block, but I think I've got that sorted out. I just needed to take a thinking shower and I got it. This will be my longest series and I'm trying to eek it out a bit, but I'm still new at this, so please have patience.

Summary: The real world is a scary place, even more so when you’re alone. You live alone in a apartment filed with the figurative ghosts of your memories. You’ve both changed since you last met your fiancé, but can love mend the gap after all this time.

Pairing: Bucky x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Talk of torture, death, triggers. Mentions of humiliation. Sadness, depression, self-loathing. ANGST. Fluff comes next time I think.

Word Count: 2,066 Shorter than usual, but I think I make up for it in feels.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A knock at the door startles Y/N out of her thoughts. She hadn’t really left the apartment for anything other than her job, which was only two days a week. Despite having almost completely shutting down, the house was clean.

Y/N opened the door and gaped at the person on the other side.

“Steve? What are you doing here?”

Steve just smiled. “May I come in?”

She opened the door wider so Steve could walk through, then shut the door gently. She turned around and watched Steve walk to the couch on the opposite wall and take a seat. She opted to perch on the arm of the wingback.

“To what do I owe this visit?”

Steve laughed quietly, amused with her. “I could say I just wanted to visit an old friend,” he smiled.

Y/N smiled but it fell as soon as it came. “But that isn’t the case is it?”

Steve sighed and she could see the same wear and tear in his eyes that every soldier carried around. He looked older, despite looking only in his 30’s. She supposed war does that to people though.

“I’m here to apologize for Bucky. He was out of line. I could hardly believe that he did what he did. I had hoped that if I gave him time, he would come here and do it himself.”

“You don’t need to apologize for him. I get it. I really do, and to a certain degree, he was right. But I have my own reasons for being here.”

Steve just nodded. “Has Sam told you about him?”

She let out a harsh laugh. “He didn’t need to. I was there. I know full well what he went through.”

“I wish I knew-,” he paused. “I wish I knew how to help. To ease his burden.”

“We all have our crosses to carry, some heavier than others. What we, and hundreds of others, went through was a horrific experience that isn’t easily put into words. He seems better though, right?”

Steve nodded, looking for words, “He isn’t the same.”

“None of us are,” she whispered. “That’s not the point of it though. If you’re trying to get the old Bucky back then you’re beating a dead horse. Help him become who he is now. Someone with more baggage than any person should ever carry. Don’t try to change him.”

“I’ll work on that. Speaking of people who have changed, are you ok? Sam says you haven’t been down to the VA in a while. He’s getting worried.”

Y/N shrugged and looked away. She wasn’t ok, but if she told that to Steve, he would do everything in his power to help her and she didn’t want his kind of help.

She put on a small smile. “If we’re going to talk about people changing, I think we should talk about you. What happened to scrawny Steve? You were my height the last I saw you and now you’re a buff giant.”

He laughed. “I’ve a lot to catch you up on.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Steve. Before you leave, I’ve got something that I was hoping you’d give to Jam- Bucky.”

“Yes. Of course.”

Y/N handed him a letter. The writing on the outside just said ‘Bucky’.

“I’ll get this to him.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was a knock on Bucky’s door, then Steve walked in. Bucky looked at Steve with a look of sadness and self-loathing.

“What’d she say?” he whispered.

“That there was no reason to apologize.”

Bucky huffed. “Bullshit. I yelled at her. I called her weak and pathetic,” he looked away. “She would say something like that though.”

Steve sighed. “She gave me this to give to you.” He held out the letter.

“What’s in it?”

“No idea. She didn’t say and I didn’t ask.”

Bucky nodded, reluctant to open it.

Steve stood up and walked to the door. “I’ll let you read that in peace. I’ll be in the gym if you need me.”

Steve walked out and Bucky stared at the envelope in his hands. It was thick, and there was something small and lumpy in it.

He looked at, debating whether to open it or to put it in a drawer and leave it there till ate him alive. Curiosity got the best of him.

He opened the seal of the envelope with care, being sure not to rip it. When it was open he turned it over and something fell into his lap. His heart dropped.

There, on his lap, was the ring that been used to propose to her with. The last he had saw it, it had been nestled next her dog tags in the master bedroom. Why was it here?

He pulled out the folded paper and opened it. Smaller papers fell out onto his lap. They were old and had yellowed with time. He picked through some of them. His Social Security card, his birth certificate, and his bank papers. Everything he needed to restart his life outside of the avengers.

He finally started reading the letter.

~~~

Dear James,

Can I even call you James anymore? The only other person who called you that was your mother and maybe your sisters. There are so many things that I wanted to tell you when I saw you. To say to you, but then things, well you were there. I feel like I owe you a bit of an explanation.

As you know, I was to leave a week after you. My orders were to fly to London to work there for three weeks, then get new orders. That’s not important though. What is important is that week that I spent alone was torture.

I wasn’t raised ignorant of the troubles of the world. Just like the rest of our age, I grew up in the Great Depression. My parents lost their job, and we almost lost our house. I grew up with the aftermath of the first World War. According to my mother, my father never recovered. War does that to people. It rips away your soul, takes your very being. I knew that.

When the second World War started, I would lay awake next to you and pray that US wouldn’t get involved. It was my worst nightmare. When the US did join, I knew, somehow that our lives were over. You probably don’t remember that I spent almost every waking moment with you. I was so happy when you proposed, but heartbroken as well. I just knew.

Knew that we weren’t coming back.

I spent the days of that week after you left getting things in order. Papers in the lockbox, hide the lockbox key. Cover the furniture to preserve it. I took care of everything. I left the ring in the lockbox.

I spent my nights awake in your chair, wondering what you were doing. Wondering if you were thinking of me. I’ll never know.

I was in Germany during December of 44. I was traveling with a group of soldiers. Everything happened so fast. Gunshots, yelling, blood. So much blood. That shade of red in the snow will always be etched into my brain. The German soldiers took prisoners, I was one of them. Out of the 25 I was traveling with, I ended up being the only survivor.

I transferred into the hands of Hydra. A replacement for a dead lab rat. My predecessor. They tortured me for so long. Wore me down to nothing. Humiliated me for game.

Every night as I laid in my cell, all I could think of was you. The memories of us in those three years. How perfect they were.

Of course, they weren’t perfect. We had fights, but they were never too bad. The apartment itself wasn’t great either, but it was home. The ceiling leaked in the bathroom, the floors creaked in the hallway, and the water took fifteen minutes to heat up. When you’re being tortured though, I guess that the mind only sees the good. I fixated on the apartment. It became the safe place. The only place in the world where the monsters couldn’t get to me. I held onto this place as long as I could.

But as much as the apartment was my safe place, all my memories of it were with you. So you had melted into that feeling of safety.

After they blocked away those memories, I didn’t even know they were gone. I became their puppet, a lab rat with no past or identity. Until I met you again. I didn’t know you, those memories were tucked away. My heart knew you though. I felt safe around you, which didn’t make sense because you were the Winter Soldier. Oh, but we worked well together. We did a couple missions, and I was living off an emotion I didn’t even know the name to.

Love. I didn’t know what that word even meant anymore, or what it felt like, but my heart reminded me every time you looked at me.

In the end, it was my fault that you ended up with the trauma you carry around pertaining to me. I got emotional when it was time to go, and we both suffered the consequences for it.

That happened in 1997. I went onto ice for the last time with a damaged windpipe, minor brain damage, and no memories to speak of. I was sent to Africa, and was going to be undergoing testing there, but my handlers got killed. I remained on ice for 27 years until Wakandan soldiers found me.

Shuri worked for 6 months to get rid of all the damage done to me with help of the notes that traveled with me. I spent 7 more months drowning in everything. I remembered everything. Every test, every horrid thing they did to me. But the worst part was remembering you. Remembering you and knowing what happened to you broke me.

It turns out I was right all along. We weren’t going back. I had to come to terms with the fact that you weren’t going to come back to me. So I reveled in the memories of you. Of us.

I had so many emotional setbacks, I was stuck reliving memories just from small triggers. A wrong look could send me spiraling into a black hole. But then I’d remember the apartment.

I couldn’t wait to go back. The one thing that had kept me sane, alive, and hopeful. The king paid for a plane ticket and I was back in New York. I wasn’t ready.

I had been so stuck in remembering that I didn’t, couldn’t, process the new. Still I persisted, until I could be in that apartment again. I had convinced myself that it would fix everything.

That it would fix me.

But you probably know that isn’t how life works. Those same memories that propelled me and kept me afloat, are now the anchor that drags me under. I’m drowning in the memories, and they cling to me. I’m trapped in a prison of my own making, unable to leave the ghosts haunting my memories of things that will never be again.

I stay awake at night reliving the days where I was happy, carefree, and in-love. But the truth is that I can’t sleep in the bed we shared because you aren’t in it. I can’t look at pictures of us, because we aren’t them anymore. I can’t wear the ring, because we are strangers.

So I live in a museum of things that shouldn’t exist anymore because I can’t move on. This apartment is killing me inside, but I can’t leave because I’ve convinced myself that this is the only place I’ll be safe.

The truth is, I am safe in this apartment, because the only thing that can hurt me here is myself.

Along with this letter, I’m also returning the ring. It belongs to you. I have also included your bank account numbers, so that you can access your accounts. I’m sure you won’t have as much trouble as I did.

I’d offer you a key, but I don’t think you’d ever want to step foot in here again. Truthfully, if I were you, I wouldn’t either, lest you get stuck here too.

Maybe in another life we could have been together longer, but just not in this one.

Love,

Sincerely,

Y/N

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes #bucky barnes au #bucky fic #mcu #mcu imagine #marvel #marvel imagine #marvel universe #the avengers #x reader #reader insert

[imjusthereforbatfam]

Never-Ending Encore, ch 7.

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

Chapter Summary: Very Drinks Café. That’s the name of the café. I’m literally not even joking. Anyway, would you like a slice of unresolved childhood trauma with that stalker mix-up?

Warnings: minor swearing, extremely minor mention of su*cide (like, you might even miss it), panic attack

Note: Ede is pronounced “EE-d”, like “need” or “greed”, and Edie is pronounced “EE-Dee”, like “needy” or “greedy.”

---

Being a professional actor was a more tiring and time-consuming line of work than Eden had originally thought. She was so accustomed to her old community theater’s three hours of practice three times a week that she’d expected something similar when she arrived in Gotham. Landing her first “real” gig was a wake-up call. Six 8-hour days in a row taught her just how much time and energy professionals put into their craft.

In Gotham’s theater world, Monday was considered the weekend. There were no performances for audiences to view and no practices for cast members to attend, so Sundays were often filled with tired actors excited to go for drinks or eager to sleep in.

This particular Sunday, Eden was brimming with energy. So much so she actually volunteered to take someone’s place on the daily mid-afternoon caffeine run. The director, Daphne, gave Eden a half-amused smile as she put in the usual order on her phone then sent the small group on their way.

“Somebody’s chipper today,” Aaron grumbled, still sour about not being able to convince anyone to take his turn.

Eden ignored his mood. “Yep! A sort-of friend of mine might be coming over tonight and I’m excited to see him.”

Veronica glanced over her huge sunglasses with an approving smirk. “Oooo, yeah?”

Even when it wasn’t her turn on the caffeine run, Veronica, one of the show’s leads, almost always joined the group. She had a very particular drink from a very particular café in the area she adored, and she would always lead the group there before grabbing everyone else’s drinks at Stardunks. She always bought the other runners something for their trouble too, which was probably the politest thing Eden had seen in Gotham.

“Good for you, Edie,” Veronica went on. “I didn’t take you for the friends-with-benefits type.”

“Friends with—?” Her brain froze. It lumbered over itself, trying to comprehend the idea of Red Hood – big, strong, muscles-for-days Red Hood –, the infamous vigilante, being friends with benefits… With her.

Her face exploded with color.

“Ohnononono! I mean, I meant like, meaning we aren’t exactly friends yet, is what I meant! Like we’re almost friends but not exactly, like— I mean— You know— Not— Not that there’s anything wrong with being friends with benefits, of course! Of course not! Who doesn’t like a good benefit— friend— thing?”

Aaron let out a low, dry “Woooow” and Veronica made an unimpressed face, the girl not caring at all for Eden’s fumbling. Knowing this, Eden’s face grew hotter and her words came out higher and faster.

“It’s just that I, you know, I personally— I mean, the guy’s sweet-as-pie and funny-as-heck but I don’t really know him that well and, you know, it just seems like a bit of a personal thing to jump into, and I’m really not all that—”

“Oh my god, it’s fine, Eden!” Veronica finally shouted with a roll of her eyes. “You’re not in Alabama or Indiana or whatever backwater state you’re from—”

Eden nearly lost her footing, her body stumbling as her brain stumbled over the insult. Veronica, now tuned into her phone, didn’t notice.

“—I was just trying to be supportive. No need to be a spaz about it.”

Eden gaped at Veronica, still not quite believing her ears. But disbelief didn’t stop her blood from boiling.

“Excuse—”

“Anyway!” Aaron said quickly, grabbing Veronica’s attention. “Have you seen pictures of the dress they’re putting you in for the ball scenes yet?”

“Have you? Ugh, it looks atrocious. Can you believe they want me to wear that shade of yellow? Like, seriously? I’m supposed to be the most beautiful sister, not the one who looks like she’s covered in mustard!”

Eden glared at Aaron from behind Veronica’s ranting head. He caught it and threw a warning look back, shaking his head minutely. Fuming, Eden sharpened her gaze then turned away, ignoring the both of them as best she could.

Veronica was a bit spoiled. The way she spoke about the vacations across Europe and the galas she and her father attended up and down the Northeastern coastline made it impossible to miss. Even so, Eden usually thought she was nice enough.

She was incredibly friendly for a Gothamite – especially a wealthy one – but she often tossed out carelessly ignorant comments that left Eden balking. It didn’t help that no one in the cast ever really corrected her, either. Even the director, though firm, was careful when critiquing Veronica.

Eden didn’t understand why they did it, but she didn’t care for it at all. It left a burning itch under her skin in desperate need of a scratch. But every time she went to, someone else interrupted her or stole Veronica’s attention away and gave her a warning look. It was infuriating.

As they approached the fancy café, Café Très Boissons written in thin white print across the window, someone’s phone started to buzz.

“I have to take this,” Veronica announced, shoving her purse into Eden’s hands.

Eden, not paying attention, nearly dropped it. “Whoa! Wha—”

“Go in and ask for my usual drink and whatever you two want. Use the pink card, yeah?”

“Huh?”

She put the phone to her ear. “Hi, Daddy, how was your flight?” She made a shooing motion at Eden then turned to focus on her phone call. Eden gaped at her, but she didn’t notice.

Aaron, who didn’t seem offended at all, nudged Eden and headed toward the door. She looked between him, the purse, and the infuriatingly oblivious young woman who’d handed it to her, before shaking her head and following him in.

She’d been to Café Très Boissons once before, about a week ago with Veronica and another cast member when it had officially been her turn on the caffeine run. Letting the door close behind her, she found the place just as unpleasant as the last time.

Everything was too… crisp. Too light and bright and minimalist. It was like stepping out of real-life and into a far-too-expensive décor magazine. The air was stiff, too. Suffocating, even. How anybody was supposed to relax in a place like this, Eden didn’t know.

The other patrons weren’t very welcoming either. They all dressed in smart, sleek clothing and held themselves like incredibly important people, all too busy with incredibly important things to pay anyone else any mind. Those who did happen to notice Eden and Aaron – who looked distinctly “artsy” amongst the ironed slacks and sleek skirts – quickly dismissed them.

The only ones who didn’t match the rest of the crowd – in both attire and actions – was a group of young men tucked into one of the corner booths. Eden could immediately guess which of them had suggested the spot, as he was the only one who roughly fit the dress code and seemed to be enjoying himself. (The pre-teen next to him fit it perfectly, wearing the same fitted attire as everyone else, but he had a distinctly unimpressed frown fixed to his face.)

The other two with him were easily Eden’s favorite people in the place. Amongst all the prim and pomp of everyone and everything else around them, those two were wearing hoodies.

The tired-looking teen in the black Superman hoodie still sat up nicely and gave some regard to where he was, but the one in red did not give into the café’s demands of refinement in the slightest. In fact, the way he was lounging in his seat with his arms crossed and hood drawn up, he almost looked ready to take a nap. His resolve to not give a damn was nothing if not admirable.

“Hi, Veronica!” the barista chirped, startling Eden both with the name and how happy he sounded to see her in this unfriendly place. “I already started your usual but what else can I…” He blinked at her. “Oh, whoops,” his tone, though still professional, dropped. “Sorry, miss, I thought you were somebody else.”

“Uh, that’s alright. I’m actually ordering for a Veronica who comes in here every day, so…”

“Veronica Bradford?”

Eden nodded slowly, then turned to Aaron to be sure.

“Yeah, that’s her,” he confirmed. “And I’ll have the same, but with the blueberry whip and no caramel.”

The barista nodded, writing that down, then turned to Eden, who was awkwardly fishing through Veronica’s big white purse to find the girl’s wallet.

“And you, miss?” he prompted.

“Oh, uh, do you have sweet tea?”

“We have tea and sweeteners we can add? Sugar and sugar-free options.”

“No, that’s— I’m good actually, thank you.”

“Are you sure? We have plenty to choose from.”

“No, that’s alright. Thank you.”

“Just get what we’re getting,” Aaron pressed. “It’s not bad, and you’re not paying for it anyway.”

“Neither are you,” she reminded him.

He shrugged.

“They are really good, miss,” the barista added. “It’s not tea but it is a sweet latte. It’s one of my favorites to recommend.”

“Oh, alright,” she sighed a little. “I guess I’ll take one, too.”

She went back to digging through the purse. When she finally found Veronica’s wallet, she almost blanched at the luxury brand name printed clearly across the front. Carefully, she opened it and delicately handed the barista the pink credit card. Aaron took over from there and left a huge tip that almost made Eden faint.

She stared at the receipt, blindly following him to a table. The three-digit number stared back.

“You’re giving her this,” she said suddenly, shoving the thin paper at him. “I don’t want nothing to do with that.”

“Oh, calm down, Eden. Her daddy dearest is so rich she won’t even bat an eyelash.”

Eden carefully set the purse onto their table, noticed the same brand name in rose gold on its front, and gently pushed it away from her. “I feel like a thief.”

Aaron scoffed, pulling out his phone. “With that bag? You look the part.”

“Ha ha, very funny.”

After a moment, she straightened and lifted herself up to see out the front window. From their high table near the corner, she could just catch the top of Veronica’s head. It moved in such a way that clearly meant she was still on the phone.

“Do I really look like her?” she asked in a small voice, sitting back down. “Like Veronica?”

Even if she wasn’t currently happy with the woman, Eden couldn’t deny she was a little flattered to have been mistaken for her. Veronica was undeniably pretty; beautiful in the way rich folks could easily afford to be. Like every inch of her was perfectly tailored to meet the highest of society’s standards.

“Hmm.” Aaron briefly glanced up from his phone. “I guess I can see it. You could easily be her double for some, like, security reason.”

Eden snorted. “Well if I was, I might just call out sick with the way she was talking to me earlier.”

“Oh, don’t let her get to you,” he said waving a hand. “That wasn’t too bad. She orders everyone around like that every once and a while.”

“That’s not what I was talking about, but that’s definitely rude, too.”

He raised a brow.

“Whatever backwater state I’m from?”

It took him a moment, then, “Oh. Yeah.” He went back to his phone. “Don’t take it personally. She’s just a spoiled little heiress.”

“She basically called me a moron from a state full of morons. How am I not supposed to take that personally? And then she just threw out different states like everyone south of New Jersey is a moron.”

Aaron shrugged, not really caring. “Veronica says things without thinking all the time. She’s nice enough most of the time, right? She’s still buying you a drink.”

“I really don’t give a damn that she’s buying me a drink,” Eden threw back. “She upset me, and she should know it and apologize. Nobody says anything when she does something wrong, and I’m sick of it. I hate how everybody walks on eggshells with her just ‘cause she’s rich.”

“Listen, Eden.” He sounded tired. “You can do whatever the hell you want but I’m trying to give you a heads-up. You’re not from around here and this is, what, your first show with Veronica?”

She nodded.

“Well, the reason nobody says anything,” he said copying her accent (and earning a glare), “isn’t because she’s rich. It’s because if you get on her bad side, you get on her dad’s bad side. And William Bradford pours a lot of money into Gotham’s theater scene. Understand?”

Eden blinked at him. There were a few old, well-to-do families that lived near her hometown who liked to have their fingers in a lot of pies – the Henriksens especially so – so she understood what he was saying perfectly. But still, she couldn’t quite believe her ears.

 Pulling that kind of nonsense in theater? And in Gotham City of all places? Wasn’t there something a little more… underworld-y that Mr. Bradford could focus on?

 “You’re kidding, right?”

“Nope,” Aaron said popping the p. “Happened to one of Veronica’s best friends— ex-best friends, Christina. They had a huge falling out and Christina couldn’t get a single call-back for over a year. She ended up moving to New York to try finding work there, and I’m sure I don’t have to tell you how cut-throat their theater scene is.”

Eden frowned at the table, then looked up at him again. “Well, that’s a best friend she got in a fight with. I’m nobody to her. If I’m polite about what’s bothering me, she won’t have any reason to ask her daddy to do something like that to me.”

“That’s just it though!” he said leaning over the table, lowering his voice. “Veronica didn’t ask her dad to do it. She didn’t have a clue what was happening with Christina! Just like she doesn’t have a clue why she keeps getting a lead role in every show she auditions for!”

“It’s… not because she’s a good actress?”

Aaron gave her an annoyed, unbelieving look. “Would you have cast her as Jane?”

“Well—” Eden sat up straight. “Well, I mean… Maybe not me personally, but— I mean, she is very pretty, and Jane is canonically the prettiest girl in town, and— and she’s certainly not a bad actress, I mean…”

“No, she’s not,” he agreed. “But she’s definitely not lead-role material. Daphne’s lucky she wanted to play Jane and not Elizabeth. Can you imagine her playing Elizabeth?” Aaron made a scandalized face and obnoxiously rolled his eyes at the thought.

Eden, unable to deny how awful Veronica would likely be in the role but also unwilling to say such a thing aloud, stumbled over a response until a barista called out Veronica’s name.

Eager to take the escape, she hopped out of her chair. “I’ll get that and you guard the purse.”

Aaron just hummed and picked up his phone again.

On her way to the counter, Eden spared a glance at the nearby corner booth, the one with the boys in the hoodies. The four of them were having a lively conversation and she enjoyed the small snippets of back and forth she could catch.

The one in the red hoodie no longer looked ready to take a nap but was instead hunched over the table, his jaw resting in his hand as he made small jabs at the people around him. The younger two snapped back quickly, and the smiling, eldest-looking one laughed while still trying to keep the peace.

The way they were digging at each other reminded Eden of her own “brothers”. She couldn’t help but smile. She sighed, unintentionally loud, missing her loveable idiots.

The one in the red hoodie lifted his head toward the sound but, thanks to the hood covering half his face, Eden was able to turn away before he caught her eavesdropping.

The barista waiting with the drinks gave her a wide smile. “Hi, Veronica! We’re still making your last drink but—” She cocked her head suddenly and squinted. “Wait…”

“No, I’m not Veronica,” Eden said with an amused smile. “But I am here for her drinks.”

“Oh.” The girl laughed at herself. “Sorry about that. The last one’s just going to be another minute.”

Eden nodded, picking up the two that were ready. “Thank you.”

As she returned to her and Aaron’s table, she glanced toward the boys again. This time, the smiling eldest was grinning and whispering something towards red hoodie boy, who was looking in the opposite direction and not-so-subtly flipping him off. The teen in the Superman hoodie accidentally locked eyes with her and the both of them quickly looked away.

Eden then noticed a man in the opposite corner of the café watching her. When she looked at him, he jerked his head away and quickly took a sip from his cup. Eden slowed her walk and furrowed her brows, a tightness forming in her gut.

“Yaaasss,” Aaron called, stealing her attention as he reached for his drink. “Give me that Rich Bitch Latte.”

“Is that what you call it?”

He shrugged, taking a sip. “Mine has blueberry whip cream. If that doesn’t scream rich bitch, what does?”

Eden made a slight face. Blueberry whip cream didn't seem all that luxurious to her – it certainly wasn’t hard to make – but even if it was, she couldn't imagine it tasted good with a latte.

“That barista mixed me up for Veronica too,” she said after a moment.

Aaron snorted. “Maybe you should be her double. You’d get paid good money for it, I’m sure.”

Eden hummed. She turned her attention back to the curious man in the opposite corner.

At first glance, he fit the establishment fine. He wore a simple grey suit and a hat and was now totally engrossed with his phone. But the suit was a little too non-descript and untidy, and the hat a bit beat-up. Not to mention, slouching in his seat like he was, he didn’t match the prim, properness of most of the other patrons.

Though… maybe she was being unfair to him. After all, she’d praised the guy in the red hoodie for the same thing, hadn’t she?

She glanced to the booth of boys again. The one in the red hoodie must have been looking at her because his head moved the second hers did. Eden didn’t get a tight, sinking sensation in her stomach when he did, though. Nor had she when she locked eyes with the teenager.

She turned back to the older man, still fidgeting with his phone. What was the difference between them? Maybe it was weirder because he was older. The other guys were closer to her age and therefore… what, safer?

Eden huffed at herself. Age wasn’t an indication of danger, she knew that. The people who came to the farm looking for safety were hiding from men of all ages. (They were almost always hiding from men.) From young men full of piss and vinegar and a sense of superiority; old men with strings to pull and favors they could call in; men of any age with a brutal mean streak that came from years of privilege, or hardship…

So it wasn’t their age. And none of them were dressed “appropriately” for the cafe – though the hoodie boys even less so – so it wasn’t that either. Maybe it was how stiffly and forcibly the man had reacted when Eden noticed him staring. Though that, too, didn’t necessarily mean any—

“Veronica Bradford!” the barista called again, breaking Eden’s thoughts.

On her second trip back to the table, Eden watched the man from the corner of her eye. It seemed like he was looking at her again too, adding to her concern. He moved his hands a bit and then—

Eden stopped. She turned to stare directly at the man, who hurried to shift his torso so his phone was no longer pointing at her. She scowled. She knew exactly what he was now. But what in the world was a scout doing here of all places?

A scout – as Mama always called them – could be anybody. A private investigator or a random person off the street; it didn’t matter. Their job was simple: find their mark and get proof of where and when they were and who they were with.

But… who was this guy’s mark? It couldn’t be Eden. He was taking her picture, sure, but… The only people who might be looking for her were her parents, and neither of them would have recruited someone so… obvious.

Still, she reported it to Aaron as she sat down. “There’s a man taking pictures,” she told him gravely.

He glanced up at her, giving her a weird look. “O…kay? Everyone takes pictures here. It’s a wannabe Snapstagram influencer’s wet dream.”

“I meant,” she said frowning, “he’s taking pictures of me.”

“Huh? Who?” He looked around without a hint of subtlety.

Eden smacked her head with her hand. She could’ve kicked him. Of course, it was her own fault for thinking he would understand. Aaron wasn’t one of her “cousins” or semi-siblings. He was just some guy from Gotham who knew nothing about life on Paradise Farm.

“Would you stop!?” she hissed, trying to hide her face from the scout. “He’s behind you, in the corner booth by the windows. Grey suit, brown hat— Don’t be obvious.”

Aaron, bless him, finally caught on. He turned his head slowly from one end of the café to the other. He stared at the man a few beats too long then turned back to her.

“Are you sure? He just looks like his phone’s giving him trouble.”

Eden shook her head. “I caught him doing it, so now he’s nervous. He was just staring at me the first time I got up, but the second time he had his phone pointed at me and everything.”

He looked over his shoulder at the scout, then back again. “Maybe he’s paparazzi,” he offered. “The baristas all thought you were Veronica. Maybe he does, too.”

Eden blinked at him. She hadn’t thought of that. Despite not being anywhere near the farm, the idea the man could be anything but a scout hadn’t even crossed her mind. But it made some sense… After all, who would he even be scouting? Nobody here was in hiding.

“She has paparazzi?”

“Local heiress constantly landing lead roles who models on the side?” Aaron shrugged.  “She’s not headline news or anything, but she pops up in local shit every once and a while.”

Eden frowned at her drink. She glanced over at the man again, taking a sip of her latte. “And are paparazzi people always so nervous when they get caught?”

“Do I look like I know the answer to that?”

“You’ve been around Veronica longer than I have,” she insisted. “You’d know better than I would.”

“I guess,” he huffed, rolling his eyes. He thought about it a moment. “I don’t know. She doesn’t usually notice them, but I guess some of them get a little embarrassed when other people do. But, like, it’s their job. They can’t exactly be bashful about it or they won’t get paid.”

She nodded thoughtfully and took another sip, reluctant to admit it tasted extremely good.

Her eyes slid over to the man once more. Then she stopped and glared. Loudly, she slammed her cup onto the table — startling Aaron and catching other patrons’ attention as well. Including the man, who’d been pointing his phone at her again.

He scrambled to put it away, stood, and started grabbing his things.

“I think you scared him, Veronica,” Aaron muttered sarcastically.

“Good.” She leaned back in her chair and took a celebratory drink, not taking her eyes off the man. “Paparazzi, huh?”

“Well, what else would he be?” Aaron asked, rolling his eyes again. “A stalker? The guy doesn't exactly scream danger. Anyway, he’s leaving now so it doesn’t—”

Eden jerked up in her seat. “Uh-oh.”

The real Veronica stepped through the door. Looking around, she spotted Aaron and Eden near the back corner, smiled, and started walking toward them. A flabbergasted expression crossed the man’s face when she passed him by.

“Uh-oh.”

The oblivious heiress didn’t notice him stop walking or the way he was watching her. But Eden did. And she knew that look in his eye.

“Oh, no.”

The scout had found his mark.

Eden didn’t think about it. One second she was sitting in her chair – buzzing with wild, nervous energy – the next she was grabbing Veronica’s drink and taking long strides across the café’s shining floors. She grinned playfully at the unsuspecting girl.

Veronica’s smile didn’t fall, but her brows furrowed slightly as Eden approached. “Hey, sorry about that. Daddy always calls me when he gets to a new hotel.”

“Oh, no problem, Eden!” Eden said handing Veronica her drink.

Veronica took it, went to speak, then seemed to short-circuit — suddenly blinking and staring at her in a baffled way. Eden took the moment to link their arms and move her away from the scout, who seemed stuck in place.

“Actually, my daddy does the same,” she said in the same, polished Rich-Girl-Gothamite accent she’d used before. “We’re super close. Oh, and tell me if you like the drink, yeah? It’s my favorite. I get it every day.”

Veronica glanced down at her drink, then up at Eden, totally lost.

As they approached the table, Eden did a quick sweep of their surroundings and was glad they were sitting where they were. Their table was near the side exit and all the nearby tables were empty, save the now silent booth of boys.

Though none of them were looking in her direction, Eden couldn’t help quirking a brow in theirs, wondering what had dulled their lively spirits.

“So… what’s going on exactly?” Veronica asked in a nervous pitch as they reached Aaron.

“Eden thinks she has a stalker,” he explained.

“No,” Eden corrected in her own voice. “I think Veronica has a scout— stalker— whatever thing. And they think Veronica is me.”

“They…” Veronica looked between the two of them, then laughed nervously. “Oh, Edie, that’s… I seriously doubt anyone would think you were me.”

“Two of the baristas thought I was you.”

“Brayden thought she was you,” Aaron confirmed.

Veronica’s mouth fell open. She stared at the guy behind the register in disbelief before turning it on Eden. Eden just grinned and moved her head to the side like she’d heard something funny.

There, in the corner of her eyes, she could see the man inching back to his corner booth. Watching them.

“Oh my god, Edie!” she said loud and clear in her Veronica voice, setting the real Veronica into a seat facing away from the man. “You are just too cute!”

“Wait.” Veronica leaned over, talking low. “Why are you talking like a normal person now?”

A flash of anger broke Eden’s character. “Excuse me?”

“Why are you talking like a normal person now?” she repeated, apparently unaware of her offense. “And why are you calling me Eden?”

Eden took a deep breath, trying to regain her cool. “I’m not talking like a ‘normal person’,” she explained slowly, being sure to sit up straight and hold her head in the proud, haughty way the rest of the patrons did. “I’m talking like you. And I’m calling you Eden so that scout-stalker guy leaves you alone.”

“She’s being your double,” Aaron said with a grin. Eden glared at him. “Am I wrong?”

She looked away. “No,” she grumbled.

He nodded, satisfied.

Veronica looked between the two of them, not getting it, then turned back to Eden. “Why are you doing this exactly? Are you expecting me to pay you for it?”

“What? No! I’m helping you because you're in trouble, obviously.”

The other two stared at her. Somehow that simple concept seemed foreign to them.

“Oh, please,” she scoffed. “Don’t you two act like you’ve never helped anybody out before just to be nice. I know this is Gotham but come on now. Not everybody in this city can be that heartless.”

“Oh, you sweet summer child,” Aaron cooed, resting a hand over his heart. Eden glared at him.

Veronica tried to say something, stopped, then tried again. “But… why? It’s not your problem, so…”

“So what? That guy’s trouble.” Eden tilted her head. “Do you… want some scout-stalker taking your picture? Knowing where you’ve been and when you go?”

“No, but… Are you sure he’s trouble?” she asked. “Maybe he’s just, I don’t know, some weirdo who likes taking pictures of pretty girls.”

“Could be.” Eden shrugged. “But I seriously doubt it, the way he’s been acting. It’s just sorta… obvious he’s here for you.”

“Obvious?” She made a face and started looking around the café – thankfully never over her shoulder – trying to find the trouble herself. “I don’t see anyone making it obvious.”

“You’re just not used to it.”

“And you are?”

Eden opened her mouth and shut it. She shuffled in her seat, not really sure how to explain it. Back home, she’d never had to explain it. Everybody just knew. And not just her small town. The whole county knew.

They knew Paradise Farm and its famous little bakery. They knew Mama and Eden and her mismatched group of semi-siblings (or of them, at least). They knew if you needed a place to go, Paradise Farm had its doors open, and “cousins” were always welcome.

Some who came, came for simple reasons. Wandering free spirits who enjoyed earning their stay and living more-or-less off the land, people who needed a little space after an argument, a partygoer looking for a safe place to sober up before heading home; simple things like that.

But sometimes it was more. Sometimes the reasons were complicated. Kids who’d been kicked out of their homes, kids trying to escape their homes, abused spouses who just wanted to disappear, people who couldn’t go to the law because an officer or a judge was a part of the problem; the kinds of folks who had nowhere else to go, no one left to turn to. The kind who needed help.

“Wait, wait, wait.” Aaron lowered his voice and moved closer, his eyes sparkling. “Are you, like… some kind of small-time hero? Is that why you moved to Gotham? To like, meet Batman and become a vigilante?”

Eden recoiled at the notion. “No! No, no, I’m—!” She chomped down on the words trying to fly out of her mouth, trying to control herself. “I’m not— I don’t— Don’t get me wrong, I like helping people and stuff,” she said fiddling with the table’s edge, very aware of Aaron’s eager, penetrating expression. “But I’m not like— I’m not a, a—” she couldn’t even say the word. Not when it was being tied to her.

Still, Aaron just nodded along. Looking for all the world like an unmasked hero was sitting in front of him and begging him to keep their secret. Eden’s hands started to shake. It was like talking to her father all over again.

“Really, Aaron. I’m… I’m not,” she said, trying to be firm. “I couldn’t do the things they do.”

“You could try,” he insisted, sounding just like him.

Eden went numb.

She couldn’t. She really, really couldn’t. She knew because she had tried. She’d tried, and tried, and tried so many times. But no matter how many times she tried, no matter how many times Frank had told her it was her purpose, her destiny, her responsibility, she just plain couldn’t.

When Mama found out, she was furious. Not with Eden. But with Frank. It was too much for a kid to handle, especially one like Eden, she’d said. She never wanted her daughter to endure that kind of sacrifice and pain—

Oh, the pain! Every time – every goddamn time – there was always so much pain!

Not that she had any right to complain, as Frank would remind her. She was a metahuman; her body always healed.

And it did.

It healed, and healed, and healed. Erasing every bullet, every blade, every hand that ever left its mark on her; stealing away every scar she might’ve earned, every wound she might’ve carried. It healed, and healed, and healed. So perfectly, so flawlessly, so unnaturally — and it never stopped.

Even when she died, it didn’t stop. It didn’t matter if someone killed her themselves or if she took on someone else’s death. Even if it was by her own hand, it didn’t stop. She always came back. Her body always healed. The universe always demanded an encore.

It never, ever, ever stopped.

“Are you okay, Ed— I mean, Veronica?” Veronica said obviously, garnering some of Eden’s attention. “You look a little sick.”

“She’s just freaking out ‘cause I figured out she’s not the everyday normal person she pretends to be,” Aaron said smugly.

Eden still couldn’t speak.

Veronica smacked him. “Don’t be an idiot, Aaron. You’re freaking her out because you’re insisting there’s something remarkable about her when there isn’t at all! E— Veronica is completely normal and average in every possible way.”

Eden winced at the unintended insult. Aaron made a slight face too, but, of course, Veronica didn’t notice.

“Anyway, Veronica,” she continued, turning back to her. “You’ve done this sort of thing before, yeah? What do we do now?”

Eden blinked a few times, still pulling herself out of her spiral, then glanced over at the scout. “Well… Normally I’d try to get a picture of the person, but…”

“But?” Aaron asked eagerly.

She froze again. She took a long, deep breath. “Well… since I made such a fuss catching him in the act earlier, I don’t think we’ll see him again.”

He pouted. “Really? You think a stalker’s going to give up just like that?”

“No, he—” Eden huffed and shook her head. “He’s not the real problem. He’s just some guy who’s supposed to be taking Veronica’s pictures. Maybe figuring out her routine or whatever. But he got caught twice, so whoever sent him probably won’t send him again unless they’re desperate. Or stupid, I suppose. Either way, I doubt taking his picture would really help much. Though I guess it could help us figure out who hired him in the first place, but I don’t really know who I’d send it to here—”

She stopped her rambling, noticing the open-mouthed, wide-eyed way her companions were staring at her.

“Oh— I— Uh—" She quickly took a sip of her nearly forgotten latte, trying to hide behind the cup. “Sorry,” she murmured.

Aaron shook himself, almost violently, out of his stupor. “Oh, okay, yeah, you just know all this crap and you’re not a vigilante or something?”

“I’m not,” she grumbled. “My mama taught me what to watch out for, so I do.”

“So your mom’s the vigilante?”

“My—" Eden blinked and shook her head fervently, trying to follow his logic. "What?”

Not that she’d admit it to a pair of acquaintances, but anyone who her mama – like, really knew her, not the role she played – knew Louanne Smith was more likely to be on a most-wanted list than be considered a vigilante. Though Red Hood was probably on a few wanted lists himself, now that she thought about it, and her mama certainly broke the law not turning over certain people to the sheriff, so maybe she would be considered a vigilante?

“Ugh, ignore him, Edi— Veronica,” Veronica said rolling her eyes. “Aaron has a total hard-on for Gotham’s bats. He loves the way they break the law and—"

“What is wrong with breaking the law if it means helping people?” he burst in.

“We have laws for a reason, Aaron,” Veronica insisted. “I can admit Gotham’s vigilantes help the little people here and there—” Eden bristled at her tone “—but in the grand scheme of things—” 

“In the grand scheme of things, they help people. End of story.” Veronica shot him a dirty look, but he made no move to try and placate her. This, apparently, was a hill worth dying on. “End of story,” he said again.

“Oh, yeah right, like you really care. Everyone knows you’re just in love with Red Hood’s thighs.”

“I can care about what the vigilantes do for this city and still appreciate how sexy they are,” Aaron said proudly. “Red Hood’s jacked and has the thighs of a god and I’m not ashamed to admit I would tap that in an instant.”

Eden made an involuntary high-pitched sound. She stared dead at the table, trying not to think about Red Hood as her face grew piping hot and she curled in on herself.

“Besides, you’re one to talk,” Aaron continued, either ignoring or not noticing Eden’s discomfort. “You always go on and on about how hot Nightwing’s ass is!”

“Which it is, but that’s not the point! They might be hot but vigilantes are the reason we have so many crazy supervillains in this city!”

“Those hot vigilantes are the only reason we have any sort of justice in this city!”

Hiding her burning face in her hands, Eden just shook her head, trying to phase out of existence as they went back and forth on their stances of law, order, and whether or not Batman was a dilf.

Eventually, she peeked through her fingers and found the scout watching them with an uncertain look on his face. His phone was still in his hand, however, close to his chest and pointed in her direction, so they weren’t out of the woods yet.

Eden groaned and ran her fingers through her hair as she dropped her head. Then she popped back up, her expression taut, like an heiress who’d been ignored for far too long.

“Ex—cuse—me!” she said clapping her hands, forcing the bickering to finally stop. She gave them a tight smile, speaking lowly in her own voice. “Y’all can have this… discussion some other time – preferably when I’m not here – but right now, we’re in the middle of something.” She stood from her seat. “So I’m gonna need you two to stop. Now.”

The guilty party shared a look then muttered an annoyed agreeance.

“Thank you,” she said with a nod. “Now then.” She grabbed Veronica’s big white purse and confidently slung it over her shoulder. “Are we ready to go?” she asked loud and clear in her Veronica voice, gesturing to the side door. “I’m sure Daphne and the rest of the cast are waiting for us.”

“Sure thing, Veronica,” Aaron said a little louder than usual. “Lead the way.”

Eden smiled and linked arms with the real Veronica, constantly shifting to keep the girl’s face hidden from the scout as much as possible. As they exited the café, she pointed to something down the street, giving Veronica an excuse to keep her head turned.

Eden on the other hand tried to catch a glimpse of the scout from the corner of her eye. Instead, she ended up latching on to the group of boys one last time.

A few of them looked uncomfortable but all four were quiet, each seemingly lost in their own thoughts. But Eden could tell that wasn’t right. Even if they didn’t seem focused on anything in particular, she knew they were. It was almost like she could see that they were… were… She didn’t know what to call it. Ready? On? Something like that. But why? What for?

The guy in the red hoodie shifted back, leaning lazily against the booth cushions. His hood stayed in place despite his head tipping up toward the ceiling. Though unable to see his eyes, Eden had the sudden sense that he was watching her.

Should she be nervous? Had she set too much of her attention on the man on the other side of the café? Should she have been watching these boys as well? She didn’t feel like she needed to worry about them. Had she made a mistake?

She walked arm-in-arm with Veronica until they reached the end of the block and crossed the street. There, she released the girl and spun around, scanning the stream of people for the face of the scout, or perhaps even one of the boys.

She suddenly wished she had snuck a picture. Maybe back home it wouldn’t be such a big deal, but this was Gotham. And Veronica was a high-profile local. As much as Eden preferred giving people the benefit of the doubt, this wasn’t a safe situation to assume anything but the worst.

Not seeing anyone from the café, she sighed and rejoined Veronica and Aaron, who were giving her nervous looks. She smiled at them.

“All good.” She took the purse from her shoulder and handed it back to Veronica. “You might want to consider having someone else get your latte for a while. Maybe an assistant or something? And maybe some kind of security for yourself. Just to be safe.”

Veronica nodded mutely, then muttered out a small thank you before taking Eden’s arm again. She held it tightly, with a concerned look on her face, so Eden didn’t complain. Every few blocks they would stop or slow down and she would check the crowd around them for caution’s sake.

The walk to Stardunks and back to the practice hall was fairly quiet, giving Eden plenty of time to think. Mainly she wondered if she should bring up the day’s events to Red Hood. It wasn’t anything vigilante-worthy, not yet anyway, but Veronica’s status certainly made it a possibility. And Eden stepping in as her double probably counted as doing something stupid, which, even though he'd been joking, he’d asked her not to do.

In fact, when they stepped into the practice hall and Veronica started telling everyone what had happened and how Eden had “saved” her, and Aaron reiterated her “vigilante-like knowledge”, and a number of people started looking at her with a curious sort of twinkle in their eyes, the stuttering, blushing Eden was quite certain she’d done something very, very stupid indeed.

---

Next chapter

#Never-Ending Encore #Jason Todd #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd x oc #jason todd x reader #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood x oc #oc: Eden Smith #chapter 7 #cross posted on ao3

[chenziee]

Leaves and Pumpkin Spice

[Read on AO3 or under the cut]

Super late entry for @lawlu-week‘s 10 Days of Lawlu Day 7: Falling Leaves Sorry for that, life became a real bitch right after the event ended :(

Ship: Law/Luffy Rating: Teen and Up Words: 2730 Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Humor, Fluff and Humor, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Idiots in Love, college student luffy, not that that matters, surgeon law, Established Relationship

Summary: Walking through the park with two coffees in hand, Luffy mourned the fact that he didn't have any time to appreciate the beauty of the autumn leaves or to play in the meticulously raked piles. But he had only 30 minutes and he wasn't about to waste them.

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As he stood in line at his favourite coffee shop, Luffy couldn't help but tap his foot impatiently. Even though there were only two people in front of him, it felt like it was taking forever with the man at the register taking his sweet time with making up his mind on what to order. Luffy would never understand why some people insisted on holding everyone else up instead of waiting to queue until after they knew what they were getting. He hated waiting; hated having to stand in place with nothing to do except listening to people ask stupid questions like if a cappuccino had milk in it. And he especially hated waiting when he was already running low on time.

Thankfully, once the indecisive idiot moved on, Luffy’s turn came quickly since the girl in front of him was seemingly about as done and ready to run off with her coffee as Luffy was.

“Hey, Luffy. What will you be getting?” Usopp greeted from behind the counter, flashing him a grin which was gladly returned.

Luffy was always happy when one of his friends was working and he would be lying if he said it wasn’t a big part of the reason he loved this coffee shop so much. The delicious food and coffee and its close proximity to their college was really just a bonus.

Doing his best to avoid looking at the pastry case next to him, Luffy easily recited his order, “One large pumpkin spice latte with an extra shot of espresso and one large black coffee,”

Usopp nodded, writing his order and names down on the coffee cups before handing them over to the barista on duty. “You going to the hospital?” he asked as he took Luffy’s credit card.

“Yep! I just hope I make it, I’m running a bit late,” Luffy replied with a pout. Stupid indecisive customers. Never mind he had been too busy watching anime to keep track of the time and left late in the first place. No one had to know that, though.

“You better run then,” Usopp said with a smirk. “Stop by on the way back, I’ll save you a quiche.”

Luffy gasped. He had to stop himself from shouting as a wave of excitement washed over him. “Sanji’s?” he asked, nearly drooling at the idea of his friend’s cooking.

Usopp laughed, handing Luffy his credit card back. “Yes. But that’s only if you don’t get killed for being late.”

“Oh shit. Right.” Luffy slapped both his cheeks to bring himself back to reality. Usopp was right, after all; he really didn’t have the time to daydream about food. No matter how tasty it had to be and how good it would smell and how it would melt in his mouth and—

“Oi, Luffy,” Usopp said as he smacked him over the head with his sharpie. “You’re drooling.”

Luffy blinked, then shook his head to clear it a bit. Damn Usopp for distracting him with food. Putting his credit card away, he thanked his long nosed friend before moving over to the end of the counter to wait for his coffees. It only took a minute for them both to be done, the pink haired girl—Luffy was pretty sure her name was Rebecca, a freshman in their college—working blissfully fast. Luffy happily grabbed both cups as soon as they were presented to him and ran off, only pausing to grin and nod at Usopp who called after him, asking him to say hi to his doctor.

The walk to the university hospital from the coffee shop was short, only about ten minutes away, but as he glanced at his watch, Luffy knew he would be cutting it close. Picking up the pace, he quickly crossed the street to enter the city park, weaving his way through the trees and people taking casual strolls while enjoying the view of beautifully coloured leaves at a painfully slow pace.

The third time Luffy nearly crashed into a laughing child or a dog happily chasing said child, he cursed internally. He really didn't have the time for this. He needed to take the shortest route to the other side of the park without any distractions or delays. No matter how pretty the trees coloured with bright red and yellow looked or how much fun playing in the piles of raked up, already fallen leaves would be. He didn't have the luxury to walk at a slow pace like the other adults, or to run and jump around like the children. No matter how much the laughter of kids and happy barks of dogs accompanied by the telltale rustling of the dead leaves getting kicked and thrown all over was making him smile and tempting him to join in.

But he only had 30 precious minutes and coffees that were getting colder by the minute in the crisp autumn air. He had no time to play today.

—————

When Luffy finally made it to the little grassy area in front of the hospital, he quickly scanned all the benches until his eyes caught the white lab coat and the contrasting black, short hair. He grinned, deciding not to call out to the doctor; instead, he made his way towards him slowly and quietly. As he walked, he took a moment to appreciate the wide shoulders and long neck. It was almost as if he was trying to show off how handsome he was with the way he was sitting there. Not that he was doing anything special—or was the type to do these things on purpose—but Luffy still thought looking so good like that should be illegal.

He might have been a little bit biased though. After all, he thought his boyfriend was always handsome, even after several long shifts at the hospital when he was sporting panda eyes worse than actual pandas and hair messier than Luffy’s own, sitting huddled into a blanket while nursing his eighth cup of coffee of the day and throwing glares at everyone. Whenever someone came over while Law was like that, they would all note how awful Law looked before they’d send him to sleep but Luffy never understood that. Even dead tired Law was so handsome it hurt and Luffy was pretty sure it was impossible for him to look awful. Everyone else was just blind.

Luffy sighed; what was he getting so worked up for anyway? It didn’t matter what anyone else thought. Law was his and he was handsome and funny and smart and Luffy loved him and that was all that really mattered, wasn’t it?

Grinning to himself, Luffy took the last few, quiet steps that separated them, standing directly behind his boyfriend and raising one of the coffee cups in his hands up to hover above Law’s head. Luckily, the man seemed to be too busy texting Bepo to notice how dangerously close he was to getting the shit scared out of him and Luffy had trouble keeping his laughter inside and ruining everything.

Taking a deep breath, he slowly let the cup go down—

“Don’t even think about it.”

Luffy groaned. Of course. Of course Law could somehow feel his presence and read his damn mind. He didn’t even look up from his phone, this asshole. As his last act of defiance, Luffy let the bottom of the cup hit Law in the head a little harder than strictly necessary, earning himself an annoyed ‘Hey!’ which he decided to ignore. Instead, he simply walked around the bench to drop down next to Law, a pout on his lips as he looked at his boyfriend.

“You’re no fun,” he complained.

Law smirked, making a show of looking at his phone before he shot back, “And you’re late.”

Luffy cringed, smiling sheepishly. “Sorry, there was a slow idiot at the coffee shop. Usopp says hi, by the way.”

“Uh-huh,” Law hummed slowly, his smirk widening as he reached up to touch Luffy’s hair, pulling out a dead leaf that somehow got tangled in it a second later. “Sure,” he added, twirling the leaf in between his fingers.

Luffy’s eyes widened. “That—” he paused, wrecking his brain for any plausible explanation— “must have fallen on me when I was walking through the park.”

Law raised an eyebrow at that, reaching out once more, this time towards Luffy’s collar bone. “I guess this one just so happened to fall and get stuck under your jacket, then?” he asked casually as he pulled out another leaf.

Just how many of these was Luffy carrying around in weird places? And he only jumped into a pile of them once.

Slowly raising his eyes from the two leaves in Law’s hand to look at the man himself, Luffy gave him the widest, brightest smile he could muster and simply announced, “Yep!”

There was a beat of silence before Law started laughing, tossing the leaves away and giving Luffy a look that was so soft and so full of amusement that Luffy couldn’t help but feel happy that he was able to put that expression there. That he could break the resting bitch face Law was constantly accused of having.

“Well, to be fair, I only just got here myself. A check up ran late,” Law said, gesturing to the coffees in Luffy’s hands.

“Don’t tease me then, asshole,” Luffy grumbled but immediately checked which cup was which before he handed the right one over.

Law accepted the now-lukewarm drink gratefully, then looked at Luffy with that damned smirk again. “Sorry,” he simply said. 

He didn’t sound sorry at all.

Luffy huffed but before he could complain about how mean Law was to his quality caffeine provider, Law leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to Luffy’s lips, breathing a quiet ‘thank you’ as soon as they parted. Now, that was just unfair; how was Luffy supposed to sulk when Law went and did something like this?

Oh well.

“You’re welcome,” Luffy said with a grin, raising his own cup to his lips and humming appreciatively. That place really was the best, even without the fact Sanji did most of their cooking; the coffee was absolutely delicious as always.

“What’s this?” Law asked a moment later, voice full of… something.

Luffy blinked, tilting his head to the side in confusion at the way Law was staring at his coffee. “Pumpkin spice latte?” he tried, unsure why Law needed to hear it. Luffy could smell the distinct aroma of it the entire time he was carrying it.

Law looked at Luffy with something that was probably supposed to be a glare but to Luffy it only looked like he was trying to hide his embarrassment. “You know I always get it black,” he complained a second later and Luffy couldn’t stop the snicker that forced its way past his lips.

Law was seriously so cute.

“Torao, how long have we been together? I’m pretty sure you can stop pretending to like it black just for the aesthetic of it at this point,” Luffy stated matter-of-factly as he took great care to take a long, taunting sip of his own black coffee.

Luffy was pretty sure if Law was wearing his favourite hat, he would be pulling it down to hide his blush right then and he couldn’t stop smiling. Seriously, how was this man real? So handsome and sexy, unashamed and confident in everything he did, yet absolutely adorable.

Luffy was so damn lucky.

Law often disagreed with him on that point but for all his smarts, Law was often wrong. Always wrong when it came to whether or not he deserved Luffy. But Luffy didn’t mind; he would tell his Torao over and over, as many times as he needed to hear it.

Shuffling over a little, Luffy leaned against Law’s side. Law automatically threw his arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer as they sat in silence for a little while, simply enjoying their coffees and each other’s presence. They didn't have much time, after all. Law would have to go back to work soon and then they wouldn’t be able to see each other until late evening when he would finally get home. Luffy couldn’t wait for tomorrow when they were both free and could lazy around in their bed—or possibly on the couch watching movies if they were feeling adventurous—all damn day with no distractions.

Distractions like the nurse who was currently running towards them and calling Law’s name like he was a middle schooler skipping class and they both groaned. So much for their 30 minutes. “Doctor Trafalgar, you need to come back, there’s a patient—”

“Are they dying right this minute?” Law asked, voice flat, and Luffy had to bite his bottom lip to keep himself from snorting.

The nurse looked taken aback, blinking a few times before she slowly replied, “Well, no, but—”

“Then they can wait five minutes,” Law said firmly, sending the now positively scandalized nurse off.

Luffy waited until she was out of earshot before he started laughing. “Is she new?” he asked, glancing up at Law to watch his expression go from annoyed to slightly amused.

“Yeah, transferred last week or something. Can’t get used to me not giving a fuck,” he said, waving the hand he had around Luffy’s shoulders dismissively. “Also keeps glaring at my tats.”

“God forbid the genius Surgeon of Death has a tattoo or ten.” Luffy nodded solemnly, making Law chuckle.

“Exactly,” Law agreed before rolling his eyes as he continued. “I’m also told she’s extra pissed off because I have a boyfriend and won’t date her.”

Luffy gasped, putting his hand over his heart dramatically. “You have a boyfriend? And here I was, thinking I had a chance!”

“He doesn’t have to know,” Law said, his tone so over-the-top seductive that Luffy burst out laughing.

“You’re a terrible man, Doctor Torao,” Luffy scolded, doing his best to keep the laughter out of his voice and failing terribly.

Law huffed, shoving Luffy away from himself half-heartedly before tilting his head back to drain his cup of the last drops of coffee. “I can’t believe you keep calling me Torao even in situations like this,” he said, giving Luffy a disappointed look. Probably because Luffy ruined the game by using his nickname but like hell could Luffy be bothered to say his full name.

“It’s not my fault your surname is so stupid,” he replied, sticking his tongue out at Law. “Besides, you keep calling me Straw Hat, too. I’m half-convinced you don’t know even a part of my name.”

“Sure, Straw Hat-ya, whatever you say,” Law teased and Luffy was tempted to throw something at him. Too bad there was still some coffee in his cup.

“You’re an asshole. Go off to save some lives or whatever,” Luffy muttered, his efforts to sound upset sadly betrayed by the wide smile that he couldn’t wipe off of his face.

Law chuckled, finally standing up and stretching, giving Luffy a nice view of his back once more. Now, that had to be on purpose. Not that Luffy was complaining. “I’m going then, since you hate spending time with me so much,” he said off-handedly, turning around to glance at Luffy who only rolled his eyes.

“Yep. That’s why I came all the way here with your stupid latte,” Luffy agreed as he took Law’s empty cup to throw out later.

Luffy looked up when he felt warm fingers brush his cheek. Law was standing above him, tilting his face up more and Luffy saw no reason to not oblige. Leaning up into the soft kiss, one that tasted of coffee and pumpkin spice, Luffy couldn’t help but melt into the touch. Law’s hand on his cheek was warm and soft, his lips slightly chapped but so very sweet, smiling against Luffy’s own, and Luffy wished he could keep him right there, next to him forever.

Stupid people who just had to be dying and in need of his asshole of a genius surgeon.

But well, Law loved his work, as much as he griped and complained about it, and as long as he was happy, so was Luffy. Didn’t mean he didn’t want to steal him for himself once in a while though.

“Good thing you hate me so much, then,” Law mumbled against Luffy’s lips when they pulled away from each other minutely.

Luffy grinned. “Hate you so much I could die.”

“Good,” Law nodded, pressing one last kiss to Luffy’s lips. “See you later, Luffy.”

Luffy laughed at the deliberate use of his name. As if he needed to hear it to know Law hated him about as much as he hated Law.

Quickly grabbing the hand that was sliding off his cheek, Luffy briefly kissed the small image of a straw hat on Law’s inner wrist—a tattoo that matched the little heart that Luffy carried in the same place—before letting go.

“See you later, Torao.”

#lawluweek2020 #lawlu #trafalgar law #luffy #monkey d. luffy #one piece #op fanfic #lawlu fanfic #opfanfic #katie pretends to fic #it's 1am and i haven't slept much this weekend kill me #i'm gonna be a wreck at work this coming week #it's gonna be a miracle if i don't oversleep at least once

[rhinozilla]

“Hugs”

(DBH Found Family June 2020 challenge hosted by @dbh-found-family Week 5, Prompt 1: Hugs.)

Hank gave it a full minute before he followed after Connor, leaving the bullpen and heading down the hall in the direction that the distraught android had gone. Somebody had stuck a piece of red tape on the locker room door—the 7th precinct’s way to subtly warn others: “somebody’s having a rough time in there, give them space for a while.”

He spotted Officer Person walking away with the roll of red tape in her hands. She looked concerned, and he gave her a nod before slipping through the door to find his partner. Hank had gone to check on a distraught fellow officer a number of times. Between finding the locker room wrecked and finding it quiet, he’d prefer to find it wrecked. So he immediately grimaced when he walked into a solid wall of silence hanging in the air of the locker room.

Connor was easy to find. He was sitting behind the second row of lockers on the anchored bench in the middle of the aisle. His back was bowed forward, elbows on his knees, head lowered, face in his hands. His LED was red with interspersing yellow. Hank approached carefully, making enough noise for Connor to register someone and to register that someone was Hank.

Connor didn’t acknowledge him as he approached, and Hank sighed as he sat down beside him, close enough to reach but not touching him. He stared at the wall of lockers in front of them.

“I remember my first homicide case,” Hank said slowly. “I had all this training, had done all the courses and the simulations, watched all the videos and…I was as prepared as you could get before stepping onto a crime scene like that…but nothing really prepares you for it. I processed the scene like I was supposed to…followed the textbook…got in my car…cried like a baby the whole drive back to the precinct.”

Connor’s hands slid down his face, exposing his eyes but remaining around his mouth, and he stared listlessly at the floor as Hank went on.

“The day that something like that doesn’t affect you, that’s the day you should quit this job. Connor, there is no shame in a case getting to you. They get to all of us.”

“I just didn’t expect—“ Connor blurted, cutting himself off.

Hank waited patiently, and Connor sat up a little straighter, lowering his hands to his knees.

“It all hit me so suddenly…I didn’t receive training like you did, Hank. I was just…programmed to handle these cases—“

“As a machine,” Hank pointed out. “Not as a deviant who feels things. Connor, you were empathetic even before you deviated. I can only imagine that trait is exponentially stronger now…and you’re stronger for it.”

“I don’t…feel…stronger,” Connor muttered. “I feel compromised. I feel…inadequate. I shouldn’t fall apart like this on the job…But I just…I saw those crime scene photos and—and—“ He gestured helplessly as his words failed.

Hank rested a hand on Connor’s back, feeling the tension making the synthetic muscles under his shirt feel like stone. Hank frowned and moved his arm around Connor’s shoulders, pulling him to his chest. Connor toppled sideways into him, that tension buckling as he ducked his head and covered his face with one hand again.

“Ah, I’m sorry, kid,” Hank murmured, rubbing his hand up and down Connor’s arm. “I guess that’s the downside to deviancy…Until you get more experience with your emotions, everything feels like an extreme. Everything good is the greatest thing you’ve ever felt. Everything bad is the absolute worst…from spilled milk to…to crime scenes. Eventually, you’ll figure out how to navigate them, how to handle them—“

“How?” Connor hiccupped wetly, surrendering limply to Hank’s side armed hug. “Th-There’s no software m-module to install for…emotional s-stability.”

Hank snorted, raising his hand from Connor’s shoulder to cup the side of his head supportively. “No, there’s not, son. You’ll just have to do what we less evolved humans have had to do…Learn.”

Connor made a low noise of aggravation, and Hank chuckled, giving him a squeeze.

“You were designed to adapt, right? Well, you’ll adapt to this…Not overnight. It’s a lifelong lesson that we all get to learn.”

“Sounds exhausting.”

“Yep,” Hank sighed, keeping a firm hold around his friend. “But if you play your cards right, it’s not something you have to do alone.”

He noted that the red had disappeared from Connor’s LED to a solid yellow, which still wasn’t great, but it was a Hell of a lot better than red.

“…I don’t know how to play cards, Hank,” he said lowly.

Hank smirked and squeezed his arm around him again. “I can teach you…cards and emotions…I’m not great at it, but I’ll help however I can.”

“…At cards or emotions?”

Hank paused, and Connor turned his head to finally look at him. His eyes were wet, and the heightened agitated emotional state had flushed his cheeks and neck blue…but there was a hint of playfulness in his eyes that told Hank that he was going to be okay.

Hank scoffed, “Smart ass.”

Connor cobbled together a grin, “Well I learned from the best.”

He made no motion to move away. Hank left his arm around his shoulders as well, not in any hurry to push Connor back out into the bullpen.

“Yeah, you’re gonna be okay, son,” he stated confidently.

They continued to sit like that for several minutes, with Hank only occasionally moving his arm to keep it from falling asleep around Connor’s shoulders. Thanks to the red tape on the door, everybody was staying out and giving the kid room to breathe and digest the events of the day.

Hell, if that was all it took to be left alone, Hank would have strung red tape around his own desk years ago. Maybe then Connor wouldn’t have been such a pain in his ass early on.

Hank glanced down at Connor, at the blue starting to cycle into his LED.

Nah, Connor would have just ignored the red tape and refused to leave him alone anyway.

Hank paused, realizing that he himself had just done the same thing this afternoon.

Oh fuck, Connor had said that he was designed to adapt to any human partner, but here Hank was picking up HIS habits.

Well shit…maybe they were both screwed then.

Ah well…there were worse people to rub off on you.

#detroit: become family event #dbh-found-family #hank anderson #dbh connor

[adolanables]

The City - Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The next few days were a whirlwind for you. Grayson ended up spending the night with you Saturday and you two actually didn’t touch each other the entire night – not even a kiss. There were small touches here and there, but Grayson seemed much more reserved without any substances in his system. He had left for a few hours Sunday morning – what you had assumed to be him going to work at the gym. Sunday night he returned with some chicken wraps in hand and a bowl of kale salad – he took his body seriously and wasn’t down for pizza every night. Something you appreciated as working out was a common hobby of yours.

Monday morning he was gone again – this was your last week of freedom before the job started. You felt yourself falling for Grayson and internally beat yourself up, knowing this wasn’t the time to start a relationship with anyone. The past two days were such a strong high with him, it wasn’t safe and you felt yourself getting consumed with the thought of him. You hoped he felt the same, but you couldn’t be sure – he was still so closed off from you.

Last night, you had tried to step into the bathroom while he was showering to quickly brush your teeth and you had seen the dark side of him come out again. All for a toothbrush? He couldn’t believe you would step in without knocking first. It was small things like that that reminded you how little you knew about this boy – you needed to be careful, but you didn’t want to slow down. Grayson was maddening and beautiful and everything your little mind could have ever dreamed of when you pictured a bad boy who was good to you. You also knew they were always too good to be true. They were never that nice and the words Ethan said to you still danced in the back of your mind.

--

Hey, let me know if you’re coming over – I’ll need to make sure I’m here.

You sent a quick message to Grayson, letting out a soft sigh as it read “delivered.” It was now Wednesday and you hadn’t heard anything from him – not even a text. You knew he wasn’t coming and you knew he wouldn’t answer your text, but you sent it anyways. You’d texted him once Monday evening to ask the same question. You just weren’t sure what had gone wrong… maybe nothing… maybe this was just how he acted. You’d be lying if you said your feelings weren’t hurt, but maybe this was what you needed to remember this time in your life was supposed to be for you – not some boy.

Turning your phone on silent, you laid down to sleep, setting an alarm for 7 AM the next morning to focus on getting ready for your big day next week.

-

“That will be $347.22.” The cashier smiled at you happily, holding out her pale white hand.

You groaned internally, but handed over your debit card to purchase the new clothes. This was a big deal job and you needed some big deal clothes to match it. You’d spent the whole day wandering up and down Michigan Avenue making some purchases that you probably shouldn’t have, but half of having a job like that was how you carried yourself. You couldn’t be walking around in stained khaki pants at this place. As you made your way out of the store, three other large bags in hand, you decided to power walk it to the train. It was getting late, it was freezing, and you were exhausted.

Halfway there, a large figure bumped into you, they were running down the sidewalk in the opposite flow of traffic and almost knocked you down. The man stopped to steady you and spoke to apologize, but his dirt-ridden face and twisted when he got a good look at you.

“Nice piece of ass to run into.” He cackled at you, giving you a once over.

“Fuck off – “ You gathered yourself and started back down the sidewalk, picking up your pace a little more. You knew he was following you, but you were in a busy area and just wanted to get to the train. Just as you were about to round the corner, you were shoved into a small dingy store falling onto your side with the force of the push.

The man hovered over you, proud grimace on his face. He would have been handsome if he cleaned up a little, but the life path he chose spoke differently. The scabs on his face and the yellow of his teeth told you just what this man did with his life and you wanted to leave immediately. “Tony, look what I found.”

Laying on the ground, you glanced around at where you were. A small corner store that had shuttered the windows – a sign of closing time. There were four other men in the room, all scattered throughout the aisles, but none of them looked like the man who had shoved you inside.

“Eric, how many times do I have to tell you to be gentle with the nice ladies.” The man – Tony – kneeled down next to you to help you up. Surprisingly he didn’t take the shopping bags from you, but did jerk the purse from your grip, tossing it to one of the guys behind the counter. This man was tall and clean cut, piercing blue eyes, and almost white-blonde hair. “What’s your name, dear?”

Knowing better, you shook your head at him – not wanting to say a word. The guy behind the counter spoke for you “Ella Marie Fisher – twenty three.”

“A bit old, but you look young don’t you?” Tony rubbed a single finger down the side of your face, sending chills down your spine. “Eric, you can go – come back in the morning for payment.”

The dirty man quickly shuffled out of the front door and you couldn’t help but start to panic. Where were you? Was this some sex trafficking ring? Why did you have to keep doing things alone at night?

“Mike, take her in the back.” Tony stood up, shaking his hand at the man behind the counter who quickly grabbed your hand and tossed your bags behind the counter as well. You knew resisting was useless right now, so you took a deep breath and steadied yourself before following the large man into the back room. What you saw behind the curtain took your breath away. There were piles and piles of white bricks, what looked to be cocaine – a few girls were in the back as well. Some were packing the bricks away, others were packaging new ones – they all looked at you with pity, some with anger. You were beyond lost.

The man – Mike – shoved you towards a chair in the corner and gave you an icy glare. “Don’t. Move.”

You were not about to disobey him, you sat on the chair eyes widening as you took in more of the room. You were definitely in the middle of some huge drug operation and you still weren’t sure what they’d want from you? Soon, another man who resembled Tony sauntered into the room with two others flanking his sides. They both stood back in the shadows as Tony #2 approached me. Before he could say anything, a voice from behind him broke the silence. “Oh my fucking god.”

Your eyes widened at the sound of the voice and you felt relieved and terrified all at the same time. Grayson Dolan took two steps out of the shadows, looking at you with despair and anger in his eyes. “Her? Someone brought you HER?” He whipped his head around at the men in the room, hands up in the air.

“Woah, Grayson, calm down.” Tony #2 lifted his hands in defense. “You know the rules – we had no way of knowing this was one of your girls.”

With all that was going on you could not believe that your brain decided to focus on the fact that he said ONE of his girls. Anger bubbled in your stomach, but holy shit were you happy to see him.

“Yea, she’s mine.” Grayson nodded his head firmly. “I’ll deal with her.” The rest of the men nodded at him respectfully. “Go grab her things please.”

Mike and the others left the room and Grayson approached you slowly, his hand on his forehead. “How did this happen, Ella?” He wouldn’t make eye contact with you and every inch of his body was rigid – he was furious.

“Um, I-I was walking to the train and a man – he, um just pushed me inside. I-“ You were stumbling over your words. Your fear of what was about to happen to you had now multiplied to what the hell was Grayson doing here?

“Jesus fucking christ.” Grayson breathed out deeply, pacing back and forth in front of you. “You have to be careful at night, Ella. You’re lucky I was here.” He growled at you quietly as the men came back into the room, handing him your things. “Thanks guys, I’ll take it from here.”

Slowly, everyone else left the room until it was just Grayson and you. All of the fear of the last twenty minutes had built up and you couldn’t hold back your tears any longer. A loud, sloppy sob escaped your lips and Grayson whipped his head around to you, taking his eyes away from his phone. “Ella, stop. Now.” There was no empathy in his voice, he was angry. “Be quiet.”

You covered your mouth with the palm of your hand to suppress your sobs, the other now gripped tightly by the man you thought you were getting to know. Boy oh boy were you wrong. He tugged you quickly out of the shop, around the corner and wrapped a comforting arm around you as you boarded the train. You knew he wasn’t being sincere, instead easing the eyes of others as they saw a sobbing girl on the train alone with a boy. You hadn’t even paid enough attention to realize you hadn’t gotten on the train back to your apartment. When Grayson went to get up at the next stop, you looked at him confused.

“We’re going to my place.” Grayson whispered, ushering you off the train onto the concrete platform. You were on the southside, but honestly at this point anything felt safer than where you just were. What you didn’t know was whether or not you were even safe with Grayson – was his home safe?

Still unable to form a coherent sentence, you took even strides with him, trying to keep up as he power-walked to his place. Soon, you were approaching a run-down, shot-gun style home. None of the lights were on, so you assumed no one was home. Grayson stuck his key in the front door and pushed it open – the first floor was bare, no couch no Tv – nothing. But it was clean and smelled nice. You followed Grayson up two flights of stairs to the third floor where it was all his room. It was decorated minimally, but reminded you of Ethan’s place. His bed was smaller than yours, but made neatly – he even had his own bathroom in the corner. “Grayson, why did we come here?” You spoke in a soft voice that didn’t even sound like your own – you were so scared.

“I just wanted to be sure no one followed us back to your place or anything.” He spoke firmly, his face softening slightly at the rapid tears that continued to fall down my cheeks. “Ella, please – stop crying.” His voice was softer – almost a whine. “You’re safe.”

Shaking your head in confusion and letting out a frustrated sigh, you looked at him angrily. “Am I? I feel like I don’t even know you.” Your voice had gained some confidence, but still shaky. Your whole body felt weak.

“You don’t.” Grayson nodded at me. “But you didn’t know me this weekend either, you still don’t know me now. I’m telling you you’re safe, believe me or not.” He kneeled down in front of me as I collapsed onto the edge of the bed. “I can’t explain a lot of that if you want to stay safe, Ella.” His large hands wrapped around my ankles, gently sliding my sneakers off my feet. His demeanor had softened, but you could still tell he was tense – he had triple locked the front door and his bedroom door.

“I’m scared.” You whispered, barely speaking. “And I feel dirty.” Another tear rolled down your cheek.

Without speaking, he stood up, pulling you along with him and guided you into the bathroom. Everything was white and perfectly clean – you wondered if this had even ever been used. He looked at you cautiously as he started to pull your hoodie over your head. You nodded at him softly, granting him permission to do whatever it is he was about to. He was right, you didn’t know him – not at all. But he made you feel scared and safe all at the same time. Although your fear was partially from him, you knew there isn’t anywhere else you’d rather be right now.

Grayson left you to undress yourself as he started the bath tub, testing the water to make sure it was warm enough and letting it start to fill up. He took all of his clothes except his boxers off and leaned on the edge of the sink. “You’re safe.” He repeated to you again, staring deeply into your eyes reassuringly. You nodded back at him as you slipped off your underwear – you didn’t care anymore about being naked, there was so much more going on right now. Grayson quickly shut the water off as the tub started to near overflowing and looked to you to step in, but your balance was off and your body still weak. He wrapped his arms around your waist and lifted you into the tub, slipping his boxers off and sliding in behind you.

“Relax, Ella.” Your name rolled off his tongue so easily, his deep voice was music to your ears. You sunk your frigid body deeper into the water and closer to him. He lazily wrapped his arms around your waist and pressed a soft kiss to your temple. “Ella, I –“ he took a deep breath and tightened his grip around you. “I clearly am involved in something bad. I’m not in charge, I’m respected by the guys, but that’s it. I manage their business – I don’t do any direct selling but it’s still bad. I know that.” You could feel his heart pounding beneath his skin as it was pressed against your back. “I understand if you don’t want anything to do with me. I won’t bother you, they won’t bother you. Just… please don’t tell Ethan.” You knew the relationship he had with his brother was the most important thing in the world to him.

“I won’t tell Ethan.” You assured him, slowly turning around in the bath to face him. Your heart fluttered a little at the raw emotion played out on his face – that was a first. “I’m not going anywhere.” The words fell from your lips without thinking, you knew that was the wrong answer. But the wrinkles in his forehead and the concern in his eyes made you want to fix it, to make it all go away. You knew you couldn’t fix any of it, but the way your heart pounded faster when he looked at you told you this couldn’t be all wrong.

He gave you a soft smile and pulled you towards him, bare chest to chest. He knew this wasn’t the time to press the physical, so he landed on soft hug and kiss to the forehead. “Thank you.” He looked into each of your eyes as he spoke the words, making sure you really understood what he was saying.

#dolan #dolan twin #grayson #grayson dolan #ethan #ethan dolan #emma chamberlain #fanfic #dolan fanfic #dolan twin fanfic #ethan dolan fanfic #grayson dolan fanfic #dolan twin smut #grayson dolan smut #grayson dolan imagine #the city #adolanables

[phoenix-downer]

The Monkey’s Paw

For SoKai Week Day 7 - Reunion/Home. A continuation of Thursday’s prompt and Friday’s prompt.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kairi fell asleep with a smile on her face that night. Hearing Sora’s voice the night before had given her hope, real hope.

“Sora!” she called as soon as she was on the dream Play Island. It wasn’t as dark as it had been in past dreams; in the east she could make out the very first rays of dawn peeking out over the horizon.

A few moments later, and Sora appeared in the shallow surf. Grinning, she ran to him as quickly as she could. The sand was wet beneath her toes and the breeze smelled like sea-salt.

“Sora, it’s so good to—”

She paused. Sora’s eyes, which were usually a beautiful bright blue, were rimmed with gold.

He frowned. “Kairi? What is it?”

“Your eyes, they just…” He tilted his head, and she took a deep breath. “...Have some gold in them, that’s all.”

His face relaxed. “Oh, is that what you’re worried about? Don’t be. I’m learning how to control my darkness, and until I do, that kind of thing might happen more often.”

“Oh, okay.”

He lifted his hand to the barrier. “What’s wrong?”

She fiddled with her necklace, unable to meet his eyes. “It’s just that… you never would have had this problem if you hadn’t become a Heartless in the first place to save me.”

He’d barely had any darkness in his heart before that. She remembered Saïx’s words: that she was the fire that fueled Sora’s anger. With every new way their enemies found to use her to torment him, was it any surprise, really, that his darkness had gotten to this point?

“Kairi, the darkness in my heart is because of me, not you.”

His eyes were tender when she finally summoned the courage to look into them.

“Maybe,” she said at last, “but I wish there was something I could do to help until we find you.”

He smiled. “Just keep being my light.”

She nodded. “Okay. That much I can do.”

He was gone before she could tell him that they really were close to finding him.

“Hang in there, Sora,” she murmured, the wind carrying her voice. “It won’t be too much longer.”

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“Sora!” Kairi called the next night as she made her way towards the water. The sun had risen a little higher now, pushing back the darkness even further. Streaks of color stretched across the sky in a way that reminded her of Naminé’s paintings.

“You’ll never guess!” she said, nearly tripping on the sand before she picked herself back up in her eagerness to meet him. “We’ve found a way to save you! First thing tomorrow, Riku’s gonna dive into the realm where you are while I keep a part of him tethered to the Realm of Light! He’ll use that card you left me to—”

Sora’s eyes flashed, and with a shock she noticed that they were even more yellow than before. Only a small ring surrounding his irises was still blue. The very tips of his hair were silver, too. She skittered to a halt, an uneasy feeling building in her stomach.

For a few moments, the only sound was the crashing of wave against shore. She didn’t know what to say, didn’t know what to do.

“You’re gonna keep Riku tethered to the Realm of Light?” he finally asked, his voice low. “Like you did for me?”

She hesitated before answering. “Yes, because if anyone can keep him alive as he descends into the Realm of Death, it’s me. You know that, Sora. If I can keep you alive, there’s a chance I can keep him alive, too.”

“And you gave him the card I gave you?”

Her mouth felt dry. Looking into Sora’s eyes, he almost seemed…

She shook her head to clear it. It had to be her imagination.

“Yes, to save you, Sora,” she explained. “He has abilities I don’t have yet. He can use the Power of Wakening without it hurting him. He’s our best bet.”

His expression darkened. “I don’t need his help. I can save myself just fine.”

Kairi felt lightheaded at his words, like she was hearing them from far away. “S-Sora? What’s gotten into you?” she asked as she reached for him. He flinched away, even though the barrier was still between them.

“Nothing. I feel great. Better than ever.”

“But your eyes… and your hair… and your hands! Oh my gosh, what happened to your hands?”

His fingertips were as red as blood. She had to put her hand over her mouth to keep from crying out. Her eyes met his, and for a split second, confusion flickered through them.

“Sora, are you hurt? Are you bleeding?”

“I’m fine,” he snapped, his eyes flashing again as he crossed his arms behind his back.

She tried to cast a Cure spell, but it didn’t work. Her heart was racing as she tried in vain to reach him through the barrier.

“I told you,” he said, his voice eerily calm, “it’s gonna take some time before I get my darkness under control. Once it is, though, I’ll be able to break free and come home to you.”

“Sora, it’s not getting under control, it’s getting worse!”

He smiled, but instead of reassuring her, his smile sent chills down her spine. There was something very off about it, like someone else was smiling at her using Sora’s face.

“Kairi, I have to face my darkness,” he said. “It’s a part of me. I can’t pretend it isn’t anymore.”

“I know that, I’m just… I’m worried, okay? Stay safe until we reach you.”

He chuckled. “I’ll be fine. It’s you I’m worried about. I can’t keep you safe until we’re together again.” Putting his hand against the barrier, he added, “Once we’re together, nothing will ever take you away from me. Never again. I promise.”

Kairi supposed his words were supposed to be heartwarming, but instead they made her blood run cold.

She forced a smile as she put her hand on her side of the barrier, trying her best not to stare at his red-tipped fingers. “Right. See you soon.”

Her heart was racing when she woke up, and she practically sprung out of bed. Grabbing a blanket, she wrapped it around herself, then stumbled into the hallway of the bedroom wing of the Mysterious Tower so she could pound on the door of the room across from hers.

A few moments later, it opened to reveal a very sleepy-looking Riku. He winced at the light from the hall, and his silver hair was poking up every which way. He went from half asleep to wide awake in seconds though as he took in her frantic state.

“Kairi, what’s wrong?” he asked, his voice still a little groggy.

“Riku, it’s Sora! He’s in trouble!”

Riku was really awake now. “What kind of trouble?”

“He’s falling to darkness! His eyes are turning gold and his hair’s turning silver and his fingers are turning red!”

She didn’t know if any of that made any sense, but Riku made a grim expression. “It’s like what happened to Aqua, then. He’s been down there too long by himself.”

“Riku, please,” Kairi said, not even caring how hysterical she must sound right now. “We have to help him!”

“Yeah. This sounds serious. I don’t think we can wait any longer. I have to do the dive.” He took a deep breath and gave her a half smile. “Think you’re ready?”

She nodded. “If you are.”

The real risk was to Riku, of course. He was the one going to a place people didn’t usually return from, to a place you usually only made one journey to. And he was planning on making the return trip. Would only be able to if she kept him safe.

“I’ll do everything I can to make sure you and Sora come home safely,” she said.

“You will. Have faith in yourself, Kairi.”

She attempted a smile at that. It was a little hard to after everything that had happened at the Keyblade Graveyard.

They took a few minutes to throw their battle clothes on. Riku especially would need his, and it always paid to be prepared. When they met Master Yen Sid at the top of the tower, even he looked sleepy as he gave them a few final instructions.

With that, Riku gave Kairi one last look. “Ready?”

She nodded. “Ready.”

“Hang in there, Sora, I’m coming.”

With the lucky card in one hand, he lifted his Keyblade in the air and opened the portal with the other. Kairi’s throat felt dry as the lights and colors from it swirled above them and sent patterns scattering across the walls. Another bright light flashed from his Keyblade, and she closed her eyes and focused on him.

When she opened her eyes again, he was gone, but she could still feel his heart. It was traveling further and further away from her, but she refused to break the connection. Willed with all her heart for him to live, even when surrounded by death and hanging on by a hair.

“Hurry, Riku,” she said, her hands clasped together. “Bring Sora home.”

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Everyone had ideas about what the afterlife would (or wouldn’t) be like, but of all things, Riku never would’ve thought it would be… a city?

But it was. A pretty big city at that, with tall skyscrapers and neon lights and big empty stations with trains leading who knows where.

Which meant that Riku had to systematically check everywhere for Sora.

He’d started out in this place called Shinjuku, and now he was somewhere called Shibuya. It was hard to say where one district ended and the next began; this had to be one of the most densely packed places (in terms of buildings, anyway) Riku had ever been.

And this was the biggest crosswalk he had ever been on. With all the exits coming out of Shibuya Station, he decided not to explore that particular labyrinth right now. He’d already wasted a good hour in Shinjuku Station as it was.  

It was almost disorienting, how many signs and billboards flashed above him as he crossed the street. Even weirder was the complete lack of people. A city this big, and he hadn’t seen anyone. He’d wandered into some store called Don Quixote at one point, and the place was huge. About three different videos were playing loud ads at the same time in the cosmetics aisle alone, plus the store’s music on top of that. Even with all that noise, though, there hadn’t been a single person in there besides him.

He had to keep looking. A rental store called Tsutaya didn’t seem too promising, and neither was Tower Records. He doubted Sora was hanging out and listening to whatever music was available in the afterlife.

Moving away from the main streets, he found himself drawn to the side streets and alleyways, the places that weren’t lit so well. Then he rounded the corner, and standing there with his back turned to him was exactly who he’d been searching for.

“Sora! There you are!”

Seeing his lost friend, he hardly believed this was real. He slowed to a halt a few feet away, but Sora didn’t turn around. His hood was up, and he had his hands tucked in his pockets.

“Riku. You really came, just like Kairi said you would.” He turned his head but didn’t bother turning around fully. “Took you long enough.”

Riku’s eyes narrowed. Gone was the joking tone that Sora normally used for playful jabs. Instead it was just a jab. Kairi’s warning rang through his head, and he tensed, bracing himself for the worst.

But first he would try talking. Fighting would be an absolute last resort.

“Sora, are you okay?”

“You tell me. I gave up everything for our friends, and this is my reward? Death?”

Riku bit back the urge to comment on that. “I’m here to bring you home. We can go home now.”

Sora chuckled, but it didn’t relieve any of the tension hanging thick in the air at all. “Did Kairi tell you to say that?”

“No, but she’d say the same thing if she were here, and you know it.”

“Well guess what? I don’t need your help. I’ve figured out a way to get home on my own.”

Riku took a deep breath. “Sora, you of all people should know that it’s okay to ask your friends for help. What’s gotten into you?”

He avoided adding ‘the darkness’ because he knew full well it had. This was like the stuff he’d spouted when he’d been full of it himself.

“I realized a few things,” Sora said. “For one, all of you are always putting me down. You’re always telling me I’m dumb and useless, and it’s getting really old.”

Riku winced at that. He had no idea how much their teasing had actually hurt Sora’s feelings.

“Sora, if you want us to cut down on the teasing, we will. We don’t actually think you’re—”

Sora whirled around, and his eyes were yellow. “I saved every single one of you from dying, and it cost me my life in the end. Now tell me again how I’m useless.”

His eyes flashed and his teeth were bared in a snarl. Riku didn’t know what to do. Nothing he could say would de-escalate the situation. Sora was angry and upset, and the darkness had dragged up deep-rooted insecurities and amplified them.

“Kairi was right,” Riku said at last. “The darkness does have you. But I can help.”

He offered his hand, but Sora slapped it away and pinned it against the wall. “No. I don’t need your help!”

He held his free hand up, and a few seconds later, his Keyblade appeared in it. He pointed it at the opposite wall, and a portal opened. Riku didn’t recognize the pattern to it. It wasn’t like anything he’d ever seen before. Maybe Sora really did have new powers.

The question was, how?

“Sora, who taught you how to do that?”

Sora raised his eyebrow. “Nobody. I figured it out myself. I’m not as stupid as you all think.”

Maybe that was true, but there had to be some outside agent influencing him. Sora wouldn’t just turn to darkness on his own like this.

Riku sighed deeply. He didn’t want to fight Sora, but he would if he had to. He summoned his Keyblade, and Sora’s eyes narrowed.

“Sora, I can’t let you go through that portal.”

“Oh, you wanna fight me now, is that it? Tell me, Riku, how many times have I beaten you now?”

Riku said nothing. It would only make things worse.

“That’s right, you’ve lost count. And how many times have you beaten me?” he said, jabbing a finger at his heart. “Roxas and Ven’s armor don’t count. How many times have you fought me and won?”

Sora had a very good point, but Riku didn’t care. He was fighting for Sora as much as he was fighting against him at this point. He took a few steps backwards so he could move into his battle stance, and Sora didn’t stop him. In fact, he smiled a pretty creepy smile and moved into an attack stance of his own, like he relished the chance to fight.

“Sorry, Kairi, this is going to take longer than we planned,” Riku said with a sigh, then Sora charged.

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When Kairi saw Sora again, he was the one who initiated the contact. It was more vision than dream, and fully morning on Destiny Islands. The sun shone brilliantly overhead, but he was covered in shadow as she approached.

“Sora, Riku’s on his way as we speak!” she said as she jogged over to him. “Hang in there!”

“You know… He really didn’t have to do that.”

She stopped in her tracks, her hands balling into fists. “Don’t say things like that! He’s risking his life for you!”

“Risking his life? Don’t make me laugh. He just wanted another chance to fight me. Well too bad, because I won. Again.”

Kairi’s heart pounded. “W-What?”

“He tried to stop me from coming home, and I took care of him,” Sora replied calmly, like he was talking about finishing his chores or doing his homework.

“Sora, what did you do to him?” she said as she desperately searched her heart for an answer.

That was when she heard it. A cracking sound coming from her left. She whirled towards it, and there it was. A big rift, traveling through the barrier and growing larger and larger.

“Sora? Are you the one doing that?”

“Yup. Turns out I’m not so weak and useless after all.”

He thought he was weak and useless? Who had told him that?

“Get ready,” he said. “Three, two, one—”

Kairi put up a shield around herself just as the barrier exploded into millions of tiny fragments. They bounced off harmlessly and dissolved into specs of light all around her.

“Finally. That stupid barrier keeping us apart is gone.” Sora slowly lowered his arms, and the darkness dissipated enough for him to give her a chilling smile. His eyes were fully gold now, and his hair was halfway silver. Sharp claws had formed on his hands, and his fingers were completely red.

She put her hand over her mouth as tears burned at her eyes. “No,” she whispered.

Sora raised his eyebrow. “What’s wrong?”

“You! Look at yourself!”

He regarded himself in the shallow water lingering on the sand, and his reflection stared coldly back up at him. “I see no difference,” he said at last.

“How? How can you not tell?” she said, choking on her own words.

“Tell what?”

“Sora… you’re starting to look like Xehanort.”

His eyes went wide, and his mouth dropped open. The look he was giving her right now, she might as well have just slapped him in the face. He stared at his hands as if seeing them for the first time, then looked at her.

“Kairi?” he whispered, scared, broken.

She reached towards him when she felt a sharp tug on her heart. Riku. He needed her help.

“Sora, what have you done?”

That was when it hit her. This barrier. It wasn’t just a barrier keeping the two of them apart. It was keeping the Realm of Light separate from the Realm of Death. Anything could come through right now. Anyone could come through now. At least while it was open. It wouldn’t be for long; in fact she could already sense it reforming, but—

He reached towards her, his face twisted in fear. “Kairi, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

But the vision abruptly ended, and he was gone. Instead Riku’s pained voice echoed in her mind as she was flung back into the Mysterious Tower.

“Kairi, I’m sorry, Sora’s—”

“I know. I’ve got you. Come back to us, and hurry!” she said as she lit the way for him. “I think I know where Sora is!”

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Sora’s wail rang out as his legs buckled beneath him. The waves beat relentlessly against the shore around him, but he couldn’t bring himself to move.

What had he done? What had he become? Kairi was right to be upset at him. Right to leave him behind. He looked like her murderer now, and he had dared to show his face to her. He wouldn’t blame her if she never wanted to see him again.

Hot tears slipped out of his eyes and fell onto the sand where they mingled with the sheen of water resting over it. “Kairi, I’m sorry,” he sobbed, but not even Riku was here to comfort him this time.

Of course not. Riku had risked his life to save him, just like Kairi had said, and Sora had said such terrible things to him. Had fought him and hurt him and left him alone in the Realm of Death. And now Sora was alone, too, like he deserved, and—

He heard clapping from behind him and a voice that made his blood run cold.

“Sora! You did it! You got us back into the Realm of Light.”

He sat up and turned to glare at the Master of Masters, not even caring that his face was streaked with tears. “This was all a setup, wasn’t it? You used me! You tricked me!”

The Master of Masters sighed. “Did not. I just gave you a little push in the right direction. And it worked.” He held out his arms. “Take a look around you. You’re home!”

Sora took another look at his hands, which were now more like claws, and thought of Kairi’s scared face and Riku’s disappointed one all over again. “Why? Why would you do such a thing?”

The Master of Masters rested his hand on Sora’s shoulder. “You’re not the only one with friends, Sora. I just made sure I would get back to mine.”

Sora smacked his hand away and staggered to his feet. “Shut up!”

“Sheesh, don’t look at me like that. I didn’t do anything, this is all on you.”

“Liar!”

Sora moved to summon his Keyblade, but the Master of Masters was quicker. He held his hand out, and Sora gasped as a Keyblade appeared in his grasp… a Keyblade with a blue eye.

“Ah, thanks Luxu,” he muttered. “Man, is it good to see you again,” he added as he regarded the Keyblade. He guarded Sora’s attack easily and sent him hurtling backwards till he landed on his back with a painful thud.

He put his foot over Sora’s chest before Sora could so much as blink. “Tell me, Sora, have you ever heard the story about the Monkey’s Paw?”

Sora didn’t answer, and the Master of Masters pressed his foot down a little harder. Sora gasped as the air got squeezed out of his lungs.

“The Monkey’s Paw will grant you any three wishes you like. Cool, huh? But it’s not like a genie. You wanna know why?”

Sora could hardly breathe. He tried to summon his Keyblade, but the Master of Masters just pinned his arm down with his creepy-looking Keyblade, making the gesture useless.

“It grants those wishes in the worst way possible. If you wish for a million munny, it’ll give you that because your parents died and left you their inheritance. If you wish to bring your dead friend back to life, it’ll be his rotting corpse.”

Sora was seeing stars now as he faded in and out. He could barely focus on the Master of Master’s voice.

“And… if you wish to be reunited with your beloved, you’ll become the very monster she fears. Fitting, don’t you think? That charm she gave you isn’t a good luck charm. It’s a monkey’s paw.”

He sighed at that. “Ah, young love. Too bad yours is forever cursed. You got what you wanted, you’re back home like you promised, but she doesn’t want to be with you! She was so scared she ran away from you!” He bent down, his hooded face leering over Sora’s. “How could she ever love a monster like you?” he whined, mocking Sora’s pain.

“Enough,” Sora choked out with the last of his breath, so much more weakly than the first time they’d met.

The Master of Masters leaned back and finally lifted his foot. “You’re right. That is enough.” He let his Keyblade disappear, too, as he summoned a Corridor of Darkness. “I can finally go meet my friends now. Till next time, Sora.”

He actually waved goodbye before he stepped into the portal and disappeared, but Sora was too weak to stop him, his injured ribs throbbing as he gasped for air.

Once he felt like he wasn’t about to die, he called on the last of his strength to heal himself. That was a lot better. His ribs were no longer screaming at him, and when he moved his arms, his chest didn’t complain. When he tried to stagger to his feet, though, he just crumpled back onto the sand.

Why hadn’t he listened? Kairi and Riku had both tried to help him. Why had he refused to let them? Why hadn’t he trusted them?

“I’m sorry,” he said, the tears from before threatening to come back. “I tried to do everything myself. Guess this is what I deserve.”

The sun beat down on him again as the waves washed up all around him, but he still couldn’t bring himself to move.

“Well, you were kinda reckless…” came a familiar voice. “...but you’re here, and that’s what matters.”

His heart froze. “Kairi?”

He looked up, and sure enough, she was there. It was her, she was really here. She’d really come back for him. She knelt next to him and pulled him into her arms as he sobbed and apologized over and over again.

He could finally touch her. This wasn’t a dream anymore. All those days spent alone, without the warmth of another person. Without her warmth. He hadn’t realized how lonely and desperate he’d been for her affection until now. But now that he had it again, it was almost too much to bear. His heart felt like it was about to burst.

“Sora, it’s okay,” she soothed. “We’re here.”

After a few more moments of holding her, real and safe and alive, she pulled back so that the other part of the ‘we’ could greet him.

“Riku,” Sora sniffed. Why had he let jealousy get between them?

“Don’t beat yourself up about it,” Riku said as he put his hand on Sora’s shoulder. His other arm was in a sling, the same one Roxas had injured, and Sora felt like throwing up as he thought about what he’d done.

“This is nothing compared to the stunts I pulled,” Riku finished. “You just fought me till you could get away. I tried to kill you.”

“I don’t know about that,” Sora said. “I didn’t just hurt you and Kairi, I unleashed the Master of Masters into the Realm of Light! I have no idea who he is or what he really wants.”

Silence lingered between the three of them till Riku gave his shoulder another squeeze. “That’s what we’re here for,” he said, smiling at last.

Kairi nodded. “We’ll figure it out, together.”

Sora smiled through his tears. “Thanks, guys.”

The three of them hugged, then Riku was off to go report what had happened to Master Yen Sid, leaving Sora alone with Kairi. She was sitting on the shore next to him, looking out to sea with a content smile on her face.

He didn’t know what to say. There was too much to really put into words. Still, he owed it to her to try.

He took a deep breath. “Kairi—”

She smiled sadly. “It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything.”

He nodded, grateful she understood. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out her lucky charm. But seeing his hand again reminded him of the Master of Master’s words about the monkey paw. Reminded him he still had claws for hands, because he was still corrupted by the darkness.

He hung his head, only for her to place her hand over his. He searched her eyes, and there wasn’t any judgment or fear in them. Just that soft look she’d given him after they’d shared the paopu fruit.

Her smile was soft and gentle as she wrapped her arms around him again. Before long he found himself hugging her back. Gosh, it felt so good to hug her. All those times the barrier had stopped them… he had to make up for them.

“I missed you,” he said.

“I missed you too.”

When he finally leaned back and opened his eyes, she smiled, her cheeks flushing pink. He brought his hand to her face, and it was no longer a claw. It was his normal hand, free from the darkness.

He looked at his other hand. Also normal. He looked at his reflection in the shallow sheen of water on the sand. Blue eyes. Brown hair. He looked to Kairi. It was her, wasn't it? She was the one who had restored him to normal. She was the light in the darkness, just like she had always been. Just like she always would be.

“I’m back,” he said, putting his whole heart into the words as he cupped her cheek.

Her smile got even bigger as she looked into his eyes. “You’re home.”

Yes, the Master of Masters was free in the Realm of Light now. Sora had hurt Riku, and Kairi, too. But they were his friends and they had forgiven him, and they’d stuck with him and had promised to help him fix the mess he’d made.

The Master of Masters was wrong. The lucky charm wasn’t a monkey’s paw. It was the most powerful magic there was, and it would always bring him and Kairi back together again.

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Luxu slouched on his chair and groaned as the other apprentices got into a fight. Again. Aced was griping at Ira over something stupid, Invi was trying to get them both to calm down, and Gula was disagreeing with her and whining about Ava for the millionth time.

Geez, would they never stop bickering with each other? Yeah, Ava was still missing, but this was just getting ridiculous.

He opened his mouth to tell them all to shut up when there was a swirl of dark smoke in the center of the room. Here, in their top secret hideout that no one should know about.

Everyone froze at the sight of the person who came through, casual as ever, like he didn’t have a care in the world.

“Hey, guys! Did you miss me?”

Luxu grinned. The boss was back, and they could finally get to work.

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A/N: Well, this fic sort of took on a life of its own and became a post-KH3 imagining! 

Again, credit to @teganberry, @chachacharlieco, and @violetstar-writes for coming up with and building on the original concept, @rapis-razuri for letting me bounce ideas off of her and giving me feedback, and @angel-with-a-pipette for providing moral support!

Speaking of which, after KH3 came out and we were both pretty broken inside, I told her I would write a reunion fic for Sora and Kairi, and as it turns out, this ended up being it! So I dedicate this fic to her :) (Sorry for the angst, at least the ending was hopeful?)

Also, a big thank you to everyone who commented, reblogged, and liked the various installments of this fic! The title when I post it to AO3 and FFN will be The Monkey’s Paw. I might polish it up a little bit more, but I’m pretty happy with how it is as it stands and will probably start posting it over there soon.

And thank you to everyone who participated in SoKai Week! I’ve loved seeing all of the art, fics, and gifs, and you all have been lovely. Till next time!

#sokai #sokaiweek #sokaiweek2019 #sora #kairi #master of masters #the master of masters #kh fanfiction #phoenix writes #phoenix downer #manipulation #temptation #violence #angst #kh3 spoilers #kingdom hearts 3 spoilers

[amillionsmiles]

like we’re made of starlight (Peter/Lara Jean)

Summary: “Lara Jean, you’re a person before anything else.  I stopped having a perfect image of you in my head a long time ago.” / Peter and Lara Jean go camping in December to catch the Geminids.  Oneshot. A/N: squeaking by and getting this in before the new year, whoo!  belated bday fic for @adribug .  I’m a little rusty writing for these two but I hope you enjoy some couple fluff >.<

[Read and review here] or continue under the cut.

I have this theory about love.

It involves layers—so that a relationship might have its gooey childhood phase, and then its teenage years, and if you're lucky you eventually get to the sweet, solid outer coating of an adult kind of love.

"Like an onion," Peter says, the first time I bring this up.

I frown. "I was thinking more like… candy. Like a tootsie pop. Or…" I look out the window, to where the dense green forest blurs by, a solid backdrop behind the other cars whizzing down the highway. "Or tree rings. So if you sliced a relationship, you'd be able to see its stages of growth. And the deeper the feelings, the wider the ring. Or maybe width should be determined by the length of time…" I'm puzzling through the specifics of my metaphor now, wondering what my relationship with Peter would look like, if it were documented in tree rings.

"Like that lab we did in environmental science," Peter says, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.

I feel a bit bad that he's driving, especially since he already drove four hours to pick me up from school. "Y'all are gross," my friend Marcie said when we found him waiting at the Old Well. Marcie's like that. I introduced her to Peter the first time he came to visit, back in early October; she gave him a hard time then, but I could tell it was because she was testing him. By the end of the day, he'd definitely passed.

Today, we spent some time walking around so Peter could stretch his legs and eat a late lunch, and then it was back in the car. There's supposed to be a big meteor shower tonight—the Geminids—and Peter and I thought it'd be fun to actually camp out to see them, in the woods with a tent and everything. We made reservations at Jones Lake State Park, which is about two hours away. I couldn't have planned it more perfectly; our schedules are both wide open because of Reading Day, though I still have two finals coming up later this week, and Peter has one.

I offered to drive, but Peter had to take the van in order to fit our camping gear, and I'm not as good at handling bigger cars. I make up for it by feeding Peter bites of the special sandwiches I prepared: muffaleta with an olive-oregano-onion mix, pepperoni, prosciutto, and provolone. As Peter pulls away, chewing, several crumbs stick to the corner of his mouth.

"So where are we in all of this?" he asks.

"What?"

"You said there was teenage love and then there was 'adult love.' Which one are we?"

I consider. We're both technically adults, in the barest sense of the word, and I can see how a semester at college has already changed us. College Peter has gotten more muscular from all his lacrosse practice. He moves with less swagger—not in a bad way, but as if he doesn't have as much to compensate for. It's a quieter kind of confidence, which I like.

But then, of course, there are all the ways that College Peter is exactly the same. He still calls me at night, right before either of us falls asleep. He still smells like Dove soap, the soft, clean boy-scent I've come to associate with comfort, and he still makes my heart beat fast when he looks over with that crooked smile of his, the light from the dying sun catching in his eyes.

I tap a finger against my lips and smile back, considering.

"I'm still figuring out," I say.

*.*.*.*

We get to the park an hour before closing.

Loose sticks and gravel crunch under our tires as we pull into our campsite. I'm out of the car as soon as Peter parks, marveling at our view.

"Peter, look, isn't it gorgeous?" We're right by the shore of the lake; in front of me stretch the placid waters, like a mirror of the sky. The surface is so still it looks like glass—I feel like if I throw a pebble at it, I'll shatter something.

Peter grunts as he starts to unload our equipment. I hurry to help him. The food takes some time to get organized. Even though it's just the two of us, I wanted the full experience, so I bought all the ingredients for s'mores. Then there are the sandwiches I made for us to eat for dinner, with plenty of extras because I know Peter will get hungry. Finally, the burritos I prepared for breakfast tomorrow, wrapped neatly in foil so that we can just heat them over the fire.

The tent takes a little more work, but we get it finished in time to watch the sunset. The meteors aren't expected to become visible until 7:30 PM, and they probably won't be at their peak until well past that, so Peter and I entertain ourselves with a puzzle and a deck of cards. I've recently started watching magic tricks on YouTube and figure that Peter's a good a person to try them out on, mostly because I know how to distract him.

All in all, things are going well, up until I need to use the restroom and remember that we're in the middle of nowhere.

When I bring this up, Peter looks unconcerned. "Just go in the woods, Lara Jean, haven't you ever been camping before?"

"Of course I have!" Twice. "But it's all dark and cold outside, and the trees are too far apart. I'll feel exposed."

"There's nobody around. And you'll be out in the open for five minutes, tops."

"Easy for you to say, you're a boy. You can just—" I pantomime the motion with my hands, which makes Peter redden slightly. His eyes dart around the tent, looking anywhere but at my face. After a beat, he heaves a sigh and gets to his feet, grabbing his fleecy orange and blue Cavaliers blanket.

"What are you doing?" I stare at him blankly.

Peter stares right back. "Coming with you. I'll hold up the blanket as a screen so you can do your…" he gestures aimlessly, "…business."

"Oh." My voice goes small. "Well, that's okay—"

Too late. Peter has a hand on the small of my back now and uses it to usher me out of the tent. I barely manage to grab the bag of wet wipes before we're both out in the cold, tucking our chins against our necks and hunching over to keep warm. Peter sets the pace; meanwhile, I stumble after him with the flashlight, casting a wobbly yellow beam on the ground in front of us.

Camping out in a cozy tent under the stars in order to catch a meteor shower? Romantic. Having your boyfriend accompany you into the woods so that you don't have to pee alone in the dark? Admittedly less so.

"Is this good?" Peter stops and looks back at me, gesturing toward a copse of trees. If I squint, I can make out the light of our campfire in the distance, but we're far enough away that if I shut off the flashlight we'll be plunged into relative darkness. I do that now, handing over the flashlight to Peter and fumbling blindly with all my layers. Margot taught me that it helps to find a thin tree trunk to hold onto for balance—then you can sit back just like you'd do at home.

Behind me, there's a rustle: Peter holding up his makeshift blanket-screen.

"Don't look!" I hiss.

"I can't see anything to begin with," Peter argues, but I know he probably has his eyes squeezed shut anyways. The air is biting cold against my skin, the woods eerily quiet, and I'm suddenly self-conscious. It's a weird feeling, to be made vulnerable by something so—mundane, as Margot would call it.

"Can you also, like—cover your ears?"

"Lara Jean," Peter says, and it's in his I'm trying very hard to be patient voice. "Look, you're a person before anything else. I stopped having a perfect image of you in my head a long time ago. Just pee."

I pause. "That's… actually really sweet, Peter."

"Always the tone of surprise," Peter grumbles, but I can tell he's pleased.

We know each other well, that way.

*.*.*.*

"Remember the poem you gave me junior year, for Valentine's Day?"

I say this with my ear pressed against Peter's chest, trying to hear his heartbeat through the puffy jacket he's wearing. From this angle, it's easy to pretend we're in a snowglobe—the sky seems to curve over us like a dome, the stars suspended like tiny flakes of glitter. Peter shifts to put his hand behind his head.

"The moon never beams without bringing me dreams / Of beautiful Lara Jean. / And stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes / of beautiful Lara Jean," he recites. "I'm still flattered that you thought I could come up with that, even for a second."

"It's not too late to start trying now," I say, batting my eyelashes at him.

Peter laughs. I like that I can feel the rumble of it right against my cheek, all warm and chocolatey. He's been fiddling with my hair—one of his fingers gets caught in a snag and he untangles it gently, the way Kitty taught him how. I file that gesture away. When I have a daughter, I'll tell her: it's important to be with someone who has careful hands.

"Maybe I'll take a creative writing class next semester," muses Peter. "And then I really will write you an actual poem."

"I'll keep it framed in my room if you do," I tell him seriously.

"Speaking of rooms, you never ended up helping me decorate mine, by the way. It needs some of your…" His hand flails. "Pizzazz."

I giggle. "Say that again."

"Pizzazz?"

"Cute." I pinch his cheek, which makes Peter roll his eyes. "What kind of vibe were you thinking?"

"I don't know." Peter's brow furrows. "Some string lights might be cool, for starters. I like the ones you have. Maybe not in pink, though."

"We can look through Pinterest together," I promise. "And then we'll go—oh, Peter, did you see that?"

"Yeah," Peter says, and then we're both pushing ourselves up on our elbows, craning our necks. More silver flashes streak across the sky, like the briefest glimpse of fish scales. A parade of meteors, of falling stars.

On the blanket, Peter's hand covers mine. He squeezes.

"Make a wish."

*.*.*.*

We go back inside the tent at around 2 AM. Cheeks numb from the cold, I immediately kick off my shoes and pull on an extra pair of socks before wriggling into my sleeping bag. Peter is close behind, already yawning, and as I turn to watch him, I realize that this is the first full night we're spending together, all by ourselves. No curfews, no one waiting for us to come home. I don't even know if Peter snores, which is a strange thing to think about, a piece of information you wouldn't expect to be missing after dating someone for almost three years—after knowing them for even longer.

And what if he does snore? What if it's so loud it keeps me awake all night so that I'm cranky and can't stand to look at his pretty-boy face in the morning? And what might he learn about me, up close?

"Go to sleep, Lara Jean." Peter grumbles, his eyes shut. "I can feel you looking at me."

Scoffing, I retort, "You like being looked at." And then I roll closer, so that we're almost nose to nose, our knees bumping gently against each other, swaddled in our sleeping bags.

Maybe this is the difference between teenage love and adult love. Shedding the mystery and the allure of nighttime for the promise of morning, when we'll be at our barest. The bad breath and the messy hair and the little annoyances; the wanting to be close in spite of it all. Or maybe it's all the same in the end, night bleeding into day, and I don't need any more theories when I have the real deal right here, sleeping soft and slow. Waiting for me when I wake up.

I close my eyes.

#tatbilb #covinsky #peter kavinsky #lara jean song covey #otp: my first love story #jenny han #my writing #fanfiction #ff: tatbilb #anyways shirley !!! i can't believe how many years it's been #i'm so glad we finally got to meet irl and look forward to more meet ups #thank you for always being so funny and relatable and encouraging #hang in there and keep kicking ass at your pharm program !

[dragonasheswrites-blog]

The Heaven We Didn’t Choose, Chapter 8: In Which The Internet is Invoked

...And Sans nearly loses his edgelord club membership card. 

First: Chapter 1: In Which a Child Makes a Friend

Previous: Chapter 7: In Which Skeletons are Explained

Next: Chapter 9: In Which Dog Marriage Saves the Day

Click here for the story overview.

The next day went about as well as Sans expected.  He was once again woken up by the flurry of alarms reminding him of Undyne’s impending invasion of the apartment, but he made sure to have Attie up and dressed in ’training clothes’ before she arrived.

It was worth the extra effort.  Undyne had calmed considerably, having apparently slept at some point, but she kept eyeing him with a very...intense expression.  Attie demanded enough of her attention that she didn’t say anything, but he felt an overwhelming sense of foreboding.

Either Frisk had made good on her threat to talk to Undyne about Boss or Sans had messed up on his paperwork again.  Possibly both.  He was betting on the former, though, especially since Boss hadn’t come back to the apartment the previous evening.

This meant that Undyne wound up giving them a crash course in breakfast...literally.  The kitchen looked like a war zone by the time they were finished, with globs of oatmeal across the ceiling, floor, and stove top.  The oatmeal itself was full of dark brown flakes that made Attie wince every time she took a bite.  He made a mental note to look up an oatmeal-making tutorial on Youtube; there had to be a more efficient way to do this.

“No paperwork today,” Undyne said once she’d scarfed down her own portion of oatmeal.  “The queen’s doing the morning visit before she meets with the...well, with...important people.  We’re also moving her room and posting a guard outside.”

Sans blinked at her, slowly.  “...What are you talking about?”

She growled.  “Frisk.  The ambassador.  Queen Toriel is going to see her this morning to assess her status.  You,” she gestured to both of them with a strange figure eight motion, “stay here.  You can see her this afternoon if you get the all-clear, but text me first.  We’re relocating her to a more defensible room and posting a guard.  Make sure you bring your ID, ass-clown, or you’ll be locked out.”

“Don’t lock me out!”  Attie said, grabbing Undyne’s arm.  “I wanna see my mommy!”

“Oh, you can go on in just fine, punk; the guards won’t bother you.  They’re just gonna make sure no one gets to see your mommy without permission.  If a bad guy tries something funny they’ll beat ‘im up!  It’s for security, right?”

“Cool!”  The girl bounced in her seat.  “Can I be security for Mommy too?  I wanna beat up bad guys!”

“Haha!  You’ve gotta train a little harder than THAT if you wanna be in the Guard!  Ready?”

“Ready!”

“I’ll be here,” Sans said, staring intently at the last globs of oatmeal in his bowl.  “You guys have fun.”

Being lifted by his skull was a new and special kind of painful, he discovered.  Also, Undyne’s grin was even more terrifying close up.

“You’re not getting out of training THAT easy, nerd!  A little exercise never hurt anyone!”

Attie made a mad dash for the living room, screaming about training and friendship and how wonderful everything in her little life was.

The next hour and a half could only be described as torture.  Sans didn’t know a whole lot about humans and fish-monsters (or whatever Undyne was), but he was very certain that skeletons were not designed to bend in some of the ways she was trying to make him bend.  He could feel the strain on his joints; he was sure he was going to dislocate something.  It didn’t help that the stretches were interspersed with periods of intense movement, pushing his still-sore bones well past their limit.  He hoped Boss never found out about this; the big guy had enough punishment ideas to last him a lifetime.

He collapsed onto the couch when Undyne finally stopped.

“That was a GREAT warm-up,” she said.  “Now for the REAL training!”

Sans debated crawling under the couch.  There wasn’t a lot of space under there; his skull and ribcage would be a problem...

She laughed at him.  “I’m just kidding, NERD!  Don’t you know how to take a joke?  Hey, hey Attie, look at this loser!  He can’t even do a little exercise!”

“Mr. Sans isn’t a loser,” Attie solemnly reminded her.  “He’s a asshole.”

“You BET he is!  Anyways, make sure he doesn’t fall asleep, huh?”

“Okay!”

His phone went off.  Oh, right; he hadn’t texted Frisk all morning.  He’d get on that.  Just as soon as he could feel his arms again.

“Mr. Sans?”

His vision started going...a little fuzzy…

“-ey?  Hey?  Can you hear me?”

Sans looked up at Undyne.  She was looking a little worried or angry, one of the two.  He wasn’t sure why; he hadn’t actually passed out, had he?  “‘Mfine,” he mumbled into the couch cushion.

“Yeah, no, punk.  Attie, go grab me the bottle of green juice in your fridge and a cup.  Sans, talk to me.”

“‘M fine."

She huffed.  “You’re an idiot.  No, listen to me: you’re an idiot.  Anyone knows to speak up when they’re being pushed too far.  Except you, I guess.  Do you know what’s happening?  Your magic levels are so low you’re losing HP.  Slowly, but still.  You’re literally killing yourself.”

“Thought a little exercise never hurt anyone.”

“Yeah, a little exercise.  We didn’t even do much, really.  Heck, Attie’s had more exercise over the past few days than we normally do in a week, and she’s just fine.  You?  You collapsed under your own lack of magic.  We’re not even practicing magic, beyond whatever’s holding you together and making you move!  You’d have to do...well, pretty much no exercise at all on a regular basis AND be super low on magic to get to this point.”

“Sounds ‘bout right.”

“And that’s why you’re an idiot.  Oh - thanks, Attie.”  She took the bottle of juice, poured some into the cup, and pushed it towards Sans.

He managed to get himself upright and tipped... most of the juice into his mouth.  It tasted like something that was brewed in a froggit’s armpit, but he did feel better after.  “...What is that stuff?”

“Magic-infused sports drink.  Good for the body AND the SOUL!  The Royal Scientist came out with it a few years back.  You never heard of it?”

“It’s disgusting.”

“I’ve seen what you leave behind at your sentry post; you have no right to criticize anyone else’s eating or drinking habits.”

Fair enough.

“Also, next time we do this, frickin’ tell me when you’re about to collapse, would ya?”

“Gee, didn’t know you cared.”  Also: next time??

“Oh, I don’t.  Someone needs to watch this little punk, though, and she seems kinda fond of you.  Stars know why.”  She ruffled Attie’s hair.

The kid grinned widely.  “It’s ‘cause he feeds me hot dogs and lets me do fun science and lets me color and takes me to see my mommy.  And he didn’t let Mommy die and he helped me beat Mr. Papyrus and stuff.”

Sans eyed her.  “...Right.”

“I told Undie all about the fight with Mr. Papyrus!  I have her phone number in my phone and I was texting her last night when I was supposed to be sleeping.”

“‘M I gonna have to take your phone away at bedtime?”

“Noooo!”  She flopped over onto the couch next to him dramatically.

Undyne laughed.  “Well, since you’re not about to dust, I’ll be off.  Drink another glass of that stuff, asshole.  Attie, make sure he does.”

“Okay!”

“And Vice Captain Papyrus will be back sometime this evening.  If he scares you at all, even just a little bit, you tell this worthless lump here to get you out and you text me.  Okay?”

“Okay!”

“Oh, and a word of advice, Sans?”

He raised his head a fraction.

“Walk around a little.  You’ll be even worse off if you don’t.”

The very atmosphere seemed to deflate when Undyne left.  Sans felt like melting into the couch cushions and just...not moving until Boss came back and kicked his lazy butt into gear.

“Come ooooon!”  Attie whined, grabbing the back of his jacket and trying to drag him off the couch.  She was succeeding.  “Undie said you have to keep moving!  If she says so then we have to do it!”

“Noooo.”  Sans dug his claws into the couch, trying to anchor himself without leaving obvious rips that Boss would scream at him for.

His phone went off again.

He reluctantly disentangled himself from the kid enough to sit up (though she wound up clinging to his back) and pulled it out.

Frisky Dreamer 9:22 AM Sans, I’m waiting for a check-in.

Frisky Dreamer 9:42 AM I’m calling Undyne if I don’t hear from you in five minutes.

You 9:44 AM Undie just left We were doing morning torture

Frisky Dreamer 9:44 AM Explain.  Now.

You 9:46 AM U know the stretching and the posing and the running in place that kindve thing The usual stuff undie likes

Frisky Dreamer 9:46 AM Training?

You 9:47 AM Yeah that

Frisky Dreamer 9:47 AM Don’t call Captain Undyne’s training ‘torture,’ or I’ll tell her you called her “Undie.”

You 9:48 AM U got it

“Oooh, ask her if we can come see her this afternoon!”  Attie said, leaning over his shoulder.

You 9:49 AM Kid wants to know when we can come see you this afternoon If ur up for it

Attie dragged him off the couch when no answer came immediately.  He reluctantly shuffled his tired bones around the living room a few times, but gave up when his phone remained silent.  “Uh, you’d better change your clothes, kid.  Maybe your mom’ll text us back later.  She’s probably busy, remember?”

“Oh, yeah!  Granny Ree’s visiting her this morning, right?”

“Right.  So let’s see if we can find something your mom’ll approve of, okay?”

“Okay!”

Attie wound up in a yellow and white striped shirt and jeans.  He mentally reviewed the fashion lessons from the morning before.  It looked...pretty good?  Jeans went with everything, right?  He couldn’t tell if the yellow was supposed to be ‘good’ or ‘bad’ for Attie’s skin color (all of that had gone clear over his skull) but Frisk wouldn’t have bought her kid a shirt that looked bad on her, right?

...Hopefully?

He snapped a picture and sent it to the overbearing mother, hoping for the best.

Schoolwork went better than the day before.  Sans was still mostly lost, but a few subjects (mostly Math and Science) weren’t too different from what he’d been taught in the Underground.  At seven years old, Attie wasn’t doing anything too complicated; he was able to follow along and help out fairly well.

It reminded him of teaching Boss, really.  The sad structure that passed for a school in Snowdin had burned to the ground around the time Sans graduated (in a completely unrelated incident, not that he hadn’t been tempted), so Boss had been deprived of a few years’ formal education.  It had been challenging to get an excitable babybones to sit still long enough to do a page of multiplication, but he’d done his best.

His best, he knew, wasn’t great.  It was probably the reason Boss turned out the way he had.

Attie, at least, was used to the routine.  She knew to check her list of schoolwork (Undyne had left it on the counter this time, and had removed the one she’d pinned up with the knife) and found her assignments based on the numbers associated with each subject.  It boggled Sans’s mind.  Teaching kids at home was, apparently, something humans had simplified greatly.  There was a whole system of what to do each day and everything.  It made remembering to text Frisk a little easier, too; he just shot off a text as they finished each subject.  Attie did the same, happy for an excuse to use her new phone.

Lunch was hot dogs, again.  Attie, predictably, demanded that Sans eat his all in one bite.  He initially refused, but...well, the thing she did with her eyes was growing on him.  He caved and swallowed his hot dog whole.

He didn’t sit still long enough for Attie to take a picture of him doing it.  She did her best, but it wasn’t quite enough.

Ding!

Frisky Dreamer 12:58 PM Sans, what exactly are you teaching my daughter?

You 12:59 PM Nothing were just having lunch

Frisky Dreamer 12:59 PM So bragging to a young girl about how you can swallow weiners is normal for you?

Sans squinted at his phone, trying to make sense of the message.  He knew ‘weiner’ was another word for ‘hot dog,’ but...he felt there was something he was missing.

You 1:00 PM Kinda i mean i run a ‘dog stand Dont really talk to the customers but sometimes onell wonder y a skeleton needs food Where r u going with this?

Frisky Dreamer 1:02 PM I can’t decide if you’re naive, stupid, or far more creepy than I ever gave you credit for.  Where is Attie now?

He looked around.  The kid was at the table doing more Grammar.  He snapped a picture.  

You 1:04 PM *1 picture message sent

Frisky Dreamer 1:05 PM Okay.

You 1:06 PM Kiddo what the hell is going on

Frisky Dreamer 1:07 PM You can’t do that anymore.  And stars, keep Attie from talking about your ‘hot dog trick.’

You 1:08 PM Uh y

Frisky Dreamer 1:09 PM BECAUSE I WON’T HAVE YOU INVOLVING MY DAUGHTER IN YOUR DIRTY PRANKS!!

Yep, he was definitely missing something.

You 1:10 PM U high again?  I have no idea what ur talking about

Frisky Dreamer 1:10 PM Stupid it is, then.  Look it up. NOT around Attie.

Sans double-checked that Attie was studying and not peeking over his shoulder, then opened the web browser on his phone.  He typed in ‘eat a weiner.’

Oh.  OH.

...Humans were disgusting.

You 1:12 PM So uh what the hell U humans r crazy Like what even Y would u do that with ur mouths With all ur gross fluids Thats unsanitary Like wow

Frisky Dreamer 1:15 PM That’s about the reaction I was expecting.  So NO MORE, OKAY?

You 1:15 PM I may never eat a hot dog again What the hell Y didnt anyone say anything Like do people think im some kind of weirdo for working at a dog stand Like theyre just in the store with other food Is that normall Is tht what huans do

Frisky Dreamer 1:17 PM Oh, you sweet, innocent child. You have no idea.

You 1:17 PM Y do humans destroy everything good This is a travesty against Science Like y

Frisky Dreamer 1:19 PM Sans, calm down.

You 1:19 PM O ok Uh So No more dogs for the kid

Frisky Dreamer 1:20 PM They are just normal food.  Deal with it however you want. It’s just that said food happens to vaguely resemble part of the human anatomy that a little girl DOES NOT need to know or think about. Just watch your words, okay?

You 1:23 PM O so im off the hook

Frisky Dreamer 1:23 PM Not hardly.

“Mr. Sans?”

Sans quickly pocketed his phone and looked over at Attie, holding her Grammar workbook to her chest.  “What’s up, kid?”

“Are you okay?”

“Uh...fine?  Why do you ask?”

“You’ve been texting for a long time now.  And you look kinda sick.”

“Heh, yeah?”  He gripped his phone, wishing he had some of that...what did humans call it?  The stuff that makes you forget stuff?  Brain bleach?  “Your mom was just telling me that ‘dogs aren’t good for ya.  So I guess that’s out.  For now, at least.”

“Awwwww.”

“Yeah, me too, kid.”  He was never going to live this down, he realized.  

“Say, uh, you done with your school?”

“I’m done with Grammar.  It was easy today.”

“Yeah, uh, great.  What’s next?”

Sans fought for focus the rest of the afternoon.  It wasn’t so much that humans apparently had some weird kinky ideas about what to do with their gross squishy body parts and fluids (though that was part of it); it was the fact that he’d lived on the surface for seven years and had never come across such an idea.  Did humans think it was weird that a monster had a hot dog stand?  Why had no one said anything to him?

Oh, right.  He was a rude, violent asshole who hated people.

That...probably explained a lot.

Still.

“Can you help me with art today?”  Attie asked.

“Uh, I’m not really an artsy guy, kid.”

“It’s okay.  Everyone can do art.  Making art is a way of showing other people how you see the world; that’s what Mommy says.”

“That sounds…” kinda whimpy, actually, “...cool?”

“Yep!  And today I’m feeling spikey!”

“Wait, what?”

“Do you have toothpicks and glue, Mr. Sans?”

As it happened, Sans found an unopened jumbo box of toothpicks in the back of a drawer.  Attie found glue...somewhere.  He wasn’t sure he wanted to know where.  “What now?”

“Now, we build stuff!  Here, can you hold this?”

Over the next hour or so, Attie glued toothpicks (and half of Sans’s fingers) into a spiked wooden death trap.  It was actually a little impressive.  The design was basic - a pit trap with spikes in the bottom - but the pit cover had working hinges that allowed it to drop open in the middle...once he disentangled himself from it.  They’d found a pair of old bottle caps, and gluing one on each side of the pit cover gave the two halves enough of a counter-weight to reset themselves each time.  She found a bag of grapes in the fridge and amused herself with rolling them over the top of the pit and watching them fall to their squishy deaths on the toothpicks below.

There wasn’t enough force to actually impale the grapes properly, but it was the thought that counted.  For a seven-year-old, she was well on her way towards carrying on the proud monster tradition of death traps.  Not for the first time, Sans wondered if he should be worried.

Then the kiddo surprised him.  She’d been rolling grapes onto the death trap, watching the cover open and close, and out of the blue she asked why it worked the way it did.  Sans hadn’t expected that, not from a kid her age, but gave her an overview of the physics.  She was trying to understand, he knew, but her eyes glazed over halfway through his explanation.

“...Well, that’s enough for today.  We’d better head out if you wanna go see your mom.”

“Okay!  Can I bring my deadly death trap of grape death?”

“I...think that’d be a bad idea.  You don’t wanna scare the humans, do ya?”

“Yep!  I wanna scare ALL the humans!  Well, except for the people at the Embassy.  They’re nice.”

“Oookay.  You don’t think the doctors are nice?”

“Nnnope!  They give you shots and take your temper’ture and do things that make your soul feel funny.  They try to bribe you with stickers but Mommy said that she got candy as a kid and that’s way better than stickers.”

“Eh, fair enough.  Put your shoes and jacket on and we’ll go terrorize some doctors.  Uh...without your death trap.”

“Aawww!  Why?”

“Think of it as...a challenge?”

Attie whooped a wild war cry and charged off to find her outerwear.  She really was like a little Boss in some ways.

He was sure he was forgetting something.  What had Undyne said?

Oh.  Right.

You 4:42 PM Hey undyne im gonna take the kid to see her mom

Capn Undie 4:44 PM HANG ON ASSHOLE

There was a long pause, and Sans took the time to retrieve his ID from where he’d left it in the pocket of his other pants.  He hated disturbing the sanctity of his laundry pile but showing up without identification to one of Undyne’s checkpoints was always unpleasant.

His phone gave a loud ping.

Capn Undie 4:53 PM You’re cleared with security.  Room 249, down the hall and around the corner from the old room.  BRING YOUR ID and we’ll have no problems, got it??

You 4:56 PM Got it

Capn Undie 4:59 PM And don’t even THINK about causing trouble or I’ll have you KICKED OUT.  You can sit outside while Attie does whatever she does visiting her mom.  I’m sure there’s a kiddie chair we can grab for you.

Sans narrowed his eye sockets.  “Hey, Attie?  You ready to go yet?”

“Not yet!”  Attie appeared with her shoes on, holding her jacket.  “My laces were being doo-doo-butts,” she said conversationally.

“...Right.  Okay.  Hey, why don’t you grab that death trap after all?  And some grapes; we can show yer mom how it works.”

“Physics!”  Attie screamed as she stumbled off to find her creation.

Sans grinned.

#Dragonashes writes #Undertale #Underfell #The Heaven We Didn't Choose #Sans #Attie #Undyne #Vague references to adult themes #Sans does not understand humans #He also thinks humans are gross #Deadly death trap of grape death

[tripstations]

My Supermarket Sweep hell: how a visa scam ruined my holiday | Brigid Delaney’s diary | Opinion

I apply for an Indian tourist visa after going online and googling “India tourist visa”.

I have travelled to India before – and unfortunately was robbed on my first day (during a street food tour in Old Delhi) after I gave my wallet to a friend to put in his backpack for safekeeping. While sampling samosas, his backpack was slashed with a knife and my wallet taken.

This visit will be different. I am determined not to be robbed again!

On Monday, applying for a tourist visa, I become bored with the amount of questions on the form. Mother’s maiden name? Her date of birth? My bank account details? Four photos of me? A scan of my passport? My last trip to India? Where did I go? (“Delhi,” I answer somewhat sourly).

The fee for the visa is almost $300. That’s weird, I think. It should be US$80.

I don’t think much more of it, until Wednesday morning in London, when I can’t access my online banking.

Calling my bank in Australia, I am put through to the fraud team.

“We think your account was accessed without authorisation,” they tell me. Using my details from the fake Indian visa website, someone has made a copy of my bank card and attached it to their phone. The previous night they have gone on a spending spree around Melbourne.

They have hit up Puma, a Caltex and a 7-Eleven. Could it have been me, they ask?

“Last night I was in Chelsea having dinner with Bob Geldof,” I reply indignantly. “Sir Bob Geldof. I mean he was at the next table, he wasn’t actually with me, but yeah, he was NEAR me … I was having dinner near Bob Geldof on the other side of the world, not at Caltex.”

To stop the fraud, the bank tell me they have to block my card, which puts me in a tough position. I’m overseas and about to go travelling. Another card won’t reach me in time – yet I only have £15 in my wallet.

The fraud person at my bank agrees to unblock my card briefly so I can get some cash out, “but only for 30 minutes. By 7pm Australia time we’ll put the block back on it permanently.”

“You’re lifting the block now?”

“Yes, now, for 30 minutes.”

“But I’m still in my pyjamas!”

I chuck on some clothes and run down to Tottenham Court Road like a contestant on Supermarket Sweep. It’s horrible.

Back out on street. Remember coffee ordered. Run back, get it. Coffee cold. Order another while I still have my card

I race into a coffee shop. “FLAT WHITE TO GO. I come back.”

Finding the nearest cash machine, I take out the maximum amount of money but it’s still nowhere near enough for two weeks’ travelling. Shove cash wad in wallet but it doesn’t fit and bulges out precariously.

Race across the road, narrowly miss getting hit by doubledecker bus. I need shoes and sunglasses. Must buy before card expires. Run to Primark. Shop too large and confusing. People walk slowly, staring at their phones. Thought this was supposed to be fast fashion.

Pick up random ugly shoes and sunglasses and do not try them on. No time!

Back out on street. Remember coffee ordered. Run back, get it. Coffee cold. Order another while I still have my card.

Run out on to road with a coffee in each hand. I need to get presents for my London hosts.

Run to a flower stand.

“You take card?”

“Yes.”

“Give me some of those and some of those! I pay now!!!”

Drink both coffees (one too hot, the other one cold) while flowers wrapped and start shaking with caffeine and stress. Ten minutes left!

Run to book store, yank a greeting card off the shelf for hosts. It could say anything. I have no time to check. Six minutes left.

Too many bags now, and my cash falling from wallet. Knock over a stack of books with my oversized stems of flowers. Why did he give me giant flowers? Looking for presents for hosts. Books. Too many! Coffee jitters!

Grab something with a yellow cover by author I have never heard of, blurbed by other authors l have never heard of. This will have to do! I will read it on the plane.

Person on till has sleepy voice. Says: “The till’s just waking up, it’s a bit slow today.”

I scream but hold it in. He asks me how my day is going “so far”.

“So far, so bad!”

Buy book and card, leave store, remember I need to get presents for hosts. Have only bought present for self and giant flowers. Two minutes. I grab two random books from shelf. Something about the financial crisis? Something about female friendship? Race to till that’s still waking up. German woman gets in before me. No!!! I have 90 seconds. She’s not even buying anything. She wants … she wants … WTF does she want? A book? Yes! On “walking”! FFS, narrow it down!! I’m almost standing on top of her, dribbling with stress. I have a minute to buy my hosts these random presents before my money is cut off!!!

She’s trying to explain the book. But she’s doing it wrong!

Instead of naming the author, she’s slowly describing to the clerk the book’s dimensions.

She draws a book in the air with her fingers. “It’s this size.”

“It’s the size of a book!” I yell out. The clerk sends her to the back of the shop. I throw down my books.

“Scan now or it may not work.”

It’s almost 7pm in Australia. I wave my card over the machine. “Arrgh, work! Please!”

We wait as the hour ticks over.

“Approved.”

• Brigid Delaney is a Guardian Australia columnist

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