#and then with bill. hope is about endless possibilities. imagination. feeling like you can do Anything with no restrictions | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

insanelyadd · 5 months

Note

I’ve a feeling that Collector’s resentment of their siblings due to their imprisonment for hundreds of thousands, possibly millions of years would not probably never go away. We’d like to think that amount of time wouldn’t be anything to a being as old as the universe, a mere drop in the ocean, but… it could very well be the opposite.

Quoting Dream of the Endless, from Neil Gaiman’s “The Sandman”:

“Can you have any idea what it was like? Can you have any idea? Confined in a glass box for three score years and ten. A human lifetime. Time moves no faster for my kind than it does for humanity, and in prison it crawled at a snail's pace.”

And Dream was only trapped for a few decades.

On another topic, I can see Collector seeing Luz as a much healthier big sister figure (he probably already sees King as a big brother). Reached out to them despite everything they did, and even sacrificed herself to protect them. Odds are, at least one of their siblings are going to become very spiteful of that, especially since Collector might potentially disown them for leaving them behind. Might even try to find the first excuse to end her…

“Oh, this mortal was given the Titan’s power! Abd there’s tiny residual energy from it in her body! We’d best kill her, or she’ll become half-Titan again and try to kill us! Whoopsy, them’s the breaks! Sorry, Collie!”

Oh, I don't think they were imprisoned for that long. I have some evidence to support this, so I hope you don't mind me rambling about my timeline a bit in this answer.

I think the Collector was imprisoned for 2-5 thousand years and no more than that. Bat queen very obviously was the Titan's palisman and very much was the one who built King’s island and she said it's only been thousands of years, not tens of or hundreds of thousands. King was also incubating this entire time. Also, Bill. Bill claims to have been alive to see Papa Titan die, which means he must be as old as they have been dead plus a decade or so. Since he never personally slayed any Titans, I hc he was a child during this time, and I also HC that he managed to be long lived because. Well, it's quite morbid and horrifying, but hunters do normally eat the meat of the creatures they kill. And that's how I think he could have lived for thousands of years.

Also yeah he absolutely should feel resentful towards them, since they completely fucked up everything. Personally, I feel a bit merciful about his time imprisoned, and I usually imagine that until a tablet is activated, they are completely in stasis, a dreamless sleep. If the activated tablet is destroyed and no other tablet is active, then they go back into stasis. I HC it this way because the tablet feels like a Titan made Collection spell, and Collection spells keep the Collected in stasis. Still, there was a significant amount of non-stasis time with just Belos, which is perhaps 5x longer than what Dream went through in Sandman, with my current favored estimate being 350.

You're so right, I'm sure the Collector feels like King and Luz are like siblings to him. But he might also want to not associate them that way because of past experiences.

I think, though, that the Collector is prone to being easy to forgive, and if the circumstances are right, he might forgive his siblings. Depending on your characterization of the four of them, one to all might qualify for life shattering betrayal forgiveness (infomercial voice). Like with my own interpretation of the Archivists, Satellite and Solari were both young teens when everything happened, they had no say in what happened, they argued against what the elder two chose, and they would give up everything to keep their brother safe. Especially since their plan for if their brother returns is to take him and run away from Crescent and Penumbra. I think the Collector might forgive them.

I mean, he forgave belos who lied to and manipulated him for hundreds of years, who attempted to kill him basically, who did it all again just a few hours before he tried forgiving him. It's a reoccurring character flaw, but I think if any of the Archivists would turn against the others for the Collector and/or didn't participate in what happened to the Titans, then there might be a bit worth forgiving? Since at least then, he'd have people to live with who can raise him without worry they would die before he physically ages even a single year (that's a lot of pain for a small child).

They're far too young to be living on their own. It's not good for childhood development to be without a caretaker.

But if your version of the Archivists aren't worth forgiving then. Well. Obviously, he's justified for being as resentful as he wants to be and never forgiving them. This is still the case even if some turn out to not be completely vile bastards, but the Collector’s endless forgiveness and trust just doesn't show up at all wrt to his terrible siblings. Because they still were horrible to them.

My interpretation is just one where there may be room to forgive two of the four, mostly for practical reasons like the protagonists of the series being far better off fighting only two adult Collectors especially if they have the help of another two (though they might, justifiably, not be warmly welcomed to stay or drop by whenever they want). And also, genuinely by complete coincidence, their backstories and actions all sort of put them in a gradient of culpability for their terrible atrocities, and the twins just both happen to be on the low end, with Satellite being the absolute least evil.

#toh #the owl house #toh the collector #the Collector #toh the archivists #the archivists #toh spoilers #character analysis #toh theory #toh headcanon #sorry for any formatting weirdness i am answering this on my phone while i wait in a queue #its a long queue #answears

30 notes · View notes

toournextadventure · 1 year

Note

I fucking LOVE your work, you have no idea how many times I catch myself gushing and grinning whenever I’m reading everyone but her. As if I didn’t have reason enough to love thursdays because that’s my weekly payday you’ve blessed the f out of me by having that also be the day you drop a new chapter.

I doubt it’ll play out the way I imagine it but I just pictured a scenario that made my heart swell at the thought of it.

A large part of it has to do with the fact that I relate to birb. Personally my predominately ways of showing love are acts of service and gift giving but whenever I receive it, I feel unworthy of it. It’s all done out of love when my friends do it for me and they never except anything in return of course they don’t but it makes me feel as if I need to do more, because it never feels like I’m doing enough you know what I mean?

I’m sure you can basically see where I’m going with this but I pictured a scenario that involves the Addams family taking over Nicky’s expensive medical bills.

Right now birb is currently heartbroken, angry and stressed at the fact that Nicky has the possibility of being unplugged when she’s so certain that all he needs is a little more time to get better because she’d never give up hope that his unfortunate circumstance is a permanent one but obviously she keeps getting stonewalled after running what I think is endless scenarios of how she can ensure he keeps getting the medical treatment he needs to stay alive.

I know that Wednesday doesn’t know about Nicky’s condition right now but I think it’d be something she immediately tells her parents about once she does know. Wednesday is certain they’re more than rich enough to take over the hospital bill for birb and they care about her enough to do so (dare I say love birb?) so once it finally happens I don’t think Wednesday would ever admit it to birb knowing how she feels about receiving help is such an immense way especially with expensive things.

So Birb finding out that an anonymous benefactor who took an interest to Nicky’s case is now covering the hospital expenses would have her incredibly relieved at first and surprised but I have no doubt that she’d immediately figure out that Morticia and Gomez are the ‘anonymous benefactor’ and she’d feel incredibly guilty about it because to her it seems as if now three people are paying for something that’s her fault. (I’m the same person who had a bunch of theories about the accident with Nick!)

Birb asking to speak to Morticia and Gomez in private and telling them she knows that they’re the ones donating to Nicky’s cause and promising to pay them every penny back. Morticia and Gomez feel incredibly heartbroken at the way birb insistently tells them that she’ll do everything and anything to achieve her financial obligation to giving them back everything they’re giving her with interest, that she’ll pick up a full time job, sell her things, come to the manor to do any sort of labor they need done, that she’ll teach Pugsley as many things as she can but they cut off telling her that they don’t need her do any of that.

They love their kids to death and to know have insight on how much responsibility birb feels to take of her older brother no matter the physical and mental expense and thinking she’s too young to be bearing it all by herself tell her that all they could really ask for is that birb takes the opportunity to enjoy her life a little more.

“Listen we appreciate you wanting to repay us my little crow but we don’t expect you to nor do we want you to. This wasn’t a handout, you’re one of us now and your presence is worth more than we could ever afford dear. Besides this isn’t just for you, we want to meet the man who raised such a lovely little crow and thank him for you.”

-R

See, I love all the detail you put in here because yeah, you're right, you nailed Birb's thoughts and attitude about the whole situation perfectly. Because let's be real, she can not handle thinking that she owes someone something. Big, small, insignificant, it doesn't matter, her mental state can not handle that feeling of "I have to pay them back so they don't think I'm too much trouble."

Wednesday would absolutely tell her parents what's going on. Even without any other knowledge about Marcus and Kristi, she would let them know because yes, she does care for Birb and knows how much Nicky means to her, so surely there's something they can do to offer their assistance.

But Birb can't accept it. The guilt eats away at her from the inside out, she can't eat, can't sleep, can't hardly focus on anything because now all she's thinking is how she's going to pay them back. She can't, she knows that, but she has to. There has to be some way, something she can do to pay them back.

And the Addamses are just so heartbroken, you're right. Just knowing that they could do this to help and Birb won't let them/argues about it, it's horrifying. What could have possibly happened for her to think that everything is charity and nothing is because someone genuinely cares for her?

(PS. a fun note, y'all might get to see something like this in the next chapter or two, good luck 👀)

#birb answers #R

24 notes · View notes

passivenovember · 3 years

Text

You Look Stupid When You’re Sad.

Steve Harrington smelled of sour patch kids and unbaked cookie dough.

Billy didn't think it was a bad smell, exactly, just weird; intense, heady, and stuck to the walls of his brain. Doughy when the sunlight couldn't dry the track marks of Steve's sweat before nap time, heady when it got into Billy's system and stuck with him like the thrum of his heartbeat.

Wherever Billy went Steve Harrington was there. Like a shadow. A noisy, scrawny, wire-frame glasses wearing shadow that elbowed its way into the chair across from Billy's during lunch and followed him around at recess; three feet behind and always pretending to spot interesting shapes in the clouds when he thought Billy wasn't looking, but.

Billy was always looking.

It was so weird.

Steve was so weird. The way he made bright, happy noises when he was paired with Billy for station time, how he always drug his mat over from the other side of the room to sleep next to Billy when it was time to zonk out after second recess despite knowing that the spot was saved for Barbara, Billy's actual best friend.

She got nightmares and Billy liked to be there to hold her hand while she dreamed but every afternoon, without fail, Steve came wondering over with his lip stuck out in a question.

It was confusing.

Steve was so confusing. The way he hugged his mat to his chest, chin quivering with a little, "Okay. Sorry, Bills." Every time Billy slapped his hand on the carpet and growled that the spot was taken. Occupation, not reserved for pasty-kneed dorks with wire frame glasses, and.

Billy didn't want to make the kid cry, or anything, but he always managed to do just that. Paint himself as a bad guy.

Billy rubbed his forehead as Barb settled in on his left hand side one afternoon after such an altercation, smiling so big her lips disappeared behind the plastic frames of her glasses.

"What's wrong, Stevie?" She asked, and.

Billy tried not to be jealous.

Steve hiccupped, cheeks growing redder by the second. "I wanna nap with you guys but Billy won't let me."

"Hey, that's not--"

"You can sleep with us if you want to. Billy has a really big blanket, maybe he can share with both of us." Barbara looked at him expectantly, like. "Right Billy?"

And it was dumb.

It was so dumb, that they were staring at him with hopeful eyes and Steve's chin was still quivering and Billy didn't want to be the bad guy; he wasn't Mesogog and he didn't want to hurt the kid's feelings, but.

Steve Harrington got under his skin. With his soft hair and big brown eyes, always following Billy around and begging for the space to be made. Billy got clumsy and nervous when Bambi was nearby, and.

The idea of sharing space. Sleeping next to Steve with his chirpy little noises and warm soft hands, it.

Made Billy feel like he was breaking out in itchy red bumps.

No.

He would stick to his guns; the blanket just wasn't big enough for three people. But then, Billy's grumpy brain supplied, Steve could steal Barbara and keep her as his own best friend if Billy didn't let him stay, so. It was time to cut his losses.

"God, you look stupid when you're sad." Billy muttered.

Steve started crying again.

Billy really wished he'd stop that.

"I'm sorry, Billy. I know I'm dumb but I don't mean to be." Steve whimpered. He tucked his mat under his arm and made to get up.

And leave.

As if Billy would let Steve make him look bad in front of everyone, especially Barbara.

"Lay down, dork." Billy grumbled, tugging the blanket up around his shoulders and peeling it back for Steve reluctantly.

Harrington's smile was so bright it could've melted crayons when he settled in close, chirping happily as Billy pulled the blanket around them and tucked in on impulse. The room went dark, Mr. Talamantez reminding them to count butterflies if sleep wouldn't come.

It didn't.

Steve smelled too much like cream and sugar for Billy to get any rest at all.

"Whatcha making, Billy?" Steve asked, pink tongue poking out in concentration as he peered over Billy's arm at his art project.

A stack of pink and red construction paper was Billy's favorite thing in the world because it meant endless possibilities. Pink was soft and sweet, red was passionate and cool. Like hot wheels and firetrucks and hearts full of warm oven mitts, so.

He pulled the leaflets from his backpack during circle time and got busy, carefully folding the delicate paper hamburger style and then tracing swirly, dramatic lines for each heart on the page.

Valentines was Billy's most favorite day of the year.

Even more than Christmas, even more than his birthday, and only a little bit more than Halloween because on Valentines? The whole universe was covered in flowers and little tin wrapped chocolates and love hearts were the best thing for a kid to make with scissors.

Billy ignored Steve's tongue, turning his shoulders to the room. "I'm making love hearts."

"For who?"

"None of your beeswax."

"Okay," Steve said happily, grabbing a handful of markers and re-situating himself much closer than Billy would've liked. Steve's Nike's tapped the itsy-bitsy-spider on the rug as he declared, "I'm drawing batman on a surfboard!"

And Billy tossed aside his first ruined Valentine. "Oh cool, I don't remember asking."

"That's okay," Steve giggled. "Sometimes I get motor mouth. My Daddy says it's 'cause I'm a fruit."

"My daddy called me that sometimes before he got sick." Billy turned to glare at him. "That's not a good thing."

"It is to me!" Steve giggled again. He was always doing that. "I like Kiwis. My mommy packed some for lunch and I had them for breakfast. They're yummy in geek yogurt. They make me smile because they have beards!"

Steve cackled like kiwi's having beards was the funniest thing on earth and Billy wondered what there was to be so happy about.

He tried not to smile at Steve's dumb face. "I think you mean Greek yogurt."

"Yeah, probably. If I'm like a kiwi, that's alright, I think." Steve's tongue poked out again. "Surfboards make me think of you." He declared, and.

Steve smelled like toasted chocolate on s'mores, his hands somehow kicking up more of his sugary sweet odor each time he reached for a new piece of paper. Billy didn't know how he was supposed to get anything done when his circle buddy smelled like a chocolate birthday cake.

It was kinda gross.

Billy pulled out a sliver marker and traced Stinky Butt Max on one of the smaller Valentines, remembering to fold down the corners so the sensitive skin on her palms wouldn't get hurt when she inevitably started smacking him it.

The pink Valentine looked more like a chewed up Starburst gummy this way, but. Max wouldn't know the difference.

Steve peered over his shoulder again, cooing softly. Like a baby dove. "That ones pretty, Bills! Is Max your Valentine?"

"Ew," Billy wrinkled his nose like he sometimes did when Max needed a diaper change. "She's my baby sister, don't be an Ick Monster."

"What's an Ick Monster?"

"Somebody who makes weird jokes and says weird things, so." Billy shrugged, scrawling his mothers name on a second love heart. He poked Steve's tummy with his marker. "That's you, I think."

Steve giggled before slapping Billy's hand away, and. Watching him work.

After a while Steve inched closer. "So you don't have a Valentine?" He wondered, and.

Billy didn't understand the question. "Mr. Talamantez said we're all each other's Valentines so nobody feels sad."

"Yeah, but. Everybody has someone they want to smooch on Valentines." Steve started playing with his hair, fingers twisting waves in a sea of brown, like they sometimes did when he was nervous. "Someone they like best-best. Better than all the other kids."

Now it was Billy's turn to giggle. "That's icky."

"Smooching?" Steve's eyes sparkled. "It's fun sometimes."

"Like you've ever kissed anyone."

Steve looked offended. "Have too."

"Have not."

"Have too," Steve pouted, crossing his arms.

Billy began work on a third Valentine. "Who did you kiss?"

"Nancy Wheeler."

Billy snorted, not sure if he wanted to imagine Steve kissing Nancy Wheeler, or. Kissing at all.

Steve's chin started quivering. "You don't believe me?"

"No." Billy said lightly, capping the marker with a sniff.

Kissing was not fun. It was wet and violent and looked like it maybe hurt a little bit, the way he'd seen his mom and Susan kiss when he got up to go potty at night. Billy regarded Steve through easy, narrowed eyes; Steve wasn't the kind of boy who kissed like that.

"How come you're so weird?" Billy wondered.

"I like being weird." Steve said, reaching for a green marker to color in his surfboard. Steve nodded at the small pile of Valentine's strewn on the carpet between them. "You should put the love hearts on foam when you're done."

"I was already gonna do that, genius."

Billy wasn't already going to do that, but he'd eat a centipede before he let Harrington know he came up with a good idea.

"They could be superhero colors!" Steve hollered suddenly. He was so loud all the time. "That way your mommy and sissy can know that you love them because they're cool. Like Aqua-man."

Billy frowned, watching Steve fold his Batman drawing over and over again until it all but disappeared from sight. He leaned back against the wall with an eye roll, shocked out how much Harrington lacked any concept of taste, or.

Shame.

"Aqua-man isn't cool," Billy said. Because Aqua-man wasn't, he was like. The lamest of them all. "His only power is making the bad guys drown, at least the other heroes can punch really hard."

"Punching isn't always the best, though." Steve tucked Batman into the front pocket of his shirt, leaning into Billy's space. "Sometimes punching just makes the bad guys stronger. Like Wilson Fisk."

Billy frowned. "Punching works for Spiderman."

Steve considered this fact, pink tongue poking out from the corner of his mouth again. He thought really hard for a long time, as if Steve didn't have Spiderman socks on everyday at recess when he removed his Nike's to fill them with rocks.

Such a weird guy.

Finally, Steve smiled. "I like water, though. Your eyes are like water. From the fountain in the hallway, and like the lake at camp." Steve pushed his way into Billy's space, frowning with his head cocked to the side like there was more thinking to cross of the list. "You're very pretty, Billy. Like a cloud."

And.

Billy didn't have the words to articulate the way Steve's smell went a little crazy after that, like a bag of powdered sugar had caught fire from a signal light once he realized what he'd said. Billy waited for Steve to take it back, because.

Boys calling other boys pretty wasn't allowed in Mr. Talamantez' classroom, or. Anywhere else.

Steve didn't take it back.

"You wouldn't like Aqua-Man's water, 'cause you'd drown." Billy said, getting back to work on his Valentines if only for a distraction from the way Steve was watching him. "He doesn't control his power very well and sometimes the mean guys get hurt real bad."

Steve kept right on talking. "I wouldn't be a mean guy though," He reasoned, sliding impossibly closer on the alphabet rug. "I'd help him fight crimes. Like Captain Underpants!"

And.

Billy had nothing to say to that, sucked in and drowning by the way Steve's eyes were glittering.

"You're a weird guy, you know?" Billy breathed.

Steve's giggle went right to Billy's tummy, teaching it to do backflips, somehow.

"That's okay." Steve said, reaching back for a fresh piece of paper. "You'll remember me better and maybe you'll ask me to be your Valentine."

Steve's hair fell across his eyes, head bopping along to whatever song he was singing to himself today. His lips glittered like a frosted donut. Like he'd been eating a strawberry ice cream cone instead of confusing all the boys around him.

Maybe you'll ask me to be your Valentine.

Huh.

Billy started work on a new love heart and pretended not to notice.

On Tuesday morning Billy woke to the smell of pancakes and fresh squeezed orange juice.

Maxine was already up.

Her long red hair was piled on top of her head in two Princess Leia buns. Susan had put in little heart clips and the pink dress Billy's mommy had made special was already covered in mashed banana and something that looked like magic marker.

She was all ready for Valentines day.

Billy didn't understand why they bothered trying to make her look dainty when Max was more interested in destroying Billy's favorite toys and starting fires.

She sat on the floor of the room they shared together, sucking her thumb and playing with Billy's favorite race car. Her wet, chubby fingers made the blue Camaro shine brightly with spit and Billy felt like his face was burning up.

"Hey," He said, rubbing at his eyes. "Hey, you're getting spit all over my--"

"Race car!"

Max held it out to him triumphantly. Billy frowned, moving to grab it from her chubby little fist. "I know that's my race--"

"It's a blue car," Max said thoughtfully. She looked at him, like, "Blue cars are my favorite."

"It's my favorite too--"

"Can we share?" Max wondered, putting the little wheels on Billy's knee and letting the car zoom back and forth. He imagined that Evel Knievel was in the drivers seat wondering why his car wasn't first in the race.

She looked happy, like always, to be playing with Billy's toys.

He sighed. "Yeah, I guess we can share. It's Valentine's Day."

Max seemed to enjoy that. "I like today!"

"You do?"

"Yup," She said happily, little chubby fingers tangling in Billy's hair because he hadn't brushed it yet. "Candy and sour gummy worms and kisses from cute boys!"

Billy glared. "You're kissing cute boys?"

"Uh-huh!" Max hollered. "Lucas gave me a dandelion."

Billy thought long and hard.

About Valentines Day and all the things that came with it. The pink shirt that hung pressed in his closet, fresh cupcakes with plastic rings, a bag of Scooby-doo Valentines Susan had picked up at the market for all his classmates, homemade love hearts at the bottom of his backpack. Three with red foam, one with a delicate lace doily, and.

Kisses.

Max was getting flowers and kisses from a boy.

From someone special.

Billy took the race car from Max's hand and drove it around, thinking about boys with brown eyes and soft hands.

Maybe you'll ask me to be your Valentine.

"Wanna eat some breakfast, Max?"

"I had 'nanas." She said with a smirk.

Billy hummed, standing to get dressed. "Mama probably made chocolate chip pancakes, you don't wanna eat something special?"

Max's little red eyebrows pinched together. "I can have yours?"

And.

Billy didn't know what was so necessary to her about taking everything that was his. Playing with his toys, sleeping in his pj's, eating his breakfast, it was like Max didn't know how take something and make it her own.

Billy pulled the pink shirt over his head, feeling every bit like a turtle when Max did the same with the collar of her dress.

"You can have my pancakes." Billy concluded, puffing out his chest. "If you'll be my Valentine."

"You don't have a boy to kiss?"

"I might," Billy picked the race car off the ground with a smile. "This is practice for when I see him at school. So, will you be my Valentine?"

She thought about it.

Long and hard, tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth, before nodding with her entire body. "I think he will."

Billy sighed. "Really?"

"If you give him sour gummy worms and smooch his forehead he will," Max said.

And.

Maybe things would turn out okay. Billy nodded, grabbing the race car and driving it across Max's forehead, careful that the little plastic wheels didn't get stuck in her hair.

From the stucco ceiling of the classroom beautiful strands of silver and gold hearts painted a mirage of stars.

All the desks had a rose and a cardboard mailbox intended for the delivery of Valentines and at the center of the room a table filled with cupcakes and strawberry Capri-sun packets. Preparation for the party this afternoon, and.

Mr. Talamantez had turned their space into a glittering, perfect fairytale.

Billy hugged his basket of Valentines close to his chest and tried not to search for Steve before dropping his backpack at the cubby station.

He was right in the middle of tugging his special sweater down over his head when Barbara scooted in next to him, pretty in a little pink jumpsuit.

She handed him a tiny, delicate giftbag full of chocolate hearts and dinosaur erasers, smiling from ear to ear as Billy hugged her nice and tight before handing off something he had made special. A tiny paper crane his mommy helped him fold, and a bunch of rainbow goldfish sat nestled in a basket of paper Mache.

They were her favorite snack in the whole world and Barbara was Billy's favorite person, so it seemed fitting.

She hugged him and Billy smiled, peering around the room for a head of wavy brown hair. "We could share our presents with Steve," He muttered, like. It wasn't a big deal or anything. Billy tugged on the sleeves of his red sweater and tried to stay cool. "Where is he?"

Barbara pointed to the book shelves.

Steve was sat under a string of twinkly lights, shoulders tucked against the pillows Mr. Talamantez set aside for circle time. His face was buried in the crook of his elbow, and.

He was crying.

Of course he was crying.

Billy felt the Valentine in his pocket grow heavy.

Barbara said, "Steve broke his glasses, maybe you could make him smile?"

And.

Billy wanted to do that. Longed to make Steve giggle and chirp with happiness like the annoying little Meadowlark he seemed be. It would be so easy to. Walk over there, tap Steve's shoulder, and say the words.

Pose the question.

Will you be my Valentine?

Steve was making huffy, nervous little noises when Billy came to a stop beside him.

"Hey Harrington, playing with all your friends?" Billy sneered, confident that Steve would giggle like he was did, but.

When he finally turned around his face was red and puffy. As if he'd been crying all morning and all night, too.

"What do you want, Billy?" Steve whispered.

He sounded sleepy. Spread thin, like the last spoonful of jam on burned toast.

"What's wrong?" Billy asked carefully. "What happened?"

Steve sat and rubbed at his eyes, chin wobbling as more tears spilled over. "My daddy broke my glasses." He whispered.

And Billy hated it.

He always hated when Steve cried but today. Right now, he.

Felt like he had to do something about it.

Billy took the love heart from his pocket and sat down next to Steve, cuddling back into the pillows until their shoulders were touching. It took all of five seconds for Steve to settle in next to him. Roll his head back against the wall until he was looking at Billy with a question in his eyes.

Steve looked at Billy's shoulder and back up at his face, like.

"Can I--"

"Come here, stupid." Billy grumbled, Pulling Steve in until they were cuddling on the pillows.

Steve chirped. It wasn't his usual sound, light and airy, it was.

Thick.

And heavy.

Like a blanket sopped with rain water. Steve buried his face in Billy's neck. "I don't have any Valentines to give this year."

"That's okay."

"I made something special for you," Steve whispered, pulling back to study Billy's face. "I know Mr. Talamantez said we weren't supposed to, but--"

"Will you be my Valentine?" Billy's stupid mouth said.

Steve blinked at him, and.

Billy wanted to hide in the bathroom for thousand years.

Steve pulled away to sit crisscross-applesauce. Facing Billy, like this was something important. "Huh?"

Billy mirrored him, tucking his hands away so they wouldn't shake when he held out the love heart.

It was pink. Big and bright and outlined with a white doily that Susan helped him glue around the edges. Billy had dug through Max's box of stickers for the one with Winne the Pooh, the one he'd been saving for someone special. Winnie was covered in tiny valentines, eating right out of a jar of honey with a butterfly sitting on his nose, and.

Billy had thought it was perfect.

He worked for hours on the font. The saying that made his mommy laugh when he read it to her; you're bear-y sweet. Be my Valentine.

Steve took the love heart in his hands, and.

Didn't say anything.

Billy frowned. "I just. Remember you asked me to be your Valentine, or. For you to be mine. And--" His hands were shaking again. "It's stupid. God, this is--"

Steve leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek.

It was gentle. Like the brush of butterfly wings, barely there and then gone before Billy had a chance to really register the movement, or. Think about what it could mean.

Steve wasn't crying anymore when he said, "I'll be your Valentine."

Billy's brain took a minute to catch up. "Huh?"

"I'll be your Valentine, Billy." Steve giggled, staring down at the love heart once more. "This is so cute. I loved Winnie the Pooh when I was a baby. My mom always put me in footie pajamas that had Eeyore on them. And tinker bell too, sometimes. You could've put the Red power ranger on there instead. He's my favorite--"

Billy sat back against the pillows.

He was learning that Steve Harrington was weird.

Like a puzzle with one piece missing, or. An empty tube of bubble mix. Steve was colorful and loud and all over the place with opinions. He shined bright and loved hard, and.

Sometimes it was best to sit back and listen.

Happy Valentines Day!!

I really just sat down and wrote this. Wow. Anyway--thank you for reading and supporting my work. Your comments and endless kindness keep me going when I don't always feel like trucking on, and I wanted to do something to remind you that if this was an elementary school classroom I would give you so many lollipops.

#harringrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove #valentines day #first kiss #kidfic #soft billy hargrove #I know I'm late #but I love ya #and I will everyday #so really #everyday is valentines #not to be a fucking sap #but it;s true

119 notes · View notes

rpgsandbox · 3 years

Link

Part homage, all farce, the AWFULLY CHEERFUL ENGINE! is an irreverent, affectionate parody of pop-culture tropes and a love-letter to 80s roleplaying games in a new, modern comic-book sized format! It’s a wacky roleplaying game of action comedy!

Hardcover collector's omnibus, softcover rules and adventures, blank ID cards, monster cards, hero role cards, VTT tokens

Are you a fan of the Ghostbusters RPG from the 1980s? Danger Mouse or Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles? Bill & Ted or Rick & Morty? Back to the Future, Indiana Jones, Dracula, or sci-fi adventures on the final frontier? Do you enjoy chortling at TV tropes or chuckling at pop-culture parodies? Then the Awfully Cheerful Engine! is here for you!

ACE! is brought to you by Russ 'Morrus' Morrissey (EN World, WOIN, Judge Dredd & The Worlds of 2000 AD), Dave Chapman (Doctor Who, Star Trek Adventures), and Marc Langworthy (Hellboy, Judge Dredd & The Worlds of 2000 AD). With a foreword by Sandy Petersen, co-author of the Ghostbusters RPG!

ACE! is designed for everybody! From talking animals to pulp heroes to eldritch horrors, kids and adults alike will find adventures to love with the Awfully Cheerful Engine!

This tabletop roleplaying game, which we’re calling ACE! with an exclamation point, is one of fast, cinematic, action comedy. To play you need a handful of six-sided dice, a pen, and some paper. Each player plays one Hero, except for one player who takes the role of the Director.

Think of ACE! as an irreverent, fun-packed movie. You might play as ghost hunters in New York City, a band of plucky galactic guardians, vampire slayers, or soldiers of fortune in the Los Angeles underground. Heck, you might even be cartoon animals. Good grief!

This is a multi-dimensional, time-hopping, genre-mashing, pan-galactic portal into any type of adventure you can imagine! Want to play in a fantasy world full of elves and orcs? Crew a starship as it explores the galaxy? Hunt vampires in Victorian London? Play as animal detectives, robot cowboys, wizards, ninjas, or time traveling bounty hunters?

The only limit is your imagination, and the requirement that you have fun.

This Kickstarter is for the full five-book set.

What? Five books, you say? Fear not -- they're pretty small books! They include the core rules, and four hilarious genre-hopping adventures. Each book is about 30 pages long. Except for one which is longer, but we wrote 'BUMPER SIZE ISSUE' on the front of that, so it's OK. If you’ve ever held a comic-book in your hand, the Awfully Cheerful Engine! will feel very familiar!

The core rulebook is just 30 pages in a bright, colorful comic-book sized format. We even gave it an issue number, like a comic-book! After that, each 'issue' is a standalone adventure, designed for one-shots or short campaigns with new characters each time. One week you might be fighting ghosts on the streets of Manhattan, and the next you might be exploring the frontiers of space in your trusty starship!

You don't have to play them all, or in order. The standalone format means you can fit them in whenever and however you feel like it. GM can't make your regular game? Go bust some ghosts instead! Pickup game at a convention? Investigate the strange goings-on in a small American town in the 1980s. Running a livestream? Board a starship and fight the Kulkan Empire! Play one of them, some of them, or all of them! It's up to you!

Are they comics? Or are they RPGs? (They're RPGs)

ACE #1: Introducing the Awfully Cheerful Engine! With a foreword by Ghostbusters RPG author Sandy Petersen, this book tells you the rules, how to create your Heroes, and gives you a bunch of Extras (NPCs & monsters) to use. By Russ Morrissey.

ACE #2: Spirits of Manhattan. Strap on your Anti-Plasm Particle Thrower, grab your Electromagnetic Field Detector, and jump into your Ghostmobile. New York City needs your help! By Dave Chapman and Russ Morrissey.

ACE #3: Montana Drones & The Raiders of the Cutty Sark. At the request of Army Intelligence, Montana Drones and her team travel the globe in search of lost or hidden artefacts, often exploring dangerous sites and racing against hostile enemy agents to keep the objects of their quests from falling into the wrong hands. Striking locations, exciting chases, dangerous enemies and monotonous classroom lectures await! By Marc Langworthy.

ACE #4: Strange Science. Welcome to Wilden Falls, your average American town in the heart of the country. Surrounded by trees, nature, and there’s a wonderful waterfall that brings the tourists. It’s a quaint little town. Until weird things start happening at the local research facility, people go missing, and there’s a sudden influx of fitness nuts in the town. That’s before we get to the time travel, bodysnatching, and portals to other dimensions. Maybe ‘strange’ isn’t strong enough a word for it! By Dave Chapman.

ACE #5: Beam Me Up! These are the voyages of the starship FSS Brazen. Its continuing mission: to recklessly go where plenty of people have probably been before… and hope a major interstellar incident isn’t sparked in the process. In this highly illogical adventure for the ACE! roleplaying game, you’ll explore frontiers you never thought you had. By Marc Langworthy.

We give you four adventures to start with, and we have plans for more, but there's also a free compatibility license so anybody can write and publish material powered by the Awfully Cheerful Engine!

Hardy Hobbit. Teenage Samurai. Cheerful Stuntman. Clumsy Vampire. Squeamish Ghost. Who knew you could say so much in just two words? The possibilities are endless.

It’s not just Awfully Cheerful! It’s fast and fun, too!

You won’t get bogged down in endless rules and character sheets that look like tax forms. Your ACE! ID Card contains everything you need to know, and it’s only about the size of a credit card! But don’t try to spend it. It’s not a real credit card. Honestly, we tried, and it didn't end well.

You can download blank ID cards from our website. Don’t worry, there’s a printer-friendly black-and-white version too!

Making your Hero takes about five minutes. And that includes a coffee break.

You can choose from an array of talking animals, alien and fantasy species, and occupations from a bunch of genres. Play a cat, a crow, or a turtle. An alien, an elf, a robot, or a vampire. A knight, a pirate, or a wizard. An astronaut, a burglar, a reporter, or a spy. The core book has dozens of Roles to get you started with, and each adventure book introduces more!

Even better, you can already use our online character builder and make a character in about 30 seconds! It's so quick! Give it a try! And if you felt like sharing your Hero on Twitter with the hashtag #awfullycheerful and a link to this page, well, we'd be most awfully grateful!

Build your Hero online!

Alternatively, each adventure comes with its own selection of pre-generated characters. If you don't want to make your own characters, you can simply use those - perfect for one-shots or new players!

Download the pre-gens for all four adventures from the official website!

In A.C.E! each Hero (that's you!) has a Role. Your Role gives you a special ability only you can use. Here's a quick look at some of the Roles you can play!

Talking animals like Ape, Cat, Crow, Dog, Kangaroo, and Turtle.

Species like Alien, Dwarf, Elf, Ghost, Goblin, Golem, Hobbit, Monster, Ogre, Robot, Vampire, and Werewolf.

Fantasy roles like Alchemist, Assassin, Barbarian, Cleric, Druid, Knight, Ninja, Outlaw, Pirate, Ranger, Samurai, Slayer, and Wizard.

Occupations like Actor, Archeologist, Astronaut, Athlete, Bounty Hunter, Boxer, Burglar, Chef, Con Artist, Cowboy, Detective, Doctor, Engineer, Gambler, Gangster, Hacker, Hermit, Inventor, Musician, Pilot, Priest, Professor, Reporter, Scientist, Smuggler, Soldier, Spy, Student, and Stuntman.

Even a couple of superheroes like Speedster and Vigilante!

Yep, you can play a Ghost. You don’t take damage unless its from a holy source or some special sci-fi ecto-gadget. But you also can’t pick things up. So there’s that.

Each of the adventures adds some more Roles (or recommends some old ones)!

Spirits of Manhattan adds Ghost, Demonologist, Doctor, Engineer, Exorcist, Inventor, Priest, Professor, Scientist, and Student.

Raiders of the Cutty Sark adds Botanist, Double-Agent, Socialite, and Witch.

Strange Science adds Brain, Cheerleader, Outsider, Protector, Radio Presenter, and Tycoon.

Beam Me Up adds Captain, Chief Engineer, Comms, Hologram, Gunner, Counsellor, and Pilot.

ACE! is a pretty fast, light game. If you played 1986's Ghostbusters RPG, you'll see the influence immediately.

Stats! The AWFULLY CHEERFUL ENGINE! is a d6 dice pool system*. You have four Stats -- Smarts, Moves, Style, and Brawn. If you have a Moves score of 3, you roll three six-sided dice when you try to jump a motorcycle over a ravine. If you roll high enough, you succeed. It's pretty simple!

Focuses! For each Stat you also have a Focus. For Smarts it might be a science, or chess, or history. For Style it might be bluffing, singing, or fashion, and for Brawn it might be brawling or swimming. You can choose from plenty of focuses. Foci. Focuses. Whatever. Anyway, if the thing you're trying to do relates to a Focus, you get to roll an extra two dice.

Trait! You choose a trait, like Angry or Cheerful or Rebellious or Despondent. This, combined with your Role, makes you a Gullible Vampire, a Brave Turtle, or a Squeamish Scientist.

Karma! Finally, you have a bunch of Karma points. These can be spent for extra dice or to absorb damage from attacks, and they're recovered by using your trait.

*Fun fact -- did you know that 1986's Ghostbusters RPG, by Sandy Petersen, Lynn Willis and Greg Stafford, was the first ever dice pool RPG? Also Sandy Petersen has written an awesome foreword for the AWFULLY CHEERFUL ENGINE!

What, I hear you ask, is a CALAMITY DIE?

The Calamity Die is how you find out that your friends really aren't your friends. You see, when you make a roll, one of those dice is a different color, and is called the Calamity Die. And if your roll fails, and also the Calamity Die rolls a 1, your so-called 'friends' decide what happens to you. It won't kill you or anything, but...

Well, we'll leave that thought with you.

Nooooo! And it was all going so well!

Kickstarter campaign ends: Fri, June 18 2021 10:00 PM BST

Website: [Awfully Cheerful Engine] [EN Publishing] [facebook] [twitter]

#RPG #kickstarter #Awfully Cheerful Engine #EN Publishing

36 notes · View notes

amazingdriverfics · 3 years

Note

Hi! I have a new Kylo Ren requests: after he turned back to Light and therefore became Ben Solo, he and his love start a new life on a distant planet (maybe Tatooine) where neither the Resistance or First Order can find them. They get married and start a family. I can imagine how happy Ben is when his wife tells him that he's going to be a dad and they'll be having twins ❤️❤️

A/N: hey love, how are you doing? I’m so glad you like the things I write for you, it means a lot to me.

I hope I was able to capture what you were hoping for and I’m also sorry that it took me this embarrassing long time to finish your request, I hope that the quality pays off for it. Anyways, hopefully you will like it as well as everyone who is taking their time to read this. Thank you all.

Warnings: a bit of angst, nothing too much, is basically just fluff.

My masterlist

Ben watches the two suns rise up in the sky with a sense of peace spreading through his body, not too long ago he was stuck in a spaceship watching endless halls with the same colors, watching the Galaxy and never being able to know what time it was just by looking at it since the view was always dark, only with some stars to bright things up, bossing the same bucket faces around without even bothering to know their names, their age or anything at all that made it clear that those stormtroopers were alive, that way, it was easier to kill them in a tantrum or just because he was bored and had nothing left to do.

He still remembers the moment when he decided to leave Kylo Ren in the past, knowing that it was the only way to be able to feel alive again, able to breathe without fearing his past, his enemies and of course, fear losing y/n. The moment he first saw her in the interrogation chair, Ben felt something from his Jedi years coming back to him, he felt light strongly once more, he felt like she could give him something to live for, not to kill for as Snoke had given him. As the days passed and y/n joined him in the First Order, a new kind of worry started to haunt him, as Kylo he was always vulnerable to possible attacks, no matter how strong with the Force he was, there wasn’t a way to be sure that he could effectively protect y/n, the resistance kept on attacking whenever they could and even inside the Order, Kylo wasn’t completely sure that he could trust his subordinates.

And if that wasn’t reason enough to abandon that place of grief, pain and death, y/n kept on remembering him of who he truly was, of the light inside of him, that no matter how hard he tried to suppress kept on tearing him apart, begging for him to come home, to leave all that nonsense he had putting himself through on the past, to accept that Ben Solo would never really die and that this was for a bigger reason, that the Force had plans for him that could not be changed.

The decision was made slowly, it started to come to his head when he would lay by her side in the bed talking about their dreamt future, about how they would raise their kids freely, how they would be able to discover themselves without too much pressure or abandonment, how they would have domestic moments when they would cook, clean, sing, dance, shower together, how they would have a small garden where they would plant some herbs. At the time, Kylo had not really thought that he would have enough courage to leave the Order behind, but the realization he had that he would never be able to give y/n all the nice things she wanted and dreamt about as long as he was the Supreme Leader caused him too much pain. And of course y/n knew that too and despite wishing that someday he would leave it all behind with her, she also knew that as long as she was by his side, she would be right where she wanted to be, right where she belonged.

Little by little, Kylo started to be more confident in himself and also more aware that he didn’t belong in the First Order and that he had to do something about it and y/n had all to do with that growth. Every night, she would listen to him as he talked about his joys, fears and hopes, reassuring him that she would go wherever he wanted to go, she would also hold him tight when the memories of the years of abuse he had suffered came back to haunt him, remembering Kylo that he was loved, safe and in the arms of the woman he loved. It took five years since he got her back to make the call and he would never forget the way her eyes shone with happiness when he told her that he was ready to leave Kylo in the past.

It was tricky to get away, Ben knew that neither the Resistance or the First Order could be able to find them, and he also knew that he would have to live somewhere people didn’t really knew his face, after all, he had committed horrible crimes and terrified thousands of souls with his red saber, bringing death and destruction upon thousands all throughout the Galaxy. Y/n and him made an infallible plan, which they had studied over and over again, making sure that it didn’t have a single flaw. It happened during a night, he had sent most of the troops away and given the generals a lot of work as y/n got the tracker off one of the Order ships, which they would trade for an old ship in some deserted planet before escaping to Tatooine finally.

If he closes his eyes and thinks about that moment, Ben can still feel the way y/n’s arms hugged him when they finally made it to Tatooine, when they finally realized they were free from the past and ready to start over. He kneeled in front of her in that exact moment, the golden ring he had bought her two months before in his hand as he asked y/n if she wanted to spend the rest of her life loving him.

The start of their stay in Tatooine was hard, they didn’t know anyone and were still a bit scared to meet someone from the Order, the Resistance or anyone who could possibly ruin their cover ups. Y/n started to work first in a small bar, serving customers and getting a very low payment that was barely enough for them to pay the bills. Ben took a bit longer to become confident enough to work and he started helping in a mechanic shop about six months after they first arrived on the planet. Slowly, they built a life there, making some friends - not so many -, buying a house, starting to plant a small garden, getting a pet and rediscovering themselves as people who didn’t have to deal with the pressure of ruling a reign of terror.

Their marriage took place three years after they arrived, it was at their small house with some friends that were glad to join and watch the ceremony. That was the happiest day of Ben’s life, he cried through most of it, but there was no way he could keep it together as she walked into the living room holding some flowers from their garden and wearing a white dress she had bought just for the occasion - nothing too expensive, of course -.

“Ben?” he hears her hoarse voice coming from behind, she would always get scared when she woke up alone in their bed, fearing that the worst had happened.

He turns around quickly, taking in the sight of his wife, her bare feet on the sand, her hair a bit messy from sleep, but shining in the light of the suns, her beautiful smile adorning her features and her body covered in a pink pajama Ben had given her not too long ago.

“Sorry, love, I wasn’t able to sense you were waking up, I was remembering how we got here” he says truthfully with a kind smile to her, just her presence making him feel better than before as she always made him feel.

“It’s okay, darling” she replies before making her way to him, step by step getting closer. As she stands before him, she takes her hands to the side of his face, kissing his lips gently. Once she parts the kiss, her y/e/c eyes look directly into his. “I have the most wonderful news”.

“And what would that be?” Ben asks in a joking tone, ready to hear about her being able to cook some recipe she had been dying to cook for a while.

“We need room for two” y/n states.

“We need what?” he questions, his beautiful face showing confusion.

“We need to make room for the twins, darling”.

In this moment, he finally understands, their dream is finally ready to be complete.

He starts crying in the same moment, joy and excitement pumping through his veins. Ben doesn’t think twice before hugging y/n, holding her tightly into his big arms, whispering countless “I love you”s into her hair, feeling as her tears also fall onto his skin, feeling her happiness as if it was his own, their connection through the Force the strongest it had ever been. At this moment it is as if they are one.

There is nothing in the Galaxy that could take Ben away from their family - about to become larger - and away from their small home in Tatooine where they will grow old together, surely loving each other as hard as they ever have.

#adam driver #kylo ren #kylo x reader #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x you #kylo x you #star wars #ben solo x reader #ben solo x you #ben solo #request #lovinghufflepuffgirl

129 notes · View notes

ourmiraclealigner · 3 years

Text

Easy CO. Holiday Reacts

Gif not mine! Credit to owner.

a/n: happy holidays everyone! i know everyone doesn’t celebrate Christmas, so if you don’t, no specific holiday is mentioned in this so everyone can read :)

warnings: none

taglist: @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant @mavysnavy @ivy-miranda-2390 @ya-yeeteth @rayofshanshine @primusk @punkgeekchic @inglourious-imagines @wexhappyxfew @vintagelavenderskies @easy-company-tradition @meteora-fc @teenmagazines @order-of-river-phoenix @contrabandhothead

—————————————-

Richard Winters:

- When the holiday season rolls around, Richard can’t stop the excitement that arises in him.

- It’s not the gifts that excite him, Richard always tells everyone to not get him anything and that he already has everything he needs.

- He’s excited about the time that he gets to spend with you- decorating, cooking, and shopping for presents for friends and family.

- He loves the little break from work he gets, content with getting to sleep in, with you in his arms.

- He knows it’s time he’ll never get back, and he cherishes it more than any gift anyone could possibly get him.

- He finds himself happier than he ever thought he could be when he wakes up with you in his arms, protecting each other from the cold air that is just outside your mess of blankets.

- After a few minutes, he can’t stop himself from pressing light, fleeting kisses to your face, smiling when your eyes flutter open.

Lewis Nixon:

- Unlike Richard, gifts are a big thing for Lewis during the holidays.

- Since he grew up with a wealthy family, he uses his money to show his love.

- He showers you with gifts all month long, handing them to you with a smile, his hands sweaty with anticipation.

- “I know you mentioned wanting this a while ago, I just couldn’t find it anywhere until a few days ago. I’ve been looking all around.”

- He looks at you nervously as you unwrap the box, smiling when you realize it’s a book you had told him you were interested in reading.

- He wraps his arm around you as you thank him, pulling you into his side.

- “I’m glad you like it, sweetheart.” He mumbles as he presses a kiss to your forehead.

Ron Speirs:

- Ron is indifferent when it comes to the holidays.

- He’s not overly excited or overly annoyed by the holiday cheer, he doesn’t care either way.

- He doesn't spoil your fun though, taking you to go see the lights in the city and in your neighborhood.

- You both get bundled up, hands intertwined as you walk around with smiles.

- He’ll kiss your temple whenever your face lights up, mumbling “You like this one? It’s pretty.”

- As you walk back to the car, he’ll unbutton his coat before pulling you into his side, wrapping his arm and half of his coat around you.

- “You’re so cold, baby, let me warm you up.”

Eugene Roe:

- Growing up with a big family, the holidays always meant chaos for Eugene.

- When he went away to fight, he spent too many away from home, experiencing a new kind of chaos.

- So, when you and Gene spent your first December together, he was shocked to find himself relaxed every night.

- He’d sit on the couch, exhausted and eyes half lidded as he watched you hang up the decorations and hum to yourself.

- “Come here.” He’d always end up mumbling, patting the open spot next to him. “I miss you.”

- When you did, he’d wrap his arm around your shoulder, leaning his head against yours as he let his eyes finally shut.

- “Let's keep the decorations up until after the New Year… they’re too cute to take down right away.” He sleepily mumbles, fingers rubbing soft patterns into the skin of your shoulder.

George Luz:

- George loves the holidays, and he’s not afraid to show it.

- Every year he goes above and beyond, coming home with more decorations than the year before.

- He’s always humming some sort of song as he’s working around the house, and even loves to help you in the kitchen.

- He’s always gently tugging on your waist after a few minutes, whining and begging you to slow dance with him.

- When you finally agree, his head immediately nuzzles into your neck as he softly sings whatever song is playing (somehow he knows them all).

- After a few songs he lifts his head, pressing a light kiss to your nose as he mumbles, “I’m so lucky I get to spend another holiday with you.”

- He’ll press a chaste kiss to your lips before pulling away, stepping closer to the counter. “Teach me how to make these.”

Joe Liebgott:

- Joe tries to act like he hates when the holiday season rolls around, but deep down, he loves it.

- He’ll help you decorate, feigning a few sighs as your favorite record plays softly in the background. After some convincing, he’ll start a fire in the fireplace, your small, shared house cozy as his cat hits some of the decorations with their paw.

- “Joe, you really don’t have to help me.” You say softly, “I don’t want you to be miserable.”

- He feels his chest tighten, his cheeks flushing as he realizes how pretty you look as the soft light of the fire hits you.

- “No, no, it’s fine.” He responds, his tone gentle. “It’ll be quicker if I help, right?”

- You chuckle, knowing Joe was having a better time than he was letting on. “Right.”

- He kisses your cheek, hand lingering on your back before he mumbles “Let me help you with this..”

Don Malarkey:

- Don gets quiet during the holidays.

- December always brings back memories he’d like to forget, and he finds it hard to come back after he shuts down.

- But, you brought new life back to the month, replacing the sorrow and dread he felt with love and happiness.

- You prefer to stay in most nights, forgoing endless invitations to dinners and parties to be able to stay inside, exchanging small gifts and kisses as you listen to the radio.

- You stay wrapped inside of a blanket, pressed against his side as he runs his fingers through your hair most nights.

- He’ll quietly sing if he knows the lyrics to whatever song is playing, his deep soothing voice lulling you to sleep.

- And once he realizes you’ve fallen asleep, he’ll gently pick you up and carry you to bed, pressing a kiss to your cheek before slipping in next to you.

Chuck Grant:

- Chuck tries to be home a lot earlier than usual when December rolls around.

- Other months, he finds himself working later than he planned, always feeling guilty when he walks through the door to find you haven't eaten dinner, and were waiting for him.

- So, he makes a point to always close on time in order to be home as you start cooking, so he can talk to you and help you.

- You don’t do much for the holidays, opting to just spend it with your families when the days roll around.

- Of course, you’ll get each other gifts and drive around to see the lights, but nothing much besides that.

- Growing up, Chuck's family never did much for the holidays, so that was what he was used to.

- As you lay in bed, his hand running up and down your side, he’ll mumble “I love doing this with you..just you and me here, nothing to worry about.”

Floyd Talbert:

- You and Floyd are very seldom home or alone during the holiday season.

- You’ve both made a lot of friends, so almost every weekend you’re having dinner or at a party celebrating.

- You spend a lot of time and money on gifts for friends and family, and it seems as if you’re trying to figure out a new dish to bring to every party.

- He still tries to make the month special for you, making sure there’s a few days that you both can just stay home and relax.

- After a few years, though, Floyd gets tired of the constant get togethers, so you both decide not to attend anymore.

- You spend the nights at home, alone together, sometimes venturing into town to see a holiday movie.

- He prefers it this way, always telling you how much he loves being alone with you.

Shifty Powers:

- Shifty prefers to spend his time outside during the holidays.

- As soon as he gets home from work he’s changing into warmer clothes, wanting to get outside as quickly as possible.

- Any winter activities, you’ll end up doing.

- He loves sledding and building snowmen (even though it always ends up in a big snowball fight).

- You went ice skating once, but it ended in a lot of bruises between the both of you as neither of you could keep your balance.

- He prefers somewhere private anyway, as he likes to press kisses to your red nose to try to keep it warm.

- “You look so cold, baby..why don’t we start heading inside?” He’ll always say as the sun begins to set.

Bill Guarnere:

- December means lots of time with Bill’s family.

- It’s quite a stressful month for the both of you, trying to figure out what days to go to his family, what days to go to yours, what gifts you’re going to buy, what dish you’re going to bring, etc.

- Bill is hardly any help, he’s awful at relaying information between you and his mom and sisters.

- He tries, but always forgets by the time he means to tell you.

- He’s used to the holiday stress though, so he doesn’t let it cloud his joy.

- When he sees it start to affect yours, though, he does what he always loved to do as a child- go get candy.

- With a big smile, he takes you to the candy store he often went to as a child, getting a bag full of his favorites and new things to try, so you can both go home and enjoy.

Joe Toye:

- Joe is the only one that genuinely does not like the holiday season.

- He pretends it isn’t happening, and treats the whole month like it was just any other.

- He is clear about not wanting any gifts, and will get upset if you try to give him any.

- Of course, he’ll get you one or two, to try and show how grateful he is for everything you’ve done for him and how you’ve stuck by his side.

- But, there's no decorations, or baking, or strolls through town looking at the lights.

- After a few years, he loosens up, but still has no interest in doing anything except getting gifts and letting you make cookies.

- He’ll always apologize, though, feeling awful for taking away your fun, but hoping you’ll understand.

Babe Heffron:

- Babe’s excitement is up there with George’s, but is not quite as high.

- He loves it more than you, and will spend all month talking about how excited he is, and how much fun he’s having.

- He’s used to getting spoiled by his mother though, so he keeps bugging you to make all of these recipes his mother does until you give in.

- Babe is also constantly slipping and falling on ice, so you’re constantly cleaning and bandaging small cuts and scrapes.

- You swear he comes home with a new one everyday.

- Once you finish, he’ll always press a light kiss to your lips, a soft smile on his face as he looks down at you.

- “Thank you for taking such good care of me, baby.” He’ll softly mumble.

130 notes · View notes

the-dream-team · 3 years

Photo

What I Would Do

Read it on AO3

“And if you come anywhere within spitting distance of my friends again, you’ll lose a lot more than your voice, Mulciber .”

Lily Evans stared down the Slytherin whose ability to speak she’d stolen with a well-practiced Silencing Charm. Unable to spit out anymore foul language, Mulciber narrowed his eyes and stormed off towards the dungeons, accepting defeat. She turned to Mary and gave her a small smile. That problem was taken care of. For now, at least.

“Oh, that was marvelous!” came a clear, familiar voice from across the corridor. “Evans, you’re one helluva witch, have I told you that yet today?” Jamie Potter grinned at Lily, one hand clutching her stupid stolen snitch and another combing through her tangle of wild curls. Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew followed close behind her, as they always did. She playfully swatted Sirius’ shoulder and tugged at her shirt collar. “Padfoot, you know I can’t resist a girl who stands up against those bastard Death Eaters-in-training.” Sirius barked out a laugh.

Lily rolled her eyes. “Knock it off, Potter, or you’ll be next on my hit-list.”

Jamie’s grin only broadened. “Evans, you drive me crazy, you know that? I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, what I would do if you started flying for the other team…”

As Jamie and her posse sauntered off down the hall, Mary sighed.

“It must be hard for her,” she said softly.

“Hard for who, Potter?” asked Lily in disbelief.

“Yes, Jamie, ” said Mary. “Having those kinds of unrequited feelings seeing as she’s the only girl here who… y’know.”

Lily’s mouth gaped open. “Mary! There are no feelings involved. Potter just can’t let go of an old joke.”

Mary raised her eyebrows. “If you say so.”

Unbelievable. Lily crossed her arms and furrowed her brow the rest of the way to the Library. Unrequited feelings my arse, she thought with a huff. Potter had been acting out the same schtick for years. She loved boasting about her deep, dramatic attraction towards Lily (most often in public places) and calling Lily’s preferences into question. It made her uneasy, and Potter knew it. Jamie liked rileing her up.

Of course, she had to admit it hadn’t started as a joke. Their third year, during a particularly rowdy Herbology lesson, Lily and Jamie got into a row over the Leaping Toadstools they were meant to be picking in the forest. After some bickering over who would be in charge of catching the mushrooms and a bit of shoving back and forth, Lily eventually threatened Jamie with a Bat-Bogey hex if she kept getting in her way.

Before she could stop herself, in front of the entire class, Jamie practically shouted, “Bloody hell, Evans, what I would do if only you were into girls.”

The heat burned so deeply on Lily’s cheeks that day, sometimes she still felt the licks of fire teasing her skin nearly four years later. The panic. The embarrassment. The fear. It all boiled up from her knotted stomach and racing heart, presenting as a disgusted expression that could only be painful for the receiving end.

Jamie’s usually confident smirk had been replaced with a gaping mouth and... were those tears welling in her eyes?

After the initial shock, Lily tried softening her expression, but the damage was done. In an instant, Jamie swiped a hand under her glasses, ran another through her fringe, and put on a forced lopsided grin. “So, er, you’ll keep me updated if anything changes, yeah?”

She let out a laugh, looking for the boys to back her up. They chuckled along with her the best they could while Jamie shrugged to the class and went back to their Toadstools, avoiding Lily’s eye for the rest of the lesson.

A stormcloud of guilt brewed in Lily’s chest the following weeks. Jamie had taken to staying in the boy’s dorm to avoid any kind of contact with her and the other girls. Sirius had stepped up, becoming extra protective of her and sending daggers at anyone who dared to even glance in Jamie’s direction. Lily tried getting her alone to apologize for weeks before eventually cornering her and Remus one day after Defense Against the Dark Arts.

“Potter,” said Lily, breathless as she chased her down the hallway, “please, I wanted to talk to you.”

Jamie spun around with a dazzling smile. “Evans! Coming to tell me you’ve finally changed your mind?”

The flirtatious wink sent Lily over the edge, her planned speech quickly abandoned. “Oh, you’re impossible!”

“Don’t worry, love,” Jamie casually laughed, “take your time, I can wait.”

Completely speechless and beyond flustered, Lily had no choice but to storm away. She was thirteen and emotional, and years away from controlling the way her feelings manifested themselves. So for the following weeks (and then years) as Jamie kept up the teasing, Lily responded emphatically with thunderous huffs and exaggerated scoffs.

By seventh year, their routine became so practiced, Lily barely noticed her heart skip anymore when Jamie shot off her endless string of compliments. Barely flinched when Potter suggested there could be a question of Lily’s tastes.

There weren’t any questions.

She didn’t fancy girls.

Had there been close calls through the years? Sure.

On a warm spring day down by the lake, when Dorcas placed an innocent hand on Lily’s thigh while laughing at a dumb joke, had Lily’s stomach somersaulted in a not-totally-unpleasant way? Yes. Had she spent the next few months secretly hoping it would happen again? Possibly.

Had there been times where Lily caught her eyes wandering to the hems of skirts or lingering on Jamie’s impossibly long eyelashes, only magnified by those stupid, round wire-rimmed lenses? It didn’t matter.

Those moments weren’t real. They never formed as full sentences in her head, mentally blocked before they took shape. The heat on her leg left behind from Dorcas’s touch didn’t mean anything if she didn’t give it a name. Ideas could float untethered around her mind as long as they never met the ground.

The thoughts she had about boys were real. Shared giggles with Mary about Sirius Black’s sharp jawline or Amos Diggory’s playful charm flowed with ease. Her crush on Remus Lupin during their fourth year terrified her to admit out loud, but there had never been a question about whether she was allowed to let her imagination run wild over his floppy sandy hair and pleasant quiet smile. Boys were easy.

The thought of liking girls never would have crossed her mind if Jamie hadn’t said those words to her in Herbology all those years ago. Lily hadn’t even known that was an option before. Perhaps if Jamie had kept her mouth shut, if she hadn’t spent the next four years poking and prodding at Lily’s very secure sexuality, then Lily would never have found herself repeating the whispered phrase in her mind,

Please don’t let me fancy girls. Please, please don’t let me fancy girls.

***

On one unusually warm and breezy day in March, Professor Slughorn called for Lily to stay behind for a moment after Potions. She waved on her friends, promising to meet them at the Great Hall later for lunch, and happily made her way to the front of the classroom.

“Miss Evans!” boomed Slughorn. “I had a favor to ask of you if you’d be up to it.”

“Of course,” she said. The Potions Professor had always been one of her biggest supporters at Hogwarts and she rarely passed up an opportunity to lend a hand.

“You see, I’ve completely run out of Flobberworm Mucus and I’ve got a lesson on Sleeping Draughts for my first years this afternoon.” He checked his watch and shook his head as a group of fourth years started parading into the dungeons. “And as you can see, I’ve got classes back to back until then! My dear, would you mind running down to Pippen’s Apothecary during your lunch break? I can write you a note and let Minerva know you’ll be popping down to Hogsmead for just a moment…”

“I’d be more than happy to,” said Lily, eager to get outside and stretch her legs. The prospect of getting to see the little village outside of the usually scheduled trips thrilled her.

“Wonderful!” said Slughorn, summoning a piece of parchment and adding his signature in a swooping, elegant script. “A tankard of mucus should do, and of course they know where to bill it to.”

Lily grabbed the note with a grin and spun on her heel to head out the door, practically skipping on her way out.

The moment she stepped outside the castle, her lungs filled with a humid air, fresh from the previous night’s rain. Puddles littered the pathways, serving as an extra reminder to enjoy the sunny weather when it managed to crash through the otherwise constant cover of clouds. With a squeal of excitement, Lily shrugged off her robes and rolled up her sleeves, letting the warm breeze wash over her skin and whip through her hair.

A rare taste of independence played on Lily’s lips, curling up the corners into a wide smile. She held onto the precious moment alone, briskly walking towards the village as she imagined what life outside of Hogwarts had in store for her. Adulthood approached as quickly as the little shops and bustling pathways of Hogsmeade Village, and soon she reached her destination.

Faint, tinkling bells announced Lily’s arrival as she stepped through the front door of Pippen’s Apothecary. Sunlight poured through the large front windows, soaking the rows of shelves with a golden glow. Bundles of herbs, jars of multi-colored liquids, and barrels of crystals lined the shop’s walls and overflowed into its hallways. And towards the front of the store, a knobly old man in a well-worn cloak stroked a mewing black cat with round, yellow eyes.

“Welcome to Pippens,” he smiled. “It’s not a Hogwarts weekend, is it?”

Lily ignored the disappointed pang of being recognized as a student and approached the front counter. “No, sir, it’s a tuesday,” she said. “I’ve just been sent by Professor Slughorn to pick up a tankard of Flobberworm Mucus.”

“Ah, of course,” said the man, squinting down at Lily’s note. “Old Horace runs through that mucus faster than a unicorn during a solar eclipse.”

She let the unfamiliar metaphor fall to the side with a chuckle and watched the shopkeeper shuffle back into his storage closet. The cat nudged Lily’s arm with a soft meow, unflinching towards the clanking and bumping sounds of the man pouring a thick liquid into a pint-sized container.

“I’ve put Horace’s invoice in the bag here,” said the man, handing over a canvas tote with the mucus lovingly wrapped up inside. “He knows where to find me!”

Lily thanked him with and grin and gave the cat another scratch behind the ears before turning to leave.

“Now you didn’t hear this from me,” called the man as Lily was halfway out the door, “but Fortescue’s brought his ice cream cart out for the first warm day of the year, and I hear he’s handing out free samples.” He sent a cheery wink in her direction.

“Oh, thank you, sir!” Lily beamed and she waved goodbye.

Ice cream sounded lovely.

The cart wasn’t hard to find, as a small crowd of villagers had lined up to take advantage of Fortescue’s deal. The giddiness of being surrounded by adults in the real world fluttered back as Lily queued with other shopkeeps on their lunch breaks and locals enjoying an afternoon on the streets. When it came her turn to order, she received a generous sample of the mint chocolate chip and a sweet smile from Florean Fortescue himself.

She couldn’t dream up a more perfect afternoon. Lily walked slowly through the streets of Hogsmead, determined to drink in as much of the gorgeous day as possible. The trees, just starting to bud, swayed back and forth rhythmically, and the grass, freshly watered, still smelled like a new morning’s dew. She watched the witches and wizards stroll down the pathways. A short man with a top hat chased after a yappy dog while a large wizard peered down at his comically small pocket watch, and on a bench across the street from where she stood, two witches took turns sharing an ice cream cone.

Lily’s heart skipped a beat as her eyes locked onto the women sitting together on the bench. They looked to be in their late twenties or possibly early thirties. Both wore fashionable cloaks with trendy hairstyles and one of the women was reading a well-loved book in between licks of chocolate ice cream, her feet propped up on the bench, and her shoulder leaning against the other woman. A warmth flooded Lily’s chest as her heartrate quickened watching the pair, shocked by how lovely she found the simple scene.

Lily watched as the reading witch, not taking her eyes from her book, angled her head to ask for another bite of ice cream, but instead of bringing the cone to her lips as she had done before, the other woman surprised her with a quick kiss. The overwhelming flood of emotions burst from Lily’s chest in a gasp.

She wanted what she saw before her. She wanted the lazy afternoon sitting on a bench, curled up with a book and an ice cream cone and a girl to lean against.

Her mind raced with thoughts crashing to the ground with such force that their echos reverberated through her entire body, making her knees week and hands tremble. Every blurry idea in her head racked into focus, each half formulated sentence allowed itself to be completed with an exclamation point. Lily stared ahead at the bench where the possibilities of her future blew open like a firework spreading across the night sky.

After what felt like ages of watching the two witches, Lily finally peeled her gaze away and forced herself to make her way back to Hogwarts. Every step felt like walking on clouds as she practically floated up the road towards the castle. That is until she came face to face with another girl wearing a school uniform and a stupidly happy grin on her face.

“Potter?”

“Evans?”

Jamie had appeared in front of her out of thin air.

“What are you doing at Hogsmeade?” asked Lily, praying her shaking voice wasn’t too obvious. She hadn’t been prepared to see Jamie while her emotions were this heightened. The pounding of her heart beat into her eardrums and threatened to leap out her throat. Jamie wore her usual crooked smile, so effortless on her soft features, mirrored perfectly in those mischievous hazel eyes.

“I could ask you the same question,” said Jamie, cocking an eyebrow. That feeling of anger Lily associated with Potter and her teasing bubbled up to the surface. But it wasn’t anger she felt. It was fear. A deep fear of how Jamie’s playful jokes made her stomach flutter and her cheeks blush. And now that Lily’s image of herself grew clearer in her mind’s eye with every passing moment, she no longer had the capacity to bottle up and explain away the fear she felt when looking at Jamie Potter, who had always made her feel this way.

Feeling so desperately alive, she had to do something.

“I’m running an errand for Professor Slughorn,” she said calmly, “but I can assume you don’t have an excuse to be outside the castle.”

“Ah, you caught me, Evans,” said Jamie with a chuckle. “Look, I was just popping down to Honeydukes to pick Remus up his favorite chocolate bars. I could’ve taken the tunnel- and I probably should’ve considering our little run-in here- but it’s such a lovely day that I said screw it and walked the path instead.” She shrugged her shoulders, not looking too disappointed about being discovered.

Lily narrowed her eyes and put all of her efforts into provoking Jamie. “Well, maybe I should just say screw it and give you a month's worth of detentions, Potter.”

It worked. Jamie’s eyes widened like saucers and her smirk grew into a proper grin. “Oh, Evans, stop that, you’re making me blush! Merlin, what I would do if you ever switched your fancies.”

Jamie had walked right into her trap. With a deep breath and a pointed stare, trying to convey every feeling exploding through her body, Lily responded, “What would you do?”

Jamie froze, clearly never expecting a reply to the scenario she so often suggested.

Lily ignored the flush spreading across her face and continued. “What would you do if I told you I fancied girls. If I fancied you. ” Her heart thudded so painfully against her chest, she thought she might be sick.

Jamie stood slackjawed, not breaking eye contact, like a deer in headlights. The girl who always had a quick comeback or a smart retort for every situation had been rendered speechless. The painful reality that Jamie’s previous words had no intent of action behind them crashed over Lily like a wave breaking in the middle of an ocean storm. And now the drops of saltwater spilled over, stinging the corners of her eyes.

“Enjoy your time in the village, Potter,” she said softly as she turned away from Jaimie, escaping the nightmare as quickly as possible.

The ground, which had felt weightless only a moment ago, became hard and cruel under her feet as she trudged back up the path to the castle. How could she be so stupid? Why did she allow her bursting adrenalin to make her do something so reckless?

“Evans!” Jamie shouted from behind, but Lily wouldn’t turn around, couldn’t let Potter see the tears welling in her eyes. “Lily, wait!”

A hand clutched Lily’s wrist and tugged back hard, spinning her whole body around in a flash. Two gentle palms grasped the side of her head and cupped her cheek while hazel eyes bore into her own. Jamie Potter’s face was inches from her own, dazed and flustered and looking for a clue.

Lily responded instinctually with the only clue Jamie needed. A laughing smile of uncontainable joy.

Jamie crashed forward, meeting Lily’s lips in an exhilarating kiss that set her nerve endings on fire. Soft and firm, the years of pent up emotion spilled between their mouths and hands and bodies as they drew closer to one another. Lily ran her fingers through Jamie’s wonderful hair and bumped her adorable wire-rimmed glasses with her nose. She never could have known how good this would feel.

When they finally came up for air, Jamie’s face glowed with shock and happiness under the sunlight, her cheeks flushed and eyes unbelieving. Lily couldn’t help but pull her into a tight embrace and commit the feeling of her to memory, never wanting to live in the dark ever again.

“Hey, Jamie?” Lily asked into the girl’s shoulder. “Do you want to go get ice cream with me?”

Jamie tightened the hug, nearly suffocating Lily in the best possible way. “Oh, Evans, what I would do to get ice cream with you.”

#fem!jily february #femslash february #jily #jily fic #dylan writes #fem!james potter #wlw #harry potter #fanfic

49 notes · View notes

milfjensenackles · 3 years

Text

good 4 u

1.7k words | read it on ao3

inspired by good 4 u by olivia rodrigo. cas confronts dean about kicking him about of the bunker. set during 9x06

“What are you doing here, Dean?”

Dean walked up and placed a candy bar on the counter in front of Castiel, who was working the register at his new job at the Gas-N-Sip. It was the first time Cas had seen him in months, ever since Dean unceremoniously kicked Castiel out of the bunker without explanation. Dean had his typical shit-eating grin on his face, which only served to frustrate Castiel further. Cas looked him up and down. He was sure his face gave away both the simultaneous relief and anger he felt at seeing Dean again.

“There’s a case nearby. Thought you might want to help out.”

Cas felt something akin to disappointment, but he couldn’t figure out why. He scanned the candy bar, and once Dean paid for it, he handed the chocolate back to him. “I can’t, Dean. I’m working. It was hard enough trying to find a job around here, I can’t lose this one.”

Dean winked at him and Cas couldn’t help the small smile that spread across his face. “I can wait until you’re off the clock. I’ll pick you up. What time?”

Cas let Dean know when and where to pick him up in a few short hours, and then he walked out the front door, already having eaten three-quarters of the chocolate bar he purchased moments ago. Cas watched him pull out of the parking lot through the window. He missed Dean desperately. All Cas wanted… All Cas dreamed about since leaving the bunker was Dean coming back for him like he did today. Except Dream Dean would ask Cas to come home with him. Dream Dean would ask Cas to stay.

The next customer in line tapped his hand on the counter to get Cas’ attention. “Hey buddy, I don’t got all day.”

Cas apologized before continuing his work mindlessly, imagining what it might be like to quit his job right now and leave to hunt with Dean every day, so that he might somehow prove his usefulness to the man he considered a best friend.

Dean picked Cas up at five o’ clock on the dot as promised. The case seemed simple for Dean’s standards, but Cas wasn’t going to point that out if it meant they could spend more time together.

Cas couldn’t help but stare at Dean as he impersonated yet another FBI agent at the scene of the crime. Castiel knew he had strong feelings for Dean. He’s known since he pulled Dean out of Hell. It wasn’t until he became human, though, that he learned of the true nature of these feelings. Dean laughed at something another police officer said, and Cas grinned too. Dean was beautiful. Cas wished he could tell Dean how beautiful he is. Dean couldn’t, wouldn’t ever feel the same for Castiel, though. Cas knew that. Why else would Dean kick him out of the bunker? Now that Cas didn’t have the ability to heal Dean and Sam or help them fight, Dean didn’t want him around. It made sense. Cas didn’t blame him.

After they finished gathering as much information as possible from the witnesses in town that evening, Dean stopped to grab a couple of burgers at a drive-thru and then took them back to a local motel. The drive over was silent. Once they finally pulled into the parking lot, Dean put the Impala in park and looked over at Cas.

“So we’ll stay here tonight, and then I can drive you back to work in the morning on my way out of town.”

Cas remained silent.

“Cas, buddy? Does that sound okay?”

Cas spoke through gritted teeth. “That’s fine.”

They walked into the room Dean booked earlier that day. Cas placed his single bag on the floor but remained near the door, hoping to avoid any more conversation until Dean fell asleep.

“Are you mad at me or somethin’?” Dean placed his wallet on the bedside table before moving closer to where Cas was standing. Cas took a small step back, increasing the space between them like Dean was a magnet and Cas was the opposing force.

“I don’t want your pity, Dean. Allowing you to pay for this hotel room is more than I should have let happen.” Cas clenched his fists against the side of his jeans, feeling sick at the idea of Dean staying here with him, pathetically human. Powerless. And yet he didn’t really want Dean to leave him again, either.

Dean started to take some wadded-up bills out of his wallet. “Cas… would you just- “

“No, Dean.”

Dean held up his hands in surrender. “If you’re doing so well, I’ll just leave you alone then. Fine.”

“You know what, Dean? I’m not doing well. I’m miserable. I don’t know how to be human. I had to learn how to brush my teeth from the homeless man I met on my way to the bunker who was kind enough to provide me with toothpaste. I don’t understand why you kicked me out and then decided to come rub it in my face when I was finally doing okay without you. Do you know how many nights I spent sleeping on the floor of the Gas-N-Sip, crying? Not understanding what it meant to feel emotion strong enough that it caused my eyes to water?” Cas gestured to his eyes, finally pausing for a moment, “You seem like you’re doing fine without me, but if you cared enough to ask you would know that I’m not. So good for you, I guess.”

Dean was staring at him, bewildered by the sudden outburst. Cas suddenly felt embarrassed and looked away in an attempt to hide the heat that was spreading across his face.

“Cas…” Dean attempted before he was cut off by Cas holding his hand up to stop him. Dean took another step toward Cas. Cas took another step back, until he was standing up against the door of the motel room.

“Dean, don’t. You don’t have to say anything. I’ll just leave. I shouldn’t have come in the first place.”

Cas reached for the doorknob but was stopped suddenly by a hand on top of his own. Dean was much closer than a moment before, his breath ghosting across the side of Castiel’s face and his other hand reaching up to press against Cas’ chest, holding him in place. “Cas, please,” Dean whispered, “Just let me explain.”

Cas shook his head, flicking his eyes down to Dean’s mouth before looking back into his eyes. “I don’t want to talk anymore.”

Dean’s lips parted immediately, eyes going wide. He leaned in slightly, waiting for permission, as though he wasn’t completely sure this was what Cas was asking him for. Cas removed his hand from the doorknob to wrap his arms around Dean’s waist, pulling him in to finally close the distance between them.

Cas immediately melted into it, sliding one of his hands up Dean’s back and spreading his fingers through Dean’s thick hair that he’d always wanted to touch. Dean responded in kind, pressing Cas against the door like he couldn’t get their bodies close enough. Dean moved his hands under the trenchcoat, gripping Cas’ hips hard. He maneuvered them so that Cas’ back was to the rest of the room, pushing backwards until Cas’ knees hit the bed and they fell onto it together, Dean straddling Cas’ thighs and moving him up across the bedspread.

“Cas,” Dean breathed out against Cas’ lips, “I never wanted you to leave. I had to… I had to…”

“Dean, please. Just let me have this,” Cas begged, pressing open-mouthed kisses to Dean’s neck, “If you’re going to leave again, just give me this one thing.”

Dean pulled back like he’d been punched in the face. “Cas, what? I thought we were finally on the same page here.” Cas tried to interrupt again, but Dean placed his thumb along Cas’ bottom lip to quiet him. “Let me talk. I came here to see you. I don’t care about the case. I don’t care about anything else. It’s been killing me to know you’re out here all alone and I can’t do anything about it. So no, I’m not doing fine without you, Cas. I’m doing terrible.”

Dean moved his hand to gently cup Cas’ chin, and Cas leaned into it. Dean kissed Cas again, slowly this time, as though he wanted to savor the moment. Cas felt like he might cry, for an entirely different reason than when he was sleeping on a gas station floor. Cas felt… cherished. He pulled away from Dean again. “Dean, I… why did you ask me to leave, then?”

Dean flopped forward onto Cas, pressing his face into the mattress behind Cas’ shoulder and groaning. “Cas, believe me. That’s the worst thing I’ve ever done, and I would take it back if I could, but Sammy was gonna die. I prayed for help and the angel Ezekiel answered me. He possessed Sam, but if Ezekiel leaves Sam’s body, Sam won’t make it. Ezekiel told me you had to leave. I didn’t have a choice, Cas. I didn’t, and I’m so sorry.”

Cas sat up, pulling Dean with him, and looked into his eyes. “I understand, Dean. You did what you had to do for your brother. I would have done the same for either of you.”

Dean moved to hold Cas’ face in his hands. His eyes shone with what Cas understood to be relief and quite possibly… fondness. “I love you, Cas. I should’ve told you a long time ago. This isn’t a one-time thing for me. I love you so much.”

Cas was shocked by this confession, never expecting them to get this far. He always imagined his life with Dean at the center, possibly growing old together but expecting nothing from the other man. Now, the possibilities were endless. Dean, the man he had loved for so long, loved him in return. Cas would spend the rest of his short human life cherishing Dean like a man kneeling at an altar might cherish his god. Cas pressed their lips together, soft and sweet, before responding, “I love you, too, Dean.”

#destiel #destiel fic #deancas #deancas fic #spn fic #lauren writes

21 notes · View notes

ahkaahshi · 4 years

Text

the life of your dreams [ushijima wakatoshi x reader]

pairing: ushijima wakatoshi x fem reader

genre: fluff with angst if you look under a microscope; modern day royal au

warning(s): suggestive themes, like two swear words if I counted right pfft

word count: 2.4k

overview: everyone would kill to be in your position: set to be married into a royal family and become the new princess of a faraway kingdom. well, everyone but you, that is.

notes: a special piece for ushiwaka on his birthday, but he deserves love all the time :)

The sounds of laughter and chatter, lilting ballroom music, and endless congratulations ring in your ears like a distant memory. Sitting outside in the humid air, you let the hum of cicadas overtake you and silence your mind. Underneath the heel of your sleek, black stiletto, you roll a small piece of gravel back and forth with a crunch. Your hands covered with silky, black gloves absentmindedly clutch onto one another tightly--a nervous habit of yours that your mother had warned made you appear standoffish at times.

Sitting outside of a regal estate, filled to the brim with luxurious furniture, prized artifacts, and countless paintings of quaint things--like the countryside on a sunny day or women picking flowers in fields--you couldn’t be unhappier with your situation. In the warm glow of the lanterns dotting the path nearby, the large diamond perched atop your left ring finger made itself known once again. You’re surprised you’ve gone this long without noticing it, seeing as it adores being the center of attention.

You want nothing more than to shun it. To throw it into the fountain less than twenty feet away and be done with it all. But the uproar that would create would be catastrophic, and you’d find yourself the subject of many scathing articles questioning the integrity of your engagement to your royal fiancé and the righteousness of your morals.

It was all too much. The constant attention. The schedule packed with a different, public appearance or frivolous event every hour, it seemed. The disgustingly sweet lies you barely choked out in response to those fed to you by your soon-to-be husband.

You could no longer stand to listen to anyone murmur their feelings of anguish and envy, saying how much they wished that they were living in your dream of a life. But, little did they know that their dream is your nightmare.

How can you possibly be happy when you wake up beside someone in the mornings you don’t love? How can you be content knowing all the acts of affection between the two of you are staged? Knowing that you’re nothing more than a charity case to this entire royal family? Realizing that nothing you’ve done for the past four months has been done of your own, free will?

Taking a deep breath, you reluctantly rise from the bench you’d spent the last half hour sitting on, pulling yourself together. Your (e/c) eyes wander over the posh exterior of the extravagant estate before your feet slowly bring you down the path back to the door.

The sound of your heels clicking against the marble flooring feels deafening, given the stark silence that has befallen the house. Nobody's around save for a few maids lightly dusting the precious treasures the royal family owns. It’s late at night, so you expect everyone to be asleep aside from the seemingly restless crew of butlers and servants.

When you make your way back to the quarters you share with your fiancé, however, you remember that many things can happen under the cover of the night. Your hand freezes in its journey towards the handle when you hear loud, muffled moans echoing from behind the polished, wooden door. Clear as day, you hear your prince murmuring praises, presumably while performing acts that are reaping sounds of pleasure from a woman’s mouth--probably the one you'd noticed him ogling at your event earlier whenever the two of you weren’t flocked by family or other attendees interested in all the fleshy details of your engagement.

As the realization that your future husband is cheating on you right under your nose sets in, your blood starts to boil. Heat courses through your entire body as your emotions start to take hold.

You’re not feeling upset. Or betrayed. You’re livid.

It’s not the infidelity that brings you over the edge. No. It’s the fact that while you’re here, suffering beneath the burdens of having an impending wedding to a man you are far from loving, he’s still getting what he wants.

That's when you snap and everything that’s been holding you back shatters. The opinions of high society that have kept you bound to him. The refusal of your parents to let you break off the engagement because of their own selfish wishes to be rich and famous. The feeling that you could maybe, possibly love him after years of being worn down and living overseas.

In an instant, it’s all gone; and the only thought in your mind now is, Damn it, I want to be happy.

Your first act of unshackling the chains that had been trapping you is reaching down to slide off your beautiful, but wickedly uncomfortable, stilettos. Once they’re off, you’re able sneak away in silence to find a butler who’s willing to fetch you a coat and keys to your car. It’s not a bad-looking vehicle by any means, but it’s been shoved away in the garage, you find, to avoid being spotted by any of the rich and pretentious who only arrive in limos filled with champagne and drive a Rolls Royce whenever they absolutely must shoulder the burden of driving themselves.

The butler asked no questions and swore himself to secrecy--though you’re sure the hundred-dollar bill you’d slapped in his hand had zipped his mouth right shut. Tossing your shoes onto the passenger seat and sticking the key in the ignition, you drive away from your sickening life with the royals to find the only person you’ve ever wanted and need now more than ever.

You’re not in the most inconspicuous of outfits, so you tie the belt of your long coat tightly around your form as you exit your car once you reach your destination. The arch of your foot throbs with indignation as you step into your heels once more, but you’re able to ignore it knowing that you’re at the only place you could ever ask to be. Pale, fluorescent lighting beats down on your form from above as you walk through the hallways of the apartment complex.

With no hesitation, you knock on one of the doors and wait with bated breath. The lock clicks and the door opens moments later to reveal a tall man whose familiar, olive eyes set on your figure with an intense stare. His silence reveals his shock at seeing you--the woman he was forced to give up, but whose heart he still held.

“Wakatoshi...” you utter softly, (e/c) eyes finding his gaze as your heart begins racing in your chest, “I won’t do it anymore.”

He wordlessly steps aside, allowing you into his apartment so you can talk in a more private setting. The last thing he wants is for a nosy neighbor to see a future princess visiting a man who isn’t her fiancé at such a late hour and tip off the press.

“(F/n), what are you saying?” he asks, his fingers raking through his slightly messy, dark hair. His eyebrows are furrowed ever so slightly in an emotion that could be confusion, irritation, or both, for that matter.

You untie the belt of your coat, which he slides off your shoulders for you, revealing the beautiful, evening dress you wore beneath. Its shimmering material composed of green and blue hues cascade down every curve of your body, into a pool of emerald at your feet. It takes every fiber of his being not to reach out and touch you to make sure you’re not just a manifestation of his yearning for you.

Tears quickly spring to your eyes as you answer, “I refuse to do it. I won’t marry him. I can’t.”

He shakes his head. “Your family won’t be happy if you back out.”

“Fuck that!” you cry as you kick off your shoes, bringing yourself a few inches further away from his face, “I want to be happy! This is my life, and I'm not going to spend it with some cheating prince who doesn’t even give a shit about me just to keep the peace!”

Silence befalls the apartment that’s only broken by your loud sniffle. You lift your hands to your face to wipe away your tears, but he soon takes over the job for you. Tenderly, he cups the side of your face in his hand, immersing his fingers in your (h/c) locks of hair and using his thumb to collect the droplets that travel down your cheek.

Your breath hitches in your throat at that touch of his that you’d never forgotten and that you’d imagined for the past four months to keep yourself sane. “I never loved him,” you confess, voice strained from the emotions that were overwhelming you all at once, “It’s always been you, Wakatoshi. I’ve only ever loved you this entire time.”

The coldness to his demeanor softens and he moves his face close enough to yours for you to feel his warm breath fanning across your skin. There’s a long moment of silence as you gaze into his dark eyes, in which you see a recognizable flicker of longing. In yours, watery but wide with hope and searing with desire, he sees every moment in his life that he’s ever promised you his love.

He hates asking unnecessary questions, and the strength of your will is enough to keep him from wondering if you’re sure of your decision.

“I’m giving him back the ring tomorrow. After that, I want to be yours.” You press your forehead against his and add, “Can I come over tomorrow evening, so we can go away for a bit?” as you absentmindedly take to tracing the handsome features on his face with your silk-covered fingers.

Your noses are touching now, bringing your lips dangerously close. “There’s no going back from that, you know,” he whispers. You notice the way his fingers press against the back of your head, as if he wants more than anything to lose himself in your affection.

“I know, baby,” you coo, “All this time I’ve spent separated from you has been hell, Wakatoshi. I don’t wanna go back.”

Your words are enough to crumble his resolve, and all thoughts of keeping his feelings hidden in an effort not to meddle in your relationship with the prince leave his mind in an instant.

“I love you, (f/n),” he breathes, closing the gap between your mouths without any hesitation.

The feeling of his lips on yours reminds you of what kisses should feel like. That no matter how soft and gentle, or rough and lustful they are, they should always be meaningful and filled with love. After months of being forced to share performative but empty displays of affection--if you could even call it that--with a prince whom you felt nothing but contempt towards, having Ushijima’s lips against your own felt heavenly.

His other hand moves to your waist, sliding along the sleek fabric of your dress before snaking around your back to pull you closer to him. The sensation of your body flush against his sends tingles down your spine and encourages you to wrap your arms around his neck. You feel weightless, like you’re falling for him all over again, and it’s better than anything you’d experienced since before you’d met your soon-to-be ex-fiancé.

It’s not long before his fingers find the zipper of your dress so that his hands can roam the familiar expanse of your body, free of inhibitions. Your heart flutters in your chest at the softness in his tone as he affirms, “I’ll always love you.”

It’s a promise he presses into every inch of your skin while your back is pressed against the plush comforter of his bed that night, and one he’s clearly intent on keeping.

A blissful visit and a vow to meet the next evening so you can finally be together gives you each enough peace and security to withstand one more day apart. In the yellow light of a lamp on a bedside table in one of the estate’s guest rooms, you stay awake an hour longer to compile your feelings into a letter for the prince. While he’s out and about the next day, completely unbothered by the fact that you hadn’t returned to bed the night before, you enlist the help of the butler you’d bribed in packing up your things.

When night falls once more, and your fiancé is sound asleep after having far too many drinks with his friends, you place your neatly folded letter on his nightstand. Your eyes linger on the glittering diamond once more when you set it gently atop your note. You’d gotten so used to its presence on your finger that it now felt bare without it. But, what was more important was that your heart felt full knowing where you were going from here.

Silently, you leave your chambers for the last time and sneak out to the garage, where your very average chariot awaits, nestled between the wall and the first in a legacy of luxury vehicles that are too outdated to see the sun. In a matter of twenty minutes, you’re back at Ushijima’s front door, filled to the brim with anticipation.

When he opens the door and sees you standing in the hallway, life neatly packed up into nothing more than a suitcase and a duffle bag like you’d never had a home at the estate to begin with, he realizes how much he wants to give you a place where you can finally feel comfortable and secure. Though your face is devoid of any makeup, and you’re wearing a much humbler outfit comprised of a sweater and yoga pants, he still thinks you look just as gorgeous as you did the night before.

“It’s done,” you announce, holding up your left hand to show him your empty finger.

In response, he presses one of those kisses that you could never grow tired of against your lips. After sliding his own duffel bag onto his shoulder, he locks up the apartment and leads you to the garage. Once you’ve moved your car inside, out of public view, you load up his car and sit in the passenger seat with a grin spread across your mouth.

“You ready?” he wonders. You notice him pause in his act of starting up the car to look over at you for approval.

Your hands slide around the sides of his face and you give him another, affectionate peck.

“I’ve been ready for a long time now.”

A smile graces his features as he adds, “So have I.”

As the engine of his car comes to life, so does the excitement in your heart, since you’re finally starting the life of your dreams, rather than that of everyone else’s.

159 notes · View notes

sophiasharp · 3 years

Text

Well this is barely coming out before the new killer is released and this entire thing is deemed irrelevant, but at least it’s done! I don’t remember who it was and I don’t have the post saved, but before we had confirmation of who the killer was for A Binding of Kin, someone suggested that it may be the Witch from L4D. I can’t tell you why, but for some reason that idea and what that would mean for Bill just possessed me. I wrote the majority of this in one day and then just let it sit unfinished for a few months until I had the time and mental capacity to finish it, and then spent even more time putting off editing it, but at least it’s here now. Quick disclaimer, I haven’t personally played the original L4D or its sequel, nor have I read the comics, all the stuff I wrote about lore-wise was based off of the info in the fandom wiki. Also, I wrote this in second person? For some reason? Idk why it just seemed like the right thing to do. Anyway:

Retrieved

Tw: cannon typical violence, blood, gore, cannon typical minor character death, foul language, possibly ooc character interactions but I tried my best.

Your name is William Overbeck, Bill to your friends. About three years ago, you gave your life starting up a faulty generator so that your friends, you family, could escape to safety from a mindless horde of monsters. That should have been the end for you, but… it wasn’t. Instead, you woke up to new people, new faces for you to protect while living in a brand-new endless hell. Well, no, actually. Some of the others here call it hell, but that’s not really what this is. Hell was where you came from, where the world was slowly being wiped out by a plague that turned innocent people into walking nightmares. Hell was what you left behind to save the people you care about. Hell isn’t here. This place, even with its endless, repetitive death, could never match what you went through back there. And in some twisted way, you’re thankful for that. Knowing that you’ve already been through worse brings a sick sort of comfort with it. The worst is already behind you, it can’t hurt you again, and if this monotonous void of death was what it cost of what little you cared about in that world being kept safe? So be it.

… until.

It was a day like any other in the fog. People congregated around the campfire in different groups, talking and bantering amongst each other, when suddenly you felt a telltale shiver go down your back. The call for a trial. You look around you to see the others you’d be taking the trial with. Dwight’s eyes are wide and looking around, so safe to guess he’s coming. Kate gets up off her log and does the same cursory sweep of the campfire as they did. The odd thing is that that’s it. There’s no one else. “Shit,” you mumble to yourself. Only three people being called can only mean one thing: there’s someone new that’s been brought to the realm, likely along with a whole new horror show to accompany them, and you happen to be the lucky few chosen to greet them. You suppose it has been a while since the newest girl showed up, that Rakoto woman, and that you all were due for a shake-up in the formula. Feeling the sneaking suspicion that things wouldn’t go as smoothly as one would hope- trials with new people never do- you go over to your personal pile of supplies and take out a skeleton key, a gold token, and some blood amber. If you’re lucky you won’t need to use it, but something tells you this isn’t gonna be a lucky trial. You only have a few extra seconds to burn some bloody party streamers before your vision begins to fade, your body becomes less and less corporeal, and you’re taken off to the trial.

The trial grounds are new, but somehow not as new as they should be. It’s a heavy forest, common trend in the Entity’s Realm, but there’s something familiar about it. You’ve been here before, haven’t you? No, no you can’t have, you’re imagining things. What you aren’t imaging is what looks to be the remains of a small camp tucked to the side near the trial walls. Upon further investigation, you find a pile full of several different types of ammo, some medical supplies which you doubt could be of any use anymore, and a baseball bat. You pick it up and it’s strange how eerily comfortable it feels in your hands. Testing its strength, you strike it against the nearest tree. It promptly shatters. Of course the Entity would never let the survivors get any such advantage over the killer.

You keep walking around the new realm, still no sign of what fresh new horror you’ve been stuck with yet. It puts you on edge. Finally, you find Dwight on a generator, already a good way through in progress. You ask if he’s seen anyone yet, he hasn’t. You join him on the generator and finish it quickly. The two of you go forward and continue to explore the new environment. You take out the key and try to sense anyone or anything else, but nothing. Eventually you and Dwight find a set of railroad tracks, which you follow to the center of the map. An abandoned train station greets you there, and once again a foreboding sense of deja vu tingles at the back of your head. Finding a generator in one of the decrepit rooms the station offered, along with another pile of miscellaneous ammo, you and Dwight begin work again. It’s when you get about halfway through that relative silence is pierced by an ear splitting screech. You feel the atmosphere grow denser, a sign that someone has been injured. You’re not paying attention to that though. You’ve suddenly been taken out of the trial entirely as your mind brings you back to your old life and your old friends.

You remember now, the four of you had come to this station after the military camp you’d found was overrun by infected. This was where the line ended. There had been a doctor with you, but he hadn’t made it. After some tense debate, you’d all decided to try your luck finding a boat and waiting out the apocalypse on a deserted island. It was that decision that led the team to finding an abandoned boat, hoping to find a way off the mainland, only to be confronted by the shrill cries of a horde of-

The sound of Kate falling to the ground takes you out of your stupor. No. That’s not what this place is. That’s not who you heard. You’re just imagining things. Get ahold of yourself and focus. Your teammates need you.

It doesn’t take long for Kate’s voice to once again echo throughout the station, her aura contracting in pain before hanging limp on a meat hook. You decide to go get her off and leave Dwight to finish the gen. You’re beaten to it, however, when you’re about halfway to her. You think for a second that Dwight abandoned the generator, but just as you do the machine you both had worked on sounds off in the distance. That leaves only the new guy. Whoever they are, it’s good to know they’re the more altruistic type. Your heart sinks as you hear the same nauseating scream from earlier and the air grows heavier with another injury: Dwight, probably. Sure enough, it doesn’t take long for the leader’s scream to echo and even less for his body to be left hanging on a hook. He’s closer by this time, so you double back and makes your way over. On your way you hear no telltale heartbeat but instead the faint sounds of mournful weeping in the distance. Once again, you’re shaken by the familiarity of the sound, that night on the boat once again surfacing in your memory, but you shake it off. That’s not it. That can’t be it. Maybe all this time living in constant abject horror is finally getting to you. Either way, you’re just getting sidetracked. Stay on task. Get Dwight, finish the gens, get out.

You finally make it to the leader, the coast seemingly clear, and with a grunt you manage to take the young man off of the wicked curve of metal before the mandibles of their captor could fully appear. Bandaging his wounds, you try to ask what the killer was, what they looked like, anything, but your questions were left unanswered by your companion who in fact didn’t even hear your question. A killer leaving a survivor deaf wasn’t completely unheard of, sometimes the Hag could put that effect on her traps and recently the Cannibal learned how to do the same when throwing a survivor to the ground, even sharing how to do it with other killers. But this killer just got here. They can’t have had time to learn how to do that yet. This must be a more innate ability then; perhaps something to do with the screams?

After you finish bandaging his wounds, Dwight scurries off elsewhere to keep looking for a gen, or maybe even the new survivor. You don’t really know. Either way, you continue searching around the place, and eventually find a new generator and start work on it. In the distance, a different generator goes off. Good. Just two more to go then. We can do this. That small bit of hope is dashed when once again you feel more survivors get injured, two in succession. They must have been working together. As you’re working, you begin to once again hear familiar cries, this time of rage and fury rather than mourning. You want desperately to shrug it off, but you can hear it coming closer, the killer’s heartbeat beginning to sound, and to your right you find Kate running desperately in your direction, trying and failing to lead whatever the monster is off her trail. You dive behind the tree your generator was next to and just as you’re trying to figure out what to do, you hear the singer go down mere meters away from you. The sounds the creature emits turning back into sobbing for just a second. It’s not picking her up. Taking a deep breath, you steel yourself and look around the corner of the tree to face whatever creature was waiting there, and your heart stops.

The gaunt, gangly frame of what used to be a woman stands over Kate’s groaning form on the ground. Pale blonde hair, leathery white skin, sunken eyes, and blood-stained, wicked claws where hands probably used to be combined with its downright pitiful crying make the thing utterly unmistakable for anything else. Three whole years after first coming to this God-forsaken place, you were once again confronted by a Witch.

It doesn’t take long for you to find out why it’s leaving Kate on the ground. Once again raising its voice in rage, it lunges onto the young woman, not unlike what the Hag might do, only now it mounts on top of her form in a very familiar display, thrashing and clawing at Kate’s torso, rendering it nothing more than an unrecognizable mess of blood and flesh. While it’s distracted, you opt to flee before it has the chance to notice your presence. A mori on its first day in the realm. Not completely unheard of, especially with killers that had a background with their accompanying survivor, but still not a good sign. It was more than likely that if he were to be caught again, Dwight would be a goner. Looks like the key you brought would be coming in handy after all.

After waiting for the Witch to abandon the area you’d been working in, you come back to the gen and try to make up for lost progress. You make it about halfway through when you feel another survivor get injured, and only a few seconds later you hear someone go down. It’s a woman’s voice. One you could have sworn you remembered. ‘No, it’s not her,’ you try to reason with yourself. She’s still back home with the others. Maybe watching the world burn from the safety of an island, maybe still looking for a place to live in peace, maybe already dead in a ditch from infected, the point is that she can’t be here. However, as your mind is racing, an agonized scream cuts through the air, one you can no longer deny you’ve heard before, long before you ended up here. You don’t waste any more time with the generator, leaving it for Dwight to maybe find, you beeline for where you see the aura of her body hanging across the map. Why is she here? How is this possible? Why now? Couldn’t the Entity have been satisfied with just you? Questions are swarming around in your head but eventually they all fall flat as you make it to the hook and you see her. Same red track suit, same brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, same jeans coated in dirt, same beat to shit sneakers. It was unmistakable that the young woman hanging in front of him was none other than Zoey.

Her eyes were screwed closed in pain, soft groans and grunts of pain slipping out. There’s a long gash across her torso and you really wish you could have just ten minutes where everything in your life wasn’t crashing spectacularly together, maybe give you a minute to collect yourself before it all comes crumbling down around you, but it occurs to you once again that you don’t have time for that now. You’re stuck in what now might as well be hell, one of your teammates was slashed to bits by a monster you thought you’d left behind and who was once your closest companion, practically a daughter to you, is now hanging from a meat hook and by God you cannot let her die there. You faced hell once before, you can do it again. With clarity you haven’t had since this nightmare of a trial began, you run up to the hook and hoist Zoey off the jagged, rusted metal and back onto the ground. For the first time since you’ve found her, Zoey opens her eyes. “Jesus, what the hell was- “And she finally looks up at you. Her eyes widen and for a moment she just stares before pushing you away and scrambling back, still clutching her bleeding shoulder. “No. No! Stay away from me!”

“Calm down, she’ll hear us, remember?”

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that, you get away from me!

“You’re bleeding out, we need to get you out of here before- “

“I said get away from me! I don’t know who you think you are but you have some nerve trying to use him to get to me.”

“Zoey, what the hell, you have to let me help you-”

“Screw you, you’re not him, you’re just some weird imposter, as weird as everything else has been in this place!

“I know this is confusing, but you have to listen- “

“Are you deaf? Leave me alone! He’s dead. He’s dead and gone and you have no right to try to talk to me like you’re him because you’ll never be half the man he was- “

You’ve had enough of her rambling, you’re wasting too much time as is and it’s already so much to handle, so finally you just walk up to her and hug her. She tries to bat you away, but it’s only halfhearted and eventually she sinks into your arms and starts crying. You try your best not to break down as well. The two of you stay like that for a while, just holding each other. Finally, Zoey calms down enough to talk and sniffles out a shaky “You should be dead.” You nod your head “I know, I should be, I don’t know why I’m here either, and I wish you didn’t have to be here with me.” She looks up at you. “Where the hell are we anyway?” You struggle to answer, but while you do you hear Dwight go down in the distance. Shit, you hadn’t even noticed he was injured. You take your companion’s wrist and start marching away from the hook the two of you were still nearby. “I can’t explain now. We’re running out of time. Let me see your shoulder, and stay close.” She nods reluctantly. Soon after you finish tending to her wounds, you hear your bespectacled friend’s pained screaming in the distance until the air goes quiet once again and the death is felt in the air. Zoey tries to give some sort of condolence, but you stop her midway. “He’ll be fine.” You say. She looks at you incredulously. “Death doesn’t really stick around here, not in the same way it didn’t back home though so I count my blessings. I’ll show you when we get back to camp, but for now just keep your mouth shut until you see a big metal hatch sticking out where it wasn’t before.” Her eyes widen, eyebrows rising up her forehead, still not entirely believing what you were saying, but as you began to walk away, she quickly followed behind nonetheless.

By some stroke of luck, you managed to find the hatch not long after. You opened the hatch and, after proving that it was safe- or at least safer than staying with the Witch -brought Zoey through the tunnel and back to the campfire. The young woman wasn’t entirely convinced by Dwight’s introduction to the realm. You couldn’t blame her; even now it was hard to process that she was really here. But still, being there to introduce her to the group, help explain the new odds she would be fighting, even just her being there made you feel something, a mix of things really. Something in between outrage, sorrow, denial, relief, comfort, but above all else, determination. Until now, you’ve been borderline content where you’ve been. You’d accepted your fate, almost. You still fought like hell every damn day, of course you did, but just surviving was getting too easy. You’d nearly forgotten that escape was an option, even if no one was certain it was even possible. But you remembered now. You have people to save, not just from the everyday threat of death, but from this entire hell hole. You have a future to work towards, one that doesn’t involve living under the tendrils of an overpowered spider. For your sake, and the sake of your friends, old and new. You refuse to let them be left behind.

24 notes · View notes

tipsycad147 · 3 years

Text

Using Magical Poppets and Dolls

You're the only one who can decide what's ethically acceptable for you. Michelle Constantini/Getty Images

By Patti Wigington

Updated January 05, 2019

The magical poppet is one of the most commonly used implements in sympathetic magic, which follows along on the theory that “like creates like.” Although TV shows and movies typically show poppets as the stereotypical "voodoo doll," poppets have been around for a long time, and used in a number of different cultures and religious belief systems. There are many ways to create a poppet, and they can be used to harm or to heal; if you create a poppet of a person, anything done to the poppet will affect the person it represents. Bear in mind that some magical traditions discourage the use of poppets. If you're not sure whether or not it's okay for you to use poppet magic, you may want to check with someone in your tradition.

A poppet is usually made from cloth or fabric, but you can also make one from clay, wax, wood, or just about any other material. You can fill your poppet with herbs, stones, bits of wood, paper, or anything else that suits your needs. In addition to magical items, it's a good idea to include some cotton or polyfill as stuffing material.

Once the poppet is created, you'll need to connect it to the person it represents, which is typically done by using a magical link of some sort. Remember, the poppet is a useful magical tool, and can be used in a variety of workings. Use it for healing, to banish harmful people from your life, to bring abundance your way — the choices are practically limitless.

Poppet History

Fetish dolls on sale at a market in Togo. Danita Delimont/Getty Images

When most people think of a poppet, they automatically think of the Voodoo doll, thanks to this item's negative portrayal in movies and on television. However, the use of dolls in sympathetic magic goes back several millennia. Back in the days of ancient Egypt, the enemies of Ramses III (who were numerous, and included some of his harem women and at least one high-ranking official) used wax images of the Pharaoh, to bring about his death. Let's look at some of the historical uses of poppets in spellwork.

Greek Kolossi

It wasn't uncommon for the Greeks to use sympathetic magic in workings related to love or war. Christopher Faraone, Professor of Classical Languages and Literatures at the University of Chicago, is one of the foremost authorities on Greek magic today, and says that Greek poppets called Kolossoi were sometimes used to restrain a ghost or even a dangerous deity, or to bind two lovers together. In Idyll 2, The Witch (Pharmakeutria), written about 200 b.c.e., the tragedian Theocritus refers to melting and burning wax dolls. He relates the tale of Simaetha, rejected by Delphis, attempts to get her lover back with magic.

The Princess Who Played with Dolls

Wax dolls certainly weren't limited to the ancient classical world. The one-time Princess of Wales, Caroline of Brunswick, was married to the man who later became King George IV, and evidently couldn't stand him. She spent many hours forming wax dolls of her husband and jabbing them with pins. Although there's no concrete evidence as to what this may have done to George, when Caroline ran off to Italy with her young lover, George didn't object. The royal couple remained married but lived separately until Caroline’s death in 1821, according to Witchcraft and Evidence in Early Modern England by Malcolm Gaskill.

West African Fetish Magic

West African slaves brought with them a doll called a fetish when they were forced to leave their homes and come to the American colonies. In this case, the doll is not so much representative of an individual, but is in fact possessed by spirits connected to the doll’s owner. A fetish contains significant power and is typically worn or carried by its owner as a talisman. During America's Colonial period, slave owners were allowed to kill any slave found with a fetish in his possession.

American Hoodoo and Folk Magic

In American Hoodoo and folk magic, the use of poppets as a magical tool became popular following the Civil War. There is some dispute as to whether the dolls are used at all in Haiti, which is the home of Vodoun religion, and a few sources disagree on whether the use of poppets is truly a Vodoun practice or not. However, the Voodoo Museum of New Orleans does stock a variety of dolls in their gift shop.

Regardless of how you make your poppet — out of cloth, a chunk of meat, or a glob of wax, remember that poppets have a long tradition behind them, and that tradition is influenced by the magical practices of a wide range of cultures. Treat your poppets well, and they will do the same for you!

Make Your Own Poppet

Photomorgana/Getty Images

A poppet can be as simple or as elaborate as you like — it all depends on how much time and effort you want to put into it. You can construct one out of just about any material — cloth, clay, wood, wax. Use your imagination! In some magical traditions, it's believed that the more work you put into it, and the more complex it is, the stronger your link will be to your goal. Because a poppet is a device for sympathetic magic, all of its components will be symbols of what it is you hope to achieve.

You can do your poppet-making as part of the working itself, or it can be made ahead of time so you can use the poppet later on. Which method you choose is really up to you.

Remember, your poppet represents a person, so figure out before you begin who it symbolizes. Is it you? A friend who's asked you for help? An un-named lover you want to bring into your life? A gossip you want to shut up? The possibilities are endless, but just like in any spell working, you'll need to set a goal before you begin. It keeps you from having to deal with "do-overs" later. These instructions are for a basic poppet construction, using fabric. Feel free to modify your design as you need to.

Selecting Your Fabric

There are no real rules when it comes to choosing your material, but it's not a bad idea to select fabric based on your goal. If you're doing a money spell, use a piece of green or gold cloth. If you're looking at healing, perhaps something in a soft blue or silver would be best. Check out fabric stores around the holidays, and you can find all kinds of neat patterns.

Valentine's Day designs are perfect for matters of the heart, and there are plenty of prints with dollar signs, coins, stars and moons, and other fun designs.

Another option is to use fabric that links the poppet to the person it represents. Doing a healing spell for a friend? Ask the person for an old t-shirt. If you're trying to draw love into your life, consider using a scrap from that sexy lingerie you wore last night. If you just can't find the right material, use a plain muslin or white felt. Here are a few ideas for designs and colors for poppet magic.

Animals: Brown or green fabrics, patterns with cats or dogs, anything pet-related

Banishing: Black fabric, designs such as swords or wands, dragons or fire

Creativity: Orange or yellow fabric, prints of suns or other fire symbols

Healing: Silver, white or blue, with designs of clouds or other air symbols

Love: Pink or red material, designs like hearts, roses or other flowers, Cupids

Money: Silver, gold or green fabric, or designs of dollar bills or coins, cups or earthy symbols

Protection: Red or white material, with patterns of shields, keys or locks, fences, mistletoe

When it comes to types of fabric, use what's easiest for you to work with. Cotton prints are easy to sew, but if you've never used a needle and thread before, you might want to try something stiffer like felt — it comes in every color you can imagine, and will hold its shape as you sew. If you're an experienced sewer, use anything you like.

A poppet represents a person, so ideally it should look (sort of) like a person. Give it a head, two arms, two legs, a torso. You can make your own outline or you can use the ultimate poppet pattern — a gingerbread man. If you're doing a spell for an animal — such as a healing spell for a sick pet — make the poppet shape accordingly. Your poppet doesn't have to be huge, but it should be big enough that you can stuff it with your ingredients later.

Take two pieces of your fabric, and place them right side together on a flat surface. Place the pattern on top, pin it in place, and cut it out. Leave a little room around the edges for a seam allowance — usually a 3/8" margin is good. Remove the pattern, and there are your two poppet shapes. Time to start sewing!

If you've never sewn anything by hand before, don't panic. It's not hard, but it does require some patience. You could always use a sewing machine if you're pressed for time, but most experienced poppet-makers agree that it's worth the effort to do it by hand. Pin the two pieces of material with the right sides together, and stitch around the edges. Leave an opening somewhere, wide enough to stick a couple of fingers in. Turn the poppet inside out, and begin stuffing.

Personalize Your Poppet

Fill your poppet with something soft, like polyfill or cotton balls. Old pantyhose work nicely too. Work the stuffing all the way into the nooks and crannies of the arms and legs, and then fill the torso and head.

This is where you'll place your spell components — herbs, stones, whatever. In some magical traditions, something from the person represented goes inside the poppet. This is alternately referred to as a taglock or a magical link — it can be bits of hair, nail clippings, body fluids, a business card, or even a photograph. Once everything is inside, sew the poppet completely shut.

The more you can customize your poppet, the better. Even if you've placed a magical link, or taglock, inside, you'll want to decorate the outside too. Draw or paint or sew a face onto your doll. Add yard or string for hair. Dress your poppet in something that looks like the person's clothing. Copy any tattoos, scars, or distinguishing features onto the poppet as well. Add magical or astrological symbols if you like. While you're doing this, tell the poppet who it represents. You can say something along the lines of, "I have made you, and you are Jane Jones."

Your poppet can be used for any number of things—love, money, protection, healing, to get a job. Anything you can imagine, you can make a poppet to bring it about. Simply figure out your goal and the means to achieve it. The only limits on poppet construction are your own creativity and imagination.

6 Easy Poppet Projects

Make protective poppets for each member of your family with modeling clay. amanaimagesRF/Getty Images

Not sure what sort of poppets to create, or how you can use them in a practical application? Try one of these six easy ideas for making and using your own poppets.

1. To Get a Job You've Applied For

Material: satin, green or gold or silver

Herbs: clover, chamomile, ginger, cinnamon

Gemstones: snowflake obsidian or sodalite

Create a poppet to represent yourself. As you make it, focus on the positive attributes that you possess which will make you appealing to a potential employer. Another option is to create the poppet in the image of the employer (include business cards or letterhead inside, if you can get them) and tell the employer poppet why you're the best person for the job.

2. To Protect Your Family

Material: Modeling clay

Herbs: Basil, patchouli, coffee

Gemstones: Hematite, amethyst, black onyx.

Create poppets that represent each member of the family, blending herbs and stones into the clay. Put them in a safe place in your home, such as near your hearth, and utilize magical shielding or cast a circle of protection around them. This is actually a fun project you can get your kids involved in as well — let them each make their own poppet person!

3. To Heal a Sick Person

Material: White cotton or unbleached muslin

Herbs: Lemon balm, feverfew, ivy, and pine.

Gemstones: Bloodstone, turquoise

When you make this poppet, be sure to indicate what you are trying to heal, whether it's a case of tennis elbow, a chronic infection, or even a broken heart. Focus all of your energy on the ailment in question.

4. To Bring Love Into Your Life

Material: Red or pink silk or cotton

Herbs: Rose petals, parsley, and peppermint

Gemstones: Barite, jade, rose quartz

Make a poppet to represent the object of your affection — remember that in some magical traditions it is frowned upon to make a specific person the target of your working. If you are simply trying to attract love to yourself, but you don’t have a specific person in mind, focus on all the desirable qualities you want to see in a potential lover.

5. Silencing a Gossip

Material: Ground beef or other squishy meat

Herbs: Horseradish, pepper, rue, yarrow, valerian

Shape the meat and herbs into a person, and create a "meat puppet" in the same way you'd make a fabric one. As you make the doll, tell it that it's time to be silent, and tell no more gossipy stories. Remind it that people who can't say nice things shouldn't say anything at all. Dispose of the doll by either burning it on your grill and burying it someplace far away, feeding it to your dog, or leaving it out in the sun to rot.

6. Emergency Poppet on the Fly

Material: Aluminum foil

Perhaps something has come up in a hurry, and you feel it needs immediate magical attention. Use a piece of aluminum foil to whip together a quickie poppet — shape it into the figure of a person. Fill with any magical components that might be handy — bits of wood, dirt, grass, even a name scribbled on a piece of paper — and personalize the poppet.

Need additional poppetry ideas? Try making a magical gingerbread poppet, or put together a portable poppets kit to keep in your magical arsenal!

https://www.learnreligions.com/what-are-magical-poppets-4072783

10 notes · View notes

recurring-polynya · 4 years

Note

Do we have a Byakuya giving Renji marriage advice fic? I'd love to read one!

I know this is gonna seem like I can’t read the prompt, because it’s 95% Byakuya giving Rukia marriage advice, but I just honestly think Byakuya trusts Renji on this, given that Renji has worked for him for years at this point and just sort of anticipates all his needs and understands him better than really anyone, and also, Byakuya does not understand Renji at all and has no idea how his dumb jock brain works. He knows exactly how Rukia’s brain works, though.

Anyway, I am back on my Byakuya-writing-letters bullshit, please enjoy some Sunday afternoon feels. I think it should be obvious, but this takes place the night after Rukia and Renji’s wedding.

❤️ 🥂 🎊

It was late at night, but Rukia couldn’t sleep. Too much excitement, maybe, the unfamiliarity of a new house, the evening’s pleasant alcoholic haze fading into the beginnings of a hangover. It certainly couldn’t be the idea of a new life entirely, looming in front of her like an iceberg, complete with a new name and all sorts of new possibilities. Primarily, there was a new bed and a new person who slept in it with her, and she found the idea of waking him up terrifying, so she slipped out from under the blankets and crept downstairs.

She was digging around in the kitchen, wondering if Renji had gotten around to making any pickles since he moved in a month ago (there was an entire cabinet full, wonderful man!), when she remembered the note.

Rukia had briefly flipped through the envelopes of wedding money they had received earlier. The one from her brother bulged, and when she opened it up, the bills inside were large. Renji got nervous in the presence of large sums of money and she suspected he would attempt to give it back, so put it away quickly to deal with later, but not before she noticed a sheet of paper tucked inside among the bills. It had only her name on it, in her brother’s finest handwriting.

After retrieving the note, she settled on the couch (which had been Renji’s but was now theirs because that’s how this worked) with the jar of pickles tucked beside her (the pickles were hers because they were the spicy kind Renji made specially for her even though he couldn’t eat them himself).

My beloved sister, the note opened.

It is my impression that one of the important roles of an older brother is to go before one’s younger siblings, to chart the unknown terrain of life, and to act as guide and mentor. My own marriage was characterized by deep love and joy in the face of hardship, and I hope that yours will contain all of its happiness and none of its heartache. Unfortunately, I regret to inform you, I have no idea how I did it.

When our lots were first cast together, as you know, I declined to form a close relationship with you. This was a mistake on my part, born of the fear that you would remind me too much of Hisana. Later on, to my horror, I found the truth to be far worse-- although you do share some of your sister’s fine qualities, in personality, you bear a much greater resemblance to myself.

That being the case, I imagine that by the time you find this note, you will have tied yourself up into knots over whether or not you ‘deserve this’ or if you can ever be a satisfactory partner. We are very fine Kuchiki, you and I, Rukia. We are strong of body and of will. We are dignified in all we do. We devote ourselves to our duties before our else. Our hearts are strong and love strongly, but we hold them close, as we must. Our family is our pride, which, paradoxically, makes it nearly impossible to share ourselves with those we hold closest.

Your sister Hisana was an exceedingly stubborn person, who formed her own opinions of me, which may or may not have had any grounding in reality. She frequently told me that I was ‘kind’ and ‘thoughtful’ and ‘sweet’ and a variety of other adjectives that no other thinking person would dare to apply to me. It is very difficult to live with such a person for long before you find yourself trying to live up to their misguided delusions.

As it happens, this is among the distressing number of personality traits my adjutant shares with my late wife. His optimism is endless, his vision is permanently rose-tinted, even when he insists upon wearing those horrendous goggles. Any yet, time and again, I have seen him bring out the best qualities in the horrible ne’er-do-wells under our mutual command. Indeed, if I have ever been a good brother to you, it is mostly due to his belief that I could be so. It is a verifiable fact that you are one of the best best souls in all of Soul Society, one would think it would be unimaginable to inflate your worth beyond its actual measure, and yet, somewhere, he manages that, as well.

How is one supposed to live up to these sorts of expectations from the person they love most of all? It is impossible. At least in my case, Hisana was quite aware that I am a pompous buffoon, whereas Abarai fully believes the sun rises and sets for your personal benefit. I am going to tell you something that may be difficult to hear: you have to simply deal with it. He is never going to stop. If you are truly as like to me as I suspect, you will rebel against this, your brain constantly trying to sabotage your happiness.

The fact of the matter is, Rukia, these feelings of inadequacy spring from the very fact that you hold him so dearly that your own estimation of him is also blown out of proportion. Do not misinterpret me. I am very fond of Abarai, but he is a mess. A disaster. You have probably never seen his filing system, but it would give you the vapors. (I do suggest that you take responsibility over that aspect of your household management.) Again, I sympathize. He is actually not nearly so bad as your sister, whom I once watched deface a centerpiece at a very fancy benefit dinner (the end result was extremely offensive and also very humorous). In my mind, she is still the most perfect person I have ever met.

Perhaps I am mistaken. Perhaps you are plagued with none of the insecurities that troubled the early days of my marriage, and that I was only able to come to terms with once it became evident that our time together would be finite. I desperately hope this is the case, and if so, please do me the courtesy of destroying this letter, and forgetting all of this.

In either case, I wish you the utmost happiness with your horrible husband.

Your affectionate brother,

Byakuya

Rukia’s fingers clenched on the edges of the paper. The edges of her eyes were burning. How dare he do this to her, after all these years? How many times had they crossed paths in the gardens in the hours when they should have been sleeping? Since when did they need to say things in order to show how well they understood each other? Rukia had half a mind to march over there right now and punch him in his perfect face. He was most likely sitting out next to the koi pond this very minute.

“Thinkin’ of skippin’ out on me already?” a sleepy voice asked behind her, and Rukia jumped nearly a foot in the air.

“What? No!” Rukia rubbed at her hair and frowned apologetically at Renji, who seemed more interested in yawning. "I was thinking too loud and I didn’t want to wake you up.”

“Nah, my skull is too thick, I can’t even hear my own thoughts most of the time.” Renji leaned over the back of the couch, and Rukia guiltily folded her note in half. “Letter from Captain?”

“Uh, yeah,” Rukia excused. “Sorry. It was kinda personal.”

“I understand. I got one, too. It was less personal.”

A piece of paper dropped in her lap and as she was busy unfolded it, Renji grabbed her jar of pickles.

“Hey, that’s mine!” she protested.

“You don’t gotta tell me what your brother wrote to you,” Renji yawned, tucking the pickles under his arm. “But I think you should probably listen to him. He knows what’s he’s on about.”

Rukia looked at the piece of Squad Six letterhead in her hands. In precise, businesslike handwriting, it read:

To: Abarai Renji, Assistant Captain, Sixth Division

From: Kuchiki Byakuya, Captain Sixth Division

Re: My sister/Your pending wife

Lieutenant Abarai,

Please be aware that Rukia is prone to poor decisions when she has insomnia and it is in your best interest to prevent her from consuming excessively spicy and/or vinegared goods past a respectable bedtime.

Sincerely,

Captain Kuchiki

“Rat fink!” Rukia exclaimed.

“Come back to bed,” Renji implored, pressing a kiss into her hair. “I know some good ways to make your brain shut up.”

“Okay,” Rukia agreed grumpily. “I’m eating those pickles for breakfast, though.”

“I’m makin’ pancakes, but suit yourself.”

Rukia decided that maybe it was best to try and get some rest. She had a big rest-of-her-life coming up the next day.

#my writing #byakuya kuchiki #rukia kuchiki #renji abarai #renruki #byakuya feels are the worst feels #but pining-for-his-dead-wife byakuya is the best byakuya #the paradox of byakuya

57 notes · View notes

limewrites-archive · 4 years

Text

Emptiness | Bruno Bucciarati X Leone Abbacchio (Bruabba)

Word Count: 2,285

Warnings: Major Death Spoilers for Part 5 Except one. Angst, pining. Alternate ending to part 5.

Also available on A03!

There was a vivid, horrific image in Bruno's mind ever since the day he laid eyes on Leone's corpse on the Beach in Sardinia. Working for the Mafia, corpses were always going to show up along the line. Hell, Bruno had killed people, he saw death up close and personal. That's how he met Giorno Giovanna in the first place anyways; to investigate Leaky Eye Luka's Death. Seeing a dead body was just a way of life, someone finally meeting their end and completing their life purpose. It was different though with Luka's Death and the others he's seen. Those were just mere people who he had no connection to besides being under the same boss. Bruno didn't have a connection besides common business-related ideals with those people. Bucciarati's team was a family that surely was a bit dysfunctional and built but it was a safe space for everyone. It gave them all a purpose, a roof over their heads, and a job.

With being a team leader, he knew more about each individual probably more than the rest knew about each other. They'd confide in him, look up to him, admire him and Bruno was just like a role model and savior to them all. He'd take the time to speak to each individual to understand and get to know their stories which made his team so special to him. They all may be young, but they'd be in a worse place if they weren't here under his wing. Abbacchio was the only one who was older than himself and could handle himself financially if he needed it but would have a hard time ever picking himself up by getting a real, normal job. Mentally, Leone would be a mess living by himself.

Bucciarati was unlucky enough to make it out alive through the whole battle against the boss. The brunette was a respectable capo, in charge of some smaller groups under him but the downfall was he was almost 2 times busier. Even though he felt as fine as before he met Giorno, he would be reminded of how close he was to death by the scar right under his ribcage. It was a small scar, Giorno had made it almost as if nothing had happened when healing him. He had felt the excruciating pain of what was a fist-shaped hole being punched through his torso afterward but had to push forward on getting rid of the boss. With Abbacchio and Narancia gone, there was an emptiness he felt. The team was never going to be the same again for everyone. Bruno lost the one his heart loved and a son, Fugo was gone, Mista lost a buddy and grumpy friend he could pick on. Giorno lost a new friend and rival. Trish was now orphaned but fully welcomed into Giorno's inner circle now he's boss.

The injuries were healed, no current enemies against Passione, and things were going back to as normal as possible. But there are still the wounds and scars mentally that Bruno dealt with. There's not a day that passes by where he isn't thinking about what could have gone better to ensure that Abbacchio and Narancia had been safe. Some nights he'd cry from all the times he could have told either one of them that he cared for them. When it comes to matters of Narancia, it hurt to see how distraught Mista and Trish were. With Leone's death, seeing his love lifelessly sit facing the sea with a bloodied abdomen- Bruno wanted to drop to his knees, sob till he couldn't anymore but instead he had to bite his lip and be strong for the others.

Leone was always so different around him which made it hurt more. The two had an unspoken love, a mutual understanding that was beyond friendship. As things got more dangerous, Bruno wanted to mention it to Leone in the airplane. It was a perfect moment since Mista and Narancia were asleep in the turtle, Giorno and Trish were in the back. Instead, Bruno kept quiet to let Leone focus on controlling Moody Blues. Bruno was just so hung up on what could have been. They could have stolen a kiss after a confession or made peace in accepting they may not make it. Instead, Bruno planned to check the engines and Notorious B.I.G was back on the plane to ruin their flight. That was the last possible moment alone they would have together. He found some acceptance that they both saw the clouds together in the sky, the dark blue waves beneath them. Seeing the clouds so high up felt peaceful and at least they had that for a moment.

When Leone first laid eyes on Bruno, his world was dark and he was falling into a dark hole he dug himself. As he spent more time with Bruno, his world was brightened. He enjoyed serving Bruno and found himself always wanting to be around him. He was amazed at all the good Bruno would do for citizens, all the good that was in Bruno despite things he had to do as a part of his job for Passione. Leone would follow Bruno to the ends of the Earth which made him cling to life even in his death. Leone had the option of choosing to live in his Heaven or to stay on Earth through the limbo between the living and the dead. He could observe humans and go to heaven when he was ready. The only thing was that if he goes to his own Heaven, he can't go back to watching the living. "You can stay here for as long as you need, Leone. I know you have unfinished business." Abbacchio's police partner had been waiting for him. That was his own unfinished business, to make sure that Leone would be guilt-free about his death and to tell him he did an excellent job while he lived. With those words, he ascended into the afterlife and left Leone.

Abbacchio knew what he had to do then. He wanted to wait for Bruno, no matter how long and greet him in the afterlife. Leone wanted to make sure Bruno would continue and continue to spread the happiness he so easily made people feel. He didn't expect Bruno to be such a mess at night when he saw how normal he looked during the day. Watching over Bruno in the afterlife was something that gave him fulfillment but also great anger and sadness. Things wouldn't have changed if that damn Giorno Giovanna would never have shown up. Now that he had seen the outcome and Narancia had joined him in the afterlife to watch over the group, Leone was a bit pissed off that Giorno had become the boss for selfish gain. At least Giorno would be the last to join them in death, and hopefully, by then Leone hoped he would be in his own Heaven by then. He enjoyed spending his days in the afterlife fly by as he observed Bruno for the most part while other times he was wandering the streets of Naples. He would sit at the café with Narancia eating while they waited for the others. Surprisingly, food pops up whenever they want even though they don't ever get hungry. Narancia always has all the pizzas he ever wants as well as sodas. Leone only drinks wine by habit but enjoys a plate of food when the team eats. Eating with the team even though they can't see or hear him makes him feel alive again even if the conversation is dull.

The days that pass by what seemed like only a few hours, one blink and you miss something. Having nothing to do but watch the living, he saw how fast everything goes by and how fragile life is. He's seen the struggle and grief the people of Naples had gone through when he was a cop, witnessing theft and crime daily. Life is so vulnerable, so fast-paced and yet somehow people make it through and endure while trying to do everything they can to cling to every precious moment. Leone found it hard to cling on when he can't touch anything physically and can't speak to the one he has the most to say to. Ghost life was less interesting than you would think. Endless food, whenever you want to enjoy to just feel human again, was at the command of thought and you could wander anywhere your feet could take you. No money needed, no bills- but something feels like it's missing. Maybe it is the enjoyment of life, the things people had to save up to do, and then the excitement when they have the funds to do so. The thrill of playing the game of life. Leone couldn't grab things besides the ones only he could see and make appear like the food he and Narancia would enjoy from time to time. Across the other souls that would be in the lining between life and death, there was a rumor that eventually got to Narancia where if souls have enough strength, they can make things move in the living world. When Abbacchio heard of this for himself, he had to at least try to contact Bruno in some sort of way. Rumor or not, part of it had to be true and he wasn't going to go a day without trying. At first, Leone got nothing, trying to push away a pen Bruno had set down for a moment, attempting to push a chair but nothing worked. His own hand would go right through the object and he was starting to think it wasn't ever going to work. In life, Abbacchio wasn't superstitious and whenever a ghost was mentioned, he fought that there always had to be some rational explanation. Being what humans would call a ghost now made him want at least Bruno to consider that ghosts were real and with him instead of hearing Bruno pray for Narancia and himself to be in heaven. Leone often visited Bruno at night, just to see how peaceful he could be while sleeping and imagine he was sleeping well. Sometimes, Leone wished that there would have been more time for the two of them to figure each other out more. Abbacchio would hear Bruno's night cries that he should have said something in the plane just to let him know how much he loved him, how much it hurt to no longer have his friend in the world, and how sorry he was for not being a better team leader. Abbacchio would try to touch him to give him some sort of comfort but again he would just go right through Bruno. He'd been trying for days on end and finally got frustrated. Even though he couldn't do anything, he tried pushing stuff off of the desk, trying to kick the chair, and finally, he had pushed the lamp off of the nightstand. He did a double-take, realizing that he had done something. The lamp didn't break but it was on the floor still dimly lit. Bruno had turned around to see the light on the floor. He wasn't anywhere even close to the thing and there wasn't a pillow or something to push it off. To him, it had just fallen out of nowhere. Bruno got up from sitting on the foot of the bed and gently placed the lamp back on the stand. "Is..." He was reluctant to ask this question, doubting what first came to thought. He shook it off and asked anyways. "Is there a presence with me?" He waited, nothing else happened. Abbacchio was trying to push things again and again but nothing happened. Bruno's eyes were puffed, he felt exhausted and wanted this to be done with. "Please, show me a sign." In his own mind, he hoped it was his father or Abbacchio or Narancia if there was a thing as spirits. If not, he would feel stupid for calling out to nothing. Leone's frustration turned into a sadness that night. He had been so damn close to figuring it out and letting Bruno he wasn't alone. Tears were forming in his eyes but dripped down to nothing. There was no wetness down his cheek that came with the tears falling only his emotion and the feeling of tears forming. He tried to look around the room for anything that would let Bruno know it was him. There wasn't anything that he Bruno could have possibly kept from when they cleared out Leone's apartment. Abbacchio remembered that they had spent a day giving away his and Narancia's clothes to people that were less fortunate. There must have had been something if Bruno was crying this much for Abbacchio specifically. He remembered one thing that Bruno had framed. It was a photo of both of them that Mista had taken. Abbacchio's hair was growing out then and was still pretty short. Bruno was the same as ever with his black dotted, white suit. He had rushed to the side of the bed seeing the framed photos on the other nightstand. It hurt him to do it, but Leone punched the frame with all his force and energy. It cracked. It was a very noticeable crack and Bruno heard the crack behind him. He looked at the various photos that he had of the group on Christmas and Halloween and then to the only one where it's just him and Abbacchio. It was cracked and even a small piece of glass had fallen onto the wooden surface. Bruno laughed, his tears falling and he could barely see from how blurry the tears made him. "Ah Leone... It's you."

31 notes · View notes

cynthiyaayaana · 3 years

Text

Bullets and Pollen.

Hey!! This is a story I had written long before but never had the courage to post until now. I came across this very interesting writing prompt on tumblr and just had to write something on it. Any kind of appreciation or constructive criticism is welcome. Enjoy!!

Ayanna found herself in a flower shop that was very conveniently located a few blocks away from the cemetery. It was more like a meadow enclosed in the tall glass windows that displayed a vibgyor of flowers. The odor of flowers was like a thick perfumed layer that engulfed everything in the shop. It was uncomfortably congested. She wondered how the fragile flowers were able to bear its immensity which was almost overpowering her.

The sunlight bounced off each petal reflecting its colors like a prism capturing light and releasing a rainbow. She was tempted to catch it but obviously they were intangible. She therefore reconciled with touching the soft velvety petals of the orchids that stood arrogantly in the confines of their plastic buckets. There long stalk upholding the delicate white blooms like the slender neck of a swan supporting a snappy mouth.

The clear ringing of the bells alerted the intrusion of another customer. She turned around to see the culprit who had disrupted the quaint solitude of the ambience. Her complaint disappeared as soon as she thought it. The man standing in front her stood out in his black attire like death in the Garden of Eden. Before she had time to register his appearance accurately he strode towards her with quick but calculated steps. She realized the answer to her question was hazel but now they appeared murky green because of the sun rays they took hostage.

In one swift movement he took out his bulky wallet and slapped a few crumpled bills on the counter. She flinched as his hands dropped on the teak table’s sleek surface with a loud thud. He gritted his teeth and flexed his jaws agitatedly, emitting a sickening sound of bones cracking. Although his attempt to control his temper was admirable, she was afraid that he would pop a vein any minute now.

“Excuse me…” She was rudely interrupted as he jeered at her for some unknown reason. She had to confess as terrifying and alarmingly red the visage of this stranger was, she was thoroughly entertained by his attempt to restrain his fury. She only hoped she didn’t offend him any further by losing her self-control. Unfortunately, she slipped when she heard the next sentence that he spoke.

“How do I passive aggressively say ‘fuck you’ in flowers?”

Ayanna coughed to suppress her laughter. This was by far the most noteworthy conversation starter she had ever heard. Although she should have rectified his misunderstanding, she stood rooted in her spot, looking at this inhumanly tall and infuriated man who wanted flowers to translate an extremely hackneyed and handy insult like ‘fuck you’.

Flowers!

She should have been cowering at the mere size of this man and also the way he had “bloody murder” written all over his rugged face. It didn’t require a keen observer to see how positively threatening he was in the way he carried himself. He radiated danger and not in the ‘what-you-read –in-a-dark-romance kind of way’. It was more like a ‘cross-me-and-I-will-not-hesitate-to-cut-you’ vibe he gave off. If they had been out in the streets or in some dingy warehouse, in this small proximity, she would definitely be fearful for her dear life.

However, the fact that he had just entered a flower shop and asked for flowers to express his aversion for someone or something made it hard for her to feel intimidated by him. This was an interesting and obscure way of looking at flora. Like a blunt expression of disdain. It did trigger her imagination and help her writers block that had led her here in the first place.

Weren’t flowers and tacky bouquets used by unfaithful husbands to give their naïve wives to convince them of their deceitful affections? Isn’t it supposed to disguise the smell of musk cologne and infidelity? And eventually end up in the trash the following week when the flowers were dead and smelt like decay?

A bad habit instantaneously made her concoct how she could include this plot and this sample of character into the bulk of paper and fiction she was working on. It would make great material for a romance but that’s too predictable. Maybe a crime fiction. Where the antagonist leaves behind clues of his felony in a cryptic language of flowers. Perhaps something more brooding and introspective. The possibilities were endless. She must have zoned out because the facial expressions of her envisioned muse was getting more agitated and distorted with each passing second.

“Nevermi…”

Before he could wave his hand in dismissal, she stood to her full diminutive height, solemnly perched her black rimmed glasses on the bridge of her nose and bustled around the shop collecting stalks of flowers and commenting in a very proper voice like she would if she actually was a florist.

“What you need is a bouquet with geraniums signifying idiocy, foxgloves for dishonesty, meadowsweet for incompetence, yellow carnations meaning disappointment and finally orange lilies for unadulterated hatred. It would be quiet remarkable. And full of repugnance.”

She bundled them together between her nimble thumb and forefingers, looked at the oppressively colorful bunch and brought it to him for scrutiny. He cocked his dark eyebrow and looked down at her scrawny stature and then at the chaotic assortment of flowers. He had to admit it looked quiet hideous with its harsh dyes and mismatched contours. And totally unsuitable for the girl’s dainty hands.

Weren’t florist supposed to have arduous hands? Their nails short and their nailbeds caked with brown dirt and green stuff? These manicured hands looked like they couldn’t bear the weight of a coffee cup. They could barely keep the bouquet from falling apart. They were so small and fragile and looked so soft. He could hardly believe she did anything at all with those hands let alone cut and tame stems with rebellious thorns. The fact that she was dressed in a casual white shirt and black ripped jeans with a worn-out leather bag dangling from her frail shoulders and not a soiled apron confirmed his suspicion.

“Here is your ‘bundle of loathing’.” She handed it to him with extra caution. Obviously she wasn’t a professional florist. No professional florist talks like that.

He looked at her and then at the unassembled flowers as confusion took over his dark features. Not because he had finally realized that he had made a mistake. No that bit was as clear as day to him.

He was perplexed as to why she had helped him when she didn’t need to? Moreover, how did she know exactly what he wanted? Was she spying on him? Was she she sent for him?

“You didn’t give me a chance to explain myself” She said in her soft voice as if she sensed his unspoken question.

His unfaltering stare never left her. She squirmed self-consciously under his gaze and lowered her eyes to stare at her sensible flats. The change in her demeanor eased him a little. He wasn’t looking forward to conducting an interrogation in the middle of a god- forsaken flower-shop. He also didn’t want to go around terrorizing unassuming civilians, especially the pretty ones. Besides she had piqued his curiosity when she went about the shop cataloging flowers for his “bundle of loathing”.

“You seem to know a lot about flowers.” His voice was in sharp contrast to the dreadful glare he was directing at her moments ago.

She looked at him with smile bordering between relief and wariness. Before he could here an answer they were interrupted by an aged voice of a woman. A tuff of grey hair emerged from the interiors of the shop.

“Here is your bouquet, child.” The elderly owner finally came out with her flowers and Ayanna was grateful for the interruption. She nodded slightly at her, relieved for the intrusion.

He vaguely entertained the idea of going after her as she scurried out of the modest store with hasty steps but decided against it. He was a busy man. He had more important matters to take care of before thinking about enchanting some stranger who had impressed him with her off-handed knowledge in horticulture. The most urgent undertaking right now was to deliver the bouquet to the person who deserved it. Then, as per protocol, he had to notify them, with utmost patience, what they had done to deserve it. And consequently, give them a forewarning and a suitable penalty for their offensive conduct.

“How can I help you, Sir?”. The elderly lady asked the man who was holding the green stalks of flowers in his hands tenderly. One would have never guessed these were lethal.

“Please wrap these flowers for me” He politely asked the elderly shopkeeper. He didn’t mind her ignorance.

“Is it for someone special?” The lady smiled warmly like clueless old ladies often do.

He could feel his lips forming a sick conniving smirk.

“Very special.”

#flowers #writing prompt #short story #fiction

2 notes · View notes

xan-hast · 3 years

Text

“Together to Bloom”- July 3rd 2021

“Wake up; you’re going to be late!” I heard my older sister yell from outside my room. I can’t get up right now; it’s like six o’clock or something. I turned to grab my phone from the counter as I turned it on. Its harsh light beamed my delicate eyes. I blinked, trying to recover from the pain in my eyes. Alas, I looked at the time. It was seven-thirty! I hopped out of bed with no time to waste as the final day of school was here! I couldn’t be late for the last day of school before summer break! I’d worked so hard all year long, not just to waste it all for being late! I rushed, grabbing whatever I could get from inside my closet. I then went inside the bathroom to brush my teeth and grabbed my comb to fix my hair later in class. I put my phone in my pants right pocket, grabbed my backpack for school, and a granola bar before running through the front house door.

As I locked the front door, I started running to school. First period starts at eight-ten, so I should have about thirty minutes to make it to class since I probably only took ten minutes getting ready. This should be perfect because it takes less than half an hour to get to school. But it’s all estimates right now; I can’t check my phone right now because it’ll just slow down my time. I’ll just wait until I have to cross the street to check my phone.

So far, they’ve all been red lights! I’ve been lucky so far, but that would also mean the drivers aren’t sharing this same luck. I only need to cross the street one more time, and I’ll be at school. I’m praying for a green light because I’ve gotten tons of notifications coming from my phone. I know that I’m not late, but there must be some big news! Maybe Eric’s mom finally let him get the gaming PC he wanted. Or maybe River finally wants to talk about what happened this week. Or Jake (my online friend) finally got the new game we planned to play during the summer! Or maybe Brittany jus-. You know what, I could just keep guessing the endless possibilities. But from the void of possibilities, I really hope it’s River.

As I was approaching Breeze High, I could see students around the entrance of the school building. With the usual people staying outside until classes started, the students already inside, some buses being late, and parents dropping off kids. But I would be a mix of two; I would stay inside sometimes or outside depending on what friend I saw first. This time there wasn’t anyone outside waiting for me. So I would go inside, but I’d rather check who was spamming me with text messages. As I turned on my phone, I saw the top message from Eric saying, “Zachary come to the cafeteria know!” I scrolled through some other text messages, but the top fifteen were from Eric. They’re all the same text with the exact grammar mistake of know instead of now; he must’ve just copied and pasted the text. But I wonder what he would want so urgently. After that was one text message from Brittany saying, “If you can come to the Student Council class really quickly, I have some things to discuss.” I guess Brittany just wants me to help her again. Under her text were two messages from Marcel saying, “Hey Zachary want to meet before first period starts?” “We can meet right outside our class.” Well, now I have to choose between three people. But under Marcel’s text was a message from my mom saying, “Goooood Morning Hun! I hope you have an amazing last day of school! And I remember that you have thirty dollars in your backpack for the Farewell Bloom Festival! Have fun!” How could I have forgotten it was the Bloom Festival today! They even do it every year for the last day of school, but it always passes my mind. Thankfully Mom gave me money. Now I feel even more guilty for not checking hard enough for money for the homeless. But the first text message I got in the morning was again from Eric saying, “Meet me in the cafeteria!” Eric seems like an urgent matter, I could help Brittany after school, I’ll need to buy things for the Bloom Festival, and Marcel just wants to talk. He never wants to talk! I guess things change before summer break starts.

I looked inside my backpack for the money that Mom had given to me. It was located where she’d always put stuff for me. In a little section of the front of the backpack, that was easy to find.

As I walked inside the school, I could see tables spread throughout the hallways. These tables at the front of the school are always the most populated. And it was all in the spirit of Farewell to some and Later to others. The tables, filled with beautiful roses and little cards where you could add a message on them. But for those who weren’t as creative, the cards already had something sweet written. I looked through the hallways trying to find a table that didn’t have so many people. I then stumbled across a hallway filled with tables and the sellers, but no buyers. So I went over to one of the tables and said, “Can I buy five roses and five cards?” But that’s when I noticed the person wasn’t looking at me, but down on the floor. He then said, “That’ll be ten dollars, sir,” as he had his hand out in front of him. I don’t remember it costing this much! But it doesn’t matter because at least I’ll “Bloom a good smile,” which is the motto of the festival. I then placed the only two five-dollar bills I had on his hand. He swiftly took the money and said, “Thank you.” As he grabbed the roses behind him and the cards on the table, he continued, “Here are your roses and cards.” “Thank you,” I said as I left. I don’t really know who that was because they didn’t show their face, but they did it so well.

Now on who to go to; Eric or Marcel. They’re both amazing friends of mine, but technically Eric messaged me first. So I’ll quickly see what Eric needs and then go talk to Marcel. Sounds like a game plan; hopefully, it doesn’t backfire!

As I went inside the cafeteria (which was near the middle half of the school), I saw it near empty. From all the tables, only one had students- Dillion, Rivier, and Eric. They seemed to be talking; maybe I should just leave them alone. River and I aren’t on good terms. As I turned around to leave the cafeteria, I heard someone yell, “Watch out!” I looked back and noticed that Amy (the vice principal of Student Council) and Gregory had bumped into each other creating a mess around them of red roses. I walked over to help the two as everyone else was just watching.

As I went to pick up a rose, Amy said, “You don’t have to help Zachary. If anything, Gregory over here should be helping!” With a strict emphasis on Gregory’s name. As I stood back up, I saw that Amy was looking at Gregory with a strict look; Gregory was looking away and seemed like he’d run away any second. I then responded to Amy, a calm look and tone, “It really is okay. I can help out. But remember not to be so harsh on your tone,” as I handed her a rose I picked up. Amy grabbed the rose I handed to her and continued to pick up the other roses. Gregory looked up at me and nodded his head as if he said, “Thank you.” I then handed him one of my own roses and the card attached. He then approached Amy with the rose and card. Amy turned to him and grabbed the rose in a more calming way. I guess my work here is done. Now to go find Marce-.

I then felt a slight tap on my shoulder, I looked back and saw Eric. “Zachary, where’ve you been! I’ve tried texting, but nothing! You’re so late! Anyways, come and have a seat,” Eric said as he pointed at the table River was sitting at. Before I could say anything, he was already walking me to the table.

River seemed to be on his phone and didn’t look up. Eric then sat me down across from River. Eric tapped his shoulder, and in an instant, River looked up. We made eye contact which felt like my own eternity until he said, “What are you doing here Zachary!” He then turned to Eric and said, “You promised we were only going to talk! Not Zachary'' Seems like I should just go. But before I could leave and before Eric could say something, River already left running. Eric then said to me, “Sorry, I thought this would help you two.” I responded, “It’s okay. Thank you for trying.” Before I could give Eric a rose and card, he’d already left running after River. I got up from the blue table I was sitting at and started walking to English class to talk to Marcel.

How did I mess up so badly with River? It all started on a very blue Monday, just after lunch. As I was walking to the Student Council class, River came up to me with tears. He said the exact words, “It’s over! I can’t believe I could even trust you!” And he ran off without another word. I was shocked at what had happened, I looked over to see people whispering at their blue lockers. Eyes from all directions made me question what I did. It was later that day when Eric came up to me to talk about it. A rumor, breaking the forever bond that I had with River. It was finally found out that River and I had been dating. River and I had already been dating for almost the whole school year, but his parents weren’t as supportive. On that day, River and I faked breaking up, it was like a little bump in the road. Luckily no one from the school noticed that we were dating as we had just been dating for a month. But during that same day, I promised to never tell another soul that we were dating. That once it was all over, we’d live the life we imagined.

Now, the whole school knew, but the thing is that I didn’t tell anyone. Not even Eric! Actually, the only person that I did tell was Jake. He was extremely supportive of how I found out my true self so fast and young. And Jake doesn’t have any way to contact anyone at this school except for me since he lives in New York. I don’t know how this person found out or why they would spread it, but it does hurt to see him gone.

I tried explaining to River, but he doesn’t answer any of my texts or calls. Even at school, he wouldn’t talk to me all week. But I guess he was talking to Eric for comfort. My biggest concern is how hurt is he. Especially with this school spreading this rumor outside of school and onto social media. I know that by now, his family must’ve seen the rumor. I just wish I could talk to him and tell him the trut-.

“You okay, Zachory?” I looked over and saw it was Mr. Johns, the English teacher. I then said, “Yeah, I’m okay, just a little lost in my thoughts.” “Well, Mr. Lost, you’re late for my class. The bell rang. But since it is the last day and I’m running a little late, it’s okay.” Wait, the bell has already rung! That means I wasn’t able to talk to Marcel! I’m just lucky that Mr. Johns is giving me a break. As I walked into class with Mr. Jones, I saw Marcel laying down his head on his desk.

“So it’s just a free day today. I’d be happy to sign your yearbook. If you need to go outside, just ask,” Mr. Johns said. He then sat down at his desk and started reading his book. First, let me write something on these little cards. On this first card, it had a hand’s palm on the front. I opened it and it read, “I’m a friend that’ll always help.” On the bottom, I added with a pen, “We can talk now?” Which was specifically for Marcel. I then brought all the roses with me to talk to Marcel. As I tapped his shoulder, he looked up with a face of concern. I then said, “Sorry, abo-.” “Can we go outside?” Marcel asked while interrupting me. I then walked over to Mr. Johns’ desk. I then tapped his desk and he looked up from his book. I then asked, “Is it okay if Marcel and I go outside?” He looked over at the clock and said, “Yeah sure. Just don’t cause any trouble.”

I walked over to Marcel and tapped his shoulder. He looked up at me, and we left the classroom. As we did, Marcel said, “So I finally learned how to use my phone for more than just sending messages.” “Oh, that’s good,” I added. He continued with a sad tone, “Yeah, but I saw this post thingy on social media, and it was all about you and River… is it true?” Wait, Marcel didn’t know this whole time! He doesn’t talk to too many people, but even for him, it’s kind of much. I then responded with a soft tone, “The rumor about River and I is true. We were dating, but I never told anyone.” He then responded, “It’s okay. The post went into deep detail about the rumor. I just wanted to tell you, but I guess you already knew.” I then concernedly asked, “Actually, it all started on Monday; haven’t you heard or seen anything about River and me?” “No. I’m not that big on rumors or anything. But you should’ve told me. I wanted to help,” he added. “Well thank you. And before I forget,” I said as I handed him the rose attached with the card, “here is your rose!” Marcel then said, “Aw, thank you. Let me check the card.” Wait, the card just has-. Marcel then giggled, “Well, I’m here talking to you now, aren’t I?” I quickly responded, “Yes, but I was supposed to give you that before we talked.” Marcel giggled again and said, “Well, we should get to class now. Just remember I’m always here to talk.” We entered the classroom, Marcel, with a rose, and I had my three roses left.

As the bell rang, Mrs. Jenkins said, “Have an amazing break, everyone!” That’s fourth period done. I just need to get through lunch, fifth period, and sixth period then I’m free from school. I sadly don’t have any of the classes with Eric at all. And for the last two periods, I don’t have any close friends. So lunch is going to be a good time to talk to someone; I hope River and I can discuss. I also still have these three roses.

As I walked into the cafeteria, I didn’t see Eric, Marcel, Brittany, or River. Where is everyone, it’s not like I’m early for lunch. As I was about to look around, I saw Dillon and Gregory talking to each other. I walked over to their table and before I could sit down, Gregory stood up and said, “Can I talk to you real quick?” “Yeah, sure.”

Gregory then took me to an empty hallway where he finally spoke up, “All I wanted to say was… thank you.” In shock, I said, “Oh, you’re wel-.” But before I could finish, he’d already left. I didn’t even notice he left so fast! I guess I helped him; it’s something to lift my spirit. And right now, it helped more than he could imagine.

As I was finally leaving sixth period, I noticed that some left a book on the floor. I picked it up and noticed it was Quincy’s notebook! Quincy is one of the top students in the school, he’d never just leave his notebook on purpose! I need to go find him in this avalanche of people in the halls! But I think Quincy always goes to Ms. Berkeley’s class before leaving school. So I should find him there!

As I finally made it out of the avalanche of students, I noticed someone sitting down in the middle of the hallway. As I approached them, I noticed it was Quincy! You could tell from his light gold hair, skinny pants, and back shirt. As I got closer, I heard him sobbing! As I was next to him, I said, “You left your notebook in class and ar-.” He then interrupted with loud sobs, “Thank you,” as he looked up at me, his face turned pale, he continued, “oh don’t look at me, Zachary.” He then grabbed the notebook from my hands and went in the same position. I then sat next to him and said, “I’m here to talk if you want?” “What, so you can just tell the whole school!” he said with an angry tone. “What do you mean?” I asked in confusion. “I heard the rumor,” he said with big sobs. I then took a deep breath and said, “Quincy, do you really think I would do that to my boyfriend?” He quietly said, “No.” “Exactly, there was just someone that told everyone. I’m in a rough state, but I still want to help you.” He then said, “But we’ve never even talked outside of school.” I then handed him a rose, he looked up and had a brief smile. He then read out loud the card, “It’s never too late to start things.” Then his brief smile turned into a blooming smile. He added, “What is this some kind of proposal?” I then said, “A proposal to become your friend.” He looked over at me and said, “Thank you, this really did help. It’s just that my girlfriend broke up with me. So I guess we kind of share a memory. I hope everything goes well for you. And thank you again for this and my notebook.” But before I could say something, he handed me a little note from his pocket. As he handed it to me, he said, “This is my phone number, maybe we can talk during the summer?” As I grabbed the piece of paper, I said, “Thank you, I’ll make sure to text you when I get home.” He stood up, and we departed ways, Quincy to Ms. Berkeley’s room while I was going to leave school.

As I was walking out of Breeze high for the last time this school year, I saw Eric running towards me. As he was running, he yelled, “Zachary! You really need to go talk to River!” Once he was in front of me, he was out of breath but trying to say something. I then said, “First catch your breath and then you can tell me.” After a few seconds of Eric panting, he then said, “I really messed up with you and River today. You need to talk to him. I’m so sorry, but you might be the only person to make him happy.” I then calmly said, “It’s not your fault at all Eric. Than-. Actually,” I then grabbed from my backpack one of the last roses and continued, “this is your rose. The card will do the talking.” As he took the rose from my hand, he smiled and said, “Thank you, Zachary. Also, River by Café Venteux.” Eric’s French has gotten so good! Even if it’s his third year in French class. “Okay, bye! Talk to you later!” I then left running towards the café.

As I made it near the café, I didn’t see River. But I saw the same homeless man in the morning outside the café. I walked towards him and he said, “Hey again, I hope you have a nice day.” I then searched in my left pocket for the twenty-dollar bill that mom gave me. Once I touched it, I said, “I actually got something for you,” as he looked up, I handed over the twenty dollars. He then smiled with great joy, saying, “Thank you! May God bless you!” He then went inside the café. As my eyes followed him, I saw River at the far end of the café.

As I walked inside the café, it made its little jingle. I walked over to where River was sitting and took a seat across from him. He didn’t look up until I tapped his shoulder. Once he looked up and saw me, he stood up. But before he could run away again, I stopped him. He was weaker now, not like usual, so I was easily about to sit him down on one of the wooden booths. I then sat next to him.

Before I could talk, he sobbingly said, “Why would you do that?” I then quickly responded, “I would never do that. I hope you can understand that I didn’t tell anyone about our relationship.” He responded, “Then how did people know! How come I got hurt!” He’s deeply hurt. “River, I want you to remember who I am. I never would do such a thing. I love you with all my heart. I just,” I started to tear, “I just don’t want it to be over a rumor someone started.” River then hugged me; I hugged back. I then let go with my left hand to grab my last rose. As I did, River looked up at me. As I handed him the bruised, color fading, few pedaled rose, I said, “I don’t ever want to lose you. Let us get through this together.”

#gay love #lgbtq #lgbt pride #school life #writing #short story #original work #entertainment #lgbtq representation

5 notes · View notes