#and then we went to antique shops and pointed out furniture for our house | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shyvioletcat · 4 years

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ITT Drabble?

HERE IT IS! Last one on my 1200 follower Fluffy Prompt-a-thon. (Masterlist for that here)

This takes place just before Chapter 27 of It Takes Two. Masterlist for that if you needed a refresher.

~~~~~

Rowan stepped out onto the street after finishing his shift at the gym. Even though it was close to 7 o’clock the street was still busy. It was late night shopping and people were stepping in and out of shops along the street. Which was good, there were a few things Rowan needed to buy for Aelin’s baby shower and this was his last chance to get them before it on Saturday. He already had something for Aelin in the back seat of his truck, but he wanted to get a few things for the baby.

Yesterday on his way to work he had stopped at the shopping centre he had gone to with Aelin and went to one store in particular she had taken him to. He bought her the blue floral wrap dress she had tried on to demonstrate to him exactly what a wrap dress was. She had looked lovely in it and he could tell that she wanted to buy it, but hadn’t because of the price. So, wanting to get something for her and only her, Rowan had bought it. He desperately hoped it was the right size, because he had got it on sale with a no return or exchange policy on sale items the shop assistant had told him. He’d cross that bridge if it came to it but he had a feeling Aelin would be at least a little impressed that he had managed to get it at such a good price.

With Aelin’s gift done Rowan now needed something for the baby. A bit clueless, he had done a little bit of research on useful baby gifts. It didn’t take long for him to get overwhelmed, but he had a few ideas. He had fully intended to give what he bought to the twins so they would take to the shower. But Aelin had asked him to come, insisted that he come now that they had come to their new understanding. She had said she wanted him there. Something about that had made his heart beat a little faster. They were moving forward and Rowan was excited to see where it led.

He didn’t go to his car, instead he started walking up the street. There was a baby store a little way up that he had driven past and had been looking in the window as he went by. Rowan had seen something the other day, well he thought he had seen something at least. It only took him a few minutes to get there and he looked in the window. He had been right.

There in the window was a mobile, a single halo of flowers with animals and a few more flowers hanging from it on decorative strings. But they weren’t just any kind of flowers. The door opened and Rowan moved to hold it open for a pregnant woman and who he assumed was her mother. They thanked him as they passed and Rowan nodded and smiled in return before he went inside. This store was more of a boutique than anything else. It didn't stock a large range of things, but what they did looked like they were good quality.

Rowan started to browse, looking at some of the toys and the tiny clothes. Towards the back of the store was some furniture – he could see cots and bassinets and rocking chairs – but he was making his way towards the window. The mobile was hanging there, the flowers small blooms of kingsflame, like the one that he had seen on Aelin’s dresser. They of course weren’t real but they looked as if they were the next best thing. The only thing that was putting him off were the elephants that hung from it. He didn’t think Aelin would particularly like the elephants, not that she would have anything against them but… Rowan had noticed what she decorated her room with and the little knickknacks she had around the house. He knew she liked deer, it had something to do with her family lineage. An old sigil of the Galathynius was a white stag and Aelin seemed to follow along with that imagery. But hopefully he could at least go along with something more woodland-ly.

“Can I help you?”

Rowan turned to see the shop assistant behind him, smiling politely.

“Yeah, actually,” he said and then pointed to the mobile. “By any chance does this come with other animals?”

“It does actually, it’s one of our customisable mobiles. I’ve got a book of the options at the front counter.” The shop assistant started walking towards the counter and Rowan followed. It didn’t take her long to find what she needed and soon Rowan held a large magazine in his hand. “When did you need it by?”

“Saturday actually,” Rowan said as he started to flick through the pages.

The assistant sucked in a breath. “I don’t want to get your hopes up, but let me know which one you like and I’ll see what I can do. We don’t have all the options in stock at the moment but they can be ordered in.”

Rowan nodded and continued looking. There were horses and foxes, some weird looking dogs. He was hoping there would be deer but he didn’t see any. Maybe the foxes would have to do… But it turned out there was another option. He’d almost missed it because he was flipping the pages so fast in his frustration, but there on that almost missed page was the answer he was looking for. Rowan had always liked hawks, and birds of prey in general, so when he saw the little felt hawks in the book he had already decided.

“Do you have these?” Rowan pointed to the picture of the felt birds.

“Hmm,” the shop assistant said, her lip pursing thought. “We might. I’ll have a look out back for you.”

“I’ll just keep looking around,” Rowan said and the shop assistant nodded and left him to browse.

Rowan wandered around the store, curious about the products on offer. He stopped by a rack of clothes, flicking through the onesies. He pulled one off the rack and held it up. Dear gods, it was basically the length of his hand. Were babies really that small? Gripped by a mild sense of panic Rowan put the onesie back and kept looking. The next section he reached was the stuffed toys, an antique looking bookshelf crammed full of them. Peeking out between a rabbit and a teddy bear was the head of a little deer. Rowan couldn’t help but pick it up to look at it. Its brown coat was speckled with white, the hooves made of a velvety material and it had large fluffy ears. Rowan didn’t put it back down, deciding that Aelin would very much like it.

“Good news!” Rowan heard the shop assistant call out and she was approaching where he stood. “We’ve got the hawks.”

“I’ll take them,” Rowan said without hesitation.

“I can put them on the mobile if you like?” She offered kindly.

“That would be great,” Rowan said with a polite smile.

“I’m assuming you’re shopping for a girl?” She asked Rowan nodded. “We’ve got some new dresses over there,” she nodded to her left. “Just if you were interested.”

The shop assistant headed for the front window where she pulled down the kingsflame mobile and took it over to the counter. Rowan went over to the clothes again with renewed interest and looked at the teeny tiny dresses. A blue one caught his eye, almost the exact same shade as the dress he’d bought Aelin as far as he could remember, just without the flower pattern on it. It came in a few sizes, and reading the tags he was a bit lost as to what they meant. He soon worked out the more zeros there were the smaller the item was. Still not really comprehending the exact size of babies he thought going with a 00 might be safest and hung the hanger over one of his fingers.

By now he had pretty much looked in all the sections of the store except the furniture. Just before the furniture Rowan stopped at the display of bedding. Ignoring the sheets he looked at the muslin wraps, which there were piles of. From his very cursory searches he deducted that these were an essential item, with many uses apparently. He glanced through the stacks, seeing if any caught his eye. He paused on one that looked to have a floral pattern on it with some little critters too. Easing it from one of the stacks he saw that the critters were in fact little fawns. He added this to the growing pile in his arm.

At the very back of the back of the store was the alcove with furniture set up. Rowan wandered through it, looking at them casually. The other day Aelin had been browsing baby things on her laptop and he’d caught a glimpse of the screen as she’d put it down on the couch as she got up. She had been looking up bassinets, and she had also sadly muttered something about baby things so expensive as she walked away. Aelin was adamant that she would wait until after the baby shower to start buying things just in case anything she needed was given as a gift. She was an efficient shopper and knew how to cut costs, it was probably why her bookstore did so well.

Rowan started looking around intently, trying to remember what kind of bassinet she had been looking at on her computer. Maybe he could buy this for her so she didn’t have to fork out the money for it herself. It was an essential item so he could give it to Aelin as a gift for the baby shower, and besides that he wanted to. Gods, he’d been exercising so much self control to not buy everything that caught his eye. He was excited and he wasn’t ashamed to admit it.

Looking at the bassinets Rowan was getting a little overwhelmed. There were different styles and some looked like they had different features, but what they did exactly Rowan had no idea. He passed one that was suspended from the roof by a large hook. The longer he looked the sicker he felt. All that was holding it up a fair few feet from the ground was some rope and a hook. There was no way in Hellas’ realm was his baby being put in one of those. Rowan turned away from the whole sight before he had a stress induced stroke just imaging the thing falling down with a baby inside it and went to look at the others. He saw one that looked similar to what Aelin had been looking at. It was a simpler design, a white bed and a timber base. This one looked much more secure with the base on the ground, and Rowan liked this one because it looked a bit taller than the others. Some of the others he had passed had barely brushed past the middle of his thigh. It would be a long way down if he was putting a baby in one of those.

He turned around and saw the shop assistant was at the counter. “Excuse me?”

She looked up and smiled and came over to him. “What can I help you with?”

“This bassinet here,” Rowan said, tapping the rim of the bed basket. “What can you tell me about it.”

“Well, this is one of the most popular designs on the market,” she explained. “First of all there’s no tools required for set up, you just attach the pieces together. Then looking at its features, it has six height positions, anti-reflex base positioning to help baby sleep if they’ve got reflux. This here,” the shop assistant pointed to the zipper, “folds down for easy and safe co-sleeping and it fits on just about any bed. Mesh ventilation is on all sides for added breathability. Just about everything is removable and machine washable, and the mattress is included.”

Rowan did not understand half of what this woman had just told him, but it all sounded good. Important, even.

“Can I attach a mobile to it?” He asked.

The assistant nodded, “You’ll need to buy a mobile arm for it but yes, you can put a mobile on it.”

“Great,” Rowan said. He was decided. “I’ll take that too. Can I pay for it now and pick it up on Saturday? It’s… it’s a surprise.”

The shop assistant nodded enthusiastically then led the way to the register. “Absolutely. Did you want to leave anything else with it?”

“I’ll take these things with me,” he nodded to what was in his arm. “But I’ll leave the mobile with the bassinet.”

“Perfect,” she said and entered some things into the computer at the register. Rowan put the items he was carrying on the counter and it only took her a few moments to scan those in too. “Would you like these gift-wrapped?”

“That would be great, thanks,” Rowan said. His wrapping techniques were atrocious. If he ever bought a gift for anyone he usually just took the receipt out of the bag and handed it over.

The shop assistant got to work wrapping the dress, deer and muslin wrap, quick and efficient. Rowan was about to pay when he saw a book on the counter.

What to expect when you're expecting

Rowan grabbed that too. “You don’t need to wrap that,” he added.

The book was for him. If he was going to be part of this and help Aelin through the rest of her pregnancy he would like to know what was going on. The more he knew the better prepared he would be for whatever was ahead of them. Because they were in this together.

“Ready to go,” the shop assistant said and Rowan paid. She put the book and wrapped items in a bag and handed them to him. “Thank you so much.”

Rowan gave her a small smile and nod in return and left. He was almost to his truck when it dawned on him what he had just done. He had just bought Aelin a bassinet for their baby. What if Aelin didn’t like it? What if there was another one she had been looking at that she wanted? What if he had just completely over stepped and this would upset her? This was a big thing to buy and maybe she wanted to be part of it...

Rowan rubbed at his face as he opened the driver’s door and got in his truck. If Aelin didn’t like it it would be easy to return. If he’d overstepped Rowan would apologise and hoped it went smoothly. But he hoped she liked it just as much as he did. He carefully put the bag on the passenger seat then pulled out his phone. There was a text from Aelin from about half an hour earlier letting him know she was going to bed and not to worry about dinner for her because she’d eaten some leftovers. Rowan didn’t reply in case he woke her up and was secretly glad she’d gone to bed. It meant he could get his purchases into the apartment without any prying questions. It took Rowan a few minutes but his thoughts settled and he was finally quietly confident with his purchases. He didn’t waste anymore time and put the keys in the ignition and drove home.

~~~~~

He’s so cute, right?

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roodllle · 3 years

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Year in Review - Animal Crossing New Horizons

I started writing this review/criticism in May of 2020 but decided to update it as the year went along and post it on the anniversary of NH’s release. I would like to preface that this is mostly going to be full of questions of criticisms, I love this game. I have not been able to put it down since I got it on March 20th. My first AC game was NL and then I played HHD. I was ecstatic when they announced NH at E3 2019 and kept trying to find other games to fit in my AC shaped hole in my heart but I wasn’t able to fill it till this game came out. I feel like the pace of the game is great with how you build up to unlocking terraforming and 5 stars, and I feel like the updates are well timed especially with how crazy 2020 was for everybody. That being said there were some things that irked me.

Some of the points I will bring up came from other people/commenters I have seen on here, Discord, Reddit, and Twitter that I also agree with. Some other points are from Youtubers such as ShayMay and ChuyPlays. And others are from me.

With that out of the way, let’s get on with the review. Warning, I guess, don’t expect this to be an essay, this is just a patchwork quilt made up of thoughts.

Terraforming

I wish cliffs/tiers had a smaller level? Like how we’re able to make stepping stones for our rivers if we don’t want to put a bridge down/use our vaulting pole. I just wish there was a cliff alternative.

Another cliff alternative would be if we could put bridges between cliffs. I think we’ve all been there where we see this picture

thought ‘we can do that!!” then realized it was photoshopped

When we go into terraforming, I wish a grid showed up on our island. It would make it much easier to avoid hitting the wrong square when I’m trying to change a river.

Having us be able to “close” a waterfall from a lower level but not create a new on at the same spot.

Also the fact we can add a 4th tier but can’t put anything on it is just strange to me. I know we have to have a limit to how high we can go, but at least let me put nature stuff, such as trees/flowers/bushes, on top of it instead of just a flat piece of land.

Houses

Why no ceiling items? Find it odd they added a bunch of stuff in HHD and didn’t add that to the new mainline game

There’s no reason I can think of to why we can’t access our storage when we’re crafting inside our house.

Buildings

Dodo Airlines

The Dodo Islands right now are very boring and barely use them. I have enough money and materials to not go farming and save up all my NMTs for when I go villager hunting, which has also become a rarity. I think it would be a good idea to make some islands seasoned themed. Have them be all rare, but have an island where it’s fall and has maple leaves falling, a cherry blossom one, one with snowflakes. I wouldn’t recommend they make Holiday themed ones, but having seasonal ones would be nice.

When I mess up a dodo code or accidentally hit ‘make a bridge’ instead of incline, etc. why do I have to restart the ENTIRE conversation instead of the characters just being “oh? did you mean “x” or “would you like to retype it?” like is it that hard??

Resident Services

As much as I love Isabelle this game has made me very indifferent towards her. I think they gave her a role that didn’t need to exist. They could have either let us roam around without any warnings to who was roaming around our island, in the campsite, or any weather updates. Just have us rely on our villagers, the TV, and our eyeballs. OR they could have given us a social media like app and/or a weather app. Instead, they gave us Isabelle that only announces something once a month.

Nook’s Cranny

This might just be me but can they add a little DIY area in the store? Maybe just make to where you can only customize things?? This is more out of convenience than an actual problem

Speaking of customization, since you can make medicine but also buy can we do the same for the custom kits and bait. Like make it where we can buy bait and also make our own custom kits? I just think it’s weird that they give us either/or for medicine but not for the other 2 that I honestly use way more than medicine.

Why do the Able Sisters get to have all of the colors of an item in their shop but Nook’s Cranny can’t? And why can’t we just be able to customize all items that have multiple looks/colors? Example, why can’t I just be able to change the wood type for the antique set instead of having to buy each one? I get that the furniture catalog is already small, but that’s not my fault. They’ve decided to not add past furniture sets into NH.

Able Sisters

Let us multi select clothes instead of it just being how much we can wear. idc if it’ll just put those clothes in our personal storage and then we’ll have to run home and put it in that storage, I just hate having to walk back in and out every time I want a dress in multi colors. ALSO tell us if we already bought it, like a little storage icon or something

Why can’t we hang any article of clothing on the back wall, why do we have to either make it or have the OG qr designer come to our island?

Why can’t we have the transparent option when designing clothes? I think it would make many designer’s lives easier instead of having to make 8 versions of the same outfit.

NPCs

I have played this game almost every day since it came out, minus 2 days. I have also been able to make friends on discord that help with trading/cataloging/etc. I have all of Saharah’s, Kicks’, Label’s, and Redd’s items. I have all of the fish/bug models I want and have no desire to “catch them all”. I haven’t talked to Wisp in months because I have most of the items and his idea of “expensive” is 10k bells. The only NPC I actively look forward to is Celeste because even though I now have all of her DIYs, she still gives out star fragments, regular large or horoscope, when I talk to her.

What I’m wondering is if they’re planning on doing anything else with these characters. Before I speak further I’m going to weed out characters that I am actually fine with. CJ and Flick will always be there if I want a bug/fish model, I understand that Saharah/Kicks/Redd have a ton of stuff to get and w/o the help of my discord friends, I probably wouldn’t have gotten everything till late 2021.

So that leaves Label and Wisp. I understand Wisp is there for beginners, but now that I’m at a point where I am a bell millionaire and have most of the Nook’s items cataloged, there is no reason for me to talk to him. I wish Nintendo had put in a system where depending on the person who Wisp is talking to, it determines how much money you have in your bank account/looks at your catalog, Wisp’s item’s worth goes up.

As for Label...I never saw her as viable. I also thought the tickets were dumb and you don’t even have to talk to her to have her items show up in the shop the next day. I think it would be great if when you bought all of her items, she decided to join the Able’s sisters in their shop like in NL and then have Gracie show up in her place for the weekly NPC.

Where is Blanca? Or Brewster? Or Shrunk, Katrina, Gracie, or Kapp’n and his family? I understand we will probably never see characters like Harriet or Pete because they have been replaced by a new system, but what is the excuse for these other characters? I’m hoping they show up in year 2 of NH but...we’ll see.

Villagers

I think having your first villagers living in basic homes is a good idea but one that quickly gets annoying. I found Sherb while villager hunting for the 1st time and have had him ever since, but his house is stuck at basic lazy setup. Instead of me going back and forth on whether or not i should trust somebody enough to hold Sherb, get somebody else out, then get him to move back to my island, You can have it to where you let them leave, then just wait till he comes to the campsite to visit and reinvite him. You get his actual house and he still remembers you. This could also go for you accidentally letting somebody go or letting somebody go then regretting it. Also it’d be fun to see some old villagers again.

I was curious and looked back on past games to see how many new villagers were released each game and NH has been the least amount. NL released 112 new villagers in total while NH has released 8. I’m hoping they might release more down the line but, hella disappointing imo. Along with the Sanrio update and adding those characters to the game, I am more hopeful that they’ll be adding new characters!

Having an “event” of sorts where you visit a villager’s house and they’re looking inside their closet. They look at you in surprise when you walk in and sheepishly explain that they were going through their clothes/items. They then decide to ask you for help since they can’t decide what to get rid of/what to keep and think you have a good eye for that sort of thing. Basically, a way to get rid of any clothes/items your villager somehow received bc I guess Isabelle scolding them isn’t enough.

A big problem I feel like everybody has is the villager dialogue. Yes they added sub personality types for each personality but they are not perfectly cut in half, ex. are the Sisterly types where there are 4 B types and 20 A types, like?? How I have “fixed” this problem is by having one of each personality type on my island so I always have different conversations with my villagers, but I understand not a lot of people do that. Some people just want normal/peppy types on their island bc they’re cute as hell, I get it. I know it would be...difficult to come up with unique dialogue for all 399 villagers, including Sanrio, but....you could at least for the “gimmicky” villagers. Some examples of these villagers are Ribbot and Sprocket, Lucky and Ankha, the super hero squad, and Kabuki.

Quality Life stuff

Why cant we sit AND wish on stars? And I don’t mean the sit emote; why can’t I sit on a bench and wish on stars?

It sucks when I’m about to hit my rocks or just do a lot of dig work and then my shovel breaks in the middle of it. To show the tool is about to break, cracks should start to form on the handle and get deeper/longer as you keep using it, starting when you have 5 uses left. You can also add an auditory element by making the tool sound like its struggling when you are using it. Net/Shovel/Axe/Fishing Pole can have cracks show up on the handle, Slingshot can have crack show up at the bottom of the 2 spokes while having 1 at the top of the handle. And the watering can have cracks at the base of the can.

If our inventory is full when I dig up a flower, why can’t I replace it with another flower to bury? And if I can dig up an item at an diagonal item, I should be able to bury it again at the same angle.

Other

Having more...liveliness?? on the island, idk how else to say it. Example is whenever you travel by plane there's a chemtrail in the sky afterwards, maybe just seeing other planes go by throughout the day. Maybe you can get a hint Redd or Gulliver will be visiting you tomorrow if you see their boats beyond the horizon, Redd’s just crusin’ and the Gulls’ boats looking messed up. On a week where you don't have a new camper, maybe have an old villager visit. That leads me too

I wish villager’s doors could count as “exterior decorating” and we can just put any ornamental on there instead having to hope that your villager will put the wreath on their own door.

Conclusion

If you read this whole thing holy shit, thanks!! Go treat yourself on my part lol If you disagreed with me or whatever feel free to chat with me about it!

#roodle speaks #animal crossing new horizons #acnh #animal crossing #ac #acnl #animal crossing new leaf #qtiepie

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justcallmefox89 · 4 years

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Artist in the Devildom

Jax has just arrived in the Devildom as the newest human exchange student at R.A.D. With Arianthi and the seven lords of the Devildom to guide them this exchange year should be a breeze. Right?

Written from the perspective of my non-binary OC, Jax Montgomery. Jax uses they/them pronouns.

This story takes place in the Truth or Dare AU where Mammon and Arianthi get engaged.

I would like to give a massive shout-out and heartfelt thank you to @fivenightsat-enbys for all their help and being so wonderfully patient with me and my questions.

The flash of bright white light is blinding, and my body feels like it’s falling through an endless tunnel. I know that this is allegedly safe, but that doesn’t stop me from scrunching my eyes closed and letting out a high pitched scream. I’m still screaming when I feel my feet touch solid ground. After a few seconds I simmer down and open my eyes, blinking away stars.

Once I can see again I find myself standing in front of two men and a girl around my age, in an office that can only be described as rich old white man aesthetic. Lots of large dark oak furniture, some obviously antique oil paintings of naked people and things I’ll probably have nightmares about later. Gold lighting fixtures.

Into it. Very into it.

I clutch onto my duffel bag and octopus plushie, shuffling my feet and giving them all an awkward wave.

“Yo,” I say, attempting a smile.

Given the current state of my stomach and the fact that I was currently standing in the Devildom, face to face with some real life demons, it feels a little forced.

Why did I agree to this? Definitely, most probably, in the top three of my worst ideas of all time.

The taller of the two men steps forward, flashing me an enthusiastic grin.

“Jax Monteiro? Welcome to the Royal Academy of Diavolo. We’re so excited to have another human student here!”

“Whoa! Down boy,” the girl says, stepping towards me with giggle, patting the auburn haired man on the arm. “Give them a second to adjust. Portal jumping is harder on us poor humans than it is on you all.”

She holds out her hand. “Hi Jax, I’m Arianthi Wolf. I’m the ambassador to all the exchange students here at R.A.D. And I’m a human student too, so you’re not all alone down here.”

She gives me a soft smile of reassurance.

I quickly give her hand a shake, returning the smile, mine more genuine this time. Arianthi is about six or seven inches shorter than me, with long curly black hair and bright green eyes. A smattering of freckles runs across her nose and cheeks, standing out against her pale skin.

I’d love to draw her.

I’m itching to get my hands on my sketchbook.

The guys too. And this room is insane.

She motions at the auburn haired man next to her. He towers over her, looking like a giant standing next to a pixie. I’ve always considered myself tall at 6′3, but this guy has a good six or seven inches on me.

This must be how mom felt when she asked me to get stuff off the high shelves at the grocery store.

“This is Lord Diavolo, founder of R.A.D., and the human, angel, demon exchange program here. The goal is to bring the celestial realm, human realm, and the Devildom closer together and foster a better understanding between the three.” She pauses for breath. “He’s also the prince of the Devildom.”

Holy shit.

“Do I need to like, bow or something?” I ask nervously.

Diavolo chuckles. “Please don’t. I just wanted to welcome you to the Devildom before returning to my duties. Arianthi will help you get settled in and go over your course schedule with you. You’ll be staying with her at the House of Lamentation along with the seven lords of the Devildom.” He gives me a boyish grin. “I hope your year with us is less eventful than Arianthi’s first year.”

“Diavolo!” Arianthi gives him an exasperated grin while he waggles his eyebrows at her.

He holds his hand up, laughing. “Sorry princess, I couldn’t resist.”

Princess? Oh, I’m totally asking her for a story time once we’re alone.

Diavolo motions the other man in the room forward. He’s closer to my size, with delicate features, turquoise hair, and moss green eyes.

“This is my servant Barbatos. If you find yourself needing anything and are unable to reach Arianthi or any of the lords, he can help you.”

Barbatos offers me a small nod.

“Barbatos is the one who really runs things here.” Arianthi gives me a mischievous smirk. “He’s also an amazing chef. The best baker in all three realms. His devilberry tarts are to die for.”

She mimes swooning.

Barbatos beams at her praise. “You flatter me Arianthi.”

Diavolo rubs his hands together, smiling. “Well, we really do need to be going. I have to welcome the new angels to Purgatory Hall. I’ll leave you to it Arianthi. Don’t worry Jax, you’re in very good hands.”

He gives Arianthi a wink.

Hate to break it to you Diavolo but as cute as she is, I’m more interested in how good your hands are.

“Dia!” Arianthi gives him a dirty look. “Stop that! I’m sure Jax doesn’t appreciate it, and you know Mammon hates it when you do that.”

Mammon? A third player has entered the game. This could be some spicy telenovela shit. Must. Know. Now.

Diavolo just chuckles at her and exits the room, Barbatos in tow.

“Okay, tell me everything princess. I have to know.” I smirk at her and she rolls her eyes good naturally.

“Dia and I were a.....thing for a while.” She waves her hand dismissively, looking slightly annoyed. “He’s still a little in his feelings about things, but I’m engaged now. Sometimes he likes to push my fiance’s buttons. Diavolo is a lot of fun but he is a world class shit stirrer.”

“Mammon is the fiance?” I guess.

She gives me a soft smile. “Yeah. He lives at the House of Lamentation too, so you’ll be meeting him soon. Anyways, we should get going. Do you need help carrying anything?”

I hold up my duffel bag and my plushie. “This is all I brought with me. But you can carry Samson if you want.”

I hand over the large purple octopus.

“He. Is. Adorable. Levi would love him.” She cuddles Samson close to her chest as she leads me out of Diavolo’s office.

“So, right now we’re in the Demon Lord’s Castle. Diavolo and Barbatos live here, and there are always some high ranking demons staying here too, trying to get in good with Diavolo. You’ll be here off and on throughout the year for parties and things like that. Hopefully you’ll escape the “bonding sleepover” ordeal I went through my first year.” She shudders.

“Bonding sleepover? Like a summer camp bonding sleepover?” I quirk an eyebrow at her.

She gives me a long suffering look. “Dia is like a kid in a candy store when it comes to human world activities. It was his idea.”

I chuckle. “It was that bad?”

Arianthi holds up a hands and starts ticking events off on her fingers.

“I got sucked into an evil possessed painting with some others and we ended up in the dungeon. In the dungeon we were almost eaten by Henry 1.0, who may be the biggest snake to ever exist, like anywhere. Then when we tried to get a picture of Lucifer sleeping we ended up getting chased by Cerberus and we wound up in the dungeon again. Where Henry 1.0 tried to eat us. Again. And there was a pillow fight where everyone ended up unconscious except for Diavolo and Lucifer. And me, but only because I was hiding under my bed.”

I stare at her, mouth open, debating if she’s being serious or not. She looks back at me, face unchanged.

“Oh, wow, you’re actually being serious,” I say.

I don’t know if I’m terrified or....nope. Definitely a little terrified after that story. And why did they want a picture of Lucifer sleeping?

As if she can sense my fear Arianthi gives my shoulder a comforting squeeze. “I know it sounds insane but every day isn’t going to be like that here. And you’ll always have someone looking out for you.”

I breathe out a sigh of relief and give her a quick grin. “Thanks, Arianthi.”

We make our way outside, and I’m startled by the fog and dim sunlight.

It’s the middle of the day, right? Or does time work differently here?

I must look confused because Arianthi quickly explains. “Time works the same here, but the weather is different from the human realm. We don’t get bright sunlight down here.”

She shrugs apologetically.

“It’s all good,” I tell her with a smile. “I figured things would be different when I agreed to all this.”

She giggles. “At least they gave you some warning. I was one of the first humans picked for the program and they just zapped me out of my apartment without warning. One minute I’m on my couch watching The Great British Bake Off, and the next I’m down here. Mammon and Asmo had to take me shopping for a whole new wardrobe.”

“Damn.” I join in on her laughter. “So how did you adjust to being here?”

Her mouth scrunches to one side as she ponders my question. “It was hard, that first month. None of the demons were really used to humans, and a lot of them didn’t want me here. But I gradually got closer to the brothers and that helped. Now it’s hard to imagine my life without them. They’re family now, you know?”

I nod. “Do you think I’ll have any issues here?”

“Nah.” She shakes her head. “I’ll be looking out for you and whatever classes we don’t have together you’ll have with one of the boys. Lucifer made sure of it. But if you do want to go out somewhere be sure to take me or one of them with you. Some of the lower level demons are still assholes about humans being here. I get a little more respect now that I’m Mammon’s fiancee and a full time resident of the House of Lamentation.”

We meander through the R.A.D. campus, Arianthi pointing out various buildings and explaining the curriculum to me.

“Ok, so......the seven demon lords that we’ll be living with. Lay it on me. I wanna know what I’m getting into.”

Arianthi takes a deep breath. “I’ll just give you the rundown from oldest to youngest. Hold on, because this family is a roller coaster of ‘what the fuck’.”

I snort out a little laugh. “I’m from Florida. There is literally nothing here that can shock me.”

“If you say so,” Arianthi replies with a smirk. “Buckle up buttercup, because we’re going to run through this fast. Oh, and the brothers are ranked in accordance to how powerful they are, not their actual ages. But they are all thousands of years old, in case you were wondering. Anyways the oldest is Lucifer, the Avatar of Pride. He’s Diavolo’s second in command down here. Very serious, doesn’t laugh much. He’s like the dad at the House of Lamentation. But not the fun kind. Don’t let any of the others talk you into trying to prank him. Unless I’m in on it, because I’m always down for that shit.”

I have found my people.

“The second oldest is Mammon and he’s the Avatar of Greed. Don’t leave anything valuable laying around or he’ll take it and try to sell it for some quick Grimm.”

“Wait? Isn’t Mammon your fiance?” I’m confused.

She gives me a self-deprecating shrug. “The heart wants what the heart wants. We’ve been working on the stealing thing, but at the end of the day he is the Avatar of Greed and it’s hard to control that. He models too, to earn some extra Grimm. I’ve been pushing for him to do more of that to curb the stealing. Oh! I forgot, Grimm is our currency down here. I’ll hook you up with some so don’t worry about that.”

“Oh no you don’t have to-” I try to protest but she cuts me off with a smile.

“Really, I want to. I want you to be able to enjoy your time here, not worrying about trying to find a part time job to earn some cash.”

“Lucifer is the house dad, but you’re totally the house mom aren’t you?”

Seriously, this girl might be an angel.

She blushes a little. “Um....guilty. I sort of fell into it my first year here. The boys needed someone to take care of them then.” She pauses. “They still sort of do honestly.”

I laugh. “Alright, who’s next? Hit me with it.”

Arianthi pauses, like she’s trying to come up with the right words. “Levi. Well Leviathan, but you can call him Levi. He’s more introverted than the rest. Very into gaming, anime, movies.......and a book series called The Seven Lords.”

“I’ve read that!” I exclaim. “Great series. I brought some anime with me too.”

“Cool.” She grins at me. “Sounds like you guys have some things in common. I bet he’d love to see some anime from the human realm. He’s obsessed with Ruri-Chan too, but I’ll let him explain all of that to you. He’s also the leader of Hell’s Navy because of the whole lord of the sea thing he’s got going on. And he’s the Avatar of Envy, so try not to take any of the things he says too seriously when he’s acting jealous.”

“Wait, what? Lord of the sea thing?”

Mind. Blown.

“Yep.” She nods enthusiastically. “He can summon and control sea monsters and all sorts of underwater nightmare fuel.”

“Bad fucking ass.”

“Right?” She laughs. “On to the next. This is where things get kinda weird.”

“Weirder than summoning sea monsters?” I ask.

“Like daddy who is also my brother weird.” She answers with a straight face.

“Get the fuck out of here,” I say with a laugh.

“Satan is the fourth brother. He’s the Avatar of Wrath so try not to piss him off. He’s very intelligent, loves to read. But don’t touch his books without permission. Actually, just stay out of his room all together.”

I look at her and smirk. “This is all fascinating but I’m still waiting on the daddy/brother angle.”

She laughs. “Ok, ok, ok. When the boys fell from heaven Lucifer’s rage was so intense that it became a sentient entity.”

“Satan?”

She shoots me some finger guns. “Exactly. Lucifer and the other brothers raised him. He gets a few characteristics from each of them, but he’s most like Lucifer. Which pisses him off because he hates the thought of being like Lucifer. And Lucifer doesn’t want to think of Satan as his son, so everyone just refers to Satan as their brother.”

I shake my head in wonder. “It’s just like being back in Florida.”

Suddenly a white haired demon comes and grabs Arianthi from behind, picking her up and spinning her around.

“Yo, what the hell?” I yelp in surprise.

The demon sets her down, hugging her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder and nuzzling his face into her neck. Arianthi lets out a high pitched squeal as his hair and nose tickle her. He eventually stops, staring at me suspiciously over her shoulder.

“Hey babe, who’s he?”

Awkward.........

Arianthi elbows his ribs. “Mammon, this is Jax. They’re the new human exchange student who’s going to be staying with us this year. So be nice to them.”

She stresses my pronouns and a look of realization crosses Mammon’s face.

“Oh shit!” He looks contrite. “I am so sorry. I shoulda thought before I said anything.”

He releases Arianthi and holds out his hand.

I shake it. “No worries. It happens. Thanks for apologizing though.”

He gives me a crooked grin. “Still, I am really sorry. Won’t happen again. And if anybody tries to mess with ya since you’re the new human around here, THE Great Mammon will handle it.”

Arianthi rolls her eyes fondly at me and shakes her head behind his back. “I’m sure Jax appreciates the sentiment, but everything will be ok.”

I grin back at Mammon. “Arianthi’s probably right, I should be fine. It’s cool of you to offer though.”

Arianthi wraps her arms around his waist and looks up at him adoringly. “But if any demon does try to give Jax a hard time I’ll tell my big, strong, handsome fiance and let him sort them out.”

Mammon puffs up with pride and he looks down at her lovingly. “Damn right ya will.” He presses a kiss to her forehead. As he pulls away he notices Samson in her arms. “Oi! What is that?”

“Isn’t he cute?” Arianthi holds him up and wiggles one of his tentacles.

I shrug and kick away a rock. “He’s mine,” I admit.

“Cute as hell,” Mammon says, one slender finger reaching out to touch the plush fabric. “Levi would love ‘em.”

“That what’s she said.” I gesture at Arianthi.

He chuckles, throwing an arm around her shoulders. “I just wanted to tell ya hi baby. I gotta run to the store real quick then get back to the house. I’m on dinner duty tonight with Levi.”

Arianthi stretches up on her tiptoes to give him a soft kiss on the lips. “Ok, I’ll see you at home.”

“See ya later. Bye Jax.” Mammon gives us a small wave and starts to walk away.

“Oh! Don’t forget that Beel had practice today so make extra! He’ll be hungrier than usual!” She calls out after him.

He turns around and blows her a kiss to acknowledge that he heard her. She smiles as she watches him walk away, then turns back to me, serious.

“I really am sorry about that. I’ve told everyone your preferred pronouns so it shouldn’t happen again and if it does -”

I hold up my hands and give her a small smile. “Hey, hey, hey. Shit happens. And it’s not like he did it on purpose. Plus he apologized, then offered to look out for me which was pretty cool of him.”

She still looks concerned. “I just don’t want you to feel like you can’t be yourself. Especially at home. I want you to be comfortable here.”

“It really is fine. He figured out his mistake and apologized, and I bet it won’t ever happen again.” I smile and gently nudge her with my elbow. “And if anybody starts some shit I’ll just let the house mom take care of it.”

Arianthi gives me a soft shove and laughs. “Damn right you will. I’ve got your back down here.”

We start walking again.

“Ok, who’s next in the line up?” I ask.

She gives a big sigh. “The Avatar of Lust, Asmodeus. You can call him Asmo, everybody does.”

“Lust hmmm?” I raise my eyebrows.

“He’s sweet, he really is. Very into self-care and indulgence. Just don’t spend any time alone with him until we know how his powers affect you.”

I look at her in shock. “Are you saying he’d try to.......?”

“No! Nothing like that,” Arianthi reassures me. “Asmo would never force anyone to do anything they didn’t want to do. But since he is the Avatar of Lust he’s able to bring out other people deepest wishes, kinda like a walking aphrodisiac. Some people are immune to it, others can learn to block it out. Those that aren’t have a tendency to.......overindulge in their most decadent desires.” She gives me a pointed look. “So until we know how you’ll react, no alone time with Asmo.”

I make my most serious face and give her a quick salute. “Yes ma’am.”

She uses one of Samson’s tentacles to slap my arm and laughs. “Smart ass.”

I smirk. “Alright, Asmo is number five so who are the last two?”

Arianthi chews on her lower lip for a moment, as if internally debating what she wants to tell me. Finally she gives me a small smile and starts to talk.

“Beelzebub is sixth and Belphegor is seventh. We call them the twins though, because their father created them at the same time, and they’re extremely close. They’re together almost all the time.”

I interrupt. “Wait, their father? Like God?”

Arianthi’s eyes grow dark and she scowls. “He’s a piece of shit,” she mutters.

“Did you just call God a piece of shit?” I ask her, shocked.

“When there’s a dad out there who can make my dad look like Father of the Year, then you know the guy’s a total ass bag,” she growls.

“You just called God an ass bag. I feel like I’m missing a lot of backstory here,” I respond.

She shakes her head as if she’s shaking away her negative thoughts. “I’m sorry Jax. There’s a lot of history you’ll learn this year, and how the boys fell from grace is part of it. It was hard on all of them, but Beel and Belphie took the hardest hit. It will be up to them to tell you their side of things though, in their own time.”

“No worries. I’ve got patience for days.” I grin at her. “You’ve got serious beef with God huh?

“I’d throat punch him if someone gave me half a chance,” she answers seriously.

“You don’t look like it but you’re frightening.” I laugh. “But it’s the kind of frightening I want on my side at all times.”

She laughs with me. “I told you I have your back Jax. Always.”

“That means a lot Arianthi.”

Not many people do now days.

“So Beelzebub and Belphegor?” I ask.

“Beel and Belphie.” She smiles to herself. “Beel is the Avatar of Gluttony, and his food intake is phenomenal. Do not ever come between him and his food, and if you see a container in the fridge with his name on it, don’t even breathe near it. He once wrecked the kitchen and one of the walls to my old room because Mammon and I ate some of his custard.”

I stare at her.

“It’s like I haven’t even left Florida,” I whisper reverently, and she huffs out an amused laugh.

“A lot of people treat Beel like food is his only interest, but it really isn’t. He plays sports and he works out everyday, so if you ever want to join him for a workout he’d be thrilled to have a buddy. He’s really sweet, thoughtful, and kind. And sensitive, but he tries to hide it so he can stay looking strong for the people he cares about. He never wants to let anybody down if they need him. He’ll open up if he gets close to you though.”

“It sounds like you guys are really close,” I say quietly.

I wonder how Mammon feels about that?

She stops walking and turns to look at me, a shadow passing over her face. “I’m an only child and my mom and dad weren’t very good at the whole parenting thing. I wound up in foster care when I was 5. Stayed there until I aged out. I would have given anything for a big brother like Beel back then. He’s really taken care of me since I’ve been here, and been nothing but supportive of me.” She gives me a shaky smile. “I’ve got my big brother now so I try to look out for him however I can.”

“He sounds like a really good guy,” I say, suddenly feeling guilty for my earlier thought.

“He is,” Arianthi answers and we resume walking. “Belphie is the Avatar of Sloth, so he’s constantly sleepy. He can nap anywhere, and he gets super cuddly with people when he does, so if that’s not your jam be sure to let him know. Don’t touch his cow pillow. He’s pretty sarcastic and he can be hard to get to know, but he’s sweet when you do.”

We turn a corner and she stops in front of a large three story house. Even though it’s well maintained and beautifully built something feels a little......off about it.

This place would give the house from Texas Chainsaw Massacre a run for it’s money in the creepy as shit category.

“Here we are!” she says brightly. “The House of Lamentation, and your new home for the next year.”

My eyes dart around, taking in every detail of the house as we walk up the steps to the front door.

Arianthi suddenly pauses with her hand on the doorknob. “Jax there’s something else you should know about the house before we go in.”

“Ok?” I say, confused.

“Satan is a little bit of a crazy cat lady. He’s rescues strays and keeps them until he finds new homes for them. Lucifer says he can only have one in the house at a time, so you may occasionally be called upon to help hide one. Or five.”

“Totally ok,” I answer with a grin, relieved that the big secret is just contraband kitties. “I love cats so no problem on that front.”

She smiles at me as she opens the door. “Great!”

We walk into the foyer and she shuts the door behind us.

“Also, allegedly some guy murdered his whole family here a long time ago. So this place is probably haunted.” She smirks at me.

“Of fucking course it is,” I mutter, playfully giving her a dirty look.

“If it makes you feel better I’ve never seen any paranormal stuff as long as I’ve been here.”

“It does. A little bit.” I look over and smile at her. “Oof!”

I ram into something large, solid and......warm? I look in front of me and see a very large, very muscled chest. I tip my head back until I see a pair of friendly violet eyes looking into mine.

“Beel!” Arianthi gives him a quick squeeze. “This is Jax, the new exchange student.”

“Sorry for running into you,” I say. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

I take a step back so I can get a better look at him. Like Diavolo, he is huge. And built. Really built. His shaggy, bright orange hair highlights the color of his eyes.

“It’s ok,” he tells me, smiling before he takes a large bite of the sandwich he’s holding. He squeezes Arianthi back. “Hey Arianthi. When’s Mammon coming home? He’s supposed to make dinner tonight and I’m starving.”

That smile is goddamn adorable.

I shake my head.

Get it together. You’ve seen cute guys before. But he is beyond cute. And built. And taller than me. And if he’s everything Arianthi says he is............

I quickly slam that thought back into its box and tune into their conversation.

Arianthi is frowning. “He should be back soon. If he isn’t I’ll help Levi get things going so dinner isn’t late.”

He beams at her. “Thanks Arianthi.” He turns that megawatt smile to me. “Do you need any help getting your stuff to your room Jax?”

I’m flustered. Why am I flustered? I don’t get flustered.

“N-n-no. Thanks though.” I give him a small smile.

Did I just stutter? Oh god.

I internally cringe.

I see Arianthi’s eyes flicker between the two of us, and she gives me a mischievous smile.

“We might need help later though. In case they want another dresser or any of the furniture from my old room brought into their room,” she tells him.

Beel gives us another easy grin. “No problem. I’ll be in my room if you need me before dinner starts. See you later Jax.”

He ambles away, munching on his sandwich.

“See you,” I call after him.

I look to my right and see Arianthi looking at me with a shit eating grin on her face.

“Shut up,” I mutter.

“He’s cute right?” She nudges me with her elbow.

Oh my sweet baby Jesus yes!

“He’s ok,” I say, trying to stay nonchalant. “Seems nice.”

“Is nice Jax code for a “total snack”? Or “I want to climb him like a tree and never come down”?” She snickers, teasing me.

“Ok, you are officially the worst,” I tease back, reaching out and ruffling her hair.

“But am I officially the worst and right that you think Beel is a cutie?” She raises her eyebrows.

I’m saved from answering by Mammon bursting in through the front door, two shopping bags in hand.

“Oi! H-h-hey Jax. Hi baby.” A faint pink blush dusts his cheeks and he tries to quickly edge past us. “Runnin’ a little late, gotta get dinner goi-”

Arianthi snags the hem of his jacket, stopping him his tracks. “What’s the rush my love?”

“N-n-no rush. Just wanna get dinner on time. Ya know how Beel gets.”

What is he so nervous about?

I’m suddenly very suspicious.

Please don’t be a fuck boy Mammon.

She pulls him closer and loops her arms around his neck, leaning in to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Mammon?”

“Y-yeah baby?”

“Why do you smell likes witches?” Arianthi keeps her voice light, arching an eyebrow at Mammon.

Ooh, I know that look. Mom used to give me that look all the time. Wait, witches? They have witches down here too?!

“I maybe, mighta stopped at a little card game on the way to the store.” Mammon’s tone is smug, despite the guilty look on his face.

Arianthi rolls her eyes, smiling. “How much did you win?”

“650 Grimm.” He smiles back at her.

She holds her hand out in a “gimme” gesture.

Mammon groans, reaches into his jacket pocket, and hands her a thick stack of bills. “Come on baby. Aren’t ya gonna let me keep any of it?”

She quickly divides the money, handing half to me and pocketing the rest.

“Wait, what’s this for?” I ask, confused.

“We agreed that whenever Mammon goes gambling half of whatever he wins goes to you, so you’ll have Grimm for whatever you need here. And the other half goes to a joint project we’re working on.” Arianthi laces her fingers with Mammon’s and cuddles into his side.

Mammon’s irritation is instantly gone, replaced by a dreamy smile as he squeezes her hand and presses a kiss to the top of her head.

“That joint project is going to be amazing. I just know it,” he softly whispers.

“What’s the project?” I ask, curious. “If it needs any artwork, I could totally help you guys out with it.”

Arianthi disentangles herself from Mammon. “It’s a surprise for his brothers. It’s really sweet of you to offer Jax, but I wouldn’t want to bother you -”

“You won’t! You wouldn’t be,” I interrupt. “I feel bad just taking your money like this, even if you guys did plan it. So let me help you out with whatever art you may need done for this project.”

“That’s really cool of ya Jax,” Mammon says, grinning at me. “We appreciate it.”

“Seriously,” Arianthi echoes. “I saw some of your art when I went through your student profile. They are insanely freaking talented,” she tells Mammon.

I can feel my face turning red. “I’m not that great,” I manage to mumble.

“Hey, if you’re good at somethin’ don’t go bein’ modest about it,” Mammon tells me. “I gotta go get started on the food before Beel smashes down another wall. See ya at dinner.”

“See you,” we respond in unison as he moves towards the kitchen.

“We should get you settled into you room,” Arianthi tells me. “I’ll show you the kitchen after dinner; you’re on dish duty with me tonight. I hope that’s ok.”

“Totally fine.” We start climbing a set of stairs. “So are you going to let me in on what this surprise project is?”

“Are you going to tell me what you really think of Beel?” She counters with a smirk.

“Touche.” I smirk back.

“Ok, here you are.” She stops in front of a closed door.

“That’s Beel and Belphie’s room,” she says, gesturing to the door to the right of mine. “And Mammon and I are to the left of you. My private library and office is on the other side of our bedroom. If you ever need to use it you’re more than welcome to; I never lock the door. I’ll show you where everyone else’s rooms are tomorrow.”

“Sounds good.” I smile at her as she hands Samson to me.

“I’ll let you check out your room and unpack your stuff. If you think of anything you want for your room we can go check out my old room tomorrow and see if you like anything in there. I’ll come get you in about an hour for dinner. If you need anything before then just knock, ok?”

“Ok.” I open the door to my room, then think of something. “Hey Arianthi? Will my iPhone work down here?”

She shakes her head. “No, but we’ll get you set up with a D.D.D., which is the Devildom version of an iPhone. Barbatos is supposed to bring one by in the morning for you.”

“Oh cool, thanks.” I smile at her and she turns to go into her room.

“Hey,” I say quickly.

She pauses in her doorway and turns towards me. “What’s up hun?”

“You would’ve made a really good big sister.”

She gives me a gentle smile. “Thanks Jax. That means a lot.”

She slips into her room, softly closing the door behind her.

I step into my new room and start looking around. There’s a desk, a couch, a small dresser, and what has to be a king size bed.

Fucking awesome. And an en suite bathroom? I officially love this place.

I drop my bag onto the floor and wander over to look out the window. My room looks out over a wide expanse of forest.

Pretty view.

When I turn back around I notice that someone has left a pile of things stacked in the far corner of the room, next to my desk. Someone has left me a bunch of............ art supplies?!

An easel, canvas, charcoal, sketchpads, pencils, oil paints; I eagerly rummage through what looks to be anything my little artist’s heart could ever possibly need or want.

Arianthi. Had to be. Her thoughtful ass would do something like this.

Grinning to myself I shuffle over to the bed and flop down, cuddling Samson to my chest.

I think I’m gonna like it here.

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blankdblank · 4 years

Text

Brother Dearest Pt 18

“Why are we off to Manhattan again?”

“Wallpaper,” You said to Eddie’s friend taking his place in helping you bring home the wallpaper while the guys were siding in the installation of the tiling and carpet that had finally arrived to finish off the place to a nice shell. A trip he was tasked to drive you there and back with one of the Brock trucks.

“We’re going to Manhattan-,”

“You remember Miss Kimney?”

“How could I forget the woman who beat that old councilman off her stoop?”

“Well her granddaughter married big and had her shop moved uptown. I made a call and they still have the ones I’m looking for.”

All the way through the crowds staring between you in a simple polka dotted dress and the jacketless man with suspenders on full view with his open vest over his rolled up and partially unbuttoned shirt tucked haphazardly into his trousers you finally got to the shop. Through the door you passed hearing distant chatter and got to selecting small swatches of the offered styles you wanted to take up to the register. With a brow raised he lifted the green and purple floral design you said, “I know it looks a bit-,”

“Gran-,” his voice broke off at your curious wide eyed gaze up at him making him feel like he was about to ruin Santa for a little kid. “Grandiose? Top, top notch glitzy.”

“I like it, the place is old, have to work with that classic style.”

“Long as the guys will be fine with it shouldn’t matter what I think.”

“They have this in grey and blue at their place in Canada. Besides, mom used to love this style. Had Steve sketch out a panel for her wall. Just for the tea room.”

“Ah, classy,” he chuckled out, “If it’s for a tea room then by all means-,”

You giggled in his chuckle at your nudge on his arm, “I’m going to Barnard meaning if I get asked to clubs they’ll have rotational get togethers and all the top socialites will be expecting something classy. James is even taking me in Canada to see a top China shop for the sets for guests. Victor’s planning on building a hutch for it, all custom and hand carved one of a kind.”

Patting your back he said, “You’ll be fantastic. Can’t wait to see their faces having to drive from the school out to Brooklyn.”

You giggled again, “No doubt hating every moment of it until they see the gem we’ve got.”

“You did good, but give it a few years and great won’t be close to what you could do,” Making you smirk then glance to the man approaching from the back to help get the measurements for all you wanted.

Along with the green and purple floral was a silver textured one looking like bare trees from floor to ceiling for the guys along with a few safe choices. Black and silver patterns always kids claim to have faces in them. Deep green and grey new but seeming antique and dingy leaf patterned swirls. Black and silver swirls with a two tone silver pattern with what looked to be aces across them for the game room in the basement to try and help brighten it up. All fine choices with the rest of the place to be painted top to bottom and once collected brought to the back of your truck once paid for by a trio of teens curious what people from lower towns were doing up here. But back you went with small paint samples you had all added to the pool of possible colors.

At the back of the truck James and Victor met you while the crew took a break before the final floor to be fixed up. Victor pulled a pile closer to him eyeing the ace pattern first making you say, “Thought that for the basement game room.”

In tilting it he saw how it caught the light ever so slightly making him smirk, “Should work out with the lights nicely.”

“Didn’t want to go too dark.”

James chuckled saying after a peck on your cheek, “It’s lovely.” Patting the floral one he said, “Nice choice, like the one at home.”

“For the tea room.”

Victor grinned approvingly at your nervous grin, “Perfect choice. Just the right shade too for the dark wood panels. Bright cherry furniture and some creme or maybe mint upholstery and it could be enough to make the other ladies faint from jealousy,” making you roll your eyes.

Tapping the dingy one you asked, “For offices and library, too dark?”

They both answered, “It’s perfect! Just the right low hue to give it that scholarly dated look.”

James tapped the other three, “These are great, all the classics. Should do nicely in the spares and common spaces and a few halls.”

“I think Venom and Eddie would like the black and silver vines and leaves.”

Victor gave you his own hug adding, “Impeccable taste Pipsqueak.”

Gathering it all up with Eddie, who grinned at your choices for him in Venom’s hissed approving praises now there you all got to moving it all to where it needed to go then got to measuring and cutting it right. The paperclips you set on the edges helped you to hold the strips up for the pair to guide all the bubbles out for a smooth finish to each room until the piles were spent.

Turning to the small pile of paint cans you had stacked up you looked over the lids eyeing the samples of each color inside while Victor pointed at the cans. “Um, Pipsqueak, not to be critical, but, that’s not enough paint for the house.”

Looking up at him you said, “These are just for the sample swipes, so we can brush a spot up to see how it looks. We didn’t decide on colors you said just get some to try out.”

Victor sighed out, “Now why didn’t we think of that?” You glanced between them.

James clarified, “We painted the cabin 37 times.” Letting out a giggle had him smirking at you, “Top to bottom why we didn’t think of sample patches who knows.”

Victor chuckled saying, “Great idea, let’s see which we like, Hmm?”

You nodded and lifted one, “Now I know this one would be good for the kitchen.” You said lifting one to start the path through each floor with more than one room in limbo of two or more colors making you sigh and glance between them.

Victor said, “Time for dinner, tomorrow we’ll buy enough paint for the rooms we know choices on so far then we can come back to the others later. When in doubt we could always paint it again.”

James stole a kiss to pause your rebuttal, “As many times as it takes. Though I do have to say I like both the mint and the grey on our room.” Earning a nod and smirk from you in their guiding you back down to the truck shutting off the lights on the way allowing the paint topic to settle for the night.

“Have I told you today that you smell really good?”

Smirking through your lean against his bare back James lowered a hand from combing through his freshly dried hair after your joint shower, feeling you in your nightgown behind his shirtless self, lowly he hummed back, “We just got out of the shower.”

“I know,” you sighed out making him chuckle laying his free hand over yours easing across his belly.

“I didn’t smell that bad all the time.”

“No, but had you smelled better I might have kissed you before we got to Canada.”

“Oh really?” he purred turning around dropping his comb on the counter lifting you to wrap around his waist luring a giggling grin from you as your arms draped around his shoulders. “Well I can think of fifty times on the top of my head I wanted to ask to kiss you.”

“You would have asked?” A playful smile splitting across your lips deepening his own.

“You know I wouldn’t have just kissed you,”

“Oh?” you asked making him chuckle at your faked offended tone, “Are you accusing me of forcing affections on you?”

“By no means,” he purred back in settling down with you on his lap settling against his pillow, “You may have initiated our first kiss, and caught me off guard, but it was more than welcome so I could kiss you again.” Closing the gap after a trace of his nose against yours he claimed a sweet kiss and whispered a mere ghost of an inch away from your lips, “And again,” one more kiss was stolen and in his try to speak again your arms shifted behind his neck when your body shifted to be closer to his chest. “And-,” your lips broke his sentence and folded together in his arms you stayed through the short lived burst of passions after the long day then laid back to sleep draped halfway across his chest fixed in his arms through the night until he could kiss you again in the morning.

“I know you’re in there Eddie Brock!” Lifting your head from James’ shoulder you heard Victor grumbling and climbing out of bed.

“Stay there Jimmy.” Victor called out in passing your door while joining Eddie on the stairs, one rumbling to the other, “Anything I should be warned about? What have you and squishy been up to?”

Eddie shrugged, “Been at the pool hall. Venom’s been behaving.”

Venom hissed, “Venom does not behave. Venom does as Venom pleases.”

Eddie, “Not what I meant Buddy.”

Once at the door Victor’s brow inched up seeing the man with the loaded pistol he drew back the hammer on, “You will do right by my sister!”

Eddie, “I-, I’m sorry, who are you?”

“Everything alright there Eddie?” Your neighbor called out with his own pistol in hand as more of the men entered their own doorways to do the same.

“Ya Henry, just a misunderstanding.”

“What’s this about, son?” Victor asked the teen that looked to be all of fourteen.

The teen replied, “My sister Linda is sick in the Midwife’s because of him and his demon spawn!”

Victor, “Now that’s-,”

“Linda?” Eddie muttered then he replied “Linda!” Shifting his weight on his feet he said, “She never said she was pregnant.”

“No, and she, God forgive her tried to lose it but whatever you put in her belly is trying to eat her soul and all!”

Victor reached out laying his hand over the pistol, “Put the gun down boy. We’ll get dressed and come over and see your sister. Alright?”

“I’m not leaving!” He replied with a crack in his voice.

“Ten minutes,” Eddie replied earning a nod from the teen who glanced at his watch as they slipped back in the house to get dressed. “She never told me.”

Lowly Victor hummed, “Don’t doubt it. Why’d he say demon spawn?”

“Venom popped out, at the end. Startled her when she noticed.”

“You didn’t wear a sleeve?”

Victor’s brow inched up and Eddie sighed, “I get bigger when he takes over, everywhere. He ripped it.”

“How, how much bigger?”

“Just, bigger.”

Victor smirked saying, “I can’t be curious?”

“It wasn’t easy to get her calmed down and to keep it to herself, said she never wanted to see me again.”

“I’ll bet.” Patting him on the back Victor said, “We’ll see right by your mini squishy.” The nickname making Eddie groan as Victor went on to knock on your door he opened to share what happened making you both hurry to get ready as well.

All in the living room you asked, “Venom, a baby with your genes wouldn’t eat its mother, would it?”

Venom hissed back, “The breeder was of inferior blood, she will wither so our seed may grow.”

“Oh that’s not good,” you and Eddie muttered as you made for the door to join the teen off to see what was going on.

In a huff Eddie muttered, “Dawn’s gonna hate me.”

Venom, “She will not, she is of superior blood.”

James said, “We’ll help smooth it over.”

Victor said, “Yes I think with the spawn comment they won’t force marriage on you.”

Through the door you went and by then a couple of guys came over in a truck called by your neighbors to back Eddie and you up if needed. You all climbed into accepting the ride over to the Midwife’s where they would call to share with the family why you were there.

More like a house on the front half you passed through following the nun through to the small delivery room in the back where they monitor the more serious cases. Brought the screen dividers you could hear muttered complaints and once it was eased back the round bellied blonde laid there with a sharp glare at Eddie. “You did this to me!”

Eddie replied, “I didn’t mean to. And I would have helped if you would have told me about the baby.”

“There shouldn’t be a baby!” She growled back placing her hand on her harshly shifting belly.

Moving closer Eddie said, “Look, I apologized and I can’t do anything now about the broken sleeve. We shouldn’t be fighting with you like this clearly it isn’t helping. So what do you want to do?”

“I want-,” she panted out, “To not have this thing inside me! Soon as it’s out you can drop it off a bridge for all I care!”

The nun puffed up clearly having heard this before, “You will not speak that way in this house! Every child is sacred and if you do not want the child can be given to parents who do!”

Eddie instantly fired back, “No one’s taking my baby! Even if Linda doesn’t want it it’s mine and I’ll not abandon it!” That seemed to comfort the nun who stole a glance at James stroking your back while Victor came over holding four chairs he set up for you, all clearly there to help with the raising of the child and supporting Eddie.

The pain didn’t cease and while a pair of guys came over to talk car details since Eddie would now be needing something suitable for transporting a child to follow you back to Canada Linda was circled by a pair of midwives and the Doctor to help with the birth. Along the wall you stood trying to be out of the way with her mother holding her up and coaxing her along.

Suddenly a flash of a silvery blue baby being wrapped in a blanket was carried to the side and in their joint huffs unable to hear after a few minutes of trying to coax a breath out of him the slowing of the tiny boy’s heart. Too early it seemed he came and with the cry of, “Get it out! Get it away from me!” Came mingled with sobs as the Doctor tried to mend her tears and damage the early birth had triggered.

Nearing the midwives you asked, “Can I take him?” Sharing a glance they agreed with a nod and eased into your arms the bundle settled and out you went following the hall to the chapel passing the waiting room the guys were in.

A silent tap of knees and James led Eddie after you with Victor following after, her relatives took that as a sign they could go in. Straight to the cracked door of the chapel the trio went seeing you seated stroking the boy’s face. Victor instinctively closed the door behind him while Eddie went to slump into the seat beside you unable to do much past resting his head on your shoulder. The tap of your forehead to the boy’s however seemed to stir a prickle in your skin and at once you could feel the tear in his tiny heart still trying to beat and the too small lungs struggling to inflate. Down your nose a tear rolled and in a soft sniffle your eyes shut missing the flash of silver veins spreading across the boy’s skin.

Venom’s soft hiss of, “Be patient, Little One, Sister is calling for time.” Stretching out to stroke his tiny cheek against the boy’s.

That opened your eyes and your mouth dropped open in a silent cry of pain feeling a tear in your chest causing you to nearly slump forward triggering James to hold you in place. Your eyes solid silver now looking down at the boy whose heartbeat was growing stronger as your body drew out his injuries and healing powers were being shared. Through his body his wounds from his early birth were mended and more so when his organs developed to the full term baby’s range in the pinking of his skin and body tucking in.

The pain wracking through your body ceased and your eyes blinked back to purple in his first deep breath and sharp loud cry luring the curious nun straight to you wondering where you had gone to. Silent praises and prayers were said as you passed Eddie his little boy and stroked his back seeing the kisses he peppered across his puffed up cheeks in the calming of his tears. One single blink and bright silvery blue eyes were caught and you giggled out, “Look at those eyes.”

James leaned in as you leaned back allowing Eddie to show Victor a better view, leaving a kiss on your cheek his arms circled you in his eyes shifting to the still teary eyed nun who was inching closer. Softly she asked, “Would,” clearing her throat she asked clearer, “Would you join me so we might examine your son?”

Eddie nodded and with Victor he stood while you continued to sit still feeling a bit weak at the moment. In French you muttered, “I have no clue how I did that.”

Kissing your forehead he murmured back, “You were in pain, however it happened, the boy’s safe.”

In a glance at him you asked, “We can make this work, can’t we?”

Lowly he chuckled and nodded, “Yes, back home there will be ample women willing to watch him while we work if he doesn’t want to stay home. And Dawn loves babies, nearly ran off with one of Dave’s when he asked her to hold them at the christening. Maybe some hurt feelings but when she hears it was a fling and he needs a mom, won’t be able to stay mad long. Surprising squishy didn’t pass on a tail or something.”

At that you giggled replying, “Never know, I was in my teens when mine started, tons of time to sprout one.” Making him chuckle at your giggle and help ease you up onto your feet.

Into the empty exam room you followed Victor’s comments to the boy now naked on the blanket peering around curiously and stopped behind the duo watching the nun writing down the measurements while a midwife started to diaper him. “Any hint on a name yet?”

Eddie smirked replaying proudly, “Theodore Jack Pear.”

“Jack?” You asked turning his head and deepening his smirk to a grin.

“After his aunt.”

Your eyes shifted away and you said, “Now you’re trying to make me cry.” Patting your cheeks with a tissue another midwife had passed you to dry your still wet tear lines from earlier earning a chuckle from him.

“Plus, now we can call him Teddy. My boy’s gonna speak softly and carry a big stick, you will go far. Just like Roosevelt said. Be good man someday.” Stroking the open palm closest to him that folded around his finger misting the eyes of the women around the proud father who knew nothing of his future just hours prior.

Within moments his mother and sisters were through the door and as the hateful family was escorted to the hospital for more intensive watch on the mother once the parental rights dissolution papers were signed the building took on a more cheerful air.

Outside with the group you went and Victor’s jaw dropped seeing the black Buick Century parked there that Bucky’s uncle passed him keys to saying, “Here you go. Got some wheels under your feet.”

Victor circled the car and stared back at Eddie, “A Buick, man, sweet ride.”

The uncle said after giving you a hug, “More than earned after the war and all the work you’ve been putting in at the pool hall. Got to keep our youngest Brock boy safe on the long trips between here and Canada,” nudging Eddie’s elbow he said, “Besides, that girl of yours up there might give you a second chance just to get a spin through town in this.”

You giggled and rolled your eyes and James pointed at the car, “He’s got a point. You should see what she can do with a tractor. She’d love to get a peek under the hood of this.”

Victor smirked, “Her and half the town.” Shifting with a grin accepting hold of Teddy so the carrier could be strapped in.

Ambrose said, “Now that we have baby we have put off shopping too long. Off to the second hand shops!” You giggled turning with the guys while they loaded up in the car once Teddy was settled into his carrier beginning to start at a nap. They were off for furniture and riding back with one of the guys you went up to change into your trousers, work shirt and boots for the drive over to the storage place for the furniture once in the apartment.

A trailer was loaned out and piece by piece each hidden partially broken and badly worn piece of furniture showing how little you and your neighbors earned by the shoddy work it was filled with possible fixable ones. A set of boxes had you pausing and bending to lift a case between them. Inside the scuffed unhinged case you eyed the long since used trumpet luring Victor over.

“Steve’s?” Reading your expression.

“Yup. Could barely make a string of notes before he’d start wheezing from his asthma. Never let them change him to the string section though.”

James, “Let me guess, Bucky was in the brass?”

“I think it was, not the oboe but the one with the wobbly silver mouthpiece out of the oboe like shape.”

Victor glanced at James who said, “You’d have to point that out to us.”

“If I spot one I will.”

Eventually the truck bed was full too and your mother’s chair was the last on to be fixed up. New fabric would be ready in the morning and the day after next you would be off back to Canada for the rest of the summer. All of this would be fixed up or dismantled for scrap to make more suitable pieces to be added to what the guys would help you make yourselves.

Softly in a corner of the shop while his sisters went to inspect a distant set of odd looking shelves coated in hideous wallpaper Eddie asked Venom, “Hey buddy,” inching the boy a bit higher on his chest pretending to speak to the softly grunting infant still deep asleep.

Venom’s voice echoed softly in his ear, “Yes Eddie?”

“How’d you know, bout Bunny being able to do that?”

“Venom’s Sister called for time, not many dare to try. The stars have seen her blood before, began to whisper when they caught scent of it again, that is how I found you.”

Glancing to make sure he was still alone he asked, “Could you repeat that out of riddles?”

“Sister is old, older than this sun. Someone tried for her life, so she hid herself with aid from her top commander after her mate had been nearly cut down. He hid himself, his brother as well. Knew she would find them.”

“Mate, brother?” He said seeing his sisters turning back to him giggling about the shelves.

“My kind have known yours for eons, always we follow the Queen Mother. Protects us, you will see, when she remembers her strength.”

“What else could she do beyond what we’ve seen?”

“You will see, shh, our little one is sleeping.” Eddie smirked again stealing another glimpse down at his son he couldn’t help but beam at stupidly with pride at having a start to his own family he’d dreamed of, more so since he’d met Dawn.

Ambrose smiled reaching up to stroke Teddy’s back over the blanket he was wrapped in, “Looking a bit misty Eddie.”

Gina added, “And no telling the comments you’ll be stirring up so content with him like that.”

Eddie said, “Any man tries to shame me for loving my boy will meet the business end of my boots.” Turning to round another corner of furniture he said, “Ran into Johnny the other day, were in Journalism courses together.”

Ambrose grinned wider, “Ooh, sounds promising.”

Eddie nodded, “Heard we were back in town, made sure to tell me if I get my degree he’d give me a place at his paper. Have to work up from the bottom, but it could be better than managing on tips.”

They stroked his arms on either side of him, both saying, “That is so great, Eddie!”

Eddie nodded, “Ya, well before we came out for the spring to rebuild I stopped in at Alberta, there’s a community college there and I’ve gotten copies of my transcripts they said they would accept. It’d just be a couple months. I could graduate by fall, Vic said tons of ladies in town would help keep an eye on Teddy through the day and I’d have him full time at night, I’m not brushing him off.”

Gina shook her head, “We never thought that, or ever would.”

Ambrose nodded, “Providing for your son is top priority. The whole family will be proud of you. I know Dad would. First boy to get into college, now first to graduate too.”

A few steady pieces were gathered and loaded up into a trailer to be added to the small supply that the family had already gathered for his apartment with a supply of new baby furniture the family had been trying to give to Gina who was quite content with her own current supply. Word rippled around and he was glad to have his family so helpful and eager to see him going away to better himself and his son’s life. Already he’d be another misfit without a mother, he would have done right by her, no matter what. Usually it was the norm to settle this with a wedding, but with what she had said about him that he would never share with Teddy this time he would have refused to spoil her reputation to save him from a life with a mother who despised him and his father.

Pt 19

@changelingkhat, @alishlieb

#James Howlett x Reader OC #Victor Creed #Eddie Brock #Venom

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mydearestreaderfanfics · 4 years

Text

In Your Arms (Lance x Reader)

Warnings: swearing, pining, angst (with a happy ending)

Word Count: 4,474

Prompt/Request: could you do a lance/ female reader with the prompt/senario "We've been best friends since pre-K, and now we're in college but things seem off, and I'm sad because I've crushed on you for years, oh damn you like me too?" kinda thing?? Best friends to lovers (while being pining idiots) is my jam

Summary: Lance and the reader have been best friends for longer than either can remember, but pining may just cause a rift in their friendship.

Author's Note: I've included a song for this anon, too. The song is the In Your Arms by the artist Kina Grannis. I hope you enjoy!

Author: Mod Alex

I shoved open my best friend’s bedroom door, not even bothering to knock, I hadn’t needed to in a long time. My cheeks felt like they were going to rip from how wide I was smiling. “Guess what?”

Lance looked up from his laptop, a simple smile on his lips. “What?”

I held up the plain white envelope I’d been hiding behind my back up until now. “This is what!” I was practically hopping in place. He set his laptop to the side, moving with grabby hands for it. “Uh, uh, uh! Move over.” He whined but flopped over allowing me enough room to plop down beside him. I slumped over so that I could rest snuggly against him before holding the envelope over both of our heads. “Take a look.”

“It’s from KU!” Lance grabbed your arm, shaking it (and by extension you) with excitement. “Well, open it already.”

“Yeah, yeah. You have no sense of suspense.” You really couldn’t blame him, he’d gotten his letter a week earlier and you had been just as pushy then. You flipped the envelope picking open the paper to reveal the letter.

“Read it, read it, read it!”

You smacked his prying hand away, snatching the letter before he had a chance to. You cleared your throat before speaking, mimicking a faux administrative voice. “Dear Ms. (Y/n) (L/n), it is with great pleasure- oh my god!” Lance beamed, grabbing the letter with one hand and hugging you tight with the other since you had taken to squealing into his chest.

He kept up the ridiculous voice you had been using as he picked up where you left off. “...it is with great pleasure that we inform you that you have been accepted for admission to Kerberos University. Congratulations, (N/n).” He must have set the letter aside because after a moment you felt his other arm come to hold you tight. You relished in the feeling. You two had always been this affectionate, after all, you’d basically grown up together, but sometime around… say seventh grade, your feelings for him had gone from closest friend to friend you wanted to be much, much closer with. So lying here with your ear pressed firmly to his chest and his heart beating steadily with his arms wrapped securely around you was both everything you could possibly want and absolute torture at the same time. You wanted nothing more than to be able to lean up and kiss him, this was the perfect opportunity to, but you couldn't and so you forced yourself to be content with lying with him. And in the meantime, you didn’t have to force yourself to be happy to go to the same university as him.

Realistically speaking the place you'd managed to rent was off-campus and you two would be sharing it with several other people, but your daydreams still took place with you and him in domestic fluff before heading to class and dipping in and out of the house throughout the day. Can you blame a girl? Even if your daydreams were a bit of a stretch from reality, you couldn’t say you were unhappy. Being able to wake up to a post-it note on your oval mirror from Lance wishing you good luck on a test or reminding you that you are fantastic. Cute little things that would send the butterflies in your tummy on a frenzy. The best thing about the shared house, though, was being able to have sleepovers with Lance basically every night. One of you was always falling asleep in the other's room, so much so that you basically shared two rooms- not that you were complaining.

Like this morning, you woke up to the light shining on your face. You groaned quietly in protest before letting your eyes flutter open when the bright annoyance refused to leave. The stars on the ceiling were the first thing you saw. You admired them for a moment, they were the kind that was common in children’s bedrooms- the glowy kind. They weren’t glowing now, it was too bright for that. They were still pretty, though. The stars also meant that you were in Lance’s room, specifically in his bed. It wasn’t abnormal-- like you'd said before you could usually be found here with him and vice versa. You turned, peeking at him from the corner of your eye. He looked beautiful, his features soft and unburdened. It was enough to make your heart thud in your chest. His arm was draped over your midsection, not necessarily holding, but not, not holding you either. You let yourself relax in his presence. “Mmm, good morning, gorgeous.” You blushed, having not expected his flirting to begin this early in the day. It wasn’t real flirting, of course, as you’d reminded yourself countless times in the past, it was just his flamboyant personality.

“Morning yourself. How’d you sleep?” He whined in response, burying his head on your shoulder.

“I’d have slept better if I got to sleep in longer.”

You laughed. “Lance, it’s almost noon.” Just as you had said, the digital alarm on his bedside ticked again, showing the actual time to be 11:48.

“But it’s my day off.” He kept whining and you couldn’t help but chuckle again. It was your free day too and as nice as laying in bed with him was, you had no intention of wasting your one free day by not going out.

“Tough, buddy. Come on-- up and at em’. I’m taking you to breakfast-- er, I guess technically lunch.”

“Oh? Are you asking me on a date, (N/n)?” His voice lilted teasingly. You socked him in the shoulder, glad he wasn’t looking at you to see how flustered his comment had made you.

“Tch, you wish. But seriously hurry up, I’m hungry.”

Lance got up a little while later giving you the opportunity to get ready. The restaurant was a short walk away and was decently cheap (which was good as you planned on paying for both of us!) which was part of why Lance and you frequented this place. The other part was how good their food was. Many study nights had taken place at your humble little hidey-hole.

You two were lucky, though, since it was your free day there would be no studying. Instead, you could sit and enjoy people watching, with good food and even better conversation. Lance's comment stuck with you though, and though you had been quick to write it off, a part of you deeply wished his joking had been true-- that maybe deep down he really had wanted this to be a date. God knows you did. By now the waitress knew your orders, a testament to your frequent visits here. "So what are your plans for the day?"

"I thought you were calling the shots?"

"Haha, you're a free man. You only came cause you wanted food, not because I dragged you here." You stuck out your tongue in a playfully childish manner. He returned the gesture before you both burst into laughter.

"You have a point, but I'm serious. I want to spend my day off with you, so whatever you have planned, count me in." Your heart was making its attempt to pound out of my chest, the butterflies not far behind. You just hoped your blush wasn't as obvious as it felt.

"Well, in that case, you get to spend your day off going with me to the thrift store."

"Oh? Spontaneity or refurbishing?"

"Yes."

"I'm in."

"You don't even know what we're doing."

He beamed at you, "I don't have to. I like surprises and I know it'll be fun since I'm with you." He's too sweet, you could practically melt.

"Alright, sweet! Then after we're done here, we can head over."

Lance had attempted to protest when you paid for breakfast, but eventually, your stubbornness won out, as it generally did in your friendship. You drove your way to a little hole in the wall thrift store that you went to whenever you had a little extra cash on hand. It wasn't as popular as the Goodwill the next street over, but the two ladies who ran it were as sweet as can be and they always had secret gems that you were sure you wouldn't be able to find anywhere else. You'd found an antique chair that, after a quick varnish and reupholstery, was quick to become your favorite chair. Or the time you'd found some beautiful curtains that, while they wouldn't quite fit your window, made for the perfect fabric for a dress. You didn't plan on going for any furniture, save for a nice full-length mirror that you'd been on the lookout for. No, while that had been your original plan for the day, you had completely changed course now that you were in the company of Lance. You wanted to have some fun. In the parking lot, you explained the game to Lance.

“Okay, so the way it works is we both have a budget of ten dollars and we have to create a full outfit for each other. I figure since we’ve known each other since forever it should work better since we know each other's style. And don’t be an ass, since there’s somewhere I plan on going later with you in these outfits. What do you think?”

He grinned at you, “Sounds fun.”

You split up once you got into the shop. Occasionally you’d sneak glances at him and he’d stick his tongue out at you and tell you to stop peaking. You’d laugh and tell him you just wanted to make sure he wasn’t going to make you look ridiculous. Of course, you knew he wouldn’t, he had a better sense of style than most of your friend group combined. Thankfully you were familiar with this sense of style and had already taken to curating an outfit for him. You’d been here dozens of times so you knew just how to find the perfect deals and the most eye-catching pieces. So far you’d found a Nasa shirt that would make a nice contrast to a darker jean jacket you’d found. You wanted to find a nice pair of light jeans to balance it all, but so far you hadn’t had any luck. It was as you perused the aisles of clothes and did the mental math to figure out just how much more you could spend when you saw them-- the most perfect pair of light blue acid-washed jeans you’d ever seen. If they hadn't been exactly Lance’s size, you would have considered buying and tailoring them for yourself. At this point, you figured you could stop but you still had three bucks left and the shoe aisle was calling to you. ”Oh, well aren’t you perfect,” you mumbled to yourself as you found a pair of boots, a pair of knockoff Doc Martens, that looked exactly like a pair Lance had loved before they wore out not long ago. One of the ladies called you over and you obliged her, you wouldn’t ring anything up until after Lance had tried everything on just to make sure everything fit right, but you had no problem with chatting with her until Lance had finished.

“Oh, dear, I think it’s so cute that your boyfriend and you are doing that-- what do they call it Maggie?”

“Goodwill Date Night, love.”

“Yes, thank you hon. I think it’s so cute that your boyfriend and you are doing that Goodwill Date Night and at our humble shop no less!”

You squeaked, trying to shake your hands to tell her, no, but they were full. “We aren’t, he’s not my boyfriend. He’s just my best friend, I just thought it would be a fun thing to do. It’s not like that, Ruth.”

She giggled to herself. “Alright, dear whatever you say.” She turned to Maggie and they talked like two schoolgirls sharing in delightful gossip. You sighed, walking over to the dressing room where you and Lance planned to meet, it was as you walked there that you found on a rack of hats a grey and white striped beanie. It was still a little chilly out so it wouldn’t be terrible to wear temperature-wise, and it polished off your ten bucks leaving you with no more than measly chump change.

A few minutes later Lance joined you, he was grinning but it didn’t meet his eyes. Something was wrong. “Lance are you ok-”

“Here you are! Oh are these for me, you shouldn’t have!” He took the bundle of clothes from you like a child on Christmas, and yet it didn’t feel right. He had just cut your sentence off, something he never did. Just as you were about to comment on it, he bounded over to the dressing room. Worry gnawed at you, but there wasn't much you could do with him in the dressing room. Instead, you took your clothes and went into the dressing room next door to Lance to get changed. It was the perfect outfit, you’d expected no less, of course. The jacket he threw in fit you like a glove, and it was just light enough that you knew you wouldn’t overheat. The cute pair of shoes he'd picked out for you somehow even managed to be comfy!

“You ready?”

“You know it!” Both of you left your respective dressing rooms.

“Yay! The jacket fits! You’re out here looking like a full course meal, Lancy.” You spoke playfully, though you meant every word. He didn’t respond, and you looked up at him to see he looked, well, starstruck. He seemed to realize you caught him and he shook himself out of it.

Yet, when he spoke his voice still had certain awe to it. “You look, you look stunning, (N/n).” Your eyes widened for a moment before you broke your gaze from his, refusing to make eye contact, afraid that if you did you would do or say something to tarnish your friendship, but god, if you didn’t want to kiss his beautiful face right now.

Lance continued to be strange throughout the rest of the evening, although he agreed to keep by your side for the rest of the day as he’d originally told you. Keeping up with the theme of spontaneity, you decided to try another thing you’d always wanted to do but never had the guts to ask Lance on a real date to do it. So a should-have-been date was now a platonic outing with your best friend, even if you still really wished it was a date. So after adorning your new outfits, you began your “penny date”, a concept where one person chooses a number between ten and twenty, symbolizing how many times a penny is flipped, heads for right and tails for left. The penny is flipped when you arrive at a junction and by the time you run out of flips, you have to find something for a “date” at the location. Although Lance was still being weird and a little distant, much to your growing concern, he did seem to enjoy the idea. The game had led you to a little arcade where you and Lance spent the rest of the night playing various retro games and ate more pizza than you’d like to admit.

“It’s getting late, should we turn in?” You two were in an uninhabited corner of the arcade, not that there were many people, to begin with.

“Mmm, maybe. Just a few more games?” You gave him your best puppy dog eyes, instead of laughing or play arguing like he usually did, he looked away, and you swear you could see the faintest hint of a blush on his cheeks.

“Yeah, we can stay a little longer.” You took his hand, it would eat at you forever if you didn’t find out what was bothering him. His head snapped up, eyes fixing on your intertwined hands.

“Lance, please, I know something is wrong. You’ve been acting off since the thrift shop. I thought maybe I was imagining things, but I don’t think I was. You can talk to me, you know? Did I do something to upset you?” His other hand had come up to hold your cheek tenderly.

“No, no you didn’t-- I’m the one that messed up.”

“Hey, you didn’t do anything wrong.” He shook his head sadly.

“I did.”

“I don’t understand.”

“(Y/n).” Was it just you or was he leaning closer as he spoke? “It’s because.” Your eyes started to flutter shut, he was going to kiss you! “I like-”

“Sorry to interrupt but we’re closing. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” Lance and you shot apart as if you’d been burned.

That had been almost a week ago. That night the drive home had been filled with a suffocating awkward silence. Since then it was like Lance had been avoiding you. Honestly, at this point, you didn’t know what to do. Your friends had even begun to notice your mopey behavior. A knock sounded at your bedroom door; you had yet to get out of bed today and you weren’t about to now. Whoever it was could just go away. When no other knock came you thought whoever it was had left, and then the door opened. If you had the energy to you’d groan in exasperation. “Oh, (N/n).” The hint of anger you had harbored at the intruder melted away as your friend Hunk sat beside you on the bed. “When was the last time you got up?” You shrugged as best you could while lying face down. “What happened? Did you and Lance have a fight?” His comment made you wonder if Lance was being weird with the others. You supposed it was if Hunk thought you had fought. You shook your head. He got up and you assumed your noncommital attitude had run him off too, but a moment later you felt him sit again. He began brushing your hair and despite your whines, you settled down quickly. It felt nice and you were sure you needed it. He hummed, filling the mocking silence with warmth. “Can you sit up? If not that’s okay, it would just be easier to braid it if you were sitting.”

“Okay.” Your voice was croaky from lack of use, but Hunk still smiled encouragingly. His fingers carded through your hair with ease and when he finished he pulled you into a hug. You broke. Tears that had come and gone in solitude now poured freely down your cheeks as Hunk shushed you. “I don’t know what I did. He hates me now, Hunk. I don’t know how to fix things, I just want him back.” You blabbered, words blurring together. Knowing he couldn’t do much to fix anything, Hunk just rocked you until your sobs subsided. When they did you pulled away from the hug.

“So you did have a falling out?” He spoke carefully, afraid you might fall apart again.

“That’s the thing, I thought we were okay. The other day we were going out to a couple places and after the thrift shop he was being strange and then....” You sighed, hugging yourself, taking a breath to steady yourself. “And then I thought maybe he was going to kiss me and we got interrupted and it’s been even worse since then. Whenever I do see him he acts as if nothing happened but he won't stay around me any longer than five seconds. It’s been a week, Hunk. I’m dying.”

“You said the thrift store?”

“Yeah?” Hunk gave an exasperated sounding laugh.

“(N/n), things are going to be okay. For now, I need you to trust me on that, okay. There are muffins downstairs, fresh. You should go eat. I’ll be back before dinner.”

“Wha-- Where are you going?”

“I’m fixing things!” He called out as he left.

Although a big part of you wanted to lay back down and mope, you needed to work on the schoolwork that you’d put off and... the muffins did smell good. Nobody else was home, so you felt a bit better about leaving the security of your room. After a couple of muffins and the first round of schoolwork, you took a quick shower and put yourself back together. You still felt destroyed but at least now you looked like less of a wreck. You’d taken to studying at your desk in your room by the time Hunk got back. It was much earlier than he had told you, still hours before dinner. “(N/n), you look much better.”

You sighed, “I tried to do what you asked, but I still feel like a raging dumpster fire.”

He gave you a sympathetic smile, “I figured. But I’m proud of you for doing this much. I need to ask you to do one more thing, though.”

“Oh?”

“Can you go meet Pidge at the library, she needs back her copy of some textbook. I don’t remember which one, sorry.” He rubbed the back of his neck like he did whenever he was embarrassed.

“Oh, um, sure.” You wanted to ask how the fixing was going but you didn’t want to seem pushy. Besides, you could always ask him when you got back, you guess.

You got to the library which was thankfully only a short jog away from the parking lot. You pulled out your phone to shoot her a text asking where she was when you didn’t automatically see Pidge. Almost instantly you got a message telling you that she was in a study room. You smiled knowingly, it was typical of Pidge to reserve a study room all to herself for days on end. You trekked that way, keeping an eye out for the room number she said she would be in. It was at the end of the hall. “Hey, sorry for keeping your textbook for so lo-- Lance?” Lance was reclining in one of the chairs; he had almost fallen when you entered.

“(Y/n), what are you doing here?”

“I’m meeting Pidge, to return her textbook. What are you doing here?”

“I’m meeting Hunk, he wanted to try out a new recipe and said he was coming from the culinary building.” Your eyebrow furrowed. What was he talking about? Hunk was at home. It registered then, a light-bulb moment indeed. You’d been had. You turned to leave, but the doors slammed in your face, Pidge’s voice calling out from behind it.

“Sorry, (N/n), I had to do it to ya.” She snorted at her own meme reference. “You guys need to talk through things. I am not spending another second watching you two lovesick fools mope because you each think you ruined your friendship.” You flustered, she really was just gonna expose you like that.

“Pidge, you can’t just lock us in here-” Lance was beside you now, banging on the door.

“Actually I can, and I did. I’ll be back in an hour.” True to her word, Pidge’s footsteps faded away despite Lance and your protests.

You slumped at the door while Lance paced the room like a caged tiger. Watching him stabbed at your heart until you’d curled in on yourself, fighting off a fresh wave of tears. Did he hate being around you that much? What had you done? Lance noticed your disposition, his concern quickly switching from the situation to you. Within moments he was at your side. You were so confused, for a week now he’d been acting like he wanted nothing to do with you and now he was at your side trying to console you. You must have said that out loud since Lance has stopped all of his ministrations to eye you with guilt. “(N/n)-”

“Lance, can’t you just talk to me? We’ve been best friends since pre-K, but it’s like you want nothing to do with me.”

“It’s not that, I swear to you. It’s… It’s actually the opposite.”

“What?”

“I’ve crushed on you for years, honestly at this point, I’m pretty sure what I feel for you is more than a crush. Back at the thrift shop that day I heard you talking with the shop owners. You made it pretty clear my feelings aren’t reciprocated.”

“You like me?”

“Yeah, and I almost kissed you and ruined our friendship and I haven’t been able to face you because I know you just see us as friends, and I don't want to ruin that, but I just-- I can’t want that. Not anymore. I want to go on silly dates with you like that and wake up next to you and hold you and kiss you and just be able to know that I’m not an idiot for falling in love with my best friend-- I… I’m sorry.” He turned away from you, mortified at spilling his heart out.

“Lance.” You took his hand, but he still refused to look at you. “Lancy.” Your voice was soft, tender even. “I like you too. I have for a long time, like a really long time. Why do you think I took you out on that excursion. I mean jeez, I haven’t exactly been subtle.”

“But you told the ladies-”

“I was flustered and to be fair we weren’t dating.” He looked even more embarrassed if that was even possible.

“I am so sorry.”

You shook your head. “You have no reason to be. We could have handled that better sure, but,” you shrugged, “everything turned out right in the end. I guess we owe Hunk and Pidge our thanks. Although I do wonder how he found out about the thrift shop...”

“I may have told him my woes.” You chortled at his embarrassed mumble. You wiped away a tear from laughing to see Lance holding open the arm that wasn’t occupied by your hand. You practically flew into his arms. You stayed cuddled in each other's arms like that for a good long while after all Pidge said she was going back in an hour.

Bonus:

That night, Lance had taken to cuddling you in your bed. You’d been joined at the hip since that afternoon when Pidge had come to free you. Your friends were happy to have you both happy again and were quick to remind you that you owed them, although they were mostly jesting. You didn't mind much either way. Lance was officially your boyfriend, your greatest wish come true. At the moment he was almost asleep, happily tucked in with you when you spoke. “Wait so you mean to tell me that we could have been together for a lot longer?”

“Well, damn.”

#voltron #lance x reader #fanfictions #lance mcclain #swearing #pining #angst #mod alex

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skia-oura · 4 years

Text

For the Want of a (non-magical, relatively inexpensive) Bedside Table

A/N: I wrote this over the course of, like, two or three months, so be kind please.

(ao3)

________________________________________________________________

The first thing Torako did when they officially moved in was spend a solid day integrating new security wards into the ceilings, around the outside of the house where the walls joined with the roof, and along the edges of every window and doorframe. The second thing she did was enlist Dipper’s help to bring all the furniture they didn’t want or need to the recycling center, where a very nice satyr wearing a baseball cap tried to charge them an exorbitant amount of money to take care of their belongings. Dipper managed to convince him to go down, seeing as the satyr was very nice, but he refused to budge past a certain point because of what he said were “handling fees.” Torako, very cognizant of the fact that they had just paid a gross amount of money for a house, reluctantly pulled out her wallet and paid the money. Bentley was thankfully not around. Otherwise, he actually might have accepted Dipper’s deal to just get rid of it for them. Even then, when he came home and Torako showed him the receipt, his first instinct was to say, “We could have used the bedside tables anyways, you know, they weren’t that old—” “Don’t even try selling it to me, they were bad,” Torako said. “One of them fell apart when we dropped it off. Besides, now we can get new ones!” Unfortunately, as they soon rediscovered, extra-dimensional storage spaces were all the rage, and new furniture without those specs was…nonexistent, to say the least. And while Bentley could use tools and such for short periods of time with his glasses… “I guess we don’t need them?” Bentley said, blinking furiously as he set his magic-cancelling eyeglasses back on the bridge of his nose. His vision swum a little, the glimmering of magics and extra-dimensional spaces burning into phosphenes in the back of his left eyelid. Even he wasn’t ready to consider the possibility of living with something like that in the room he slept in. “We can just, I don’t know, use the floor. For now. Until we find a better solution.” Torako put one hand on her hip. In the other, she held a store tablet, on which was their virtual shopping cart. In it was one new desk chair, an old-fashioned air-drying dishrack, and approximately thirty-seven picture frames of various shapes and sizes and non-magical for the most part. He certainly wasn’t telling her that the holding pins in several of them had minor enchantments to promote longevity. They didn’t bother him too much anyways. “Unbelievable,” Torako said. She scowled at the example bedside table display before them like the pieces had offended her, personally, for the sake of offending her alone. “Terrible. What a disgrace. You can’t have a home without bedside tables! KEIA, esteemed furniture store to serve the people, should know this. And yet! Here we are!” “Esteemed?” Bentley asked, raising an eyebrow at Torako. “The furniture is good, but it’s not exactly a posh place.” “It’s better than it used to be,” Dipper said from behind them, where he was appraising floor lamps even though they didn’t need any, really, one was still functioning and the other two had found very good homes elsewhere. Bentley didn’t understand why either of them couldn’t listen to reason. “It’s still affordable, but at least they aren’t accepting illegally forested lumber from protected lands in Hungary.” “From where?” asked Bentley, twisting around to look at Dipper. “Hungary, I don’t—is this another one of those really old countries that doesn’t exist under that name any more?” Dipper nodded and hummed absentmindedly. “The faux-metal is kind of weak on this one, though, it’s probably not the best choice…” Torako ignored both of them. “I thought KEIA was a furniture store for ‘Every person, no matter who,’ but no, clearly not, not with those customization options.” “You’re telling me,” Dipper groused. He flicked the wide, elegant hood of one lamp and made a disgruntled noise. “They wouldn’t let me custom-build furniture for Toby that included the Nightmare Sheep because the sheep were ‘clearly demonic’ and it ‘went against company guidelines for appropriate alterations.’ Sucks to be them, though, because I just did it myself, and you know what? Toby loved it. So did the sheep, actually; they wouldn’t stop hounding me about being included in future pieces.” Bentley, half-turned around, saw an older man frown in their direction. “Uh,” he said, “You mean, Tyrone, you did it with your excellent carving skills, and only because KEIA wouldn’t honor your creative differences, and the sheep were part of a dream and okay that’s enough let’s go home, clearly we aren’t finding anything here.” They didn’t get anything at KEIA. In fact, they didn’t even get anything moved into the new house at first, because Torako was seized by the mad idea that if they were going to make this house their own, they needed to redecorate all the walls first. Bentley stared at her, blank-faced in the middle of the night when she came to this realization, before she sheepishly tucked him back in and said that they could talk about it after he came back from work the next day.

Upon doing so, he was hustled to the new house by Torako and Dipper, who had procured paint and paintbrushes courtesy of Dipper’s house in the nightmare realm. Bentley looked at the paint cans, set down in the middle of a thin but sturdy tarp covering the entirety of the house floors (it glimmered, just a little, to his uncovered left eye), and pursed his lips. “Um,” he said, pointing at one which—while new-looking, was covered in an archaic form of English that made his head hurt to try to decipher—“does that say, by chance, that it expires in May of 2152?” Dipper hummed and lifted the can in question. “Close, that actually says March.” Even Torako, whose judgment was not always to be trusted on these matters, squinted at the paint can. Distrust crinkled into the corners of her eyes. “But he got the year right?” “Yeah, 2152. Not that long ago, I’m sure it’ll be fine! It was in the Nightmare Realm anyways. That place preserves stuff like nothing else.” “Dipper,” Bentley said. He tried to ignore the one paint tin he couldn’t make heads or tails of. He suspected it was in an entirely different language from any that currently existed. “Saying things like ‘oh, it was in the nightmare realm’ doesn’t exactly instill a sense of relief in me.” Dipper stuck out his tongue. Torako set down the pthalo green she was holding. “I hate to ask,” she said, “But will there be any bad…side effects from using this paint? Is it—is it even up to modern code?” “Ah,” Dipper said. He went slightly cross-eyed. Golden ichor brimmed up from under his eyes until they overflowed, trickling sluggishly over the slight swell of his cheeks. A scent not dissimilar to smoldering peat rose faint into the air. Bentley felt the hair on the back of his neck and along his arms rise on end. Torako shifted her weight as Dipper’s hair rose in a wind that affected him alone. They waited. Moments later, he blinked. His hair fell back to its normal flouncy poofiness. “Oh wow, gross,” he said, and used his gloved claws to wipe away the golden—blood tears?—from off his cheeks and out of his eyes. His nose curled up. “That’s a sensation—hey, wanna feel it? It’s a wild texture.” “Haha, no thanks, I’ll pass,” said Torako, who had learned many things since having her arm accidentally broken when they were college babies. “Anyways—did you find out if the paint was up to modern code?” “Um, so the can you’re holding is fine, and so is 2152! They hadn’t tried to introduce petrichorite to paint, yet. By the way, petrichorite is in Baby Mint #295 from 2799, so we should figure out how to dispose of that—but not with Tad, because he charged us an arm and a leg for our trash last time.” Torako’s brow furrowed. “Tad—do you mean Felix, the satyr at the recycling center? Where we dropped off those bedside tables that were in very bad condition?” Bentley ignored her side-eye-accompanied pointed comment, put his hands on his hips and counted the paint cans in front of them. “So, back on topic—out of the twenty-three paint cans here, which ones aren’t viable?” In the end, they pulled eight cans that would guarantee nasty side-effects from the collection, then the colors ‘Purple Olive’ and ‘Peat Moss’ because they weren’t personal favorites. Bentley took Torako’s pthalo green and a container each of black, gold, and what Dipper assured him was a ‘non-haunted glow-in-the-dark white’ to the bedroom while Dipper and Torako haggled over whether to use a deep red or an ultramarine as the accent wall color in the living room. Bentley set down the paint cans, then retrieved and prepared brushes of varying sizes and widths. He had to pop open the lid of the pthalo green with the end of one paintbrush, but the others opened easy enough when he pressed and held his thumbs to the (antiquated) locking systems on opposite sides of the rim. The somewhat suffocating smell of paint was quick to fill the room, and it drove him to opening a window. It had started drizzling, actually. Bentley stood there a moment and let the fresh rainwater air waft in, hands flat against the sill, head against the bottom edge of the frame he’d just moved out of the way. If he closed his eyes and just listened, he could hear the light tapping of rain against the leaves of the Sweetbay Mongolia tree growing only a few meters away. He took a deep breath, then ducked back inside. Time passed. Three of the walls were slowly painted in the pthalo green. Between coats of that color, he worked on covering the ceiling, the trimmings, and the wall across from the door with black, glasses on and a PaintKnight shield over his head to keep the worst of the paint off his face and clothes. He rolled the paint on until his shoulders ached and he couldn’t quite get the wet sound of the roller out of his head, even when he paused to work out the kinks in his arms. The rain outside dropped heavier, echoing against the roof and in through the open windows in a way that settled something in Bentley. Eventually, he finished the final coat of black on the ceiling. Setting down the roller across the paint well, Bentley set his hands on his hips and arched his back. His spine popped and cracked a little. He winced, then leaned forward to touch his toes. There was a knock at the door before it slid open into the wall. “Hey, Bentley. Dips and I were thinking of finishing for the day.” Bentley straightened up from his stretch slowly, arching a little past the twinge in his lower back. He blinked at Torako, then asked, “Did any paint actually get on the walls, or did you plaster it all over each other?” “Harr harr harr,” Torako said. She pouted at him, face almost entirely red from what Bentley assumed from the texture was a paint roller. Her bangs on the left side were clumped together and spiking up a little. “So funny, Bentley. Yes, we managed to get the living room done, though I still think that the ultramarine would have looked better.” “We can touch up the bathroom with it,” Bentley said. He bent down to pick up the roller. “So we clean up and start making dinner back at the apartment?” Torako wrinkled her nose. “I guess we have to wait a day for the paint to dry before moving anything in, don’t we.” “And I’m not done,” Bentley said. He twisted the handheld portion of the roller off so that it would be easier to carry. Paint-smell wafted up and overwhelmed the clear scent of rain from outside. “So the earliest we could be in here would be the day after tomorrow—honestly, though, we should plan on a week.” A rustle of cloth; Bentley turned his head to catch Dipper sticking his very colorful fingers down the side of Torako’s neck. She squealed, then cocked her elbow and slammed it into Dipper’s gut. Bentley laughed at the expressions on both of their faces. “Could be worse,” Dipper wheezed, even though he didn’t actually need the air. What a drama king, Bentley thought to himself. “It used to take like, a week to safely dry, not just a day.” “Still,” Torako said. She put her fingers to the paint smeared across her neck and scrunched her nose up at the sensation. “It’s a long time, now that we finally own the house. Nothing else is stopping us from moving in and it makes me itch. ” “Well,” Bentley said, pointing the still-black roller at her and grinning a little to take the bite out of his words, “the end is at least in sight, now.” She stuck out her tongue at him, then gacked when the dark red smeared on her lips came in contact with it. “Uuuugghhhhh, ewwww,” she said, and disappeared to the bathroom to the sound of Dipper cackling. Bentley raised his eyebrow at Dipper. Dipper looked back at him. They both shared a grin, shook hands, and Dipper made off with Bentley’s freely-given roller still saturated with black paint. Bentley looked down at the non-haunted glow-in-the-dark white and the ‘Guaranteed to Glimmer!’ gold. He remembered that he still had some old brushes back in his desk at the apartment. Torako screeched, and then Dipper did, their voices echoing through the mostly-empty house in a way that filled it. Bentley thought about what they would best like for dinner tonight. He turned, closed the window, and brought the trays out of the room to wash them. As he paused to try to remember where the bathroom was, he was smacked in the face with the very roller he’d just lent to Dipper for nefarious purposes, and well, that just meant that payback was due, right? They ended up ordering pizza. - Bentley had an early shift the next day so that he could be home in time for lunch at one. He’d dragged himself through about three hours of work on nightmare-riddled sleep before Karl Svinhish took one look at him and made Bentley sleep in the break room for ninety minutes. Even then, once Bentley woke up, he sent Bentley packing home with orders to ‘not try to explode us all through lack of sleep, don’t worry, we’re still paying you.’ Once back in the apartment, Bentley managed to crash on their (unfortunately, permanently magical) couch for a couple hours before he woke up from fear-anxiety-pain. In all, he managed to eat, pack up, and be out to the house by about 1:30. With Dipper out visiting somebody he vaguely knew in Europe, and with Torako having snagged a small case in the area to find a missing cat, he was alone. If he’d been alone in that apartment, it would have been one terrible thing. Being alone in the house—where the wards were freshly installed, the layout was completely different, and the only items that really glimmered to his left eye were temporary parts of their life—was another thing entirely. After he opened the window, Bentley slid on his glasses, activated the PaintKnight shield, and flipped through the music in his phone before settling on Comeback Kid’s Greatest Hits. Torako had introduced him to them, ages ago when they were both fourteen and not-studying in Bentley’s room. It seemed fitting, considering that he was going to paint parts of his childhood bedroom into this place. He lay back on the EZ-Liftr Lite they’d rented from a nearby library and thumbed at the controls until he was comfortably near the ceiling. After a moment of contemplation, he angled himself just a little bit up. Pulling a brush out of his apron pocket, he slid it into the glow-in-the-dark white and began to paint. It had been so long that the first stars turned out a little lopsided, edges a bit wonky where he still struggled to re-adjust to painting with a brush. The angle didn’t help; any time he’d painted in the past, it was either upright on a canvas or flat on a desk, not several meters above the ground and on his back. So they were a bit odd, bigger than he’d initially planned as he tried to mask the mistakes, less neat than he knew he was capable of. It would have frustrated him to tears just months ago. It still kind of did. But now, he breathed through the frustration and settled himself with the knowledge that he would adjust—it would just take time. It was a not-bad day, so the reminder worked. It was around the fourth song that things started to finally click. Using an extra-long paintbrush handle to steady his painting hand, Bentley drew a small seven-pronged star to the brassy trumpets of Comeback Kid’s “Horse in a Hospital” and didn’t wobble at all. His lines were clean and clear, the shape was even, and filling it in wasn’t nearly the exercise in concentration that the first few had been. Outlining in gold was just as easy. Bentley smiled a little to himself, refilled the brush, and continued. Over time, the light coming in from the bedroom windows shifted into the deeper warmer tones of evening, shadows from the overgrown garden stretching further into the room as it set. The bedroom was set on the north-western side of the house, just enough to be warmed in the evening without facing the glare of the sun head-on. Bentley sighed, stretched over the back of the EZ-Liftr Lite, and almost fell off when the door slid open. Thankfully, it was only Torako. Unfortunately, she had noticed. “Haha, got you and I wasn’t even trying,” she said, grinning. She had twigs in her hair and a couple scrapes on her face. “And hot damn you’ve been busy—wait, is that Comeback Kid? Talk about nostalgic.” “That’s a lot all at once,” Bentley said, shifting the EZ-Liftr Lite so that he wasn’t halfway to a concussion via headfirst fall to the floor. “And I don’t know what you’re talking about, nobody got me at anything.” Torako snorted and entered the room to better peer at the corner Bentley was working on. He only had a little more to go before the ceiling was done, but then there was the rest of the detailing. “Keep deluding yourself, I know the truth. And that is Comeback Kid! Wait wait wait—is this ‘Mr. Bittenbinder’? It’s gotta be ‘Mr. Bittenbinder.’ Is this the top tracks playlist?” “Yes,” Bentley said. He turned his attention to the current space ahead of him, hummed, then added a few more dots in aesthetically pleasing places. “Why?” Torako flicked a finger at his socked foot. Bentley twitched it back before scowling down at her. She grinned, unapologetic. “It’s been ages. Like, since high school.” “You listened plenty in college, I remember you blasting it whenever I brought you stuff in the gym,” Bentley said. He pointed the paintbrush in his hand at her—gold, just enough left in the bristles that he could leave a mark if he wanted to. “But yeah, I was thinking about home. With—Dad.” “Oh,” Torako said. Her face softened. “Yeah, now that you say it, I can see the similarity to your bedroom. Back then, I mean.” He smiled at her, then turned his attention back to the ceiling. After a few strokes, a few quiet moments filled with the discordant keys of “Mr. Bittenbinder,” Bentley let out an ‘ah’ as he came to a realization. “If you—sorry for taking over things and making this my childhood—I mean, you had a childhood bedroom too, you know, and—” “Aw, lighten up, buddy,” Torako said. She patted his leg. “I’m not angry or upset or anything. Your bedroom was cool. Just let me put up some old hurling photos or stash my stick on the wall as some kind of deco and it’ll bring enough of me in. I like the stars, anyways. It’ll be nice to have them up at night.” Bentley reached over with his free hand and ruffled her hair. A couple twigs and half of a leaf were dislodged and fell to the ground. “Thanks,” he said. He thought a moment. “What about Dipper?” “We’ll see if he has anything he wants here in particular that aren’t too, you know. It’ll work out. It’ll be all of ours,” she said. Then, tilting her head so his hand was more on her forehead than in her hair (and how odd it was for her to be looking up at him), she grinned. “Need any help painting?” “Uh,” Bentley said. The memory of their college fridge, covered in drawings of Korato and Alcor, flashed through his mind. “I, uh, that’s very nice of you but, how do I say it—” “Your drawings suck,” Dipper said from over Bentley’s shoulder. Even feeling him tesser in wasn’t enough to stop Bentley from startling. This time, it took both Dipper and Torako reaching in to steady the Liftr and pushing him back onto it in order to keep Bentley from falling off. His glasses were still knocked askew from the jostling. “Look what you did!" Torako said, wiggling her index and middle fingers together at Dipper, mock scowl on her face. “You nearly made him fall—what if he’d hit his head?” “Even if he had fallen, he would’ve been fine,” Dipper said. He narrowed his eyes at her fingers. Bentley nudged his glasses back into place. In the background, “Mr. Bittenbinder” finally drew to its eight-minute close. “I would have caught him. You’re just mad that I said you suck at drawing.” Torako rolled her eyes. “I know I suck, I just thought I’d lighten the mood, you doofus. Anyways—the reason I came in here in the first place was to see if Bentley wanted dinner. It’s a bit early, but I’m hungry and we’ve all been working hard today. How was whosit over in Europe?” “Oh, Olla?” Dipper flipped upside down and drew his legs together, criss-crossed, as the song track changed to “Then I Didn’t”. His gaze remained fixed on Torako’s outstretched fingers. “She’s doing great, working hard at school and all that. Had to skedaddle before her mom came home and ripped me apart, but it was a good visit overall.” “Rip you apart?” Bentley said. He lifted his brush and picked up where he left off painting. “If she can do that, I think you’ve lost your position as most powerful being in existence.” “Did he have it in the first pla—ow, what the fuck Dipper, my fingers!” “Serves you right,” Dipper said. His voice crackled with half-realized laughter. “Stick your fingers in my face and get bit.” “I’ll bite you, you little—” Dipper’s voice got all low and purr-y. Some half-forgotten instinct in Bentley tensed. “Where you gonna bite me huh, sugar?” There was a pause. Bentley pulled his paintbrush away from the ceiling. Not a second later, Torako said, “Where you want me to bite, honey? Here, or here, or…here?” “If I look down,” Bentley said, “and you two are playing het chicken in front of me, at this moment in time, while I have paint and you don’t, we are going to have yesterday happen again except I am going to win. Hands-down. I will decimate you.” Bentley gave them three seconds before he looked down. When he did, they were staring up at him, Torako’s outstretched finger brushing against one of Dipper’s collarbones, his shirt collar unbuttoned just enough to give her access. They blinked—at the same time, eerily enough at the exact time Jonathan from The Comeback Kid crooned after a long piano solo, ‘Oh, but I couldn’t, I just couldn’t stop myself, the pages were calling but the party’s calling louder…’ He pointed his paintbrush at them. “Don’t.” Torako laughed, and what tension there was in the room dissipated. She papped Dipper’s cheek, looking into his eyes, and said, “Well, looks like we’ll have to save this for another time. His Majesty commands us.” “Well, if it’s His Majesty’s edict…” Dipper grinned and swung himself back upright to lay on thin air, his chin propped on an open palm. “Would you also like food, your Majesty? We could go back and get it started while you finish here.” Bentley narrowed his eyes. “This is a very sudden change of topic.” “True,” Torako agreed. “But it’s like, five, and if we divide and conquer, we can get stuff done. I’ll paint tomorrow, and I’m sure Dipper could get a room done right now if we throw him a bag of Peach Wheels.” “Make it a bag of Peach Wheels and a TimTom Bar, and we have a deal,” Dipper said. Without looking, Torako slid her hand out. “Kitchen in royal blue with gold trim and switch out the cabinets and countertops for that Eggshell White we saw in HomeReno Catalogue #539 Issue twenty…three, yeah, sure, deal.” “Ugh, fine,” Dipper said. There was a flash of blue flames. He frowned and patted his stomach. His stomach. Bentley’s turned at the thought, cold nothingness tickling at the back of his mind before he bit at the side of his mouth to bring his attention back into the present. “—hard bargain, now. When did you even learn that trick? Tacking on specifics in the seconds you go for the handshake.” “I live with you, dumbass,” Torako said. She ruffled his hair and ignored the way Dipper hissed and patted it back into place. “Also, I have a degree in this shit. Practice makes perfect—anyways, Dipper, Bentley, how do we feel about fried rice tonight? Lettuce wraps?” “Sounds good,” Bentley said. He pushed the thought of—that—out of mind and resolved to bring it up with his therapist the next time they met. Lifting his paintbrush back up, he added, “I’ll try to be back by six or six-thirty, okay?” Torako nodded. “Call us when you leave, okay? And if anything happens on the way back, it doesn’t matter who’s around, just summon Dips—” Bentley paused, turned his head, and stared at Torako. “I’m not going to summon Alcor the Dreambender in the middle of the street,” he said. “Ok,” Torako said. “Just—be careful, okay?” “Yeah, I promise,” Bentley said. It was easy to—the streets were well lit, and it would be early enough when he left that anybody involved in Norfolk’s relatively low crime rate was unlikely to be active. Also, Fantino was dead and nobody else had any hare-brained ideas about Bentley being a Mizar or something like that. Torako grinned. It was a little strained. Bentley narrowed his eyes when he remembered that Torako still hadn’t started looking for a therapist they could all bully into signing a ridiculous NDA. Bentley still thought that Dr. Anikulapo-Kuti would be a good fit, but Torako kept avoiding the topic. He sighed, then reached out his hand. “Nothing is going to happen,” he said, threading his fingers through her hair. “And if it does, I’ll be prepared. I promise.” “Yeah,” Dipper said. He patted her shoulders with both hands and hooked his chin over one of them. “Ben’s tough, he can take care of himself—and just in case anything does happen, I’ll keep an extra close eye on the bond, okay? Torako closed her eyes. She tipped her head to rest against Dipper’s. “Yeah,” she said. “You’re right.” “Besides,” Dipper said, giving Bentley a sly look before tilting his head to whisper in her ear. She grinned and giggled a little, eyes cutting over to Dipper and then to Bentley and back again. Bentley’s suspicions resurfaced. He narrowed his eyes. From his phone on the ground, the ‘15% battery left’ alarm chirped a whistly little tune over the final stanza of “Then I Didn’t”. “You want me to pass you your phone so you can charge it?” Torako asked, already leaning over to pick the phone up from off the ground. The sound quality wobbled a bit as the speakers adjusted from reverbing off a solid surface and to sounding through the open air. “Sure,” Bentley said, switching his brush to the opposite hand so that he could receive the phone more easily. He held his hand out and wiggled his fingers. Dipper threaded his fingers through Bentley’s. “Um,” Bentley said. He blinked across at Dipper. “Not that I don’t appreciate it, but I was actually going for my phone?” Dipper grinned, wide and a little soft. “I know,” he said. “That’s why I did it.” Then, Torako jammed his cold phone down the front of his sweater. Bentley yelped, jerked, and they all went down in a tangle of limbs. Somehow Bentley managed to be sandwiched between Dipper and Torako, whose arm was still stuck down his sweater. “Torako!” Bentley screeched, his hand still comfortably in Dipper’s. They both burst into cackles, one cut through with bursts of static, the other clear and resounding. Bentley scowled up at Torako and the line of gold that slid wet down the curve of her cheek. Seconds later, a grin fought its way past the façade and he couldn’t help but laugh along. This really could be home, he thought. - “I can’t stand it,” Torako groaned from where she was sprawled face-down on the floor. “I can’t do it, Bentley.” “Yes you can,” he said from his seat at the kitchen table that they had found in an antique store. It was a little inconvenient in that it didn’t have functions to store and consequently automatically drape tablecloths, but it also wasn’t an eyesore first thing in the morning without his glasses, so everybody considered it a win. “Bentley, it’s not a proper home yet,” she said into the floorboards. Dipper rolled his eyes and sipped at the overly sweetened coffee he’d exchanged for dragging Torako from where she’d been languishing on the bed. “Torako, we don’t even have a couch yet,” Bentley said. “Or mirrors other than the one in the bathroom. How do bedside tables even make a home in the first place?” “It’s a place to put all your stuff,” Torako said. “That you need when you’re sleeping but don’t want to get up to get and I’ve fallen out of bed five times this week reaching for my water bottle.” “I keep saying that I have furniture at my house,” Dipper said. Bentley eyed the scratches in the rim of the mug—even after millennia of being a demon, Dipper kept forgetting to watch his teeth around the dishware. “But you guys are all nooo, what if it’s haunted, nooo, what if the demonic energy, nooooooo.” “I had enough problems dealing with your ambient energy affecting things like security sensors when I first started working at the company,” Bentley drawled, hands curled around his own cup of tea. “And now? With this incomprehensible body? I don’t need even more exposure. Besides, everything we’ve vetted hasn’t passed Torako’s ‘Bentley Safe’ test.” “Except the coffee table,” Dipper pointed out. “Except the coffee table,” Bentley ceded. It was the ugliest coffee table he’d seen, but it was solid wood and was void of any enchantments or extra tech, unlike everything else they had been able to find. Any demonic energy that had lingered on it had dissipated in hours without a supernatural handhold. “Unfortunately,” Torako groaned, “Bentley makes sense. I hate it, but Bentley makes sense. Bentley, stop making sense. I want bedside tables.” Dipper sipped at his coffee extra loud. Bentley raised his eyebrows in Torako’s direction, even if she couldn’t see them. “Well,” he said. “I seem to recall that we did have bedside tables that weren’t very magical except around the hinges, and you could barely see those anyways. I wonder what happened to them?” Torako groaned extra loud. She turned her head just so that she could glare at him past the hair in her face. “One of them fell apart when we dropped it off,” Torako said. “Like, legitimately, we put it down and it collapsed.” “But you could have had one,” Dipper pointed out. He drummed his claws against the tabletop. Bentley squinted at the little pricks that started forming in the surface and realized that he was going to have to figure out how to non-magically reinforce the surface. Somehow, he didn’t think that Dipper would react well to claw-caps. “Then just Bentley would have to suffer.” “And I’m okay with that,” Bentley said, still staring at the claw dents. There was a pause. Bentley blinked, then registered what he said and started waving his hands. “Wait—no, I meant, like, I don’t mind not having a bedside table for a little longer, Torako’s the one who keeps falling out of bed, not me, she needs the table, it’s not that—” “Hey,” Dipper said, frowning. He reached over and slid his hand over Bentley’s, eyebrows serious over his dark eyes. “Being the masochist is my job.” After a beat, Torako burst into laughter. Bentley considered the ramifications of threatening Dipper bodily harm, and dismissed them very quickly on the grounds of ‘this will never end if I do.’ “Anyways,” Bentley said in a voice just loud enough to be clearly heard over Torako’s giggling, “We’ll figure out the bedside table thing. In the meantime, Torako, you could always take one of the chairs and use it.” His chair shuddered a little and there was a smacking noise. Bentley looked down to see Torako’s hand wrapped around the chair leg, her hair tangled between her eyes. “This chair?” she asked. Then she looked at Dipper and wheezed. “I think I don’t need to answer that,” Bentley said. “Why do you keep laughing, anyways? It wasn’t even that funny?” “Rude,” Dipper said. “Is…” Torako choked out. “Is because he—oh gosh, he’s unemployed, Bentley!” Dipper scowled at her. “Am too employed,” he said. “As a maSOCHIST!” Torako screeched out the last word and started smacking her feet against the ground and howling in laughter. Then she squealed when Dipper leapt over the table (and Bentley) to get at her. Bentley shifted his teacup in his hands and felt himself settle further. His phone pinged a notification as Torako and Dipper began to actually wrestle on the floor. He took one look at the phone, winced a little at how sparkly it was, and slid his glasses on to check the notification. At first, it didn’t make sense. He couldn’t remember having any business with Celestial Spaces Storage Services. That branch didn’t even exist out in Norfolk, that was strictly a Federation thing. The only ties he had there were Torako’s parents and his dad’s urn in the City Ancestral Home. The apartment had long been leased to…wait. The apartment. Bentley opened the message. Dear Customer, We hope this message finds you well. We write to inform you that your lease on Unit 4968 is set to expire approximately one month from now, on October 24th, 4042. Please indicate to us whether or not you would like to renew your lease or change the terms. We are accessible by phone, message, or in person at the facility you rented space from. Thank you for your time, L’lanee Etchen Celestial Spaces Storage Services “Oh,” he said out loud. In his bare hands, the battery ticked up from 88% to 89%. “I forgot.” “Forgot what?” Dipper asked. Bentley looked up from his phone to see him laying on the floor, Torako’s heel in the small of his back and both his arms wrenched up and behind him. Bentley winced at the thought of him in that position, but of course Dipper was nonplussed. His wings were relaxed and everything. Torako, on the other hand, was panting a little, cheeks dark and hair even wilder than it already had been. “Forgot what?” she asked. “How awesome I am at wrestling?” “Dad’s…stuff,” he said. Torako blinked and let go of Dipper’s wrists. “The stuff from our apartment, the lease on storage is expiring.” “Oh,” said Torako. She sat down on Dipper’s back. He let out a soft whoof of air that was more for fun than because Torako was pressing down on his non-existent lungs. “I forgot too.” Dipper reached back and jabbed at Torako’s sides until she squirmed far enough off of him that he could sit up. “It sounds familiar,” he said, peering up at Bentley from where he was nestled under Torako’s chin. “What do you want to do, then? For the right price, I can always blip it all here.” Bentley opened his mouth to refuse. Then he closed it, tapped his forefingers against the face of the still-warm teacup, and considered Dipper. “Our living room is pretty empty,” he said. “No sofa or bookshelves yet. All our stuff there is still in boxes.” “And it would be very economical,” Dipper wheedled. There was a glint in his eye that never failed to set some very deep, animal part of Bentley’s brain on edge. He was good at pushing past it by now, though. “In one sense of the word,” Bentley said. He pulled one hand off his teacup and set his chin in the heart of his palm. “But what would you want in exchange for this little chore?” Torako lifted an eyebrow. Her eyes flicked momentarily down to Dipper before she met Bentley’s eyes again. Bentley closed his eyes and shook his head a little; he could handle a deal like this. Alcor intertwined his fingers together in such a way that only his index fingers were free, flush against each other as he pressed the tips of them to his chin. He suddenly had gloves on. “Good question,” he said. The reverb in his voice had grown stronger, a little deeper. He sounded like he knew the answers to all your questions, had the power to fulfill every desire you had, and would never sink his fingers into your chest to pull out your soul. Not that, you know, that part actually mattered to Bentley, what with his soul not even being his to begin with. Dipper’s actual sister had given it up millennia ago. Bentley hummed. “I agree, it was,” he said. “So what would you say is a fair price?” Alcor’s face was relaxed even as he draped an arm over Torako’s bent knee. “Usually I’d ask for a couple of teeth, an eye, maybe your left pinky—something noticeable for all these priceless, sentimental items I’d have to transport out of an extra-dimensional plane into this very well warded house. But it’s your lucky day! For you and just you, I’ll do it for the low, low price of one treasured memory of your father!” Bentley swallowed and tried to not let the grief well back up. He closed his eyes, considered the deal for half a second, and then dismissed it completely. Memories with his dad were priceless. He wasn’t going to be able to make any new ones. “Dipper, what the fuck,” Torako said. Bentley opened his eyes to see her leaning back a bit. Dipper flinched, and something about his face shifted. He leaned forward, towards Bentley, his cheeks softening to something less twenty-five and more sixteen. “Bentley, I—” “You’re right,” Bentley said. He looked Dipper right in his wide, childish eyes. “That is a lot of work. It wouldn’t be fair to ask you for something so big you can’t resist crossing lines.” “I shouldn’t have asked anyways,” Dipper said. He twined his fingers together and worried them against each other. “That was wrong, I know it was wrong and I did it anyways because it was right there and it seemed—it was just. Tempting.” “I understand,” said Bentley. He rubbed at his temples. “I’ll call the company and ask what it would cost to ship everything here.” “That would be so expensive,” Torako said. She leaned back forward, smoothed her hands over Dippers, and tucked his head under her chin again. It was easier than it had been before. “The Federation is so far, and then there’s customs to go through, and we’d have to choose an option that didn’t rely on shipping things with exdim spaces.” Bentley inhaled and then exhaled, deep. “I’ll call the company,” he said, again. That night, Torako dragged a chair from the dining room and set it up by her side of the bed. She still, somehow, managed to fall out by reaching out too far for her water bottle. - What ended up happening was this: Bentley called the company to extend the lease. Then he called the company again, after a couple days of first arguing and then discussing the details with Torako, to ask if actually they could arrange a video tour of everything in the unit. After the company explained that they didn’t have the time or resources to devote to that (which was utter bull, but Bentley wasn’t willing to shell money out for the Perk Plan Copper Edition), Torako took time to physically travel to them, visited her parents, and used her phone to show Bentley around the place. It was nostalgic, but the level of magical interference was faintly visible even through the screen and his glasses. Bentley was glad that he let Torako argue him out of going himself. When he made soft eyes at the long, old dresser from his father’s bedroom, Torako slapped a ‘removal’ sticker on it without hesitation (“We can put it in the living room or by the entrance or whatever, there’s definitely a place for it somewhere!”). When Torako started cackling over the ugliest coat rack in existence, awkwardly heavy and brassy at the ends of each hook, Bentley didn’t protest too much over her demands to bring it back (“It’ll go with that awful coffee table Dips brought back, I love it so much.”) When Dipper showed up halfway through the call and interrupted their discussion over the merits of bringing or leaving the sofa with its simple seat-warming enchantments, Bentley cackled at Torako’s initial screech of surprise and then Dipper’s squawk as she wrestled him down to ruffle his hair (“Sea’s mercy, don’t sneak up on me like that—say, what do you think about this couch, it’s got enchantments but I think my dads can hook me up with somebody who can strip it off…”) When discussion turned to a possible matching (mostly) set of lamps that Dipper had stashed somewhere, Bentley set his chin on his hand and watched his family go back and forth about logistics and re-wiring and oh, wasn’t that a really nice bookshelf, wouldn’t that look good in the house too. In the end, they found nearly everything they wanted, arranged to have the whole lot of it shipped by non-magical means (paid for by Torako’s dads, who were apparently side-eyeing Dipper with less fear and apprehension than they had initially), and came home. It would take a month for everything to arrive but until then— “It’s come to this,” Torako said, laced fingers under her nose, elbows set to the sides of her empty dinner plate. “We need to search harder than ever for the final, most vital piece of our home.” “The bedside tables?” Dipper asked sullenly. He scowled down at the vibrant claw tips Torako had slipped on him while he was napping earlier. “You don’t deserve them, you heathen.” “Even heathens deserve bedside tables,” Torako countered, eyes bright with something Bentley couldn’t name. “It’s a basic right of Personhood.” “You violated my Personhood,” Dipper hissed, eyes narrowed in mock-betrayal as he wiggled his capped claws at her. “You don’t deserve a bedside table. Besides, I don’t even get a bedside table, so why should you?” “I keep telling you,” Bentley said after taking a sip of his water, “if you want a shelf above the bed, we can put one up there for things you wanted to put up there that weren’t, like, eyeballs or the shriveled dismembered fingers of that one dude who tried to enslave you when you were a baby demon.” “I also veto the cursed paperweight that croons the regretful thoughts of all office workers ever into your dreams,” Torako said with a shudder. “For more than just the fact that it might be a pain to Bentley. It’s just super, super disturbing.” “You have no taste,” Dipper sniffed. He gnawed a little at the rubber claw caps and then made a face. “Also, these are disgusting.” Bentley couldn’t stop himself from laughing a little. He avoided Dipper’s wide betrayed eyes and looked out the kitchen window instead. It faced the front, where there was a little pathway leading up to the house and there was a stone wall that was covered with aesthetically pleasing moss. Dipper had said it was installed a couple centuries ago, when everybody had their ‘ye olde cottage in the woods’ phase. Bentley liked it, at least. He watched as a small songbird, dark brown back over light brown belly interrupted by a dull crest of yellow, fluttered down to perch on top of it. It cocked its head this way and that, then trilled out a few notes. “Sucks to be you; you keep putting holes in our super hard-to-find dining table, we take preventative measures,” Torako said. Outside, the bird hopped forward a couple steps. “Could have just told me,” Dipper groused. “Woulda stopped.” “Not nearly as much fun,” Torako said. “Now—the bedside tables. The Quest to end all Quests. The most honorable, invaluable, unbelievably necessary endeavor yet on our long journey towards houseownership.” The songbird pecked down once, twice, and picked up a twig. Bentley watched it fly off with its prize. Weird, he thought, that a bird might make its nest in fall. He blinked. “Why not make our own bedside tables?” When he turned to look at them again, Torako was blinking in mild confusion. Dipper had stopped chewing at the rubber caps that he could absolutely take off himself but didn’t for whatever reason. “I thought you didn’t have power tools?” Bentley frowned. “Power tools? I’m not going to…I don’t have any magical tools, remember? We got rid of everything overly magical.” Even the wards could have been a pain to deal with if Torako hadn’t researched and then integrated the time-consuming, archaic, and possibly illegal additions that rendered the wards magical signature null. Dipper sighed. “Mechanical saws that go buzzity buzz through wood and stuff to make it the size you want. Or things to screw in screws without agitating your wrist. Machines.” “Oh,” Bentley said. “Yeah, Tristools. The library has a workshop; we could find the right materials and make our own with their resident Carpenter?” Without warning, Torako stood up and slammed the table. The dishes clanged and clattered as they were jostled, and Bentley only barely saved his water from spilling everywhere. Dipper screeched, his hair fluffing up and out in momentary alarm. “Bentley!” Torako yelled. “You’re a genius.” Bentley blinked at her rapidly. His fingers curled around his glass protectively. “I…thank you? I guess?” “I am going to make,” Torako said, a terrifying grin on her face, “the biggest, baddest, most amazing bedside tables ever.” “Oh,” Bentley said. He tugged the glass closer, as if he could stop Torako’s enthusiasm from bubbling over and making everything more complicated than any of them could handle just by protecting his water. “Oh, no, Torako, we just need—we just need function. We just need something we can put things like pain medication in and water bottles on.” “That’s boring,” Dipper said. He was floating off his chair, a matching grin on his face. “And we’re not boring, we need exciting furniture. Personalized furniture. Furniture with as many non-magical bells and whistles as we can manage.” Neither of them, as far as Bentley knew, had built anything in their lives. Dipper tended towards destruction anyways—and thinking of Torako’s several collisions with opposing hurling players that ended in somebody with fractured ribs or concussions or, in one memorable case, a flattened nose that needed emergency on-site reconstruction, so did Torako. “Guys,” he said weakly. “Think—manageable projects?” “I want a carved dragon in mine,” Torako said. Then she gasped. “No, wait—Korato holding Alcor in her arms as they’re flying off on a carved dragon—oh I have to write everything down.” “Mine is going to have so many hidden drawers,” Dipper said, in spite of the fact that he wasn’t going to use a bedroom table. “So many traps to dissuade thieving fingers. You won’t be able to open anything without first solving the initial puzzle lock. I can’t wait, I have so many ideas.” “Just…a drawer?” Bentley offered out, loudly so that Torako could hear him from where she had burst into the master bedroom. “Maybe a couple shelves? A flat surface? Maybe a fancy handle for the drawer if they have them?” “It’s gonna be A WORK OF ART,” screeched Torako from across the house. Dipper had dissolved into muttering about which traps and tricks would be best for its size, and they could mount it on the wall so it could have a secret bottom that held all the best things. Bentley looked down at his water, and could only think about the poor resident Carpenter who would be dealing with them all. - “I’m so sorry,” he said to Mx. Tchaikovsky, resident Carpenter at their nearest expanded Library, as zi looked first at their plans, then at the materials they had sourced and brought with them. Zir nameplate, which displayed zir name and pronouns, fritzed a couple times before steadying out. “I tried to talk them out of it, but…” Mx. Tchaikovsky looked at him. Then, zi grinned wide and said, “Are you kidding? These are the greatest things I’ve ever seen!” Behind Mx. Tchaikovsky’s back, Torako and Dipper high-fived each other. Bentley made the mistake of making incredulous eye contact with them. In response, Dipper put his thumb on his nose, crossed his eyes, and wiggled his fingers at Bentley. The gesture was unfamiliar; the childish, gloating triumph on his face was not. “I…” Bentley said, slowly, “I thought that they would be too…complicated for our skill level. Those two, at least,” He said, tapping the plans that he knew weren’t his. “Oh, for sure,” Mx. Tchaikovsky said. Zi half-turned to Torako and Dipper, and asked, “You two don’t have any carpentry experience, do you?” Dipper opened his mouth. “I made a custom bedroom set for my—for a child, once,” he said. Bentley, who had not seen Dipper do anything without using supernatural powers ever, widened his eyes at him. Dipper clearly saw, but elected to say nothing. “Oh wow,” Mx. Tchaikovsky said. “That’s really cool! Do you have any pics? How many pieces was it? Were there any custom decorations? What tools did you use? I want to know what you’re familiar with in here.” This time, it was Bentley who felt that cathartic burst of childish triumph. Dipper laughed and started scratching at the back of his neck. “Oh, sorry, I—it’s a running joke we have after somebody misheard me say that I had commissioned a custom bedroom set for a child, nobody’s child in particular, just a child that I thought needed a custom bedroom set with appropriate thematic imagery, I haven’t used any of these tools, but that’s fine because you, a professional, a professional carpenter employed by the Library, is here to help us and I think that’s just great, don’t you? Say, Torako, what experience do you have??” Torako grinned. “Nothing and you know it, dweebus.” Mx. Tchaikovsky returned the smile, long, thin hands on zir hips. “Okay, great to hear! Thanks for being honest, I really appreciate it. What about you, Mr…Farkas, right? You got any experience?” Bentley repressed the urge to stick out his tongue at Dipper and turned his attention to Mx. Tchaikovsky. “I took a couple sculpture classes in undergrad and used some tools there—a 3D printer, a pattern cutter, and a handheld rotary tool, if I remember right—but it’s been several years.” Mx. Tchaikovsky nodded, then stroked zir chin. “Okay, I see what’s happened—you know how hard it’s going to be and how much time it’s going to take, whereas these two—” Zi gestured at Torako and Dipper “—don’t have an idea of what they’re getting into. But, like, if you guys are willing to spend a significant amount of time on these custom bedside tables…why not go for something you want in your life for a long time?” Bentley blinked at zir. He looked around the room, machinery piled against the walls, spare materials organized (mostly) into shelves and containers. The thin light from an overcast sky filtered in through the windows and highlighted lazily floating dust motes. “Huh,” he said, a little quietly. He looked back at Mx. Tchaikovsky. “You sure that wouldn’t be too much work for you?” “It would be a challenge,” Zi admitted, still grinning a little, lopsided, and zir boot scuffed against the concrete flooring. “For everybody, really. But I like teaching, and if things get too difficult to manage partway through, we can improvise and level down.” A glance at both Torako and Dipper told Bentley everything he needed to know about what they thought of levelling down. To be fair, he thought, he was also feeling…competitive. “Okay,” he said, holding a hand out for his previous proposal application. “I can change it up.” Torako and Dipper high-fived again. Mx. Tchaikovsky said, “That’s the spirit!” and handed over the proposal. Bentley took the holographic file in his gloved hand and looked down at it, before smiling over at Torako and Dipper. His design was going to crush theirs. - In late November, they were finally able to take their monstrous creations home. Monstrous, in Dipper’s case, meant that he’d made an almost seamless shelving unit that they installed above the bed for a package of shrimp chips. Even if anybody were to figure out how to get into the hidden drawers in each wide span of wood framing the open shelves, they would be very hard pressed to not lose any fingers (or noses) in the process. In Torako’s case, it meant that her bulky, stupidly heavy bedside table that was more sculpture than functional furniture was so dense that it took bribing Dipper with a pint of ice cream and a bag of anatomically correct gummy hearts (scaled down) to get it from the workshop and into the bedroom. Torako had gleefully chucked the dining room chair out into the garden the morning they went to pick up their pieces—and then promptly was made to go outside into the snow to get the chair because “Those were a bitch to find, Torako, and if you’ve broken it you get to fix it.” In Bentley’s case, it was simply shaped, fairly light-weight. The overall shape was rather boxy, as opposed to Torako’s (hourglass) or Dipper’s (in a word: aerodynamic). There was a single drawer above an empty space at the bottom for any larger things he might need. The biggest visual difference, however were the flowers carved into the sides and carved into the top of the table—spider lilies, vibrant reds and yellows and greens standing out from a dark-varnished background. They had been painstakingly carved, and recurved, and glued back together when the support was too weak and he went too far. Then they had been painted, shaded, dusted here and there with shimmering gold powder, and on the underside of one petal near the bottom-right corner, Bentley had very carefully inscribed his name as small as he could. He set the bedside table down, took a step back, and looked the room over. Torako was sprawled across the bed to take up as much space as possible. Dipper was floating upside-down in the corner. Their tables—new, custom made—matched even less than the rest of the furniture in the house, cobbled together from several sources and time periods. Bentley appreciated matching furniture and themes as much as anybody but somehow this just…suited them. He rubbed at his mismatched hands, and smiled a little. “So,” Dipper asked, hair unbound and floating around him in a way he probably thought was cool but just made him look even dorkier than usual. “Why spider lilies?” Bentley thought about it for two seconds, then said, “Because they’re the most stupid difficult flower I could think of to render in three dimensions?” Muffled by the pillow she had her face pressed into, Torako said, “I knew it, you competitive little shit! You couldn’t just let me have my figure of the three of us, you had to outdo me!” “Three of us?” Bentley asked. He looked at the flying dragon (that resembled more of a badger than anything else) and the two figures on its back that made up the support for the top of her table and narrowed his eyes. He knew the one in something resembling armor was Korato, and the figure with too-long arms draped across Korato’s back was Alcor, but he didn’t see anything like… Dipper started cackling. “He’s the dragon?? The dragon!!” “A talking dragon,” Torako said, rolling over so that she could speak easier. “I decided it halfway through the project—it just. Made more sense if it was all three of us, you know?” With a sigh, Bentley stepped forward and flopped onto the bed, half-on Torako’s legs. “Goddammit,” he said. “If it’s all three of us, I guess you win.” She laughed. Dipper sputtered. “But—but look at how smooth and seamless mine is! How perfectly hair-trigger the traps are! It’s even and sleek and beautiful and I can’t believe you’re saying Torako won!” “Torako’s may be ridiculously heavy and technically unrefined,” Bentley said, curling over onto his side so he could look Dipper better in the eyes, “but she made me a dragon. She wins.” “Also you hella cheated,” Torako said, pointing a finger up at Dipper. “Even Mx Tchaikovsky was baffled as to how you managed a couple of those traps, and zi held our hands all the way through this mess. You definitely used a couple tricks to get things to work.” Dipper flushed all the way to the tips of his pointed ears. “So what?? I used the tools at my disposal, and I made the perfect trap furniture.” “Bentley got second place,” Torako said. She reached down to scrunch her fingers into Bentley’s hair. He sighed and tipped his head back a little, eyes sliding shut as she began to lightly massage his scalp. “What the heck!” Dipper said. The air itself bristled a little. Bentley inhaled deep, counted to three, and exhaled slow. “The heck,” Dipper said, the air loosening up again. “You two are—you’re in cahoots! You have to be!” “So take some pics and show them to other people,” Torako drawled. Her leg shifted underneath Bentley, and he obligingly lifted his weight so that she could rearrange herself into a more comfortable position. “Or, instead, you could join our ‘the house is finally a home’ victory snuggles.” “That’s what these are?” Bentley asked, draping an arm over Torako’s waist. “Yes,” she said, her fingers moving out of the way so that she could press a kiss to the crown of his head. “That’s exactly what these are. Yo, Dipper, you going to sulk or you going to cuddle?” “Both,” Dipper grumbled before settling in on Bentley’s other side, an arm sliding over his side and curling around his chest. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten this injustice.” Bentley hummed. “Okay,” he said, and shifted himself further up the bed. “You do that, buddy.” After a moment, warm between their bodies and under the soft cover of sunlight coming in the window, Bentley heard Dipper whisper to Torako, “So—you happy with everything?” “Yeah,” Torako said, after a moment. Her long fingers stilled on his head. “Yeah, this is good. This is—really, really good.” A heartbeat, and then Dipper, soft: “I’m glad.”

#bentley #dipper pines #torako #tau #tau fic #transcendence au #my fic

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snarkythewoecrow · 4 years

Text

sometime you just gotta run to fly

By: snarkymuch

Word count: 3.7k

Rating: G

No warnings. This is mostly fluff.

Part 12 of the Broken Wing series

Summary: *reading the first would help you understand this, but it's fairly easy to read as a standalone*

Morgan has reached the age where she knows wings are for flying and starts jumping off the furniture to try. Peter stops by the lake house and helps Tony with her. It all family fluff with some questions answered about wings in this universe.

Read on AO3

Tony placed the last pillows on the floor in front of the couch and turned to look over his work. Morgan was stacking blocks on the floor by the coffee table, her small wings resting on her back.

Like all children, they were more rounded then they would grow to be, and the feathers fluffier, more down than actual feathers. Her bare feet wiggled into the strands of the carpet as she worked on her block tower. Tony took a moment to settle his nerves.

Ever since seeing the birds outside flying, Morgan had been obsessed with trying to fly, which just wasn’t possible. The wings they had were vestigial, a remnant of an earlier time.

Humans were too heavy for their wings to carry, though they could glide and control their falls, which brought Tony to his redecorating of the living room and all the pillows on the floor.

Ever since Morgan got the idea in her head she could fly, she’d been pulling herself up on the couch and throwing herself off, just to let her wings try to catch her. Her wings were small, though, and the feathers were immature, so he was worried she’d get hurt.

The squeak of the screen door made Tony look up, and he saw Peter’s beat-up Volvo through the window. The kid was just starting college, and it was his first car. Tony had offered to buy him an Audi, but he balked at the suggestion.

The kid was stubborn at the best of times, and he didn’t like to accept anything that resembled charity. Not a bad trait, but it did drive Tony insane, especially when it meant he was driving a car old enough to register as an antique.

It was safe, though, despite its flaws. Tony didn’t budge about safety. He’d gone over the car personally, making sure it wasn’t going to break down, or worse, cause an accident. That gave Tony some peace of mind.

The door opened, and Peter stepped into the living room, plastic bags hanging from his arms and backpack over his shoulder. He transferred some of the bags to his other hand and then shimmied his backpack off, tossing it with a thump by the door.

A broad smile stretched across his face when Morgan looked up at him, her wings fluttering and then charging toward him. Tony dashed after her, but she reached Peter first, grabbing onto his legs and looking up at him.

“Piggy ride.”

“My hands are a little full right now, Momo, but I’ll hold you in a minute. Promise.”

Morgan huffed, her wings arching up and flapping again. She took off back to the coffee table, bumping into Tony’s leg on the way.

“Don’t mind me,” Tony said with a smile. He looked at Peter, the kid looked tired but otherwise okay. “Hey, kid, how was the trip? Your jalopy make it alright?”

“Thelma’s a champ. Though she’s burning oil like crazy still but that’s no biggie. I keep some spare on the backseat.”

Tony drew a breath, shaking his head. “I really wish you’d let me buy you something newer.”

“Me and Thelma, we’re connected. She’s ride or die, Mr. Stark. I can’t just replace her because she’s a little needy.”

“Yeah, whatever that means.”

Peter started walking toward the kitchen but paused when he passed near the couch. “Why are all the pillows on the floor?”

“Morgan is going through the flying phase.”

Understanding crossed Peter’s face. “Yeah, I guess I was really a handful then. May told me stories from my mom about me trying to fly off the stairs.”

“Shh, don’t give her ideas.”

“You know it’s normal, right? All kids go through this.”

Tony huffed. “Normal or not, I’m not letting my baby girl get a concussion.”

Peter went to the table and placed his shopping bags down, digging into them. He pulled out a package of Oreos and chocolate chip cookies with a grin. Tony raised a brow. Next came Twizzlers followed by Hershey Kisses.

“Really, Pete? You’re not giving all those to Morgan.”

Peter laughed. “Duh, I’m gonna eat some, too. Oh, and I got ice cream.” He produced a container of chocolate with marshmallow swirl.

“You’re putting her to bed tonight then, and make sure she brushes her teeth.”

Peter shrugged, taking the ice cream over to the freezer and stashing it by the frozen peas. “When’s Pepper coming home?”

Tony rolled his eyes. “You know, it drives me crazy you’ll call everyone else by their first name but me.”

“Sorry, not sorry, Mr. Stark. It’s gone on too long. We can’t change it now. It’s our thing.”

Tony shook his head, picking up the cookies and putting them away in the cupboard. “Pep should be home some. I need to start on dinner soon, but no treats until after, or I’ll never get her to eat real food.”

Peter turned, leaning on the counter. His gaze drifted past Tony, and then his eyes went wide. “Wait, Mo!” And then he was charging toward the living room.

Spinning, Tony saw what had startled him. Morgan was on the back of the couch, trying to stand, her wings flapping uselessly behind her.

Tony took off toward her just as Peter caught her in his arms, setting her on the floor. Morgan looked utterly put out to have missed out on flying, and Tony’s heart was still recovering from seeing her nearly jump. He hadn’t thought of putting pillows behind the couch. He’d thought she’d only jump off the arms or cushions.

xXx

Peter crouched down to be on Morgan’s level and brushed her hair back from her eyes. She was scowling at him. It was adorable how well she could pout.

“You can’t fly, Mo. I know it sucks, but our wings just don’t work like that.”

Her frown deepened, and she huffed. “Not fair.”

“I know it’s not, but there are lots of other cool things we can do.”

“Like what?”

His face scrunched in thought. “Well, uh, we can glide, which is nearly as cool as flying.”

He heard Tony sigh behind him. “Not to rain on your parade, but I don’t want anyone trying to glide either. Two feet on the ground at all times, them’s the rules. My house, so I get the final say.”

Peter rolled his eyes, making Morgan giggle. He tapped her nose with his finger and leaned in to whisper to her. “I’ll teach you to glide when you’re older. That’s what brothers are for.”

And Peter didn’t mind, and it was right that he be the one to teach her. It made him sad to think about, but Tony wouldn’t be able to take her gliding with his wings. Pepper could teach her, but if Peter was honest, it was something that he wanted to do with his sister when the time came.

Morgan grinned, seeming content with Peter’s offer. She turned and took off back to her toy hoard, and there wasn’t any other word for it. Tony spoiled her. They all did. Even Happy got in on it. And her Uncle Rhodey was always stopping by with cool toys. It was like a competition between him and Tony to see who could outdo the other.

Peter might not have had endless toys to bring with him, but he had something they all didn’t. He had raven wings, raven wings that made Morgan settle even when she was having the worst tantrum in history. She loved his wings.

Whenever they were together, she insisted he showed them so she could climb up underneath and let them settle over her. She was even getting better at preening. She didn’t pull on his feathers as badly as she used to.

Tony called over to Morgan, “I’m going to start the lasagna. Be good for your brother, Maguna.”

Peter grinned. “Of course, she’ll be good. I brought treats.”

Tony laughed, rolling his eyes. “Bribery only gets you so far. Just remember, you’re the one putting her to bed.”

Tony excused himself to the kitchen, and Peter glanced at Morgan, who was playing with a small, robotic dog. It looked like something Tony had built.

The down of her wings was puffed up, and some spots were being pushed out by adult feathers. She needed someone to preen to her wings a little.

Shaking his wings onto his back, he walked over to the chair next to Morgan and squatted down, resting his forearms on his knees. He peered over her shoulder, watching as she fed her doll to the robotic dog.

With the lightest touch, he rested a hand on her soft, downy wings. “Hey, Mo, whatcha got there?”

The small baby doll blinked at Peter as Morgan rolled her onto her side to better fit her into the dog's mouth.

“I’m feeding, Molly.”

The corner of Peter’s mouth tugged up. He shook his head a little. He was pretty sure this was just regular imaginative play and not some red flag about future problems. Morgan was just very creative.

Now that he was up close, he could see her wings better and brushed his fingers over the tufts of down that were sticking up. It wasn’t good to pluck the down, but he could smooth it out.

“I’m gonna preen your wings while you feed Molly. That sound okay?”

She nodded and continued her elaborate play. Peter gently ran his fingers through the down and feathers, letting them run through his fingers. He found a spot the down was knotted, and he worked it out.

“Ow!”

“Sorry, Mo. I won’t do it again. I think I’m all done. You want to do mine?”

If you had told Peter that he would be letting a child touch his wings before, he would have laughed, but now it felt natural. He wasn’t scared. How could he look at himself in such a bad light when the sunshine that was Morgan existed with wings just as black as his.

He carefully turned and got on his knees, so his wings were facing her, and a moment later, he felt her little hands ruffling the feathers. He let himself relax while she played with his wings. At one point, he was pretty sure Molly, the robotic dog, got involved and was walking across his wings. He didn’t mind, though.

He heard Morgan yawn, and he turned to see her looking back at him with tired eyes. Smiling, he got up and scooped her into his arms before settling on the couch, so his wings weren’t in the way.

Morgan wiggled into his side, pressing against him and touching his wing. She felt warm under his wing. The air was starting to smell like lasagna, and he knew dinner would be soon.

He didn’t intend to sleep when he closed his eyes, but he still drifted off, waking a little later to someone running their fingers through his hair. He blinked his eyes open, seeing Pepper looking down at him. Morgan was still tucked into his side.

“Hey, dinner will be ready soon. Why don’t you and Morgan get washed up?”

Sucking in a big breath, he yawned, dragging a hand over his face. He looked down at Morgan, who was still out cold.

Brushing her hair back from her face, he said her name a few times, getting a little louder each time. Finally, she stirred and looked up at him and then to her mother, who was still nearby.

Unlike Peter, Morgan didn’t need a minute to wake up. She went from zero to sixty in two seconds flat, launching off the couch and crashing into her mother’s legs.

Peter got off the couch and stretched his wings once before pulling them close and tucking them away. He wandered to the kitchen where Tony was cutting up the garlic bread. A bowl of salad was already on the table and the places set.

“Is there anything I can do?” Peter asked.

Tony shook his head. “Nope, I got everything under control, believe it or not. Maybe you can help Pepper get Morgan ready?”

“Yeah, sure, no problem.”

Peter could hear Morgan arguing with Pepper from the kitchen, and it only got louder when he got closer.

“I want my wings!” Morgan shouted.

“Sweetie, it’s better to put them away when we eat. It’s more comfortable to sit in the chairs.”

Morgan crossed her arms and huffed. “I don’t wanna.”

Peter walked over, kneeling in front of her. He tilted his head to the side. “Hey, Mo, we need to put our wings away sometimes. You can take them back out after.”

The little girl growled at him, honest to God growled. Peter glanced up at Pepper, who shrugged a shoulder. He looked back at Morgan.

“If you put your wings away, I’ll let you have an extra scoop of ice cream tonight.”

Morgan’s eyes widened just a fraction. “I get two?”

“Yep.”

She chewed her lip for a moment but then nodded her head. Squeezing her eyes shut and scrunching her nose, she pulled her wings tight against her and then made them disappear.

“Thank you, Peter,” Pepper said. “Do you mind taking her to wash her hands?”

“No problem. We’ll be right back.”

Peter scooped Morgan up and swung her onto his back, running towards the bathroom while Morgan squealed in delight.

After they were both clean and shirts a little wet from sprayed water, they went to the kitchen table, and Peter helped Morgan into her seat.

Dinner went well. Peter talked about starting college soon, and his budding relationship with MJ. Ned was coming to MIT with him, so that was cool.

Pepper talked about her meetings and how SI was doing, and Tony ate three helpings of lasagna while talking about how he spent his day with Morgan. Tony had become a stay at home dad, something that some people were surprised by, but those people didn’t really know him well then.

Morgan tried hiding her salad under a piece of her lasagna, but it didn’t go unnoticed.

“You need to eat the green stuff, too, Maguna,” Tony said.

“Don’t like it.”

Tony sighed, reaching over and picking up a piece of green pepper. “Eat this, and we’ll call it good.”

Morgan eyes it suspiciously but nibbled on the end.

Peter looked at Tony. “If it’s any consolation, I didn’t eat a single vegetable until I was like ten.”

Tony shook his head, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “You’ve been bitten by a radioactive spider, so your example doesn’t count.”

Morgan finished her green pepper and then pushed the plate away. “Ice cream?”

Peter laughed, getting up and taking his plate and stacking hers on top of it. “Yep. It’s chocolate with marshmallow swirl.”

Peter helped Pepper and Tony clean the table and pack away the leftovers. Morgan sat in her chair, watching them, swinging her legs.

As Pepper wiped down the table, Peter got a few bowls out and grabbed the cookies and candy, too. If he was gonna spoil her, he was going big.

“Do you and Tony want some?” Peter asked Pepper who was washing her hands.

“I’m all set, sweetie. Tony probably wants some, though.”

“Just a little,” Tony said, straightening the leaning tower of leftovers in the fridge.

Peter scooped Tony’s first, handing it to him as he passed beside him. Tony took it to the living room, finding his usual chair and plopping down. He filled the other two bowls with ice cream and tossed some cookies on the side for Morgan, leaving the candy on the counter for later.

After he put away the ice cream, he set a bowl in front of Morgan, along with a spoon, and sat next to her.

She managed the first bite with little mess, but soon, her face was covered in ice cream.

Sticky hands wrapped around the spoon and shoveled bite after bite into her mouth. She paused to nibble on the cookies, then her eye caught the Twizzlers, and any hope she wasn’t going to have a sugar high was thrown out the window.

He grabbed the Twizzlers and peeled a few out of the package for her, observing her as she chewed them. He didn’t want her to choke.

When the pieces got too slimy and small, he took them away and grabbed a wet cloth to wipe her face and hands.

The moment her feet hit the floor, her wings were back out, and she was running off at warp speed for the living room. Peter finished cleaning up the rest of the mess and then joined the rest of the family.

The only thing that was missing was May. Having her there would have made his night complete, but she had to work. Apparently, car insurance for Peter didn’t come cheap. He’d offered to pay, but May wanted him to worry about buying what he needed for college instead, though Tony was covering the actual tuition. He’d tried to argue it, but Tony had dug his heels in and made a scene. It was easier to just agree than keep arguing.

Tony was already looking drowsy by the time he got to the living room, stretched out in his recliner with his ice cream bowl and spoon on his lap. Pepper listening to Morgan ramble about her toy dog, nodding at all the right moments. Morgan was talking a mile a minute. Clearly, the heavy dose of sugar was having an effect.

Pepper looked up at Peter with tired eyes. She’d had a busy day, and Peter felt for her.

“Hey, Mo, how about we go outside, and I show you something cool?”

“Like what?” Morgan turned to him, head tilting to the side.

“Remember I said we could fly, and your dad doesn’t want you to glide yet, but there is something else kinda fun. It’s kind of like gliding.”

She pursed her lips and then nodded, tossing the toy dog down on the floor.

“Be careful,” Pepper said as Peter took Morgan’s hand, guiding her out.

“I wouldn’t hurt her. She’ll be safe.”

Peter brought Morgan down to the driveway and turned to face her, letting his wings fall onto his back. Morgan watched him curiously, a line etched between her brows.

“Okay, now watch me. You should be able to do this, too.”

Peter bent a little and let his wings stretch out behind him, flapping them a few times. He could feel the power they had, even if they couldn’t get him off the ground.

Staying kind of low, he began to run down the driveway, feeling the wind catch his wings, then he jumped, flapping a few times, and got off the ground just a little. It was almost like gliding. He managed to stay in the air for a few seconds, longer than if he hadn’t used his wings.

When he looked back at Morgan, she was already flapping her wings and taking position at the start of the driveway, a look of sheer concentration on her face.

Peter smiled at her and waved for her to go. She took off as fast as her little legs could go, and Peter hoped she could get some lift.

Once she was running as fast as she could go, she jumped and flapped, stretching her wings. She didn’t stay up long, but it was enough for her face to split into a wide grin.

“Again!”

Peter laughed as he watched her run back the other way and repeat the process again.

Eventually, Morgan began to slow as she tired herself out. Peter gathered her up and carried her inside. She rested her head on his shoulder as he walked. When he got back into the house, Tony was snoring in his chair, and Pepper was reading a book. She looked up when he walked by.

“Have fun? I took some pictures from the window. I can’t believe how grown up she’s getting.”

“Me either,” Peter said, still holding her tight. He ducked his head to see Morgan’s eyes were closed. “I think she’s ready to sleep for a few days.”

Pepper laughed. “She’s her father’s daughter. Give a few hours, and she’ll be recharged enough to go again. Of all things she could have gotten from Tony, she had to get his sleep schedule.”

“You want me to take her up? I’ll make sure she brushes her teeth and get her changed into some PJs.”

Relief washed over her, causing her shoulders to drop. “Thank you, Peter. Maybe we should be paying you when you come for a visit.”

He shook his head. “It’s no big deal. I always wanted to be a big brother.”

“Well, thank you again, Peter. Her pajamas are in the second drawer. I can give her a bath tomorrow.”

Peter carried Morgan upstairs, stepping into the bathroom first. Bending, he lowered the lid to the toilet and then gently nudged Morgan on the shoulder. She grumbled, but her eyes opened, and she looked around.

“Hey, little miss, we need to brush those teeth.”

Her bottom lip stuck out, but she wiggled out of his arms, and Peter set her on the closed toilet. He got her toothbrush ready and helped her brush her teeth, picking her up to spit in the sink after.

With that out of the way, Peter picked her back up and carried her to her room, setting her on her bed. He kneeled in front of her, untying her shoes and taking them off. He peeled off her socks afterward, sticking them in her shoes for now.

As he went to her dresser to find pajamas, he glanced back over his shoulder and asked, “Hey, Mo, can you put your wings away now?”

She nodded a few times quickly and then willed them away as Peter found her something to wear.

He helped her into her PJs, his wings still out behind him. Morgan grabbed the feathers for balance.

Once she dressed, a huge yawn broke from her, and she stretched her arms over her head. She crawled across her bed, grabbing her blanket and pillows and making something of a nest. He’d forgotten how young children found comfort in the primal activity. It was a remnant of times past.

She wriggled down into her nest and looked up at Peter. “Story, please?”

Peter smiled. “Yeah, how about I tell you the story of how I met your dad.”

Her brow wrinkled in thought. “He’s your dad, too.”

“Yeah, yeah, I guess he is. You’re right, Mo. How about I tell you the story of how we all became a family instead.”

#irondad #peter parker #tony stark #wingfic #fluff #snark writes

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natashasbanner · 4 years

Text

The New Normal, Chapter 2

Adjusting to life after saving the world was easier said than done. It took time, but Macy was working on it, one step at a time.

Macy-centric, post season one AU.

A/N: Please enjoy :)

Also on AO3

“This couldn’t wait until it stopped raining?” Maggie complained as they turned the corner off of main street.

She was struggling to keep up with Macy who held the umbrella they were sharing. Macy glanced over and slowed down to match her pace, shifting the umbrella to cover her more. Maggie had been over the moon at their impromptu shopping trip. And she eagerly latched onto Macy’s idea for the balcony garden.

“It’s been raining for days,” Mel said from behind them. “We all have time today. Might as well make the most of it.”

“Sorry,” Maggie grumbled, looping her arm through Macy’s to keep her from speeding up again. “I haven’t had a good hair day in weeks, excuse me for being a little grumpy.”

“A little?” Mel questioned with scoff.

Maggie looked over her shoulder, jerking Macy’s arm a little to make a face at Mel. She felt the cold water from the ground splash against the back of her legs and imagined Mel kicking at a puddle in retaliation to Maggie’s face making.

Macy chuckled to herself as Maggie faced forward again. She missed this, the endearingly juvenile moments where they were nothing more than three sisters. She regretted keeping them at arms length for so long.

Maggie bumped her shoulder against hers and Macy swallowed, looking over with her eyebrows raised.

“You’re being awfully quiet,” Maggie said, her voice quiet. “You okay?”

“Fine,” Macy said, feeling her jaw tightening involuntarily.

“You sure?”

She shrugged Maggie’s hand away and straightened her shoulders. “I said I’m fine.”

Macy didn’t mean to be so short and she knew Maggie meant well, but it was her knee jerk reaction. It made her feel like they were walking on eggshells around her, waiting for her to crumble. She wasn’t going to crumble. She wasn’t going break. Macy missed her sisters, but she didn’t want to spend the day feeling like a burden.

Macy stopped and turned around to face them. Maggie’s eyes shone with quiet concern and Mel looked apprehensive.

“Look,” she started with a sigh. “I promise I’m okay. I just want to go shopping. Okay?”

They were silent an uncomfortably long time as they stared at her. It was Mel who spoke first.

“The store’s just around the corner,” she said, pointing down the road. “Should have everything we’re looking for.”

Maggie offered a small smile. “And we have to stop in the antique store.”

“Great,” Macy said, holding her arm out for Maggie again. She was relieved that she took it without hesitation. “Let’s go.”

Macy caught Mel’s smirk, as Maggie tugged her along again. Macy let out a breath. Not a great start, but at least they were back to familiar.

Mel was right, they got seeds, starter pots, soil and some new gardening tools all in one place. They put it all in the car and Maggie dragged Macy and Mel to the antique store by the hands. Mel drifted off on her own when they stepped inside, but Maggie stayed by Macy’s side, lazily guiding her through the winding rows of antiques.

She didn’t say much outside of pointing out a few things that would be nice to replace some of the furniture they’d lost to the never ending stream of creatures, good and evil, passing through the house.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you earlier,” Macy said when Maggie stopped them in front of a display of incomplete dining sets. “You didn’t deserve that.”

Maggie shrugged and let go of her arm to pick up a tea cup from the shelf. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” Macy argued, shaking her head.

“We can be overbearing and you asked for space,” Maggie said, returning the tea cup to its place. “I can’t help but worry sometimes.”

“I know.” Macy followed behind her as she moved further down the row of shelves. “But we all went through hell last year. You have your own stuff to deal with. I don’t want to be another one of your problems.”

Maggie let out a snort and picked up a plate, tracing her finger over the floral pattern that wove around the edge.

“What?” Macy asked, turning to look at the mismatched assortment of cups and bowls.

“For someone so smart, you can be really dumb sometimes, Mace.” Maggie put the plate back and kept moving down the shelf. “No offense.”

Macy chuckled softly, tilting her head to one side. “I’m a little offended.”

“You’re my sister, whether you like it or not you are my problem. Mel too. Forever.” she said, meeting Macy’s eyes with a soft smile. “You might not need us there all the time, but we’re here. Just in case.”

Macy reached out and pulled Maggie against her. Maggie’s arms wound around her waist and held her tightly.

“I love you, Mags.” Macy said softly and she heard Maggie sniff against her coat. “I’m here for you too. Forever.”

Maggie pulled away, shaking her head and swiping at the tears that had dripped onto her cheeks.

“Well, this is embarrassing,” she said with short laugh, meeting Macy’s eyes.

Macy reached out and squeezed her shoulder, offering a smile. Tears stung her own eyes, but they didn’t fall. She was too good at keeping them in.

“It’s not exactly ideal to be having this conversation in the middle of a store.”

Maggie laughed and looked at Macy seriously. “But it needed to be said. We’re better together and all that right?”

Macy nodded, looping her arm through Maggie’s. “Right,” she agreed.

“There you are,” Mel said, coming around the corner. She faltered for a moment, taking in their red rimmed eyes and the fresh tear tracks in Maggie’s makeup. “Everything okay?”

Macy glanced over at Maggie who nodded. “We’re good.”

“Good.” She blew out a breath and dragged a hand through her hair. “I don’t know about you two, but I’m starving. You wanna grab something to eat?”

“Definitely,” Macy said.

“Not before I’ve had a chance to fix,” Maggie gestured at her face with her free hand. “All of this.”

Mel rolled her eyes and turned for the door. Macy exchanged a smile with Maggie and followed after Mel, feeling lighter than she had when they walked into the store.

Mel picked the diner right around the corner from the antique shop. It wasn’t Macy’s favorite, but it was the closest and there wasn’t a wait. Maggie went back to the car to fix her makeup, while Mel and Macy sat in the booth looking at their menus in silence.

That feeling returned, the one she got earlier when Mel started to leave after bringing her breakfast. Emboldened by her earlier talk with Maggie, Macy cleared her throat.

“Mel?”

Mel flipped the menu over, but didn’t look up. “Huh?”

“There’s something I want to tell you,” Macy said, wringing her hands in her lap. Her palms were sweaty and she felt some of the nerve she’d worked up start to slip away. Maggie was always easier to talk to, but this was something she wanted to talk about with Mel.

Mel glanced up with a raised eyebrow. “What’s up?”

Macy opened her mouth, but closed it again, searching for the right words. She clutched her fingers under the table and took a deep breath. Mel watched her, waiting for her to say something. Mel liked direct, so Macy decided that she would just come out with it. Lay everything on the table for Mel to process and analyze and wait for her to respond.

“I got a job,” she said, dropping her gaze to the table. “My dream job, in Ann Arbor. And I was going to take it.”

Mel tensed, her jaw tightening visibly. She sucked in a breath and then another before she relaxed against the booth.

“But you didn’t take it?” she asked, her tone calmer than Macy expected.

“How could I?” Macy shrugged and words started tumbling out of her before she could stop them. “I was ready to run because everything here hurt so much and it was a chance for a, for a fresh start. Ann Arbor is only two hours away and I could come back to help when you guys needed me to. It was perfect.”

Mel tilted her head to one side, her expression softening. “What stopped you?”

“I don’t know. Everytime I started packing or when I worked up the courage to tell you and Maggie, I chickened out. There’s still a half packed suitcase in my closet.” She blew out a breath, shaking her head at herself. “But as much as it hurt to be here, with all the reminders of Galvin and everything else that happened, deep down I knew I didn’t really want to leave. It was just the easiest thing to do at the time.”

The corner of Mel’s mouth quirked up and she reached across the table, her palm open and inviting. Macy didn’t hesitate taking Mel’s hand and relaxed when she squeezed her fingers.

“But I have you and Maggie and even though our lives are less than stable on a good day, I realized I don’t want to go back to being alone.”

“Trust me, you don’t have to worry about being alone ever again,” Mel said softly. She swallowed and her eyes were shining under the fluorescent lights overhead.

Macy smiled. “So I’ve been told.”

Mel squeezed her hand again. “And if you ever need to talk, I’m here you know. You don’t have to sit out in the rain by yourself all morning.”

“I like the rain,” Macy argued.

Mel pulled her hand away with a low chuckle. She looked back down at the menu, a smile tugging at her lips.

“You could always join me out there,” Macy said and Mel looked up at her again. “If you ever wanted to talk or anything.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

The click of Maggie’s heels against the floor drew Macy’s attention and she squeezed into the booth beside her.

“Did you guys order yet?” she asked looking between Macy and Mel.

“Not yet,” Mel answered, turning her menu over again.

“We were waiting for you,” Macy said, sliding her menu in front of Maggie.

Maggie smiled. “Thanks.”

“Thank you for coming with me,” Macy said as they walked up the stairs to the front door. “Today was fun.”

“Just like old times,” Maggie grunted, shifting the bags in her arms.

“What old times?” Mel asked skeptically and Macy could imagine her raised eyebrow without looking over at her. “There wasn’t exactly time for anything other than preventing the apocalypse since we got our powers.”

“Well we should make this a regular thing,” Maggie said and Macy caught her sticking her tongue out Mel.

“I agree,” Macy spoke up, moving in front of Maggie to unlock the front door.

“I’m in too, but maybe next time we could do something that doesn’t involve four hours walking around downtown in the rain,” Mel said, shuffling in behind them.

Macy walked to set her bags down in the living room and sighed in relief when she shrugged her coat off of her shoulders.

“Sister Saturdays?” Maggie said, her voice taking on the squeaky quality it got when she was excited. “Just the three of us?”

“We could see a movie next week,” Macy suggested, rejoining them in the foyer. “Go for drinks after? No walking around in the rain for hours involved.”

Mel slumped against the door and closed her eyes. “Sounds wonderful,” she pushed herself away from the door suddenly, pulling her phone out of her pocket. “I have to get ready and I smell like a wet dog. Text me when you pick a movie.”

She was up the stairs before Macy or Maggie could say anything else. Maggie turned to Macy, grinning.

“This is gonna be so fun and I know the perfect movie for all of us. And can we please find a different bar than The Haunt?” she asked, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

Macy smiled. “Whatever you want, I picked what we did today. Thanks for sticking it out in the rain.”

“Any time. Do you want some help bringing this stuff upstairs?” She gestured at the bags around foyer.

Macy shook her head levitating one of the bags for a moment before setting it down gently. “I’ve got it.”

“Okay. I have to head back over to Kappa, but I’ll text you the movie trailer,” she promised before she hurried out the door.

Macy stood there for a long time, looking around at the spoils of the day. This was what she missed, just a day with her sisters. No pressing magical emergencies, no work or school or anything else. Just the three of them. It was a step in the right direction, getting back across the bridge between them.

#hacy #macy x harry #my fic #please enjoy :)

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rnufharose · 4 years

Text

Blood, Sweat, and Tears - Chapter 3

Word Count: 1865

Trigger Warnings: Post Traumatic Stress, references to murder.

︻デ═一 ♥

"It makes no sense."

Sehun was standing in the middle of the lounge, the bright lights of Seoul illuminating the night sky through the wide window of the estate, offering a breathtaking view. He had returned from the service in Icheon, continuing to mull over the information he had received from the old ladies about the murder that had taken place.

"Why target an innocent girl and her grandmother? All I heard was praise from the townspeople," he explained to the older male up front, who hadn't turned his gaze away from the view.

He was shorter than the raven-headed male, his brown hair swept and parted, and he wore a red button-down underneath his black velvety jacket along with slacks, a gold necklace around his neck along with several rings on his fingers, a glass of scotch in his hand. He had a round face, soft cheeks, thick eyebrows, dark eyes that shone with wisdom and patience, and his thin lips were in a tight line.

"Even I'm not sure," he eventually faced Sehun, a frown on his visage. "Our enemy is ruthless. Until we find a connection between them, we can't come to any conclusions. However, that doesn't mean we shouldn't be cautious."

He nodded in agreement, recalling when he witnessed the victim's granddaughter, her vibrancy sucked out of her due to the impromptu arrival of violence in her life. "Junmyeon hyung... what do we do about the girl?"

Before he could answer, Suho placed his glass on the table, pouring some more scotch before bringing the rim of the glass toward his lips, taking a slow sip, "That depends on you. If you want to leave her be, go right ahead. If not, well, you know what happens when you bring an innocent bystander into our world. If she runs away, you'll just have to live with it."

Sehun knew he had a point. Up until now, the girl had led a normal life, and she was now exposed to their world. He didn't want to think about what would happen if he brought her into it, however, he couldn't just leave her be.

He remembered how small she looked, closed off from the rest of the world as she suffered in silence, not once allowing a single tear to fall from her eyes. Sehun still wished he had approached her during the service.

"Don't worry, hyung," he assured Suho. "She won't run away... I'll keep her safe from whoever is trying to harm her. If her Halmeoni was a target, she's most likely one too."

The door creaked, a pair of hushed footsteps hitting the shiny mahogany floor. The third male approach Sehun and Suho, his light brown hair slicked with several messy strands brushing over his right temple and forehead. He had bronze skin and an alluring gaze, along with a tall nose and small full lips. He wore a black pinstriped suit with a lilac-colored button-down underneath, a deep purple ribbon tie pulling the look together.

"Kai!" Suho exclaimed, gesturing for him to come closer. "Gwenchana? Do you need anything?"

"I just came to tell you that another syndicate was spotted trying to take our imports," the second-youngest male spoke. "They'll be at the Han River again tomorrow."

"I see," the older male hummed, looking to his feet as he contemplated his next move. "I want you, Sehun-ah, and Chanyeol-ah to handle this situation tomorrow."

"If you insist," Sehun bowed for a moment, his hands tucked into the slacks of his warm taupe-colored suit. "After we handle our little mob war, I'll go back to protecting her."

︻デ═一 ♥

Haneul was meticulous, folding her clothes and placing them in her suitcase before moving onto her essential toiletries.

The house was silent, yet the crickets never stopped their nightly singing, but there was no singing of her own or the piano to accompany them this time around. She zipped her suitcase closed before standing, moving along to packing anything else she needed or items that would remain in storage.

After the service, Haneul had spent the rest of the day taking down pictures that hung on the wall, disassembling the dining table, putting the furniture and antiques on sale as she mulled over what she would do with the house.

Several cardboard boxes stood in the middle of the living room, some taped shut while others were waiting to be filled. As she sat before one box, Haneul commenced by putting the expensive silverware and plates inside, grabbing a Sharpie marker and naming each box after closing them.

She wouldn't need much once she went to Seoul. The most she could get was a single apartment just for her, and even that would prove to be expensive. For now, she would have to consider having a roommate or even living at The Magic Shop.

Tomorrow morning, the storage truck would come by to take everything before she left for Seoul, and this house will remain empty, haunted by the ghosts of a murder. Haneul exhaled and leaned back against the couch, taking one final look around the living room and moving one of the boxes to the side, traversing toward the kitchen for a glass of water.

She reached for the cupboard, extending her hand and taking a glass while turning on the faucet. Bringing the rim of the glass toward her lip, she heard a bang coming from the wooden frame of the window and she exclaimed with fright, her glass falling from her hand and shattering at her feet.

Her pulse throbbed, clutching her chest as the wind howled, causing the window to rattle, and she could hear the gunshots as they rang in her ears. The scent of blood touched her nostrils, death's chill creating goosebumps on her skin, and Haneul stumbled out of the kitchen, crouching in the corner of the living room and curling up, bringing her knees to her chest. She covered her ears, squeezing her eyes shut as she attempted to block out the sounds of the gun. Her breath hitched, and she buried her face in her knees, hoping that she would just disappear, but the terror continued to rage around her.

Once the howling quieted, she pulled her hands away from her ears, welcoming that silence that surrounded her in its fleeting comfort, more tears cascading down her cheeks.

With a sniffle, Haneul pushed herself up once again, grabbing her coat and slipping her arms through the sleeves. She took her suitcase and checked her wallet, counting her money before pulling her hoodie over her head and finding her sneakers.

She rolled the suitcase toward the front door and slipped the keys under the welcome mat, not once looking back at the house. Gripping the suitcase's handle, she pushed through the door and made her way through the open front yard, opening the gates and walking down the stone steps, the cool spring breeze blowing through the few tresses of hair that weren't covered by her hoodie.

I can't stay here.

︻デ═一 ♥

In the late hours of the night, Ilsung walked down the main street, carrying a carton with two cups of milk tea. The stores were brightly lit, the occasional car driving by while the townspeople walked through the streets, conversing with each other or with those they ran into.

He had promised Haneul he would help her pack her things before she left, but he wasn't thrilled with the prospect of her leaving.

Besides the danger that was evident in the city, there was more to it. Icheon was her home, and her most precious memories remained here, and the thought of her going far away was his biggest fear.

He recalled their time in high school, leaving America to live in Korea, where he had met her, Surin, and Minsoo. The four of them were inseparable, and they made plans to never leave each other. The innocence of adolescence was blissful in the sense that the violence of Seoul could never touch this town.

He recalled the school festivals they attended, spending long hours in Surin's mother's café, volunteering at Minsoo's family clinic, and even visiting Haneul and Soonbok's house to study. He understood that witnessing something so gruesome would make someone leave, but if she allowed them in so they could help her, Haneul could learn to forget what happened and move on eventually.

Running away would only have her live with this trauma.

Ultimately, the blonde male had found the lone street where the houses were lined, the stone steps of the gate before him. He hoped she was doing alright living alone for the night. Ilsung took a deep breath and climbed the stairs, knocking on the gate and calling toward the other side.

"Angel! It's me!" He mustered up a gentle smile. "I brought some bubble tea and I'm here to help you pack!"

There was no answer. Not the sound of the front door opening, those soft, airy footsteps, nor was the lock jingling.

"Haneul?" Ilsung tried again, placing his hand against the gate, only to find it swing open with a low creak. His brown eyes shifted along the front yard, and the lights happened to remain on. "Is she sleeping...?" He muttered. "Why would she forget to lock the gate...?"

He walked toward the front door, taking his shoes off and knocking once, but like the gate, it was already open.

"What the hell?" He questioned, walking inside and setting the bubble tea down. "Angel, you there? You okay?" He wondered as he found the living room, full of closed boxes that would head for the storage center first thing in the morning.

Again, there was no answer.

He searched the kitchen, his widening when he realized there was shattered glass on the floor. Careful not to stab his feet, Ilsung stepped out of the kitchen, walking through the bedroom corridor.

"Where are you?!" He opened the screen doors of Soonbok's room, and he found it was vacant. The last room he checked was Haneul’s, grabbing the doorknob and swinging it open.

The curtains were pulled over the window, the bedsheets were neatly folded, and her bookshelf was still full. The screen doors of her closet were open, and there was not a trace of her clothes anywhere, nor were her cosmetics and toiletries.

He went looking through the house once more, calling out to Haneul frantically, and yet again, her voice hadn't reached his ears. Falling to his knees, Ilsung planted his hands on the wooden planks of the floor, the emptiness of the house stirring anxiety within the pit of his stomach. He thought he could convince her, that maybe she would stay and forget.

That maybe she would stay for him.

However, he didn't know how desperately she wanted to be rid of that gruesome memory. In one capricious moment, the blonde male realized that it was too late.

She had run away.

#sehunxoc #sehunsmut #sehun x oc #exo sehun #oh sehun #sehun #eventual romance #eventual happy ending #eventual fluff #fluff smut #eventual smut #smut #exo #exo mafia au #mafia au #romance #hurt #comfort #angst

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tjkiahgb · 6 years

Text

Episode Recap: 3.06, “Cookie Monster”

Well, another week running a humorous (in theory) Andi Mack blog. Can’t wait to make jokes about what happens on the show this episode.

Let’s just check the episode title.

Nice, nice. Sounds funny. Lighthearted. I can do something with this.

*cracks knuckles*

Well, let’s get to work--

Oh? Children and guns. Ok. That’s... that’s a little dark.

But, I mean, I can probably still make this fun if I--

Ah, real life tragedy. Ok then.

Well, I certainly hope there’s at least another storyline in this episode that’s like, some kind of wacky, weird Invasion of the Body Snatchers type homage? I could definitely make jokes about that.

*crosses fingers*

Our episode begins with Andi, Bowie, and Bex at Bex’s place playing the Andi Game, which is where you just say stuff you know about Andi.

Bex is wiping the floor with Bowie by knowing lots of things about Andi like that she doesn’t like any condiments. None? How do you eat french fries? How do you eat tortilla chips? Dry? Who lives like that?

Bex taunts Bowie for losing. Bowie says it’s not fair, Bex and Andi have spent way more time together. I agree, the game is rigged. Just wait until they play the “How much do you know about The Renaissance Boys?” game. Then it’ll be Bowie’s time to shine.

Bex asks whose fault it is that Bowie hasn’t spent more time with Andi and Bowie’s like, it’s yours.

Which is such a valid point that Bex chooses to immediately ignore it and move on.

There’s a knock at the door and Bowie goes to check who it is. Turns out, it’s a tiny old lady whom Bowie refers to as “Mom.” She calls him “Steven” and they hug.

Bex tells Andi that Bowie’s actual first name is Steven. His license that one episode said Bowie, though, so did he change it legally? Why? “Steve Quinn” is a great name for a guitarist. It’s one of those names like Eric Clapton or Jeff Beck where you’re like, “That’s such a boring name, they have to be a good guitarist. They let the guitar do the talking.” Calling yourself “Bowie” is trying too hard. I guess that’s why The Renaissance Boys failed and Bowie’s stuck teaching guitar to some weird father/son duo in the back of a small record store.

Bowie’s mom, Cookie, goes around giving hugs to everyone.

Andi asks if it’s true Cookie lives on cruise ships. Cookie says yes, it’s like living in an apartment where your neighbors serve you drinks in coconuts. And, might I add, you also get the added excitement of knowing that one day your apartment building might sink into the ocean and drown you. So there’s that, too.

Cookie sees the mess they’re living in and offers to make the family dinner.

And dinner she makes, whipping together this...

...out of the stuff she had in her suitcase.

The family tries to figure out how this happened and Cookie says she never goes anywhere without a roast chicken, which is maybe the craziest thing anyone’s ever said on this show. I’d take it metaphorically except she really did literally have a chicken in her bag, otherwise where did this one come from?

And what was her plan if everyone had already eaten a nice meal? Leave the roast chicken just sitting in her suitcase with her clothes? Open the bag every now and then and pick at the meat like a vulture? Her neighbors on the cruise ship must hate her. “Oh God, here comes that lady that smells like chicken all the time. Just give her a coconut drink and she’ll leave you alone.”

Anyway, the family is so amazed to see food not served from a box, they don’t question any of this and sit down to eat.

At school the next day, TJ finds Cyrus in the hallway to ask him if he wants to hang out that weekend with his friends.

Cyrus is delighted to learn TJ has been talking about him to his other friends. I feel that. It’s just nice to be talked about, even if you’re not there. It’s why I leave every party by yelling “Later, suckers!” real loud and smashing a vase.

They agree to hang out and Cyrus calls his mom to let her know he’s been a topic of discussion.

Meanwhile, Buffy and Jonah walk to school. Buffy tells Jonah she likes his skateboard so he gives it to her.

They talk about going to the skate shop that weekend and have a fun time bantering back and forth until Principal Metcalf pounces on them and takes away the skateboard.

He can smell children having a nice time in his vicinity like a fun-killing bloodhound.

At Bex’s house, Bex and Bowie return to find Cookie has rearranged the furniture. Cookie asks if they love it and they don’t have the heart to tell her they don’t.

Bex wants to tell Cookie she’s not a fan of her coming in here and moving everything around without asking but then Cookie shows up with cookies like some kind of bribe and suddenly Bex can’t remember what upset her in the first place.

Out in the desert, TJ and his friends ride dirtbikes to off-brand rock n’ roll when Cyrus shows up.

TJ introduces him to his other friends, Lester and Reed.

Hold on one second. Lester? What in the world?

No one’s named their baby Lester in 150 years. In fact, I don’t believe in such a thing as a kid named Lester. Lester is the kind of name you only get as a middle aged adult. You wake up one day after turning 45, you realize you’re caught in a dead-end sales job, your hair is thinning, your face is getting droopy, and your dreams are unrealized. Then you check your wallet and see your ID has changed and it now says your name is Lester. And you accept that. You know why? Because you’re a Lester, and that’s what Lesters do. (Apologies to anyone reading this whose name is Lester, but, in my defense, I don’t believe you exist.)

I’ll tell you what Lesters don’t do: ride dirtbikes to off-brand rock n’ roll songs. Something’s up with this guy.

Anyway, TJ invites Cyrus to ride a dirtbike but Cyrus says he fears everything and that makes Reed laugh. Then Reed wishes to laugh more and he’s like, “Dance, clown!”

And Cyrus is like, I make observational humor. Reed laughs, appreciating that line from a meta-perspective.

Eventually they get Cyrus to try riding and TJ teaches him the in-and-outs of dirtbike usage.

Cyrus rides around on the bike and tries to make it up a hill. After a few failed attempts, and with encouragement from TJ and the others, Cyrus does something physical without hurting himself.

He does lose his shoe, though. However, as Cyrus notes, that’s really his brand at this point. He’s got lost shoes all over the county.

Andi returns home and finds her parents have become pod people.

Cookie has swaddled them and they no longer wish to live outside their cocoons. They want to change the channel but can’t, so Bowie calls for “Mommy.”

This episode’s got an aggressively strange energy to it.

Cookie tries to trap Andi in her web of motherly comfort, but Andi runs off before she can.

Over at Lost Art Skateboards...

...the one-stop shop for all your skateboarding and tattoo needs, Jonah and Buffy check out skate decks.

Buffy notices that Jonah doesn’t ever say “Docious magocious” anymore. Jonah feels like he grew out of it. I might argue there’s no age where docious magocious was ever a reasonable thing to say, but I guess we have different opinions on that sort of thing.

Buffy says she actually used to like when he said it. Jonah’s surprised because she used to make fun of it, but that’s why Buffy liked it.

Buffy spots the tattoo parlor connected to the skate shop and they go to check it out. They see a man there getting a tattoo and don’t immediately recognize him.

Yep, definitely not the profile of anyone they’ve ever seen before.

They talk about how crazy it is to get that many tattoos and whaaa--

It’s the principal?!

Jonah and Buffy run away like they just caught him chopping up a body in the woods.

Andi talks to Celia about her Cookie problem. See, Andi loves everything Cookie does, but everything about what’s she’s doing around the house feels weird and off-putting. Agree wholeheartedly.

Celia decides she’ll go check the situation out.

Back in the desert, Lester and Reed set up watermelons.

Cyrus has a question: are these watermelons for a watermelon eating contest? Love it. Love the thought process.

You ever just want to take a Saturday to go out to the desert with your bros, ride some dirtbikes, and then just chow down on watermelon? And preferably, chow down on that watermelon in some kind of competition of speed? I know I do.

I have a different question: whose job was it to lug three large watermelons out to the desert on their dirtbike? Lester, right? Freakin’ Lester.

Reed’s like, we aren’t eating the watermelons, we’re shooting them. Though, they could eat them after. No need to let perfectly good watermelon go to waste.

But the point is, the watermelons have to go pppffffghhttt first.

Or however you spell that. I feel like I’m missing some S’s in there?

And the only way for the watermelons to dopely go pppfffghhttt is to shoot them. Cyrus wants to know how they intend to shoot them and Reed shows him a bag. Cyrus’s face drops. Why?

Because inside the bag is Grandpappy Reed’s antique revolver from during the war. Not that Reed’s grandpa fought in the war. He also went out to the desert to shoot watermelons. It was a difficult time in our nation’s history and he needed to blow off steam.

Anyway, Reed’s Grandpa handed it down to his son, and then Reed stole it from him, and now it’s here, making Cyrus uncomfortable.

Cyrus goes to TJ to ask if he knew about the gun. TJ did. Cyrus says he’s leaving and he wants TJ to go with him, but TJ can’t bring himself to leave.

So Cyrus heads off alone.

Well that was a deep and dramatic moment. I wonder how we’re going to proceed from here.

Oh.

Andi finds her grandmother wrapped in a blanket, covered in food crumbs, and watching TV. Cookie made her a cookie and Celia was roped in.

Andi wanders into the kitchen and finds Cookie attempting to cut Bowie’s hair. She screams “No!” in panic.

She forces her other grandmother to drop the scissors, then pulls her away from the hair.

Bowie quietly watches this happen, then, without saying anything, reaches down, grabs a lollipop, sticks it in his mouth, and starts happily sucking on it.

Aggressively strange energy in this episode, man. Aggressively strange.

Andi talks to Cookie, who explains she’s being like this because she doesn’t get to see her family a lot so when she does, the mom thing kicks in. Plus being excited to meet Andi and all that.

Cookie says she has a gift for Andi. It’s a picture of Bowie as a baby eating dog biscuits.

This somehow answers and raises so many questions at the same time.

Bowie walks out and asks Cookie if she’s really leaving, and Cookie, like an old mariner, says yes, the seas are a-calling.

Andi and Cookie share one last hug before parting.

At school the next day, Jonah and Buffy dread running into Metcalf.

They hope to avoid him for the entire year. But they should know better than to show fear, because they emit a fear scent and that brings Metcalf right to them.

He admits it was weird for him, too, to run into them. He asks if they want to know about his tattoos and of course they do. He explains they’re all prison based. Or not. They’re based on him just wanting a tattoo. Or other stuff. I don’t know. We’re running out of time in this episode and gotta wrap things up so there’s no time to really get into it.

Metcalf’s like, guess you think I’m pretty cool now, huh? And Buffy’s like, no, you’ve ruined tattoos for me, thanks.

And Metcalf’s like, oh.

Then he rolls down his sleeve and runs off before Buffy and Jonah can see him cry. Buffy and Jonah fist bump in celebration of ruining Metcalf’s day.

Wow, way to make me feel bad for that lunatic.

Cyrus and Andi head to Metcalf’s office. Cyrus has come to tell him about the gun. He’s worried TJ will hate him for this.

Andi argues he could very well be saving TJ’s life.

Cyrus finds the courage to go in, but Metcalf meets him at the door. He invites him in and Cyrus finds a police officer waiting for him.

Cyrus wants to know if something happened, but Metcalf tells him everyone’s ok. The officer just has some questions. About the gun.

And you know the gun is a serious issue because even the police in this town don’t carry them.

Cyrus says he came in here to tell about the gun, but he’s surprised to find they already know.

Cyrus admits to being there and wants to know if he’s in trouble but the episode ends before we can find out.

So many questions up in the air:

1. Will Cyrus be in legal trouble just for being in the vicinity of a gun for a few seconds?

2. Who told them about the gun?

and, most importantly,

3. What kind of person names their child Lester?!

Come back in two weeks to find out the answers, Macketeers.

Except for the one about Lester. The world may never figure that one out.

#Andi Mack #Cyrus Goodman #Buffy Driscoll #TJ Kippen #Bex Mack #Bowie Quinn #Cookie Quinn #Dr. Metcalf #Reed #Lester #Celia Mack #Andi #episode recaps

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