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imtryingmybeskar · 1 year

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Come Home Chapter Fourteen

Joel Miller x F! Reader.

Word count - 4,002.

More spoilers for Ellie’s sixteenth birthday celebration. I always wondered how Joel got that recording of a liftoff, so I wrote it!

Some soft! Joel incoming, but there are storm clouds on the horizon...

Come Home

Chapter Fourteen - Every Sky Is Blue...

The space exhibition you emerge into is small but comprehensive and very interactive, especially since you can now reach out and touch stuff you weren’t supposed to before - the model of a lunar rover, the facsimile of the moon, the reproductions of the rockets. You accidentally knock a couple of these off their perches and they won’t reattach afterward despite your best efforts, so you leave them in disarray and scurry away hurriedly even though there is no one to berate you for your clumsiness except Joel who just laughs at you.

“You ruinin’ Ellie’s present already?” he teases as you walk to the other side of the room.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you reply airily. “Ohhh look, spacesuits!”

The spacesuits decorate the sides of a rounded room, the star of which is a space capsule, overgrown with ivy and vines that have forced their way through the glass ceiling above and twined their way around the object. You run your hand over the riveted metal and a thought suddenly strikes you.

“Yeesh. Imagine being up there when everything happened. Fuck…you’d see…you’d hear everything. The news reports before they stopped. Updates from mission control. The bombs…And then just…nothing. And you’d know that no one was coming. Ever. Christ. Those poor bastards.”

“Now, I was havin’ a real nice day before you said that,” Joel replies, grumpily.

“Sorry,” you apologise, turning to grimace at him. “I’ll shut up. You’re right. Ellie’s going to love this.”

Joel smiles toothily before he reaches to grasp the handle of the capsule on the floor.

“Gimmie a hand with this will ya?”

Between you, you manage to pull the heavy metal door open and the dry, stale, twenty year old air whooshes out from inside as you do.

“Wowww, this is so cool!” you say as you stick your head inside to look at the controls. It seems like there are a thousand buttons and switches spread over several consoles, all just begging to be pressed and fiddled with, as well as a joystick between the two empty seats that the capsule has to offer. “Joel, come look at this!”

“Yeah, just a sec,” he says. His voice is absent minded and far away and you pop your head back out to look at him. He’s staring at the spacesuits, and then his eyes flick back to the capsule.

“What you thinking?” you ask.

“What if…I could make this like a proper mission?” he says, slowly. “Get the helmet, get in the capsule, pretend to take off…But I’d need…I mean they gotta have a copy here somewhere…” He trails off again and you look at him in puzzlement, letting him work it out silently. He tips his head up, looking at the sky that can be seen through the glass dome of the ceiling above and hums thoughtfully.

“I think we got time,” he mutters to himself, then looks at you, a purposeful gleam in his eye. “How would you feel about explorin' a little more? Lookin’ around some of the stuff behind the scenes here?”

He leads you back downstairs to one of the smaller dinosaur exhibits where a set of double doors leads to a long, dark corridor that has precisely zero light, natural or otherwise and as such looks extremely uninviting to your eyes. You take a breath and follow Joel through, sticking very close to him as the combined light of your torches sweeps over the walls and floors. Still no fungus, still no spores, for which you are grateful, but you can feel the insidious blackness begin in your mind. The projector of your nightmares begins to whir as your brain makes connections between what is and what was and you feel only a little shame as you clutch on to Joel’s arm with a shaking hand. He stops immediately.

“You alright?” comes his deep voice from the darkness.

“Yeah, can just we get out of this corridor please?” Your voice is more terse than you had intended, but he seems to understand.

“We’ll step it up,” he promises. He takes your hand in his and holds it tight. A development which you had not been expecting but weren’t inclined to argue against given that it was actively helping in this situation.

The torchlight picks out plesiosaur bones, underwater fossils and information about them lining the walls, and additional small exhibits that you have no intention to stop and look at are displayed underneath. After what feels like twenty minutes of walking you come to another set of double doors, these ones with an ornately carved wooden sign above them proclaiming that you are about to enter The Hall of Minerals, and when you push open the door you give an audible sigh of relief. Tall windows on one side allow the fading light in, and it’s enough for you to be able to command your stomach to unclench. You give Joel’s hand a companionable squeeze before you let him go.

“Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

This place has been modelled to appear more old fashioned than the other parts of the museum that you’ve seen – polished wood panelled walls cocoon the room, towering decorative ionic pillars of crumbling plaster do almost nothing to support the ceiling, and spindly, Victorian looking display cases lie in dusty clustered rows, their treasures gleaming dully within. You pass through slowly, taking in the beauty of the gems, geodes and meteorites. Toward the centre of the room some large pieces of plaster have fallen from the ceiling and glass and jewels both glitter on the ground together, spilling out from the smashed case above. The shine of them catches your eye and you crouch down to take a better look.

“You think it would be bad if I took some of these?” you ask Joel as he comes to see what’s captured your attention.

“Well…I don’t think anyone’s comin’ back for ‘em,” he points out. “What, you want a diamond?”

“Nah, not my thing. But this-“ You pull up a shining pearlescent blue opal, veins of pink and orange and purple fire running through it. “-this is gorgeous.”

“Probably better to have someone appreciatin' ‘em. And its not like you smashed the case.”

“Thank you for supporting my life of thievery, Joel.”

“Long as you ain’t stealin’ my rations, I do not care.”

“So…what are we looking for, anyway?” you ask as you continue to pick through the rocks on the floor, pocketing small bits of lapis lazuli, fire agate and bismuth and feeling distinctly corvid-like at your desire to possess the useless, shiny things.

“A recordin'. Of a rocket launch. I’m gonna give it to her to listen to on her Walkman while we’re in the capsule. I can’t train her to be an astronaut. But I can at least try to help her live it.”

You look up at him, both impressed by the originality of the idea and touched by the sentiment of it. “That’s such a wonderful idea! She’s going to have the best birthday."

“Well, I don’t think she’s had too many she cares to remember. I want this one to be good.”

“She’ll be happy whatever you do,” you smile, resuming your sifting of the stones and glass. “As long as she’s with you. Dinosaurs and going in to space definitely can’t hurt though.”

Once you’ve collected up all of your ill-gotten gains, Joel heads toward the back corner, where you can see a door of the same polished wood, the sign proclaiming that the area is for Staff Only ruining the original intention of having it blend in with the rest of the wall.

Another long corridor lies beyond, this one thankfully with some more windows to light your way. The sky outside is now distinctly angry looking – dark grey clouds totally blotting out the sun, tree branches whipping violently in the wind and tiny patters of rain beginning to drum against the window panes and roof.

“We need to get back to the horses soon,” you mutter to Joel.

He nods his agreement and you each take a side of the corridor, looking at the descriptive plaques on each to determine what lies inside, and listening carefully to check if there are any lurking visitors aside from yourselves. Nothing grabs your attention except the administration office, where you both search through the drawers and come away with pens, notebooks, scissors, twine, a box cutter, and some duct tape. On your last sweep of the room you find a drawer locked at the bottom of one of the desks and manage to pry the cheap wooden front off with brute strength. A cup with a family portrait printed on it, papers and files that were no doubt once important and confidential, some sort of snack that now coated the inside of a Ziploc bag with black goo…and a voice recorder. You take the bag to wash out and reuse and then hand Joel the recorder.

“Ohhh you’re smart,” he smiles, and your heart gives a warm little tremble in your chest at his praise. He reduces the volume and presses the play button whereupon a low, garbled hissing stream of speech begins to emanate from the device, some sort of letter being dictated by the sounds of it. Satisfied that it works, Joel begins to put it in his pocket and then hesitates.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I just...well it's kinda stupid but I feel bad about recordin' over this. It's like...it's like erasin' the person."

"Well, they could still be kickin' out there," you reassure him with a shrug. "Besides, it would only have sat in that drawer until it became unusable. Better that we take it and use it for something to make Ellie's day special. And it's definitely more useful than these rocks that are probably going to weigh me down and drown me on the swim back."

He laughs at that, the previous small frown of doubt cleared from his handsome face.

"Well, I ain't helpin' you if you get in trouble. You live by the rock, you die by the rock."

"Joel, that is quite possibly the worst saying I've ever heard. I'm just gonna let myself drown after that!"

"Might catch on," he sniffs prissily, then he smiles and winks and you continue on your search for Ellie's birthday surprise.

The corridor leads to a stairwell and you descend into the depths of the museum, now relying fully on your torches again. Joel doesn’t wait this time and instead seeks your hand immediately, the warm press of his palm against yours a lifeline to the reality in front of you. Still no spores, still no infected, and by this time you’re starting to relax a little. You couldn’t be sure, but if anyone had been left in here, or come here to shelter you’re pretty sure you would have seen evidence of them by now. It helps, the idea that at least you probably won’t be fighting off the dead today, and your brain is able to sharpen into better focus without the distraction of that particular worry. The enclosed space of the corridor and its dry, ancient air is stifling though, and you briefly let go of Joel’s hand to unbutton your top shirt and roll up your sleeves to release some of the warmth that is starting to make itself known in prickles on your hairline.

“This looks like the place,” Joel mutters quietly a few moments later. Your torchlight joins his as the light picks out a nondescript door marked “Archives.”

The door deposits you on to a platform and twisting staircases with beautifully carved wooden bannisters lead down into the cavernous room inside. It’s lit by long, rectangular windows set horizontally high up into the walls and is packed floor to ceiling with…stuff. So much of it that your brain has difficulty processing what’s what initially. In-built wooden bookcases line the walls, more information held within than one person could possibly ever absorb. Small workspaces are interspersed with them, long dead computers showing their permanently blank faces to the room. Rows upon rows of large metal shelves and filing cabinets are spread out below, random labelled objects and heavy looking box files sitting forgotten and dusty upon them while smaller, older wooden catalogue drawers with yellowing identifying labels attached stretch away toward the back of the room. Large, semi-opaque plastic sheeting cover erratic piles and you catch glimpses of what lies beneath - plaster cast bones and cardboard boxes and enormous preserving jars, their innards hidden by the yellowish tinge of the embalming fluid that cocoons them. There’s even an old recording desk with tape reels off to one side, the process of digitisation halted forever.

The sheer scale of information to sort through is overwhelming, but you press on into the darkening room and begin to search separately, the feeble yellowish light from outside now being assisted by your torches. Joel takes the filing cabinets, you start with the older indexes. You find plenty to take your interest, but nothing like what Joel needs and even as you wish you had more time to stop and enjoy this peek into a world you had never known, your mind is itching with the knowledge that you have been at the museum for quite a while, your skin starting to buzz with the desire to move on, the ingrained habit of never staying too long in one spot hard to ignore. You stray briefly to the books, not expecting to find what you need, but with a desire to take some additional reading material while you can. Next to one of the workstations lies a copy of “An Idiot’s Guide To Space”, the page open to a section about quasars. Thinking of Joel’s reaction to being presented with it, you smile and put it into your backpack along with a couple of other tomes that you think Ellie might enjoy.

“I think this is it.”

Joel’s voice is low and excited, and you rush to join him in front of one of the filing cabinets. The CD cases he holds all bear handwritten notes – ‘Audio Gemini ‘65’, ‘Audio Apollo ‘69’, ‘Audio ISS ‘96’ – and he looks gleeful as he begins to shove them into his backpack.

“Hold up.” He’s instantly alert, hand moving automatically toward his gun and you shake your head to calm his fears. “No, it's okay. I just had a thought. We need to make sure all of this doesn’t get wet when we’re swimming back.” You cast about for a solution better than the Ziploc bag and light upon the plastic sheeting, tilting your chin toward it. He grins and you begin the process of extracting them from where they are twined around their contents, coughing as the dust they also contain twirls into the air.

Cargo successfully protected, you make your way back toward the entrance. You’ve never seen Joel quite like this before. His eyes are animated and sparkle with excitement, his gait lighter than usual and he literally has a little bounce in his step. The sight makes your heart hurt in the best way. It’s a glimpse into his life before, of the father that he was. Would have been. Could have been. It’s also very infectious and you find yourself grinning widely at both his glee and the prospect of Ellie's as you bid a final farewell to your Triceratops steed.

There is one final stop – the gift shop. The light is minimal in here too, the large windows having been overgrown with moss and vines that block out most of what light remains of the day, but since you’re not too worried about infected anymore you take your time to see what treasures you can find. It’s a pretty good haul. Several packs of unopened, unspoilt colouring pencils, stationary sets with cartoon dinisaurs decorating them, educational books for children that you intend to donate to the daycare and school, some items of clothing that have endured due to their plastic wrappings, a couple of umbrellas. Then, on to the more frivolous things.

“Hey Joel,” you call him over. “What do you think? I didn’t get Ellie anything for her birthday yet.”

He examines the collection in your hands. A few dinosaur pin badges that you thought would look nice on her bag, some glow in the dark stars to decorate her ceiling and two self-assembly kits - one of the solar system and one of a dinosaur skeleton.

“I’d wait to give them to her until you get back to Jackson, obviously. Wouldn’t be much of a surprise for her to come here otherwise!”

“I think you’re spoilin’ that girl,” he smiles, his tone indulgent.

“Says the man who’s risked life and limb and spent an entire week making sure she would get here without encountering any infected,” you retort, also with a smile.

“We ain’t exactly been overrun,” he chuckles.

“Hey, you didn’t know what was out here when you started this. Could have been far worse.”

“Well, that’s true. She’ll love them. The dinosaur kit’s for you though, right?”

“Dammit, you got me! How did you know?”

“I’m psychic, didn’t you know? I know everything that goes on in that head of yours.”

Though he’s clearly teasing, you still can’t stop the flustered feeling that flutters in your chest at his words, and you try very hard not to allow some of the more explicit daydreams that you’ve had about him float to the surface of your mind.

“It’s a Triceratops,” he clarifies, and you hope you’ve gotten away with your embarrassment once again.

As you exit the museum, you're perturbed to see that the sky is looking steadily more menacing. The grey clouds above are heavy and brooding, and you resign yourself to the possibility of staying in the tent all night. Though was it really resigning yourself if you were looking forward to it? To talking to Joel, listening to him strum softly on his guitar, to falling asleep next to him under the soothing hiss of the rain pattering on your tent?

“Urgh, my boots were so nearly dryyyy,” you whinge as you step back into the pool of water. “If you come across any next time you’re on a run, please get them for me. These are never going to recover!”

“Get in line,” he calls back as he swims ahead. “I’ll be lookin’ for my own!”

You make it about halfway back before the heavens open. Fat droplets splash into the water around you and even though you’re half submerged and wet from the neck down already, somehow the rain makes you feel even more soaked through. God only knew how you were going to dry off-

A wave of water suddenly tips over your head and you splutter, swiping at your eyes so your vision clears. When it does, you’re met with the sight of Joel grinning at you as if he had just told an amazing joke.

“What the fuck! What was that for?!”

“What? You can’t get much wetter!” he laughs as he gestures to the sky.

You swim closer toward him with exaggerated movements, launching wave after wave of water over him and when you reach him you take him by surprise when you grab on to his broad shoulders and push him down to dunk him under the agitated surface of the once-peaceful stream.

“Neither can you, now,” you cry triumphantly as you swim away from him.

“I’ll get you for that!” you hear him splutter behind you.

“Gotta catch me first, Miller,” you shout back gleefully as you race to shore, the hissing splash of rain surrounding you.

In fact, you reach the shore at the same time and you kick water at each other as you exit the stream, both still trying to get the upper hand in your silly game.

“Hey! Not fair, your legs are bigger than mine,” you protest as a particularly large wave reaches you.

You make a break for the trees and stand under their relative shelter, chuckling softly as you start to try to wring out the bottom of your shirt and barely noticing the droplets of water that slide off the leaves above and trail down the nape of your neck.

“Aw man, I think I might as well just throw these in there and be done with it!” you say as you shake your arms violently, trying in vain to make yourself even a little bit drier. “At least now I don’t need to try to wash in-“

Your words are stolen from you as you look up at Joel. Instead of following your futile efforts to dry off, he’s rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and is now running his hands through his hair to push it back from his face. Time seems to slow as you stare, taking in the way his fingers run smoothly through the mix of slicked back silver and black, veins prominent on the back of his hands, his brow furrowed a little and eyes closed as he concentrates on his task. One stubborn curl won’t stay. It pops forward over his forehead and deposits a droplet of water that runs down the bold curve of his nose to combine with another and another as they join together and run in rivulets over his neck, the hollow of his throat, until they melt into the rest of the moisture on his skin.

The air in your lungs feels trapped. You can’t take a breath in, you don’t even want to because if you do it means the moment will have passed and you will have to tear your eyes away from the divine sight you have been presented with. And it’s already too late, far too late. He must have seen you. You’ve been staring at him for way too long for him not to have noticed.

But no, he hasn’t. Because he’s staring at you too, and it's as if time has now simply ceased to be altogether. A shiver passes through you at the look in his eyes. The most tender hunger you’ve ever seen lies within those dark and fathomless depths. They linger on your lips, they rove slowly downward, and suddenly you realise that you forgot to do your shirt up before swimming back. Your chest moves more rapidly at the revelation, and he allows his eyes to rake down your body before he too seems to remember himself. He drags his eyes back to your face and there is a thickening in the air that has nothing to do with the storm clouds.

He steps forward confidently, once, twice, and you do not step back. His hand comes up, steady as anything. This close he’s still so calm, but you feel like you’re trembling so hard that you’re practically vibrating. The pad of his finger is calloused under your jaw as he tilts your chin and you go with it willingly. He cradles your jaw in one large hand as his thumb softly traces a water droplet from your lower lip, dragging it slightly with the movement, and you can’t take your eyes from the endless abyss of his as he bends to you, as he moves himself impossibly near. His lips are so close to yours that you can feel the warmth of his breath brush against you and now you can’t take your eyes off of that perfect mouth, can almost taste the sweetness of him-

BOOM

He leaps backward, the thunder startling you apart and you’re so dizzied by what has happened and what has not happened that you can’t even translate the words that are now falling from those beautiful lips.

“Shit! The horses!”

Your brain finally catches up with your ears and your eyes grow wide. Shit. The horses.

Taglist - @thisshipwillsail316 @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @elegantduckturtle @dihra-vesa @midwesternwitchery @just-here-for-the-moment @eri16 @readsalot73 @littlemisspascal @princessxkenobi @harriedandharassed @pagannightwitch @tentacruels @kirsteng42 @shirks-all-responsibilities @deadhumourist @pedrostories @abbyhaslongshorts @celebrtyskinz @majahu @sanscas @myloveistoolittle @ohthemisssery

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#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel tlou x reader #joel tlou x you #joel tlou x f!reader #joel tlou x female reader #joel tlou fanfic #joel miller fanfic #joel tlou fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fanfic #tlou fanfiction

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tiptapricot · 1 year

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Misadventure May Day 7!

Longest one so far but I think I’m alright w it n I’m rly excited for tomorrowsSS!!

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7. Plan Of Action

The underside of the beast is worse than its claws. It’s warm and muscled, leathery skin slamming against the two of them as the lasso bobs in the rough air. Rigel’s grip stays firm around Romero as they’re brought up and up at breakneck speed, the thing releasing a chittering whine that rumbles its gut like a bass string, the regular screech trapped behind roped shut teeth.

It doesn’t stay within the city limits this time, it just keeps rising, wings beating hard, illuminated in scarce moments to show a thrashing mass of dark flesh and sinew. They rip through the net dome with a snapping sound, string and sharp wood scraping down against them in bristling carnage.

“Yahh-hoo!” Rigel whoops, craning their neck down to look at Romero. “You havin’ fun?” they ask.

Romero’s fingers tighten against their sternum, curving angrily into the rocky gaps around their neck.

“Ah don’t look at me like that ‘Mero, I know ya trust me!”

He doesn’t, he really doesn’t.

“I’ve got us covered, promise! Now come on and use those nice hands of yours to get us up this rope!”

Romero stares at them hard, and for a moment his light flickers, disbelief and indignance choking out the warmth. And then, because there is nothing else to do, he pushes an arm up pointedly, and begins to pull them along the beast’s underbelly, alternating his grip with Rigel.

Now, Romero doesn’t fancy himself an angry man. He tries to be reasonable, he tries to get things done and get them done straight. He doesn’t like fighting, despite the job field he’s taken on, he just finds it… unpleasant. It gets complicated and messy too fast, makes people do stupid things and hurt people they’d rather not. He knows he’ll stop someday, that he’ll set down the gun, settle down on some nice farm and waste whatever days he’s got left of existence growing tomatoes or lavender, but that’s not happening quite yet. For the moment, this is his job, and he’ll just try to quell that anger and push on through.

He’s absolutely failing at that right now, though.

“So once we get up there, we’re gonna flip topside!” Rigel shouts, like it’s the easiest task in the world.

Romero pauses in the climb, looking at them incredulously again.

Rigel cocks their head, holding Romero a bit tighter as the creature jerks in a different direction to try and shake them off. “It’ll work fine,” they say, “you just tag along now! Follow what I do!”

And Romero does, because he has to, because they are in the fucking sky.

When they finally reach the creature’s jaw, the world is a void of cold air and heated monster, and all that matters is that Rigel’s lasso is still stuck right around the things snout. The knot is digging into its soft gullet, keeping them from falling into whatever abyss lays below.

The creature’s eyes gleam in the light, contracting into thin dots that stutter between them up close.

“Thar she flies!” Rigel yells.

The beast growls again, a vibration that makes them both shiver.

“Now don’t be like that darlin’, we’re here to take you for a ride! You’ve been so courteous with yours, we only gotta return the favor!”

They jut their jaw out slightly, one of those movements that gives a sense of a bright smile that Romero swears he can almost see, before they shift to press their teeth against the side of his head, voice dropping.

“Now hold on tight and don’t let go, even when I lean away. Get ready to grab your pistol, we’re gonna need it.”

And with that they lean back, slipping a hand up to hook in between the beast’s jaw and their lasso. Immediately, Romero digs his arms into the gap of their hips and spine, gripping tightly to the hard, thick, surface. Rigel’s fingers slip past to unhook something from their belt, and Romero readies himself for a free fall, for getting dive bombed by sharp white fangs and the billowing mass of a predator’s body. He readies himself for the action of an idiot, for a companion too lax and impulsive to think twice about process, but he also hopes, with a selfish, burning, spark, that Rigel’s confidence has a basis beyond good aim.

There’s a soft grunt as Rigel moves, a jerk of their body and a muffled screech of pain from the creature, hot breath gusting through tight lips, before blood splatters against Romero’s collar, and all at once he’s being hauled up by Rigel’s hips and over the swell of a hairy neck. He slips around to hold on against their back in the process, jostled out of place, and finds them settling against the base of the creature’s skull. Still gripping tight, Romero watches Rigel lean forward to wrench a knife from the bat’s snout, looping the lasso around its ears like a makeshift headstall.

“Yaaah-hoo!” they cry, voice rising triumphantly over the wind.

The creature thrashes, diving suddenly and twisting to try and shake them off. Rigel keeps the two of them pulled snug against its neck, forearm wrapped up in their lasso.

“Figured we can’t very well fight this thing down there!” they shout back to Romero. “Not when it’s got half a dozen things to bulldoze through and we got no space to move, so thought instead we’d wrestle it down like a ragin’ bronco!”

They’re jerked heavily to the side as the creature bucks mid-air, and Rigel whoops loudly again.

“Now get that pistol o’ yours out and shoot it in the ear! We’re gonna throw it off balance!”

Romero leans around them quickly and does just that, the beast flinching and rearing up immediately as his hand recoils, pulling the gun back gleaming. And it makes sense. It fucking makes sense and it’s worked so far against anything that should’ve, and for the moment he feels ready to carry this stupid goddamned idea to fruition, whatever next step Rigel has planned.

But… they make no move afterwards. They just sit straight and proud and keep the two of them secured as the bat becomes more and more erratic beneath them, and Romero’s hope sinks.

He jostles them roughly with the arm looped around their waist, throwing his free hand up when they crane back to look at him as if to say “Now what?!”

“Don’t worry,” Rigel yells, an ecstatic brightness filling their voice, “this is where he comes in!”

———

(ID in ALT)

#misadventure may 2023 #misadventure may #the fruits ocs #romero tag #rigel tag #my fic #my-fic #writing #cowboys

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fatty-bandmates · 1 year

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Any of your own or anyone else's inventions ever gotten you into some sticky situations Sandy?

"There was one time Ah tried giving Spongebob a home made water pill, just so he could hang out at the tree dome without havin' to wear a helmet. Only problem was that he ended up swelling like a balloon. Ah had to jump off mah tree just to ring the water outta 'im. Though, by the look on his face, Ah think he might've liked it."

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rad-is-more · 5 years

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Uruha discharging wild looks in the club tonight

#he's dancing so hard during the last few songs... havin a great time .... lovin it #Rad watches things #DISCHARGE IS A GREAT SONG 2006 2010 AND ONWARDS #tokyo dome spam #The GazettE #Uruha

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anneimaginesundertale · 3 years

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Wish Upon a Star

A Birthday Drabble for @snowflakeimagines

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

“You havin’ a good birthday so far?” Sans asked as the two of you left Grillby’s hand in hand.

“Oh yeah,” you assured him. “Probably the best I’ve ever had. Burgers and fries with my best skelebae? What more could a girl ask for?”

Sans swung your twined hands. “Well,” he said, “I did have a bit more planned. You up for a shortcut to the planetarium? I, uh, left your present at work.” His eye lights twinkled as he smiled at you.

You didn’t believe that for a second, not with that grin, but you sighed and said, “I guess we could go for a few minutes, if there’s a present involved.”

“Hold tight for a shortcut then,” Sans said and he wrapped his arms around you. You felt the familiar pull as he moved both of you through time and space. You closed your eyes. The sensation of the shortcut itself wasn’t particularly pleasant, but the feeling of Sans’s arms around you definitely was.

“Here we are,” he whispered in your ear.

You opened your eyes again and found yourself in the control room for the planetarium’s telescope. You’d been here before—on your first date with Sans, in fact—but it still filled you with awe. The big dome on the ceiling showed you the entire starry sky. Sans looked up at it with you. “Pretty out of this world, huh?” he said. “They’re almost as beautiful as you.”

“Pssh, please,” you said, feeling your cheeks flush slightly at the compliment. “You say that to every girl you bring up here.”

“You’re the only one I ever bring up here.” He grinned at you. “Come on. I wanna show you your present.”

You expected him to pull a box out from under the computer desk, or maybe even from the telescope if he was trying to be funny, but instead, Sans sat down at the desk and began typing on the computer. It took you a minute to realize he was directing the telescope, moving it to focus on a particular point in space. You watched as the screen drifted through stars and past planets until it was near a certain tilted blue-green planet.

“Uranus?” you asked.

“It’s your favorite planet, right?”

“Yeah,” you said, touched that he’d remembered that from your first date. “Since I was six.”

“I remember,” Sans said. “We’ve gotta go a little past it now, though.” He kept moving the telescope, directing it back out into the darkness of space. You watched it a bit longer and then Sans stopped it again. This time it was focused on a blue-white star.

“What’s that?” you asked.

“A star,” Sans said. “SN-090921 is its technical name, but, well, you can call it whatever you want.” He gave you that grin again. “It’s yours now.” You barely even noticed him pulling out an envelope from his inventory.

“It’s mine?” you sputtered. “What—what does that even mean?”

“It means I bought it for you, and that gives you naming rights,” Sans says. He holds out the envelope to you. “That’s your star, and you can look at it any time you want.”

You had to blink back sudden hot tears. “Sans…” You flung your arms around his neck. The thought that he had bought a star for you—a whole fricking star, a real star!—was overwhelming you. You buried your face in his shoulder and held onto him for dear life.

“I love you,” you mumbled into his sweatshirt. “You’re the best. I love you so much.”

You felt him laugh. You felt his soul humming in his chest as he wrapped his arms around you. “I wasn’t sure what to get you,” he said. “You deserve more than jewelry or candy or stuff like that. You’re so special to me, Snow, and I love you so much. I figured, I call you starshine and starlight…And now you have a star with unlimited wishes.”

“What do I need wishes for?” you said, looking up at him. “I’ve got everything I ever wanted right here, with you.”

His cheekbones bloomed with that blue blush you loved so much and his eyelights turned into little hearts. “Aww, Snow…”

“Thank you,” you said. “I love you, Sans.”

“I love you, starlight.”

The two of you kissed.

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

Happy birthday, Snow!!! I hope it’s a great one! Sans loves you more than words can say, and I am so, so glad that you’re my friend! I’m posting this now so hopefully you’ll see it when you get up on your birthday (9/9). (Time zones are a stupid thing…)

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airplanned · 3 years

Text

@suzanaboss Zelink with country boy (with a charming accent) Link? I hope this isn't too specific? 🤣

***

Link didn't like goin' to the castle. It wasn't about the bad memories of the twilight--of the ghostly guards shakin' in fear and the screams of the winged monsters, of the way the portals in the throne room had smelled like burnin' hair as the evil beast charged through 'em, or the way the queen had looked at him with someone else's eyes. The castle was new. Rebuilt and unrecognizable. It reminded him now of clouds rimmed in gold.

A golden linin', if you will.

Nah. He didn't like goin' there because he didn't like havin' to talk in front of so many people. And it's not like he could slip in. The queen had made it clear that was unacceptable for reasons he didn't quite comprehend. So he'd make himself look smart, with shined shoes and combed hair and a laundered tunic, and he'd go in, and every single person a court would wanna talk to 'im. Congratulate 'im. Ask about his adventures. His tongue would snarl into a knot until he could find the queen in the crowd, give her a pleadin' look, and have her rescue him.

She must think savin' him was funny, because she always had a smile when she swept up to him and slipped her arm through his, beatific and smug as she guided him away. A smile she never really wore any other time so far as he could tell.

"What report have you brought me today, hero?"

Her voice was always soft like his. It was something they shared. But where his was low, with vowels stretched like honey and endings cut short, her words were clear and crisp and rounded like the domes of the ceilings overhead.

"The earthquake up on Death Mountain did some damage, but we got the debris blown outta the way, so travel's open again. Kakariko Village is already sendin' up supplies."

"What sort of supplies do they need?" Clearly, his news was more serious than she was expectin' and determination had replaced her good humor.

He pulled a list from his pocket--somethin' written up by the folks in Goron City and added to in Kakriko since they knew he was headed this way.

She skimmed it and nodded. "We'll see what we can do."

The corner of his mouth twitched.

"What?" Her teasing good humor had returned.

"I just like the way ya talk."

She laughed, an' it sounded like bells.

#Zelda #my fic #prompt

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scapegrace74-blog · 4 years

Text

Gratitude

A/N When we last saw Jamie and Claire, they’d crashed, burned (somewhat literally) and declared their mutual interest in each other in their individual ways. Whither now, our pair?

All other parts of the Metric Universe are available on my AO3 page.

The song by Big Red Machine (another guest artist!) that inspired the title is here.

June 1, 2018, Costa Coffee, Whitechapel, London, England

“It feels like ye might be avoiding me, Sassenach.”

It occurred to her that Jamie knew her schedule and habits to an uncomfortable degree for him to be at her favourite coffee shop at exactly the point in her shift when she could no longer resist the siren call of caffeine.

Since the fire in their building and Jamie’s subsequent profession of love, they’d been living under separate roofs. Claire was sleeping on the couch at the home of one of her fellow medical students, and Jamie was bunking down with his uncle. Their flat had escaped the flames, suffering only smoke damage, but it would be at least eight weeks before the building was declared structurally sound and they could move back in.

Heading to the counter, Claire purchased her usual extra-large oat milk cortado with a fruited teacake, then added a flat black with raw sugar for Jamie. Settling across from him, she slid his coffee across the tiny table before splitting her teacake and balancing half on his saucer. He nodded his thanks, but was otherwise silent, waiting her out.

“I don’t know how to do this,” she began, surprising them both with the frankness of her opening salvo. It helped, she found, to be paying undue attention to stirring her coffee as she spoke.

“That doesna sound like ye, mo nighean donn. Why don’t ye tell me what part is vexin’ ye, an’ we can see if we canna bash our brains t’gether til we come up wi’ a plan, aye?”

She knew what he was doing. Cleverly depersonalizing their situation so that she could approach it like any other problem. Part of her resented his easy manipulation, grounded as it was in how well he knew her. But there was a secret part of her that thrilled at the emotional intimacy. To be seen, truly seen, in all her messy complexity, was a novel experience. Jamie knew the architecture of her heart, all its dark corners and blind hallways. He must have recognized something worthy, to be willing to so patiently coax her away from her solitude.

Plus, she’d spent the last year training him to leave the toilet seat down. That wasn’t the sort of work you just walked away from.

“It’s... god, where do I start? It’s having no idea what it means to be in a healthy adult relationship. And the crippling fear that if I fuck this up, it’ll ruin our friendship, which is so important to me, Jamie. I don’t think you have any idea... Plus our living situation...”

“We arenna livin’ t’gether for the moment, Sassenach,” Jamie interrupted. He had leaned forward across the table as she stammered through her recitation, and his curls had flopped across his brow in that boyish way they had. Her chest tightened, torn between affection and blind terror.

“No. That’s true.”

“With yer permission, I’d like tae make a suggestion.” At her cautious nod, Jamie continued. “For the next two months, we willna be roommates. I’d like tae... court ye...”

“Court me?!” Claire blurted out. “What, like in a Jane Austen novel?” She couldn’t help but smile at Jamie as he blushed, but he continued undeterred.

“Aye, like that. Ye’re used tae havin’ all the answers, Sassenach, but this isna one of yer wee tests tha’ ye can study for. We’re gonna have tae wing it, and see where it takes us. But I promise ye, I willna play ye false and I willna walk away. Will ye at least give this thing between us a chance? If it doesna work, we can go back tae livin’ t’gether as friends, no questions asked.”

At some point during his speech, their hands had met across the table. She could feel Jamie’s trembling through his fingertips. He was scared too, but he was being brave because he felt it was worth the risk. How could she dare to do otherwise?

“Alright,” she conceded, and his smile warmed her face like sunshine. “What do you propose, then? Shall I don my best parlour gown and set out the petit fours, Master Fraser?”

“Och, I dinna mean tae be makin’ me call me master quite yet, Sassenach,” he teased, delighting in her blush. “I’ll be at yer door t’morrow. Three sharp. Wear somethin’ comfortable an’ bring a jumper for after dark.”

Finishing his teacake in three large bites, Jamie hopped up from his seat and brushed the crumbs from his jeans. With a mischievous grin and a cock-eyed wink, he raised her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles.

“Until tomorrow then, milady.”

Jesus Christ, what had she just done?

***

To her relief, Jamie showed up at Joe’s front door in his usual jeans and Henley, not a frock coat and jodhpurs He wasn’t even carrying flowers. Joe tried to buttonhole him with talk of the previous night’s football match, but after a few minutes of polite chitchat Jamie ushered Claire out the door, joking that he’d have her home before curfew.

She wasn’t quite sure what to make of his behaviour. The Jamie she knew had always been charming, when he wasn’t busy putting his foot in his mouth. Now she marveled at his apparent ease as they descended the steps into the Tube.

Heading west on the District Line, thoughts continued to assail her. Was he always this self-confident on a date? How often did he go out with other women, anyway? She’d assumed she knew everything there was to know about Jamie, but maybe she was wrong. Before Frank, her last date had been back in nursing school, and a VHS player and copious cheap beer had been involved. Despite the over-zealous air conditioning in their train, her palms began to sweat.

“Ye needn’t be afraid of me, Claire,” Jamie’s soft burr interrupted her quiet panic attack. “I’m no’ going tae suddenly turn into some man ye dinna recognize, just because I’m tryin’ tae romance ye a wee bit.”

Once again, with only a few words Jamie had peeled away her layers of confusion and doubt to strike at the core of what was bothering her. She forced herself to take a deep breath and immediately recognized Jamie’s scent; a blend of laundry detergent, his vetiver bar soap, and a touch of chlorine left over from the morning’s swim. It set her at ease. He hadn’t worn cologne. His left boot had a frayed lace that had needed changing since March. His cuticles were as inexplicably perfectly formed as always. He was her Jamie, and she could trust him to behave in accordance with what she already knew of him, even in this uncharted territory.

“So, where exactly are we going?” she asked after the crackling announcement for St. James Park had died away.

“Would it ease yer mind a wee bit, tae ken?”

“Maybe a wee bit,” she confessed.

“Well, then, how can I refuse? Have ye e’er been tae the Chelsea Physic Garden, Sassenach?”

***

As it turned out, by some grievous oversight she hadn’t. Wedged between a high brick wall and the Thames was a three hundred and fifty year old urban oasis, filled with plants that could either treat your ailments or kill you. Naturally, she was enchanted. Jamie followed her between the beds and down the shaded lanes of pea gravel, a soft smile held between his lips.

When the garden closed, they walked along the Embankment and over the Thames at Chelsea Bridge, stopping to watch the sun set over the murky water. A food truck beckoned with its aroma of chips and burgers, which they ate on a nearby bench, going back for extra napkins when their choice in toppings proved especially messy.

It was the least romantic meal she’d ever eaten, and she was soothed and smitten in equal measure.

Washing grease from his hands in a drinking fountain, Jamie turned to her in the half-light.

“Now, I have a verra important question of ye, Sassenach, and how ye answer will determine the future course of our evening t’gether.”

Here it was, she balked. The hook at the end of the line. The sour amongst so much sweetness. She shouldn’t have expected...

“Are ye,” Jamie continued, unaware of her inner monologue, “afraid of heights?”

... no different than any other man, with his...

“Am I what?” she blurted, once her brain caught up with her ears.

“Afraid of heights? An’ a bit of a scamper up some scaffolding?”

Jamie was pointing over her shoulder. She peered into the night, but all she could make out was the hulking shadow of the derelict Battersea Power Station.

***

It was a convoluted story, but the outline went something like this: the massive coal-fired station, with its four spire-like chimneys, was slated for redevelopment. Jamie had taken part in an onsite review of the location by the London Fire Service, and had befriended a representative of the developer. Somehow, this friend had granted Jamie access to the site, which is how Claire now found herself over fifty metres above the ground, climbing a seemingly endless series of metal steps, with her curls trying to escape the confines of a workman’s hard hat.

“You really know how to show a girl a good time, Jamie Fraser,” she grumbled as they came to a landing made out of scaffolding. Above them, a white chimney ascended into the dome of the sky.

“Ye canna say I dinna take yer breath away, Sassenach,” he teased.

She was about to retort when they stepped around the base of the chimney tower, and all words failed her.

Rolled out far below their feet, the Thames was a black carpet reflecting millions of pinpoint gems skyward, broken by belts of light where it was traversed by a bridge. Beyond the eastern bend in the river, the City glowed with its eternal hum. The colossal space taken up by the station was a palpable presence behind their backs.

“It reminds me of yer Uncle Lamb’s saying, about makin’ our present out of the bones of our past. Twasn’t the original plan, but here she stands, still vital and strong, being remade anew. An’ a beautiful vision fer all tha’.”

She wasn’t convinced that Jamie was talking about the power station.

A cool breeze blew off the river, and she shivered. A jacket still warm with body heat immediately covered her shoulders. They stood side by side in silence, just taking in the view.

When their hands bumped, it seemed the most natural thing in the world to thread her fingers with his own.

“You’ve set the bar impossibly high for any future dates, you know,” she commented eventually.

“Ye’re only sayin’ that because ye dinna ken what I have planned next.” His grin was impossibly smug, and she fought the urge to kiss it right off his beautiful mouth. He must have read the impulse in her eyes, because his face was slowly approaching her own, eyes a volatile mix of hope and trepidation.

Her own eyes fluttered closed in anticipation. Just as their lips should have been meeting, their was a ductile crunch, and their heads bounced apart with comedic timing. Their hard helmets had collided. Jamie swore softly beneath his breath, but Claire couldn’t stop giggling.

“Oh, thank god. It is you. I was beginning to wonder.”

***

It was late when they finally exited the Tube, but Jamie insisted on accompanying Claire all the way to the Abernathy’s front door. She handed him back his leather jacket, feeling suddenly awkward in the brightly lit hall. The date had been magical, far beyond her wildest expectations, and it felt strange to return to the prosaic reality of their lives.

“Thank you for a wonderful time, Jamie.”

“Twas my pleasure, Sassenach. I’ve missed ye, these past few weeks. And I really hope... well, you’ll tell me if you want to do somethin’ like this again, aye?” His hand went to the back of his neck in a gesture she knew well. Bless the man, he had no idea the effect he had on her. It was well past time to let him know.

“I’d love that. Truly. I’ve got final exams to study for, but maybe sometime next week?”

"Well then,” he replied, clearly delighted with her response. “I should let ye get some sleep. Good luck on yer exams, Sassenach. And thank ye, fer bein’ willing tae give this a chance. Twas a day I’ll ne’er forget.”

He began to walk away.

“Jamie!” He turned around.

“Aye?”

Walking forward to the beat of her pounding heart, she halted when their bellies were practically touching. Lifting up on tiptoe, she pressed into his mouth. Time slowed to a syrupy drip as their lips met for the first time. His rough exhale was the only sound in the cocoon of sensation that enveloped them. It felt like she was falling through an endless cloud. Too soon, she had to pull away to capture her breath, and the spell was broken. Judging by his moonstruck expression, Jamie had been equally affected. She smiled when she realized his arms were still held aloft, like he was trying to hold on to the memory of their kiss.

“Goodnight, James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser,” she purred before she disappeared from his sight.

#my writing #outlander

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inkribbon796 · 3 years

Text

Backstage Blues

Summary: Roman is determined to plan out the greatest wedding in history, if only he could get some help on that front.

A/N: I have decided that for the sake of the narrative that Tubbo and Ranboo’s marriage is a lot more common knowledge, Michael’s existence is still not, but whether Techno knows about that marriage is up in the air because he’s Techno. He focuses on weird stuff.

Things were strangely quiet in Egoton. Especially for the amount of people trying to actively kill each other these days.

The heroes had some of their usual problems to deal with: robberies, press talks, superhero activity; things that the heroes usually had to take care of.

The press wanted interviews with the heroes’ new “apprentices” and they were counting three of them, despite the fact that the Coalition had only two currently on record: Bomble Bee, Big Man . . . and Enderwalk, as Tubbo liked to introduce Ranboo.

With Tubbo’s husband almost acting like an apprentice, and the city absolutely loved the idea of a new trio of apprentices. Tommy loved being on TV, screaming and cursing when Ethan didn’t try to distract him from something else. And Tubbo who would ask overly invasive questions on camera about the most population-dense area of the city. Ranboo often helped Logan with Tubbo so that he didn’t accidentally give out bomb threats on live news feeds. Ranboo between his more demonic appearances and skittish nature the news could get close to him without putting themselves in harm’s way.

Despite Logan and the rest of the more senior heroes’ efforts, Ranboo was starting to become more and more an attachment onto the Sides. Mostly because Ranboo liked to come over and talk to Tubbo, and other times he liked to bring little snacks and trinkets. He wasn’t an apprentice yet, but with two of his little trio in the Coalition, a lot of people figured it was only a matter of time.

And occasionally he actually remembered to wear that identity-obscuring outfit Tubbo had made him a week ago.

Roman was really coming around to Tubbo, mostly because he and Tommy liked to listen to music and quote random musicals. Which was really all the requirement that Roman needed to like someone.

Today Logan, Tubbo, and Ranboo had accompanied Roman on a very important mission. Mostly because Roman was meeting with Illinois and Eric to help finalize some final touches on what Roman was sure was going to be the most glorious wedding in all of existence.

The couple met Roman in an outdoor café, taking advantage of the nice, warm summer weather. Roman was at one table with Eric and Illinois, while Logan was two tables over with Tubbo and Ranboo. Everyone except for Illinois were in superhero outfits, mostly because Illinois didn’t care about his own identity and he wasn’t a hero.

Any errant press that wanted a picture of “Egoton’s own Romeo and Juliet” because one was a hero and the other worked in Dark’s network — to which Illinois originally shouted when he first heard that “at least pick a couple with a chance” — and the sight of them always made Eric extremely jumpy. After Illinois caught sight of them it usually took a second or two for them to suddenly get pulled into a portal and dumped somewhere else to give the couple a little bit of privacy.

After another ameteur “reporter” had been dealt with, Roman looked over to the trio over in the other table. Tubbo and Logan were working on some equipment while “watching” Illinois. Ranboo’s lanky legs were pulled up in his chair and he was folded up in his seat.

Honestly Roman was pretty sure you could shove a bus under their noses and they wouldn’t notice. Which was a disappointment because he needed a third party to help give his ideas a little positive gratification because Illinois was letting Dark completely plan the entire affair with no consideration for what Roman suggested except for “paltry concessions”. Roman needed Patton to back him up, but Illinois drew the line at two Sides being part of his wedding planning at any one time.

“It’ll be a wonderful experience,” Roman promised, looking back from his failed check for Logan’s support. Then he looked over to Tubbo. “Bomble, you’re married, tell him.”

“Huh?” Tubbo snapped to look at him, clearly distracted by what he was working on. Ranboo put his feet down.

“You’re married,” Roman urged. “Explosion Boy needs a little bit of confidence for the wedding. How’d you and your husband get married? I’m sure it was beautiful.”

Tubbo snorted, “I got married fer[1] tax benefits.”

Roman blinked at him, “What?”

Tubbo chuckled to himself, looking positively pleased with himself. “Yeah, bonded pairs in the SMP get a bit of an aura break if yer linked with an empath. I got sick an’ tired ‘a havin’ ta pay that extremely pricey piper an’ Ranboo had just joined so when I saw him I went “that’s the one” an’ we were already kinda friends so BAM! We’ve been married fer almost six months now.”[2]

“What?” Roman repeated in complete, astonished confusion.

“Sides,”[3] Tubbo added, “yer older than I am, shouldn’t you have changed yer apprentice name ta somethin’ like, I don’t know? Concussion? Explosive Decompression. Or Combust-ION?”[4]

Tubbo paused, thinking, “That last one’s not half bad, I probably should have gone with that one.”

Another pause from the young arsonist passed, “Okay if you don’t take that one I want it after I stop bein’[5] an apprentice.”

“I, uh, I,” Eric stalled nervously.

“If he likes the name it stays,” Illinois dismissed. “If he wants to change it, he’ll get around to it.”

Tubbo shrugged, turning back to his projects with his usual dismissive but chipper demeanor.

“There must have been some romantic aspect of your engagement,” Roman demanded in exasperation.

“Nah, man,” Tubbo chuckled. “You are talkin’ ta the wrong person. You should talk ta my sister an’ her girlfriend. Or Karl’s fiancés. That would probably make yer argument work.”[6]

“So if you got married for taxes, which, okay, I get that, how did you two actually decide to get married to each other?” Illinois looked confused but intrigued at the same time.

“Well Tubbo was already making jokes that we were already married and divorced so I just proposed,” Ranboo answered. “I kinda looked online how to do it and Tubbo had been mentioning the thing so I gave him some jewelry and I said “do you wanna get married for tax benefits” and to my amazement he said yes.”

“I was smitten,” Tubbo joked. “Certainly helped that he was throwin’[7] necklaces an’[8] gemstones at me.”

“Man you two aren’t just a can of worms, you’re a whole boat of ‘em[9] aren’t you?” Illinois asked.

“Neat trick I didn’t realize until afterward is that tax benefits count in the human world too,” Tubbo grinned.

“You are an absolute menace,” Logan told Tubbo, and the teen just startled cackling in laughter.

“Isn’t it great?” Tubbo grinned before looking back at Eric. “I’m sure yer weddin’ will be nice an’ pretty an’ stuff. Yer in love an’ shit, it’ll be great.”[10]

“I’m,” Eric hummed, making the word sound more like a smushed “m” in his nervousness. “Nervous.”

He was gripping onto his knees, “I-I’ll trip over my . . . stupid legs or—”

Illinois slowly and gently placed his hand over one of Eric’s. “Dulcito,[11] if you’re worried about it we can get you a wheelchair or I can just carry you down to the altar.”

Eric’s face went red, he started twitching a bit, “But . . . I’m supposed to walk down the aisle.”

“Fuck that,” Illinois told him, leaning in. “You’ll look lovely whatever you do, even impossibly lovelier if you’re happy. I don’t want you to hurt yourself over this, or be so worried you’re not enjoying it. It’s our day. Your day. We’re doing a huge ceremony because a bunch of people want to be there. But I could grab Host and my dad and we could go down today to the closest courthouse and be out in an hour flat.”

Roman twitched uncomfortably.

“We did that,” Ranboo cut in, looking back at Tubbo. “We had what? Six people?”

Tubbo started quickly counting on his fingers, “Puffy, Foolish, FJ, me, you, Niki, Eret, Michael . . . Yeah six, not includin’[12] us. Eight, if you do.”

“It was a nice little ceremony.” Ranboo reminisced with a smile on his face. “Eret married us, your sister walked me down the aisle.”

“You tripped on the stairs,” Tubbo chuckled, before turning to the engaged couple, “do yourselves a favor an’[8] make a ramp. Boo here is all legs like a mad giraffe an’[8] he ripped his dress when he tripped. Almost knockin’[13] Puffy over and you can’t do much worse than that, let me tell you.”

That didn’t seem to calm Eric’s nerves.

“Already been planned,” Illinois reassured.

“We’ll get back to that, just excuse me,” Roman cut in, “so your best friend didn’t even show up to your wedding?”

“No, he couldn’t have, he . . .” Tubbo paused, clearly thinking about something. “Big Man couldn’t be there, talk ta[14] him about it, it’s really not my place ta[14] bring it up. It wasn’t his fault, Dream just . . . like I said, it’s not my place ta[14] talk about it.”

“I,” Logan stalled, something in Logan’s brain didn’t like how that had been worded. “I see.”

“Yeah so Big Man wasn’t there,” Tubbo shrugged, a distant look hidden behind his domed helmet. “He’s around now an’ it is nice ta kinda have him back ta normal again. Wish he didn’t try ta set Boo on fire, but no one’s perfect.”[15]

“That is very concerning,” Logan commented. “When was the last time he tried that?”

“Tried or just threatened it?” Ranboo asked.

“Both,” Logan’s tone was as dry as a bone.

“Attempted, it’s been a couple months,” Ranboo admitted, “ he threatens it once every couple of weeks though.”

“We need to have a conversation about constructive behavior then,” Logan decided. “We’ll talk with him when we get back because death threats are unacceptable.”

“No, I’m pretty sure he’s joking,” Ranboo tried to deny. “The furthest he’s ever gone is pull out a knife on me. It’s alright, he’s just like that.”

“You know the more I see you heroes, the more I’m sure that if you’d ever actually met the Author, he would have cut through all of you like wet tissue paper.” Illinois spoke up, looking at Ranboo like a particularly accident-prone toddler. “You all really lucked out, didn’t you?”

Ranboo nervously ducked his head so he didn’t accidentally look Illinois in the eyes.

“Yoo-hoo! We have the world’s perfect wedding to plan.” Roman reminded, trying to refocus the attention. Inadvertently saving Ranboo from the stand-off. “Hey, while I have both of you here: what’s on the menu, what’s the number of chairs, seems like it should be higher.”

“Max of fifty,” Illinois reported. “None of Dark’s business contacts are invited, we figured you guys might arrest them.”

“Depends on the person,” Logan admitted.

Roman rolled his eyes, cutting back into the conversation, “I just wanted to know how we should just group people, is there any extended family we need to separate from each other?”

“My . . . siblings were all I had,” Eric whispered quietly.

“Well let’s see, Yan’s parents were part of a demon murder cult, they’re dead. Yancy’s folks are dead and he’s still not on speaking terms with his uncle for obvious reasons. King’s parents are dead. We literally all live with Bim’s dads. Fuck if the Host ever talks about Artie’s folks. And all we’ve got are shitty foster parents, who if they show up are getting exorcised back to hell and then killed again.” Illinois scoffed dismissively. “And even if I wanted someone who threw me away the instant they saw me, I would have gone looking for ‘em[9] years ago.”

“Didn’t you,” Eric started timidly before looking away, his mouth still open but not sound was coming out anymore. “Uh, get a, uhm . . .”

“Some asshat might have tried calling me at assfuck O’clock in the morning, but I blocked him,” Illinois sounded like he wanted to punch his mystery caller, Eric nervously looked away. “Dark’s my dad and I don’t care about anyone trying to get money or use me to cozy up close to Dark.”

The other two were quiet for a bit as Illinois mentally calmed down. He did reach out and lightly stroke the side of Eric’s face. Which helped Eric relax and by extension calm Illinois down.

“You could have just said no,” Roman finally commented in a tone that might as well have been saying: “I think you need therapy” and went back to his planner. “So we make a safe plan for sixty people?”

“Sounds good to me,” Illinois agreed, his tone brisk and forced.

He did take Eric’s hand in his own and smiled, “Don’t worry, my dear, I will make sure everything’s perfect for you. It’ll be the most amazing day of your life. I promised that I’d make sure you never regret saying yes to me. I meant it, it’ll be the most beautiful day of our lives and you will look amazing.”

That got Eric to tear up a little and after some minor note taking on Roman’s part, the couple left. Eric left with Roman, Logan, and the two apprentices, while the adventurer returned to Dark to run a couple “errands”.

Roman for his part was in a better mood, he’d gotten a couple more “concessions” and the wedding planning was coming along smoothly.

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

Post A/N: Also I would like to draw to everyone’s attention to the canon fact that Tubbo and Ranboo got married at an emotionally turbulent time for Tubbo. Tubbo doesn’t handle those moments well. Impulsive marriage to escape how he felt about what happened to Tommy? . . . It’s more likely than you might think.

Accessibility Translations:

1. for

2. Yeah, bonded pairs in the SMP get a bit of an aura break if you’re linked with an empath. I got sick and tired of having to pay that extremely pricey piper and Ranboo had just joined so when I saw him I went “that’s the one” and we were already kinda friends so BAM! We’ve been married for almost six months now.

3. Besides

4. you’re older than I am, shouldn’t you have changed your apprentice name to something like, I don’t know? Concussion? Explosive Decompression. Or Combust-ION?

5. being

6. You are talking to the wrong person. You should talk to my sister and her girlfriend. Or Karl’s fiancés. That would probably make your argument work.

7. throwing

8. and

9. them

10. I’m sure your wedding will be nice and pretty and stuff. You’re in love and shit, it’ll be great.

11. Sweetheart

12. including

13. knocking

14. to

15. He’s around now and it is nice to kind of have him back to normal again. Wish he didn’t try to set Boo on fire, but no one’s perfect.

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goliath-de-senfina-sango · 4 years

Text

Ghost Nip

AO3

Were anyone ever to ask Danny Phantom if he’d done drugs, he would ask if being prescribed ADHD meds counted as doing drugs. When they said no, he’d tell them no. If asked what he knew about ghostly herbs he’d tell them he only knew about one ghost-related nonsapient plant and it wasn’t a fun one. He now had to change those answers to ‘not willingly’ and ‘something between weed and catnip’.

At the moment, Danny was soaring through Amity’s skies faster than he’d ever gone in his life, slowing down at random intervals and giggling at just how funny everything had become. He chatted with birds and chased after squirrels to pet them, informing any passerby who stopped to say hi that they looked a lovely shade of blellow or grik or touroon. Humans did not understand these colors or their auras and Danny couldn’t explain them quite well but they were there and so pretty.

And then he saw Technus, Nicolai Technus, self-proclaimed master of technology and Danny zoomed into his personal space. “Child! What are you-“

“Did you know, Nicolai, that the stars and planets and oceans and galaxies are as alive as you or I?” Danny spoke both with his mouth and with flares and flickers of power and light and heat and cold, a language built on energy frequencies that he did not know but that he knew more than any mortal tongue. “That they speak and sing with different languages? I find that interesting. I can hear them now but they’re so Much I can’t fully understand them.”

“Phantom what are you talking about?” Technus floated back, waving a hand in the air, frowning. That wasn’t good, he should be smiling! Today was a fun day! “Are you high? Is that Ghost Nip, ghost child?”

“DID YOU KNOW NICOLAI TECHNUS POINDEXTER that the stars sing?” Technus flinched and Danny wondered at that, felt and saw as the older ghost charged up a ball of plasma, sparking and arcing and dancing with electricity, to strike him with. Danny, in turn, tossed the crushed petals that he had put into his pocket at some point in the future or present in Nicolai’s face. He coughed and spluttered, aura flickering through shades of emotion that he rarely acknowledged, feelings that Nicolai had forsaken at some point if Danny remembered correctly. “You are a soul filled with the power of the Infinite Realms, Nicolai, why would you deny your feelings? Without your emotions, you cannot feel the joy of helping people, the satisfaction of making something useful, the pride that others enjoy your work and incorporate it into their lives. And regardless of whether you resent your emotions, surely you realize that this too is a feeling?”

“I-you-you have a point, child.” He spoke in radio signals and electrical pulses now, and Danny returned them in kind with elation at the sign that his enemy was now far more cheerful than when he spoke knowledge that hadn’t yet been shared with him, but it had been shared with someone and they would tell him and so he knew for time was a funny thing that slipped and slid around in space with the tug and pulls of gravity. “And what would you suggest I do? The humans do not respond to Ghost Nip the way we do.”

“No, but they respond well to progress and positive change and they need so much power yet so few of them use the power that the day star offers, constant and steady and ringing with their song. Do you think you can help me? I can’t speak the language of the stars just yet, but technology can translate many things into a sense that we can follow, can’t it?”

They chatted amicably until the Red Huntress came upon them and Technus waved at her before pixelating into so many electrical signals dancing through the sky and flew off to bring waves of upgrades to technology all over the town. And Danny waved at Valerie himself, flickers and flares of gravity and light like a star might give off deflecting the plasma she launched at him in her own hostile greeting. “Hi Valerie,” he said but didn’t say, his voice reaching the speakers in her suit meant to relay calls from Vlad but instead responding to him because all the energy came from the stars, didn’t it? And the suit had taken her to space, oh, that would be fun to do again, wouldn’t it?

Danny waved Valerie goodbye and flew off, bending the starlight around his fingers and weaving images and paintings of himself all around her so that she could at least see him. Valerie didn’t like Danny, his presence angered her, made her red aura darken to something bloody and Danny didn’t like that. So, he flew off to where he felt the tug of misfortune and negative chaos and luck turned upside down. He found Johnny and Kitty having a picnic in the park and lingered over some buzzing beetles in the grass, his core buzzing in response though the beetles didn’t seem to hear him. Or maybe they only understood him as much as he did the quasars in the sky? “JOhnny! Kitty! Hi hi hi, how are you? You look like you’re having fun, are you having fun?”

The two gave Danny a bemused look, Johnny’s shadow rising up like ink rippling with waves of cold, icy, burning flames that stole heat instead of giving it away. He smiled at them, wider than a human face could accommodate, and they snickered and laughed. “Uh, yeah little man. Just out for some fun on a date. Are you baked, little guy?”

“Clay was once baked in the sun to make the older bricks, I basked in the sun’s light and felt it dancing over my skin before it sank into me and-”

“Oh my god,” Kitty said with a high laugh that had Danny floating a bit further from the ground as he orbited them. “He’s definitely high. Lemme guess, someone showed you some Ghost Nip?”

Danny dug another petal from his pocket and crushed it in his hand, tossing a shower of the dust onto his two friends, because they were happy to see him so clearly they were friends now, weren’t they? “The prettiest flower, it smells so nice. Is that what it’s called?” He stared at Johnny and hummed, and reached out beyond his body and he saw and tugged on the strings and laughed. “Johnny, come with me, I’m sure she wants to see you again!” Before Kitty can ask who ‘she’ is, Danny pulls Johnny with him into the sky, and Kitty follows, and Johnny snorts and laughs and whispers to him in a way that echoes in the wind where empty space lies hidden and bubbles with probability. They are at the Manson Mansion faster than Danny expected but he’s so energized at this point that he hardly knows that when he and Johnny dive into the house and Danny watches as the tug on the strings around Johnny’s soul pull him along and guide him faster than Danny or Kitty. And they arrive and they see Ida, bowling in her alley, and Danny cheers for her and his voice bounces off the walls, comes through the many speakers and flickers across screens. “Hi, miss Manson! I brought Johnny!”

“... Johnny?” Ida turned and her aura flickered wildly, it was a rainbow, a kaleidoscope, but Danny saw the gamule in it and bounced in the air. Happy tears shined in her eyes and Johnny slowly, carefully descended to the ground and wrapped his arms around her.

“Mom?”

Danny left with a proud nod, satisfied that he had helped, and flew off to find others to help, there was always someone to help, wasn’t there?

Dash Baxter was afraid of very few things, but the hostile nerd ghost levitating a bunch of pencils pointed at him and his fellow jocks like arrows was certainly a contender. He and the boys were at practice and one of the AV club geeks had passed by while they were wrapping up so Dash decided to have a little fun with the freak. He didn’t expect Poindexter to fuckin pop out of the ground and summon all the pencils and pens from inside the school to him and start ranting about bullies. The guy screamed nerd from every facet of his appearance except for the glowing red eyes and Dash wanted to say something witty but all that really came out was, “fuck off you bucktoothed weirdo! We’re just havin some fun.”

Dash’s late grandfather always did call him an idiot and Dale smacking him upside the head with a hiss of the same confirmed this. After all, Phantom was nowhere in sight and saying that just made the ghost go red and flickery with rage. This is how I die. A fuckin nerd is gonna kill me.

Pencils flew at the team and Dash braced for the impact that never came as green, silver, gold and blue light wrapped around them in a dome and stopped the pencils like they were nerf darts. Danny Phantom floated down between them and the ghost and Dash relaxed. Though, Phantom looked… off. His hair was more like mist now, and his suit looked less like the goofy hazmat that the Fenton Freaks wore and more like an astronaut’s spacesuit. He looked sorta like he was on fire, and sorta like he was surrounded by icy mist or both. “Sidney! Did you know that Nicolai is here?” Who the fuck is Nicholai?

Poindexter clearly knew, though, and was shocked out of his supernatural rampage. He stared at Phantom with wide eyes. “I- no I didn’t. Nicolai is alive? Wait, Phantom, what the heck is up with your… everything?”

Phantom pulled out what looked like a flower petal with fifty different colors swirling around it, which didn’t make sense since there were only so many colors, but ghosts never made any sense. He crushed it into powder between his hands while talking. “I found this neat pretty flower somewhere in the Infinite Realms, though I don’t remember where I found it, but I do know that it smells so so happy! HEre, smell it!” and then Phantom tossed dust at the guy, and dropped his shield around the team.

“Dude… Phantom’s fuckin high,” Chris whispered, and Dash’s eyes widened.

“Holy shit, ghosts can get high?”

“And no, sadly Nicolai isn’t the same alive as those guys behind me, but he’s the kind of alive that you and I are! We’re technically alive, though Dad doesn’t agree, but he hasn’t met his uncles yet and I’m sure if he knew how much family was still alive on our side of the Ṕ̡̡o͢r̨t͞a̴̛l̨͡,” Dash had no idea what the fuck Phantom just said but apparently he was related to some ghost? Kwan had his phone out now and was recording the conversation. “Sidney Poindexter, Nicolai Poindexter, you’re both really smart, but Nicolai calls himself Technus now but he’s helping people today!”

Poindexter opened his mouth, and Dash’s head hurt. He wasn’t making a sound that Dash could figure out but there was a pressure in his skull until that silver light that Phantom’s shield had earlier wrapped around him and the rest of them. Some of the guys ran off, not wanting to be in the line of fire when the fight started, but if Phantom just tossed ghost weed onto the nerd then maybe he’d be too chill to try and kill them.

“Exactly! You told me years from now about your little sister that you miss and grandma’s still the alive you were hoping for, with Nicolai, promise! You’re technically my great uncle then, aren’t you?”

“Holy shit, Phantom’s related to Poindexter?” Both ghosts’ attention snapped toward him in a tangible way and Dash wished he’d kept his big mouth shut. Phantom’s eyes were torches that obscured the rest of his face, and that fire that flickered around him whipped out all over the place now. People weren’t usually violent when they were high, were they?

“Dashiel Baxter,” he said in the iciest tone Dash had ever heard from anyone. “You’re a bad fan. You’re clearly not paying attention to me when I told and help people and save people.” The accusation stung, one of those firey whips across his face, and how did he know that an invisible one made of emotion hadn’t hit him? Ghosts were made of feelings and shit, weren’t they? “Why do you hurt people? You know that’s not nice or cool or heroic of you, don’t you? No one really likes a bully. I sure don’t. I was bullied a lot as a kid. It’s not fun for the kid being bullied. I can’t understand why it’s fun for the bully.”

“I-” Dash was going to defend himself. He wasn’t really hurting anyone, he was just messing around! The nerds were fine. They were alive, weren’t they? But cold and heat and anger rooted into his veins and held his tongue and he shivered under the angry glare of his hero.

“You should stop bullying people. It’s illegal, the things you do. Someone will do something bout it eventually. If not Sidney then someone still living the way you do. They might do something about it legally.” Phantom turned back to Poindexter and then to Dash, and he felt heavy as a mountain under that stare. “For your sake, I hope it’s done legally.”

And then his eyes snapped off of Dash onto Dale’s hand, where a green lantern ring sat and his eyes were still green flashlights that made it impossible to see the rest of face even inn the daylight, but those tendrils of ghost fire retreated into him and the air wasn’t frozen over anymore. Dash could move, technically. Phantom turned back to Poindexter, who was speaking without speaking again, and Dash decided to book it himself before things got worse.

Danny pulled Sydney along their strings to find Nicolai sweeping over a hospital and protective ire bubbled in his core, but a quick count told Danny that no one was becoming a ghost in there quite yet so he calmed himself. “Ghost child! The generators to the hospital now have a backup that draws on sunlight! I… Sydney?” Nicolai pulled his glasses up and stared, and Sydney stared and Danny grinned and bounced in the air and with inspiration from the Green Lantern, who was one of his favorite heroes but how could he not be he went to space and talked with aliens, and made a bright green lasso that he pulled Nicolai in closer to Sydney with. They hugged. There were tears and lots of babbling and cheer in the air that lit up the sky.

Then a net was on him and pain. Danny convulsed in the air, screaming, and unlike his usual Wail his power carried through the sound in every direction and shook the ground. A hand yanked the net off of him and Danny wrapped Nicolai in a hug, before turning his head around to spot Skulker glaring at them all. “Technus what the hell are you doing? The boy is intoxicated and vulnerable! I had him!”

“You’ll have no one and nothing if you don’t back the hell off of my great-nephew you diminutive little frog!” Technus was angry, and sparks danced at his fingertips, ready to snap out and strike. But Skulker also hummed with electricity and his suit exposed missiles that Dany couldn’t let him fire so close to the hospital. No no no.

“Oh great,” Skulker grumbled. “He’s gotten you high as well, has he? What’s this talk of nephews, Technus, you told me you didn’t have any family.”

Technus held his hand out but Danny made swords and scythes and chains from the dancing sunlight and cut off Skulker’s rocket launchers, and his arm before binding him. “He lied. You’re a danger to the people here. You’re cruel and a really shitty hunter and I wanted today to be a nice happy day, Skulker, so how bout you get the fuck out of my town?” Paint was light, the brush was ectoplasm, and Danny drew for them a fox with three tails and six paws and flames licking its jaws that lunged at Skulker. “Did you know that a group of foxes is called a Skulk? Sam told me that. Sam and Tucker are good friends. Tucker is the best friend. I’m gonna go find him now. By uncle Sydney, uncle Nicolai!”

Danny couldn’t leave Skulker out like that though so he cast away his fox and pulled out his thermos and sucked in Skulker and his suit and then he was flying, and riding the fox and stroking its soft pretty fur.

“I didn’t know he could purr,” Sam said, as though that were the important thing here. She took a picture with her old camera and Tucker glared. “Think any other ghosts purr when they’re high?”

“Can we discuss that after we get me untangled?” Tucker tried to pry Danny’s arms and tail off of him, but to no avail. Any amount of force he applied Danny could match, and if he pulled too hard, Danny just phased through his fingers and clung tighter. “Why are yougods Stop that!” Danny was now rubbing their cheeks together and looking at him wide eyes that were green where they should’ve been white and every color that did and didn’t exist on the visible spectrum filling the place of pupils and irises. Looking at these particular puppy eyes was like gazing into a black hole and the Milky Way at once. Sam was laughing at him. “This isn’t funny.”

“It’s hilarious. And kinda cute. After all, it’s not every day you see two love birds cuddling in bed like a snake-cat hybrid.”

“We’re not lovebirds Sam, we’d kinda need to be infatuated with each other at minimum.” Tucker sighed, resigned to his fate, and patted Danny’s cloudy hair. He purred three times louder and warmth seeped into him from every point of contact. “What’s the flower?”

“According to the latest Viewtube video Kwan posted of Danny roasting Dash? Some variant of weed.” Sam looked Danny up and down and snorted. “He’s covered in dust so he’ll probably be like that for a while.”

Sam needn’t know how ok with that Tucker was feeling. He could see in her smirk that she knew anyway but he could deny it! Though, with all this cuddling, he wasn’t sure he wanted to. Sam petted the fox curled around her and Tucker rolled his eyes at her cooing. “I see the Naruto phase never wore off.”

“Shut it furry.”

“Why should I, weeb?”

“It’d be awful if that oh so precious bow of yours lost its string, now wouldn’t it?” Tucker huffed and sank into Danny’s embrace with a grumble. “That’s what I thought.”

#Danny Phantom #Danny Fenton #Nicolai Technus #Valerie Gray #Sidney Poindexter #Dash Baxter #Johnny 13 #Kitty #Ida Manson #Sam Manson #Tucker Foley #Skulker #Phantom Family Au #fanfiction #Rexy Writes

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chilling-seavey · 4 years

Note

I don’t know if you did one already, but can we have a Seavey family trip to the beach?

You can ask, and I shall deliver 🥰🏖

Sunday, July 28, 2024

The summer after Lucy was born was incredibly hot that the air conditioning in the apartment was nearly working itself into an early death trying to keep up with the heat wave. The beach was a perfect place to spend a hot summer Sunday before Daniel had to return to work for another week. He drove them down to the beach and got all their things together from the trunk before helping the girls out. Florence took it slow, still feeling the repercussions of delivery at only four-weeks post-partum but Daniel didn’t mind at all to do the brunt of the work when he could.

Tiny Lucy was still buckled into the car seat that unclipped from the base and attached easily to the stroller and Florence pulled the half-dome sun cover over the top to shield the new baby from the sun as she snoozed. Daniel had all their beach things in his arms from their umbrella to their bag of towels and extra clothes and snacks and of course the diaper bag draped over his shoulder. Clementine and Penelope were hot on his heels as the family of five headed down the boardwalk to the beach.

They found a good spot and the parents got the towels spread out and Daniel set up the umbrella to give Florence and Lucy a bit of shade from the cloudless sky snice neither of them could swim yet. Penelope, who was days away from turning four, wad adamant on not wearing sunscreen meaning Daniel had to nearly chase her around their spot with a handful of sunscreen and his other desperately reaching for his daughter’s arm. Until she tripped and fell face first into the sand. Daniel scooped her right up as her eyes filled with tears and he wiped the sand from her cheeks and arms quickly.

“This is why we listen to Daddy, right? Sunscreen stops you from falling over.” Daniel tisked playfully, locking his whimpering daughter between his legs as he lathered her up with sunscreen.

“Nuh uh.” Clementine spoke up from her spot on the towels beside Florence, always wanting to be close to her new baby sister who was laid out on the clean towel between them.

Daniel glanced back at her, “How do you know?”

“Because.” Clementine shrugged.

“Have you even fallen over when wearing sunscreen?” Daniel tried.

Clementine thought for a moment and then her eyes went wide with realization, “No!”

Daniel smirked at his wife, who shook her head through her disbelieving smile as he said a boastful, “Exactly.”

“You’re ridiculous.” Florence giggled.

“Okay, little ladies.” Daniel clapped his hands once as he stood up and he tugged off his shirt, “It’s time to swim.”

Clementine cheered loudly as she jumped up to join him and he wiggled her out of her sun dress followed by Penelope’s to leave them in matching purple swimsuits with white polka dots. Daniel leaned down to kiss Florence once.

“Shout if you need anything, okay?” he whispered. She nodded, leaving him with one more kiss before he was scooping up Penelope onto his hip and taking Clementine’s hand to lead them towards the lake.

Florence smiled softly as she watched them walk off, easily catching Clementine’s loud shriek of excitement as the reached the water and she splashed right in. She looked down to the sleeping newborn on the towel beside her, her little arms draped above her and a sleepy pout on her lips between full pink cheeks. Florence had seen plenty family photo albums so she knew Lucy looked just like Daniel had has a baby except for her wispy blonde hair that was different from his natural brown.

“Mama! Look!”

Florence glanced over to the lake at the sound of Clementine’s eager shout, the little girl only smacking her hand in the water to make a splash as the three of them sat in the shallowest part of the water together. Florence threw her a thumbs up to make her grin.

It was lucky the day was so hot because Daniel only sitting in waist deep water was usually a recipe for a chill but it’s not like he would have moved either way. His two daughters happily splashing in the lake with him and making up little games as they went along and he made sure to keep a hand on each of them, always a little extra protective when it came to water. The girls soon thought it was a great idea to climb on him, leaving Daniel laying back with his forearms behind him to keep his head out of the water as his daughters sat on his torso like he was a boat. That only worked for so long until Clementine – who was in front – pushed his head under the water when he was least expecting it, making him nearly drown in a foot and a half of water.

Daniel came back up gasping, pushing her hand back as gently as he could, coughing loudly and he pushed his drenched hair out of his face, “No more. No more of this game.”

“Daddy be a pony!” Penelope grinned, jumping up and down on his stomach eagerly until he grabbed her gently to keep her still.

“Yeah!” Clementine beamed. “A water pony!”

Daniel, still half choking on lake water, took a shaky breath but agreed. He could never say no to his girls.

Florence watched him roll over onto his hands and knees and helped the girls climb up onto his back. She smiled over at them before looking back at her book she was reading, her legs stretched out in the sun for a bit of a tan. The baby stirred from beside her and Florence set her book aside to tend to the newborn, her little arms curled up by her face as she let out a small cry.

“Come here, Lucy Lu.” Florence cooed softly, wiggling her hands under the baby to lift her up and got her situated in her arms. She glanced around her, still mostly shielded by the large umbrella behind her, before lifting her t-shirt and unclipping her nursing bra to feed the baby. Florence was never one to do anything to stand out and breastfeeding in public was certainly the last thing she was comfortable doing but you couldn’t always help it.

So she fed her new baby daughter and watched her husband and her other two girls having fun in the lake, dreaming for the days when Lucy was old enough to join them. But the baby years were a blessing in itself and Florence glanced back down to the newborn in her arms, met with the light blue of her daughter’s sleepy stare as she fed and she brushed her hand over the baby’s soft hair.

“Mommy!” Clementine shouted, rushing up the beach and picking up sand in her wake, she was breathless as she flopped down on the towels, dripping wet still. “Daddy was the pony in the water! And he dumped us off in a huge splash!”

“Oh wow.” Florence smiled at her eldest. “Sounds like you guys had fun.”

“We did. Apart from almost drowning.” Daniel added with a tired sigh, but still shot a smile to his girls who grinned innocently up at him as he wrapped them in towels to dry off.

“Lunch time now?” Florence offered, reaching for the cooler with her free hand.

“I got it.” Daniel said gently, shuffling over to grab the cooler and he sat down beside her to open it.

“Baby sister’s havin’ lunch too.” Penelope giggled, kneeling up on Florence’s other side to look down at the nursing baby in her arms.

“She is.” Florence said, shielding her hand over Lucy’s face as Penelope’s dark hair was dripping water over her.

Daniel passed Clementine her open plastic container of cheese and crackers and cut up grapes each divided into sections in the Tupperware and the five-year-old helped herself to his lap to eat her lunch.

“Come here, bug.” Daniel called to the second oldest, having Penelope rush around Florence’s out stretched legs to take her container from him. He then passed Florence half of her sandwich and then took out his own, draping one arm around Clementine who was sat on his lap wrapped in her pink towel. He looked between his four favourite girls as they all ate quietly; the middle two wrapped in towels with wet hair and pink cheeks, the youngest tucked up against her mother’s chest and mewled contently through her lunch, and his wife, the absolute love of his life looking more beautiful than life itself in the summer sun, sat beside him with a peaceful smile on her face and a smudge of mayo from her sandwich on her cheek.

#anything but mine #daniel seavey imagines #why dont we #daniel seavey #why dont we imagines

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ladyshandioftheendless · 4 years

Text

~A Star in Bloom~

Yeah..I can’t not post another Acey-centric story on his birthday! This was inspired by this beautiful artwork by @kategwidt~ Thank you, dear!!

~Shandi

StarChild and Ace stepped out onto Ace’s balcony to watch the sun set. “It’s been wonderful being here with you~” StarChild said, laying his head on Ace’s shoulder. “I haven’t been this happy in...” He forced thoughts of Nikki Terror out of his mind. That was the past. “..in a long time~”

“You could stay longer if you wanted y’know~” Ace replied, taking a sip from his glass of wine. “We’re both royalty right? You could marry me..I’m sure no one would object~” When the Star Prince became flustered he cackled. “I knew that would getcha to make those cute faces!”

“Acey you’re terrible!”

“You love me~”

“Yes..I do~”

They shared a kiss while the sun sank below the horizon. Soon other areas around the Palace began to light up, and StarChild’s eyes caught sight of a large glass dome shining brightly not too far away. “What’s that over there?”

“Hm? Oh that’s the Garden Dome. My mom and sister keep all of their pretty flowers in there.” StarChild’s eyes lit up. “Flowers~? Could I see them~?”

“Anything for you, Starshine~”

~*~

They walked hand in hand into the Garden Dome, and StarChild was immediately in awe of all the beautifully unique flowers around him. “Look at all this..I love it~! And they all smell so good~!” Ace reached out to hold StarChild by his waist. “You can bring some home if y’want..I’m sure mom won’t mind~”

“Could I~?”

“Sure~ Actually..stay right here and I’ll be right back.” StarChild watched as Ace walked the paths around the gardens picking out various flowers. What could he be up to? When he returned his arms were full of flowers and he had a big smile on his face. “I think you’ll enjoy havin’ these in your garden. Just be sure to keep ‘em separate from any others. Jendellian flowers need their own space to flourish. That’s why we keep ‘em apart from the rest of the gardens.” StarChild beamed as the flowers were placed in his arms. “Oh, I promise you I will~ I don’t want anything bad to happen to these~”

“Hey..looks like some smaller flowers got picked up accidentally. I think I know what to do with these~” He picked each flower up individually and placed them in StarChild’s hair. “There ya go..now you look like you’re blooming~”

“Acey~” he sighed softly as the Space Prince kissed both of his flushed cheeks. “They look good like that. You look even better~ Will you keep ‘em in for me~?”

“Of course I will~ Just for you~”

~END~

#Shandi's drabbles #Shandi's KISSteriaverse #~StarSpace~#short and sweet~#birthday fluff!

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tarithenurse · 4 years

Text

Orphan - 9

Starring: Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader and MCU characters! Contents: Spoilers for Endgame!! A good cop of something hot, pining, worrying. A/N: PREVIOUS CHAPTERS can be found on the masterlist. Thanks for likes and reblogs and comments <3

9. Sisters, mothers, aunts

… Morgan …

All that wonderful snow just can’t go to waste, but after several wobbly snowmen and one perfect one (thanks to mom) the little girl has thrown herself into a pristine patch out of boredom, carefully considering her options as she sweeps the ground with arms and legs.

“What do these do?” Nebula’s voice pierces the fastmoving thoughts of the little girl.

The grey clouds tilt away, bringing the garden back into view and the blue woman wrapped in a mix of a borrowed bright yellow scarf and a green beanie. She’s crouched in front of a smaller snow figure (an attempt at a dog), bright black eyes taking in the lumpy shape.

“They don’t…do ‘nything,” Morgan admits. Are they supposed to do something?

Clearly dissatisfied, Nebula presses on. “Well, what is their purpose?”

“Why make ‘em?” Perhaps Nebs never got to build snowmen as a kid, the little girl realizes with horror. “For fu-un. What can you make with snow?”

“Shelter. Like a…hut.”

Morgan’s eye light up with the idea, already adding elaborate details to the construction in forms of turrets and battlements (even if she doesn’t know that is what the bumps on top of the walls are called). And who can deny a pair of big, dark eyes suddenly begging to partner on a project? Not the alien who swore years ago to protect the little one if anything were to happen to Tony, and so Nebula begins to stack the snow in a tremendous pile.

They’re digging out the inside of the mound (or rather, Nebula is excavating while Morgan forms and places blocks in a circle around the domed top) when a car pulls up, causing both constructors to pause and look. Short legs with heavy boots are already moving to run towards Uncle Rhodey when auntie’s voice sharply orders the girl to stay back. It sounds strangely cold and calm and Morgan can’t help to do what she’s told. A knot has formed in her tummy. Breath is quick. Is something wrong? She can’t figure out what it is because the only new is the woman who stepped out from the other side of the car, and one look at her face makes the confused girl feel happy. And sad. Weird.

… Reader …

They talk like you aren’t there, bickering like a couple married for too long, and even if Rhodes is technically trying to defend you it’s as if he’s more worried about Cyborg Smurf and her feelings, his hands carefully reach out towards the woman, stopping short to protect her boundaries.

“She’s a spy!” No more than a hiss that won’t carry further than your straining ears.

“She was…lonely and afraid,” Rhodes insists, “jus’ looking for a family. Y’know what that’s like.”

Oh? If it wasn’t for the very clear memory of a sword then you would be staring at her now. Instead, you add it to the mental list of things that might be handy to know. It’s a long list.

“Want me to trust her? Think aga–“

“No.” The rapid answer stings. “I won’t tell ya what to think, just…accept Pepper’s giving her a chance, ‘ight?”

They continue back and forth, but your attention gets caught by the fluffy remains of a snowball landing on your boot with a soft thunk. It doesn’t take a genius to guess who threw it, but the nerves are gnawing at your insides as you turn to steal a glance at the kid. My half-sister. Sure, you might still not have a dad, but you have gotten an oddly stitched-together family to deal with somehow.

There are obvious differences between Tony Stark’s two daughters. The similarities, however? Just as many, and all hailing from the man you never got to know. Nearly identical set of eyes meet, filled with curiosity and a familiarity you know you can explain with logic if only you wanted to. Instead, you send a one-sided smile and lift your hand in a finger wiggling wave which the girl, Morgan, copies.

Movements slow, almost leisurely so, as you bend and scoop up a big handful of the cold precipitation to shape loosely in your hands. A wink and a questioning quirk of the brow is enough to send the kid into a silent fit of giggles before the projectile is launched in a soft arc to give her plenty of time to seek cover behind a snow hut in development.

You would have gotten a new handful of snow if it wasn’t for the exasperated sigh and the presence behind you. “Nebu. No!”

This is gonna be a loooong afternoon.

…

It’s awkward. Not only is the entire reason for you visiting painful, but Pepper tries a bit too hard (bless her soul), Nebula doesn’t try at all, Morgan is wonderfully oblivious to the adults’ tension, and poor Rhodes is trying to navigate it all. You manage to last a few hours, partially due to talking maintenance of the veteran’s leg braces when Pepper was occupied with the kid for a while, but mainly it’s been a sort of sweetened interrogation about your plans with Uni (waiting for an answer on the re-application), the home and job hunt (completely dependant on the study), and anything else they feel like. Like they’re going through a checklist.

Just as you’re about to ask Rhodes if he can bring you back to the Bartons’, his phone rings and not even the door separating the living room from the hallway is enough to hide how he snaps into military mode.

“Sorry, gotta go,” he offers as explanation when he pops back in, “duty calls.”

And with that he, and your ride, is gone. Moments later you hear the roar of the car, leaving you feeling trapped.

“You…we’ve got a spare guestroom…?”

The hesitation is evident: Pepper might have been the one inviting you but without intention of having you sleep over. No, this visit was no more than a test run to see if you were enough of a Stark or too much for her to want you in the family. She never said that, but you know it. It’s a typical method that you’ve seen one too many times in the foster care system, but this time you don’t blame her.

“I…thanks, but no…I might have another option.” Standing you dig out your phone and navigate past couch, chairs, and toys towards the relative privacy of the hallway.

Clint had given you a bunch of numbers any journalist or fan would kill to have, and right now your scrolling through them until you spot one who happens to live relatively close by and has a couch tested by others as a bed.

Hot and cold dances through your body, dousing the already jittery nerves with fuel. Each time you hear the call tone your heart drops and it doesn’t make sense that it would feel like this – that butterflies in your belly are trying to hold up cold lead.

“[Y/N]?” Of course, anyone would follow the warm baritone if it called out to them. “Uhm…hi!” It’s like the softest wool to your mind, shielding you in a cocoon against doubts or abandonment.

Everything will be fine. Then you remember you have to reply. “Yeah, hello! Ehh…” Smooth, real smooth, ugh! “I’m…I was…” Fuck it. “You once said I could crash at your place and uhmm…I’m kinda stuck away from Clint and Laura’s an–“

“You’re at To-Pepper’s?”

How…? “Yeah. Rhodes just bailed and…it’d feel strange to sleep over, y’know?”

“I get it. On my way.”

“Thanks.”

Both of you hesitate for a moment, making you worry about what you’re supposed to say when Captain freaking America is coming to your rescue, but before you can put any coherent sentence together, he has hung up. The hallway is silent now. The light reflecting off the snow outside, cold despite the yellow hue, and the sliver of light under the closed living room door is all the illumination available. In there, in front of the fireplace, is a tiny family which you theoretically are a part of….just not technically – and standing here in the gloom underlines exactly that.

How can it ever be different? Nothing can replace the life you’ve had. Your own mother. No, perhaps it’s better to just step away and pretend nothing ties you together, let Morgan be the only child left behind by Tony Stark just like she was the only one who got to grow up with him.

Lost in thoughts, you don’t register Morgan skipping out into the hallway until she’s wrapped her little arms up as high as she can around your thighs.

“G’night,” she grins crookedly for a second before sobering up, “please come back soon and make mummy smile more.”

With those words she’s running off up the staircase with not a care in the world while you’re left behind with an uncanny sensation of being watched – hairs stand on end due to the goosebumps running down your spine. Make mommy smile more, your semi-sister’s voice echoes inside your head. Make mommy smile more. Make mommy smile. Smile more. Smile more? As a new widow, it would make sense if Pepper doesn’t smile much, the loss being too strong, too present in every little thing. Still, throughout the afternoon she’s smiled and laughed with enough heartfelt joy that the sorrow became invisible if only for a moment. Did I make her smile?

Your brows scrunch in confusion and it’s impossible not to look at the silent women who seem to be waiting for you to do or say something. Anything.

“Did…? Have…?” Unsure what to ask the question dies on your lips.

Nebula shuffles, clearly uncomfortable. “The little one likes you, spy.” Danger still gleams in the black nothingness of her eyes but her posture screams doubt. “Perhaps I’ve been mistaken.”

It’s nothing but a tiny twitch of the lips when Pepper bites back a smile. “Would you mind checking that she’s brushing her teeth, Nebu?”

“Certainly, strong teeth are excellent for close combat.”

Once alone, your own awkwardness doubles. How long would it take Cap to get here? Pulling at your arm as if you can make yourself smaller, you’re sure you must appear sort of pathetic.

“It’s…thank you for y’know…havin’ me over,” you try lamely.

Even without high heels, Pepper is still a tall woman and she becomes almost elven in the scarce light. “She’s right, actually,” she admits, “I…it was nice having you here. To get to talk with you…even if it might have felt more like an interrogation…”

“Weeell…I mean…a bit, but that’s pro’lly logical.” C’mon, man! “Kinda hard for it not to fundamentally be freaking strange…all things considered.”

“I haven’t told Morgan anything…” It sounds apologetic, almost. “It’s up to you what role you want in the family.” Up to…? “But the way I see it…you’re Tony’s daughter. You’re family.” You can feel how your lips part at the confession, and you stand there gaping at the woman. “Just…give us time to find a balance.”

Maybe your father knew exactly what he was doing when he married this woman instead of your mom. Regardless: the past is impossible to change while the present is simultaneously tempting and scary due to the multitude of options available. I get to choose? It had been hard enough to put together a few outfits when you went shopping for the first time with Laura and Lila.

You don’t dare to look Pepper in the eyes. “Maybe get to know each other first? Before deciding?”

It’s a gentle hand that shapes around your shoulder, passing on a sense of security. “I like that,” the widow agrees, “you’re always welcome.” She hesitates, and you glance to see her biting her lip as if in doubt. “While you wait…why won’t you come and hear about Tony? Just let me tug Morgan in.”

… Morgan …

Any smart girl knows how important it is for adults to brush their teeth too, and it had been a simple task to convince Aunt Nebula to join in by the sink where they’d competed in looking the grossest with the toothpaste drool, laughing so much Morgan’s cheeks began to hurt.

That giddiness is gone again as the kid crawls into bed. Nebula is standing by the window, staring at the few stars poking out between the clouds and Morgan knows deep inside her little chest that the alien misses flying between the stars.

“They want you back too, Nebu.”

Speaking softly, the words are barely even a whisper that most people would overhear. Not the blue woman. Hiding a sigh, she comes over to sit on the edge of the bed, a hand automatically fidgeting with a knife strapped to the thigh.

“They can wait,” Nebula’s voice cracks a bit, “and instead, when you are older and stronger, we’ll go visit them together.”

“Really?” The child’s smile is contagious, even as it turns into a wistful frown. “Gotta lot to learn first, then.”

… Reader …

There simply isn’t room for anymore stories about your father, the great Tony Stark, but what you have heard is starting to paint a picture of a man much more complex that the news stories and interviews has ever managed to reveal. You shouldn’t be surprised. Neither at the (many) wild years – the last of which you are a result of – nor the dedication he showed when working on a project regardless of the magnitude, and still your mind is spinning from the effort of analyzing every tidbit of new knowledge.

Tired and unable to take more, you are already pulling on your coat and boots to get some fresh air when a car pulls into the long driveway, reminding you of the arrangement and a whole new set of worries.

Steve Rogers.

The name brings a cascade of butterflies with it, untameable despite your best efforts and forcing you to say goodnight and goodbye before it becomes obvious.

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bounward · 4 years

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ch1.2 [trial] basil: ...two sheep... [re: dawson, pan, smee, general ronck stuff]

There's a sheepish grin on the detective's face as he's complimented on his detective skills! He too was surprised by the fact he figured out the scissor matched the wound- confirming at least in part what dealt the killing blow... or part of it. Though Basil was still, uh, immensely confused by the rest of everything involving this case. So it's not very long before his embarrassment fades and it's replaced with... confusion.

"Uhh, actually... On the whole rock business, I was kinda stuck on where the rocks came from, 'cause they're pretty big? But when I tried diggin' 'em up, I found out they're like... part of the bedrock. So, definitely whoever formed 'em there had to have been a magicky person... I mean, like, makin' giant rocks? That's pretty magic!"

There's a pause as he recollects what others have been saying about Chirin's magic already: he turns to Smee with a goofy grin on his face, letting out a quiet 'heh!'

"Yeah, uh, I didn't entirely get her curse, but I figured rocks were out of her wheelhouse! Plus, with the way the scene was set up, uh..."

Basil tries to make... a diagram, with his hands. One hand is Chirin, who is an awkward stick figure, while the other was the presumed murderer. They're sitting on the edge of his seat.

"So like, with the way the sand was set up, an' where she ended up headin', it looked like... she was runnin' away from the beach an' towards the station, right? But the rocks..."

Hand-Chirin ran along the edge of his seat... but suddenly stopped! She couldn't go any further!

"The rocks look like they're formin' a dome around the pool... yeah? So, what if the person was tryin' to like, corral Chirin, 'cause they didn't want her to go in the pool or whatever. She starts runnin' towards the station, an' the person thinks they got her until... boom! Plants! Loses their dagger an' all."

Hand-Chirin makes a jump for the other armrest!

"...does that make sense? Sorry, I'm, uh... first time I've had to explain stuff to others. Usually it's them doin' it."

Despite his best explanation intentions, there's an obvious air of uncertainty in Basil's expression and voice, and he kept flitting his gaze between those looking towards him, as if seeking some sort of recognition.

"I'm... not sure why they blocked off the pool, honestly, were they afraid of losin' her in the water? Did they not want to swim? I'unno. Whole thing's confusin' me. Even if Chirin could do rock stuff, it wouldn't make sense for her to block off the pool, I figured havin' more avenues of escape were better."

#ch1 #trial #basil #submission

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trashpandaorigins · 4 years

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The Body Keeps the Score Ch. 16 Bonds of Blood and Steel

"You said it yourself bitch, we're the Guardians of the Galaxy." Gamora is finally a part of something. But the past always follows you, eats at you and she must come to grips with her deeds as she tries to build a future. Meanwhile Rocket has never cared much for anyone or anything. Together the two of them discover they are more alike than different and try to heal themselves by befriending the other.

*Content Warnings: Mentions of child/animal abuse, trauma, character death, physical torture/pain*

Title of this fic is taken from the book of the same title "The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma," by Bessel van der Kolk

Don't you understand, what I'm trying to say?

And can't you feel the fears I'm feeling today?

If the button is pushed, there's no running away,

There'll be no one to save with the world in a grave,

Take a look around you, boy, it's bound to scare you, boy,

And you tell me over and over and over again my friend,

Ah, you don't believe we're on the eve of destruction.

Eve of Destruction - Barry McGuire

Rocket sped toward the third sector of the Keystone quadrant with reckless abandon. He made sure there was enough fuel for the long haul, and was of course armed to the teeth. He concentrated on tracking Nebula’s pod and piloting the pod around the thousands of keystones that the quadrant was named after. Harmless pieces of rock floating in space but depending on the size it could really mess up your ship if you hit one. He concentrated on anything, anything but Groot. Anything but Gamora, anything but the Nova Corps or the weapons he’d left behind that Drax had no doubt gotten into by now.

Damn guy can never keep his hands to himself.

The raccoonoid guided the pod around another set of keystones, glancing at the screen for any detection of Nebula’s pod. He counted the rounds of ammunition he’d packed if only for a distraction.

Groot’ll be fine. Quill can barely take care of his ship but he knows better with an actual living creature right? Well at least Drax was a parent at some point he’ll now Groot needs feeding and attention...won’t he?

He sniffed, whiskers twitching, on the small rectangular screen before him he could just make out the marker for the third sector and beyond that the blinking dot of the other stolen pod.

Damn escape pods don’t have any guns on em’. He hadn’t taken that into consideration in his inebriated plan. Rocket glanced down at the weapons around him, tucked in and around the seat. The only advantage was that Nebula didn’t get the chance to pack.

“Beep, beep, beep, Pod 2 identified, thirty lengths away.” Rocket reached down, grabbing for Quill’s elemental blaster at his hip, the weight of it heavy. He scanned the endless sky stretching out in all directions, a void of black set against the drifting stones. His fur pricked with anxiety, the Keystone Quadrant was large, but not that large and if what Gamora said was true...there were Halfworlder’s out there right now, looking for him.

But she didn’t give me up to them . Probably because she’s a good person, despite everything that purple asshole did to her. How she’d managed to come out of her torture a better person, he’d never know but he envied it. Oh no, he was much more like Nebula. Hopefully that would work to his advantage.

As if on cue the orange escape pod stood out contrast to the rest of the galaxy before him. He flicked on the communications,

“Nebula, this is Rocket. Land on the nearest Keystone, we gotta talk.”

He held his breath, watching her pod slowly come into focus; though he kept enough space between them and several stones, just in case.

“Nebula! Land on the nearest Keystone! I want to make a deal!”

Her pod swung away, ducking underneath a large stone.

“Shit!”

Rocket punched the accelerator taking off after her. Whipping around a stone and launching over another, the orange light of Nebula’s engines streaked across the pebbled sky. He turned to the starboard side, narrowly missing another stone in pursuit of Nebula.

“Why don’t these things go any faster?!”

He cursed, surging forward. The engines shook sputtering. He turned straining to see the fiery tail of Nebula’s pod. The raccoonoid growled in frustration as his own ship sputtered after her.

Closer….closer...I got yah, I….fuck!

His escape pod shook, the sound of metal against rock crunched and scrapped. He grabbed for the controls, trying to push it forward but the keystone he’d grazed now stuck to the bottom of the pod.

Rocket looked upward, noticing the last bit of bright light from Nebula’s pod fade into the dark. He grabbed for the emergency space suit nestled under the seat and wiggled it on, at least five sizes too large.

“Stars damn it,” the raccoonoid opened the hatch, bracing for the cold. He shifted the hadron enforcer in one paw, taking aim, leaning out over the pod precariously, took aim and fired.

The pod lurched forward, sending his stomach into a sickening torpor. He slammed the lid down over himself and fixated on the map once more. He tracked her down easily enough and leapt over a large stone, wincing at the way the pod rattled.

It ain’t gonna be space-worthy for long.

He pushed it forward, with a satisfied laugh as Nebula’s ship came back into view.

“Not going so fast now are yah?”

He grinned, steering his own ship higher and ahead, over a large keystone. Nebula’s craft gilded under and he took his chance. Diving down just in front of Nebula’s pod. The stutter of her engines blasted as she struggled to pull up in time. Rocket glared at her from his pod, her own suspicious eyes met his. She bared her teeth, making to steer to the leeward side but the raccoonoid intercepted, knocking his ship against hers with a hot clang of metal and fuel

“Nebula! I just want to talk!”

“Shut up fox, I know you’re with Gamora,” her voice seethed through the poor speaker system. This time she sent the pod flying upward. Rocket tensed, pursuing her. He angled the pod directly under her own and sent the struggling engines to propel upward, the glass of the dome creaked and groaned as he slammed into the bottom of her ship. Pushing it up and up.

Keystone to the right, Rocket noticed out of his peripheral. He tried to steer her pod towards it, as she struggled to break free. The raccoonoid held his breath, bracing himself for the impact as he pulled the throttle down all the way, sending his ship into full speed.

I’m sorry Groot….Quill better keep his promise...I’m sorry Gams. For everything.

He shoved Nebula’s ship into the large stone, metal and fire and fuel colliding with the hard rock. Everything rattled, a muffled scream in the distance he was pretty sure was Nebula.

They hurled into the surface of the stone. Everything shaking, Rocket swallowed the sickness in his stomach, trying to keep his head straight as everything spun. The heat from their engines revved, tumbling and intensifying.

What the hell were you thinking?! Quill could come up with a better plan than this!

Rocket’s cybernetic implants burned with the building heat. The metal conducted heat as swiftly as they launched into the rock. The impact stung, rolling and jostling. The raccoonoid cursed, eyes roving. He curled his paws around the steering throttle trying to control the crash. Nebula’s ship tore away from his with a deafening shriek of metal. The velocity gradually slowed, and the raccoonoid swallowed down his vomit, head in a daze.

When the pod eventually came to a screeching halt he hardly knew it.

“N...nebula?”

He coughed, wiggling his limbs, trying to breath through the pain of his aching back and searing chest. The cybernetics are still hot to the touch, threatening to melt his flesh. He fumbled for Quill’s blaster and a pistol and heaved himself out of the pod via the shattered glass dome. Wincing with the scraps of sharp glass embedding into his fur Rocket fell lamely out of the ship with a thud. Pulling on the hood of the space suit he still worse, he looked around in a fog.

Nebula’s pod was strewn several lengths away, he leveled the blaster in his shaking paws and fired a blast of ice at the dome of the pod where the woman was struggling to open it.

Oh yeah, I see why Quill likes this so much!

“Where is she?!” Nebula growled, Rocket fired again. This time the icy blast shattered the glass. The cyborg woman shielded herself only to lash out and aim to fire back at Rocket with some concealed gun apparatus in her cybernetic arm. The raccoonoid ducked out of the way.

“She ain’t with me! I came alone! Will yah’ just put the dast arm away!”

He waited, watching her climb out of the escape pod, cursing and stumbling out onto the barren rocky wasteland.

How the hell is she still alive?

He wondered upon watching her stalk towards him without any space suit or protection whatsoever. Rocket bit his tongue but slowly lowered the blaster to the ground and raised his arms up.

“I didn’t come here to fight yah.”

Nebula grimaced but lowered her arm to her side, standing stiff and glowering down at him. A Flarken ready to attack.

“Gamora’s not with you?” She demanded hotly.

“If Gamora was with me we wouldn’t be havin’ this conversation now would we?”

The cyborg woman looked around the barren keystone suspiciously, finally looking down at him once more.

Wish there was some sort of rock or somethin’ to stand on, he thought with a pinch of anxiety. It was better, to at least be eye level with the person you were negotiating with. Plus she’d have the advantage of a higher vantage point if she did choose to attack. The small pistol concealed in the space suit did little to reassure him.

“You said you were here to make a deal?”

“Well….you hate Thanos don’t yah? Even more than your sister.”

Nebula’s mouth twitched, face as hard as steel.

“I know you want to kill him and I don’t blame yah. Hell, I’d help you do it. But what if I I told yah I could give you somethin’ better?” He asked, with practiced cunning. He watched her face shift subtly into curiosity.

There yah go, you got her. Just like Contraxia and Vartor and Pleeta.

Just like every other bargain or blackmarket job he’d taken. Every con, every bet. With that, he continued with easy confidence. He put his arms down, speaking with an old bravado.

“Why kill the big guy when you can undo what he did to you? Kill him, you’re still the same old metal hunk of junk, even after he’s gone. Undo what he did to you, that’s real revenge and you can always kill him after that too.”

He watched her momentarily glance at her metal arm. That agony, that self-loathing, the alienation and disgust at your own body. All familiar.

“What if I told yah...I could undo it all. Everything he did to yah.”

She exhaled a shaking breath. Rocket smiled to himself.

“I can meld over that metal, give you a flesh lookin’ arm. Probably remove that thing all together and attach a real flesh and blood one if you wanted. I could take that piece in your head, make it so it matches your actual skin.”

Could fix the internal stuff too...It would be risky and take longer but it could be done. But I could leave her mods so she could still fight... his imagination ran wild with the possibilities.

Nebula listened intently, her jaw loosening. She opened her mouth to speak but Rocket was on fire now.

“And that’s just the outside stuff, all those procedures I could make it so you’d no longer remember them.”

The ecstasy of ideas and excitement was suddenly pulled out of him and he swallowed the lump in his throat, looking down at his own augmented legs.

“Make it so you don’t wake up screamin’ no more. It’d be like he never tortured you.”

No wind, no air in the galaxy made for quite the awkward silence between them.

“What’s the catch?” She finally whispered after a time. Rocket’s ears pricked upward, “I said what’s the catch? What do you want out of this rodent?”

Rocket sniffed, tail twitching, then took a deep breath.

“You gotta promise me you’ll give up this murderous revenge spree with Gamora.”

Nebula eyed him incredulously, but didn’t move to shoot him. Rocket continued quickly before she changed her mind.

“She was a kid Nebula. She was doin’ what she had to survive. She didn’t think about what Thanos was doing to yah not cuz she didn’t see it or cuz she didn’t care...it was cuz it would’ve gotten in the way of her own survival.”

He stopped waiting for Nebula to attack him. But she only blinked, frowning. Out here on this isolated rock spinning through the galaxy it felt like they were the only two people in the universe.

“It’s instinct,” he whispered, voice low. “You would’ve done the same.” He paused, breathing heavy with effort. He didn’t dare meet her eyes.

“When I escaped the lab, I blew up buildings, killed whoever was in my way. S….shot at anything that moved. I….I didn’t think about freeing anyone else and I didn’t feel guilty when the o...others got experimented on.” Though he could still hear them, their pathetic cries, whimpering, shrieking, mewling.

Blackjack...Lylla...all of them in there.

“I...I didn’t feel guilty….cuz it meant they weren't experimenting on me But Gamora does feel guilty an’ she’s a better person because of it.”

Nebula pressed her lips into a fine line. Rocket sighed, more exhausted now than angry.

“She’s tryin’ to make it right. I’m askin that you ever meet her again...that y...you give her that chance. An you know, don’t kill her.”

The cyborg woman glared at him. Black eyes full of intentions Rocket could not discern. The only thing the scientists did not condition into him were emotions. He watched her weigh the options. Standing stiff and staring at the cold grey rock surface between them. Rocket held his breath. He could almost feel the keystone orbiting though the sky. Nebula breathed slowly, he watched her precariously.

“....You better make it worth it, fox,” she growled with conviction.

Light relief flooded through him.

“I will.”

He reached slowly for Quill’s blaster and hooked it into the buckle at his hip, striding past Nebula to her pod.

“Where are we going?” She demanded, following him.

“You think I got a whole med facility hiding under this desolate rock?” He jumped into the pod, fiddling with the controls to distract himself. Nebula climbed in next to him.

“Then where are we going? “

Rocket’s muscles tightened, his stomach churning. He shook his head, running a paw over his eyes, hoping she could not detect the terror in his voice. He tapped in the codes with trembling fingers

“.......the worst place in the galaxy pal.”

Out of the corner of his eye Nebula bared her teeth,

“I’m not your pal.”

“Yeah,” Rocket punched the ignition, bracing as the pod took off. “I’m not my pal either.”

#the body keeps the score fic #rocket raccoon #nebula #groot #baby groot #gamora #gotg #Guardians of the Galaxy #drax #Drax The Destroyer #my writing #peter quill #star lord

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