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jeonsjiddies · 4 years

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how not to | kth

Summary- Taehyung takes Tannie to the vet and develops a crush on the vet, and proceeds to tell a few white lies to see her again word count- 1.6k pairing- taehyung x reader genre- fluff Warnings- none? a/n: loosely based on How Not To by Dan + Shay, for my beautiful @sugarly-laysa ; another one in third person, idk lol

The first time Taehyung saw her, he almost dropped Yeontan, who was the whole reason he’d walked into the vet in the first place. Yeontan had been lying around Taehyung’s apartment, just whining pathetically and refusing to eat or drink. Taehyung had panicked and scooped the small dog into his arms, dashing towards the closest vet. He threw the doors open and anxiously talked to the receptionist, while gingerly stroking Yeontan’s fur to soothe his beloved dog-son.

“Don’t worry Mr. Kim, the doctor will be right out.” the woman smiled reassuringly but Taehyung couldn’t stop pacing around the small lobby.

Then, she walked out of the swinging doors and time stopped. Taehyung swore that the colors around the room dulled in comparison to the way she shined. Light seemed to follow her, like she was an angel and the air around her was her halo. Yeontan wiggled in Taehyung’s loose grip, snapping him back to reality. He tightened his arms around the pup and walked up to the doctor.

“Hello, Mr. Kim! My name is Y/N. Please follow me and I’ll take a look at Yeontan here.” she flashed him the most enchanting smile he’d ever seen.

Momentarily speechless, Taehyung just nodded and quietly followed the unfairly gorgeous veterinarian to an examination room and placed Yeontan on the table, stroking his fur to relax him.

“So, Mr. Kim, what seems to be the problem?” Y/N asked, putting gloves on and gently patting Yeontan’s head.

“He won’t eat or drink and he’s acting very lethargic.” Taehyung explained, “I’m very worried. Tannie’s usually full of energy and always ready for a snack.”

She nodded, furrowing her eyebrows together and gently pushed on Yeontan’s stomach, feeling around for abnormalities. Yeontan let out small whimpers, but didn’t yelp or snip at her. He was the perfect gentleman and Taehyung was a little proud of that. Y/N looked over Yeontan for a bit, doing a few tests and looking in his mouth, checking his temperature, making sure she didn’t miss anything that could be troubling the poor little guy.

“I’d say he ate something he shouldn’t have. I’ll prescribe him some mild pain relief and you can just keep a good eye on him, and come back if anything gets worse, okay?” Y/N instructed him, and Taehyung nodded obediently, his eyes glued to her every movement.

He just couldn’t find it in himself to look away. She handed him the script and pet Yeontan one more time, leaning down to speak to him specifically.

“I hope you feel better, buddy.” she cooed sympathetically.

Yeontan, though he still looked rough, gave her a couple of kisses and leaned into her touch, which she smiled at before scratching behind his ears then standing up.

“Thank you so much, Y/N . Really.” Taehyung bowed a bit, looking up at her and when her eyes met his, he felt shivers run up his spine, which only intensified when she placed a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s my pleasure, Mr. Kim.” she smiled.

“Taehyung. Or Tae. Please.” he returned her smile.

“Tae.” she corrected, his name rolling off her lips like dripping honey.

Instead of responding, Tae sent her another smile before exiting. His heart was thrumming in his chest as he carried Yeontan back to his car, immediately going to fill the prescription for him to clear up his tummy issues as soon as possible.

A week and a half later, Yeontan was back to normal, but Taehyung was not. He could not get Y/N out of his head, every time he closed his eyes he could see the way her eyes sparkled, the way her lips curled up in that sweet smile… he didn’t know how not to think about her. He needed to see her again.

Biting his lip, he glanced at Yeontan and debated his plan. It wasn’t exactly ethical to lie and say that something was wrong with Yeontan when he was fine, but he had no other method of seeing Y/N, seeing as how his social media stalking had come up empty handed. Taehyung scooped Yeontan up in his arms and brought him up to his face.

“Listen buddy. I know you’ve faked sick before so I would stay home… think you can do it again so we can visit that pretty doctor?” Taehyung grinned, “I’ll give you a treat!”

Yeontan wagged his tail and barked excitedly upon hearing one of his favorite words, and Taehyung took that as an agreement and set off for the vet. Entering the building, he felt nervous. He hoped she wouldn’t notice his true intentions for coming in and embarrass him.

“Hello, Mr. Kim.” the receptionist greeted, “Back again?”

“Yes, Tannie seems to not be feeling well again…” he trailed off, avoiding eye contact.

Yeontan, on queue, let out a pitiful whimper.

“I’ve got you checked in, Y/N will be right out to get you.” the receptionist smiled sympathetically.

Taehyung stroked Tannie’s fur in a silent thank you as he waited for the beautiful doctor, and when she finally stepped out, Taehyung felt the air leave his lungs. She was just as beautiful as he remembered. Maybe more.

“Hello Tae, Tannie. Come on back.” she smiled.

Taehyung followed her and set Yeontan on the exam table, shooting the Pomeranian a look, and mouthing “treat” which caused Yeontan to let out another pathetic whimper. Y/N’s gaze snapped to the small dog and she cooed softly in sympathy, doing another checkup. Several minutes went by and Taehyung was getting more nervous, pulling on the collar of his shirt and working up a light sweat.

“I can’t see anything wrong with him… when did this start?” Y/N asked.

“Last night.” Taehyung lied.

“Hm… let me do a few more tests but I think he might just have another tummy ache. He should be fine.” Y/N smiled encouragingly.

Taehyung nodded, watching as she worked on Yeontan, who was an amazingly good sport. He was getting so many treats. Soon, they were on their way, bidding the doctor a goodbye and going home, where Taehyung rewarded Yeontan with treats and bites from his own dinner.

Two months later, Taehyung was embarrassed to admit he still brought Yeontan in under false pretenses sometimes. He didn’t do it often, less than a handful of times really, but he still felt awful that he couldn’t just gain the courage to ask Y/N out. She was just so beautiful he couldn’t find it in himself to put himself out there.

He walked into the vet's office, and the receptionist wasn’t stationed at her desk. Taehyung frowned in confusion, looking around. He waited a few minutes then decided to go searching for someone. He quietly turned the corner to the examination room, and heard voices coming from it. He peered in without being seen, and he saw Y/N facing someone with a light blush gracing her cheeks.

“I wonder if he’ll show up this week…” Y/N giggled.

“Who?” he heard the voice of the receptionist ask.

“The hot guy with the Pomeranian who comes in like every other week, Taehyung. I haven’t seen him in a few days and I think I’m going through withdrawals.” Y/N joked, placing her arm across her forehead dramatically.

“Oh right!” the receptionist laughed.

“The things I would do to that man…” Y/N trailed off with a smirk.

The receptionist seemed to choke on something while she laughed and Taehyung felt his chest swell up with pride. She liked him. She liked him! He tried to sneak away unheard but Yeontan decided it was the perfect opportunity to start disobeying his dad, and he let out an excited bark and jumped from Taehyung’s arms, running up to Y/N and wagging his tail, jumping up on her legs to beg for pets.

Y/N’s eyes grew wide as she stared at Taehyung, who stood sheepishly in the doorway after being caught eavesdropping. Both their faces were bright red with embarrassment and the receptionist took the opportunity to slip away unnoticed, while Y/N picked Tannie up and began stroking his fur, avoiding eye contact with Taehyung.

“I, uh… am sorry if you heard anything um… unprofessional…” she coughed.

“Sorry I kind of creeped on your conversation. I waited in the lobby but when no one came I got concerned.” Taehyung explained, then his demeanor changed, taking on a playful one as a smirk graced his lips. “Hot guy with the Pomeranian, huh?”

“Oh god you heard that.” she whined, using her free hand to cover her face.

Taehyung let out a chuckle, stepping closer to her. Her eyes shot up to meet his, and he smiled, biting his lower lip in nervousness.

“I’ll take it as a compliment… if you agree to have dinner with me tonight. Say 6? After you close.” he spoke, his voice coming out more even and sure than he thought it would.

“I’d like that.” she smiled up at him, “But does that mean you’re going to stop pretending Yeontan is sick?”

“You knew?!” Taehyung gasped.

“Tae… Tannie is a great actor, but you’re a terrible liar.” she giggled.

Taehyung hid his face in his hands and laughed, the tips of his ears turning pink.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he asked.

“I didn’t want you to stop coming.” she shrugged.

Taehyung smiled at that, and the doorbell chimed, signaling a new customer, so Taehyung decided it was time for him to leave. He took Yeontan from her arms and placed a chaste kiss to her cheek. Her eyes widened but she smiled at him.

“See you tonight?” she asked.

“See you tonight. Maybe we can talk about all those things you’d do to me…” he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, a playful smirk on his lips.

“Oh god. Get out.” Y/N laughed, shoving his back to propel him forward.

Taehyung laughed, letting her push him out into the lobby, and spent the remainder of the day thinking about all the possibilities that awaited the two of them. As usual, he couldn’t stop thinking about the beautiful doctor with the heart of gold, he just didn’t know how not to.

#kim taehyung #taehyung #v #bts v #bts #bts fluff #v fluff #taehyung fluff #kim taehyung fluff #tae fluff #yeontan #tannie

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sneezefiction · 4 years

Text

with every step

Ushijima x reader - scenario

event request: “could I have 2 + Ushijima”

a/n: “dance with me” + Ushijima took me a while to figure out, but i fell in love with him even more as i wrote it all out. alice (and other Ushijima lovers), i hope you enjoy this short, fluffy Ushi fic :,,,) <3

warnings: none

wc: 870

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It’s hard to pinpoint when it all began.

It seems like you’ve always been spinning together in refined circles, your shoes gliding gracefully across the floor. Ushijima’s hand always found itself on the small of your back, leading and guiding your movements. It was all a dance against gravity, lead by the stoic, brown-haired boy.

It took place in banquet halls under the guise of low-flowing, classical music. On concrete driveways under twinkling starry-skies, where only the muted song of a quiet breath and your sleepy hums could be heard. After an important volleyball game, sweaty arms making their way to your waist, swaying you mildly back-and-forth with undertones of triumph and sweet smiles highlighted in Ushijima’s little dance.

You can only assume that the dancing began over time after receiving certain looks or queues.

Sometimes it was the way his olive-toned eyes drew you in. The soothing color seems to douse you in a new-found refreshment, washing over you day-by-day. Ushijima has an unspeakably peaceful effect on you, especially under his watchful gaze. It always managed to pull your body close to his, creating music of its own.

It may be the gentle touch of his strong fingers, brushing softly against your satin skin, holding your waist firmly while you give yourself over to his protective hold. You know he’s strong enough to lift you up off your feet, yet Ushijima’s calloused fingers remain delicate and relaxed on your frame.

Other times, it’s the way he pulls you aside in public for the sole purpose of reminding himself that you’re here with him, holding his hand, standing by his side. Whether it was shining brilliantly outside or downtown streetlamps were lighting up sidewalks, he would still manage to twirl you around. He needed to feel you on his skin, closer than his own shadow.

It’s in the all-encompassing, all-knowing look that Ushijima gets when he finally sighs a breath of relief, letting go of his day. Releasing himself from the pain and agony of always being “perfect” or at least being better than yesterday. On those days, you would take the lead on a short, dining room dance, letting him put some of his weight onto your shoulders.

But no matter what motivates your little waltzing sessions, it’s just you and him floating in your own space. Unbothered by the atmosphere around you. Ignoring any weird stares from strangers or funny comments from friends.

With every step, you understand him better. How your head tucks under his chin, temple resting on his chest, feeling each and every breathe flow in and out of his strong body.

You feel yourself absorbing his unspoken beliefs and emotion. You gaze into his past. Into his family struggles. How he’s felt unknown and unseen for the majority of his life, whether or not a magazine spoke his name or a camera caught his face. The decisions that were made for him, instead of by him. The highs and lows of going into volleyball as a profession. The moments of grief he experienced when relationships or skills weren’t developing the way he wished they would.

You can see all of it in his eyes. In the solemn, serious shift of his hands. Through the tears that sometimes silently slipped out of his eyes when he thought you wouldn’t notice.

And if you’re being honest, sometimes it’s the closest you can get to knowing Ushijima. The nearest you get to him revealing his everything to you.

But it’s okay.

Because as he turns you round and round, you sometimes catch little whispers and trails of sentences. Small “I love you’s.” Little lyrics of speculation that he allows to spill out and over your head. How his fingers twist or tug at your hair when he’s lost in a glowing galaxy of thought.

It’s in that one little touch, every swaying movement, the little taps of shoes on the flooring beneath you. It all speaks 1000 times louder than any word.

You being there for him is beyond being some simple comfort. To Ushijima, it’s true safety. You drench every inch of his being in a blanket of tranquility, claiming him as your own when nobody else would. These little dances serve as a reminder that you’ve given yourself into his care. That you see him for who he is, with or without a reaffirming vocalization. In the sullenest of moments and the darkest of nights.

And the way he holds you securely is more than enough to satisfy you for an eternity. He cascades over your body, folding his arms around you like unfinished origami. His touches are artistic, thoughtful, and fragile. Always changing and molding into something new...

But you believe that the finished product will be beautiful.

Deep down, you know that a brief waltz, a clumsy, short-stepped routine just happens to be enough to glue the two of you together. Without a hint of hesitance, you can claim that, as much as you love leaning into his touch and feeling the rhythm of music flow beneath your feet, Ushijima loves it just as much.

And this stays true throughout every season; as leaves fall, golden or not, and pleasant, purple flowers spring from icy grounds… you’ll dance with him. In the most literal and metaphorical senses, you’ll float and twirl and fall with him through it all.

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tags: @cherryonigiri, @yams046 , @miss-rin, @shou-kunn, @senkuwu-chan, @super-noya, @stcrryskies, @holaaaf, @sugacookiies, @vintgicals

(comment or send an ask to be added to my general tag list)

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #ushijima x reader #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima #ushijima scenarios #ushijima imagine #ushijima headcanons #ushijima fluff #hq #hq x reader #hq scenarios #hq imagines #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #600 follower event #haikyuucreations #sneezefiction

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puttingfingerstokeys · 3 years

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A little something I whipped up for @heamatic with her Shinnok in mind.

No timeline alignment stuff here, just pure gift work based on a thread we’ve got on my RP account @bastardsunlight. Ft. Shinnok being creepy because that’s kind of his thing. Shinlao, because we haven’t come up with a ship name and I am appalled at our laxity.

Also like, I can’t believe I’m saying this but neither writer is in any way under some fucked up impression that this is a good, safe, or non-toxic ship. We use the term to describe people who are involved IN SOME WAY. That way is not necessarily healthy.

This story features no NSFW instances.

The dimly lit corridors of the Bone Temple are familiar passageways to Kung Lao as he moves effortlessly toward the audience chamber where he will soon be needed. Shinnok does not often offer his time, but today, he evidently feels generous. It is therefore his favorite creature’s duty to attend as well. Lao has long since stopped thinking of himself as a monk or even a former one, though his spiritual power is still formidable. That life is behind him. Netherrealm is—if not his home—his territory.

Emerging from a massive double door at one side of the infernal hall, he surveys the emptiness of it, the cavernous opulence of the mad god’s particular tastes. Deeper, under vents in the floor—Shinnok appreciates the screams of his captives—is the dungeon proper, though the audience hall very much resembles it. The high pillars are of dark reds, shining obsidian, and shot through with veins of other colors difficult to distinguish in the Stygian light of the realm of dishonored dead. Everything is bone and sinew and suffering here, fire and brimstone and ugly deception.

“You have kept me waiting, little one,” purrs the Elder God of Chaos from his throne. It is, naturally, constructed of bones—not all humanoid. He leans to one side and regards Kung Lao with those inscrutable eyes characteristic of his kind. “Do you wish to bring punishment down on yourself?”

“No, master,” responds Kung Lao, approaching the dais and then ascending to within reach of the massive entity’s long arms. If Shinnok wishes to pull his guts out and toss him back down like a used doll, he may do so from anywhere; why inconvenience him?

“Yet you offer no explanation…” The Elder God’s finger came out and lifted Kung Lao’s chin before sliding down his neck, over the pretty young man’s Adam’s apple, and down to collar bone and chest. He has left this one alive, appreciating the responsive heat and goose flesh of living skin. It bruises so prettily.

“I offer no excuse, my lord.” Kung Lao meets his eyes with an impertinence he loves and hates and oh he has made the right choice in this one. He had known the moment they met upon the field of kombat that Kung Lao would, indeed, make an excellent addition to his collection.

“You are wise beyond your years, it seems, if a bit pert.” Shinnok retracts his hand and waves it about. “Well, get on with it. I’ve better things to do.”

Quan-Chi materializes presently, late as well, though his arrival receives no acknowledgement whatsoever. His dark lord spares not a glance, instead watching the retreating back of the foolish monk who exchanged his own freedom for the life of his friend. Sentiment is worthless in Netherrealm and soon, the arrogant boy will learn this, if the old soul sorcerer must show him the way with his own two hands. His fists clench with the thought, imagining themselves about Kung Lao’s throat, squeezing until something breaks. The pleasure that arises from the thought sends a shudder down his spine.

Meanwhile, Kung Lao, unaware of this contemplation—or if he is aware, he cares so little, he doesn’t bother sparing the man, if a thing like Quan-Chi can be called a man, a single glance—turns to descend the dais. An oversized bone arm which has sprouted from the stone and bone floor of the mad god’s receiving hall offers itself, open-palmed, to the fallen monk. Kung Lao accepts it gracefully, laying his hand in the much larger one, knowing he has not displeased his lord on this day. The dry, brittle-feeling digits wrap gently about the young man’s hand as he makes his graceful retreat to discharge his duties.

Quan-Chi scowls at Kung Lao’s back until Shinnok actually turns his attention on his favored sorcerer—really the only sorcerer who will competently serve him with true, deep loyalty. It really is pathetic to watch, but sometimes a whipped dog is better than no dog. Shinnok has not even had to whip this one. He’s done it of his own accord.

A strange Netherrealm native (as native as anyone can be in a realm of dishonored souls and demonic constructs born of the mad god’s fits of rage), it had been he who had approached the Elder God of rot and chaos to serve him. If Lord Shinnok could be said to be grateful for anything, he might have chosen that moment when Quan-Chi’s power had drawn him to his lord and master’s prison and set about events which would eventually free and embody him. Of course they have greater plans, but for the time being, this will do.

This will do very nicely indeed, he considers, regarding his little pet’s taut backside as Kung Lao makes his way through the hall, the bone arm now sliding along with him, digging a furrow in the ground which seems to knit itself together just a few feet behind the abomination which now has its hand on the curve of Kung Lao’s lower back. Every sensation the bone arm feels, he also feels and the warmth of living flesh is delightful; he wants to grasp it hard, make the boy squeal with pain, make him bleed a little. Just a little.

Perhaps later.

“You have some… news?” Quan-Chi has been scheming—he is always scheming—to manifest his dark, mad god in Earthrealm and he clearly believes he has hit upon something. Shinnok can see it in the sparkle of the man’s eyes. Oh how he loves me, contemplates the Elder God with absolutely no reciprocity of that feeling.

“I do, my lord,” responds the sorcerer, bowing to one knee and standing to deliver his findings. Shinnok listens patiently, mind elsewhere as it must always be. He is chaos incarnate. There is little order to be had in Netherrealm beyond his absolute rule. Not much can hold the attention of an Elder God, in general, but Shinnok in particular has always allowed his mind to wander where it will. Aside from grand machinations of upset and overthrow which delight him endlessly, there is almost nothing of such magnitude in all of existence—no single object or concept which can so fascinate him. What could possibly be of such import that he, a deity, might need to focus his energies on it for any length of time? The boy, some part of his thoughts remind him sweetly. You’re quite captivated with your new toy, aren’t you? Ah but toys come and go. He will tire of this one… eventually.

That boy is now crossing the threshold of the temple’s audience hall, the doors gliding open before him. The dry heat of Netherrealm has ceased to move him and he walks out into it, ushering in the first petitioner, wondering if his lord and master will listen to this one, or slay it on sight. Any creature, demon, or lost soul who is bold enough to approach the Bone Temple and beg favors of the lord of the Realm is desperate, addled, or too cocksure for their own good. An obliteration by the death god is permanent, it is nothingness, non-existence. Somehow, that void is more terrifying by far than the screaming, burning, howling dimness of Netherrealm.

The first demon in line—he is first by virtue of having killed his way up the queue; the corpses of those before him are littered in pieces here and there as a testament to this, all still twitching and flailing as the death he grants is only pain—is a truly imposing figure, easily ten feet in height, with massive, twisted horns like a ram and a maw full of jagged teeth. His eyes ablaze with contempt. This expression does not soften when it lays its burning gaze (with all four eyes) upon the pretty, behatted monk—Kung Lao may not think of himself as a monk, but they do—but rather hardens to something bordering on obscene. The thing licks slavering lips with an exaggerated motion, clearly aiming to upset the small, soft-looking mortal, who does not respond, only gestures to the hall.

“The master will see you now,” he says in a neutral tone that betrays nothing. “Please, follow me.”

As they enter, the beast’s three-toed feet hit the ground much harder with each step than might actually be necessary, as if to emphasize his weight. Shinnok leans back upon his throne and assumes a semi-attentive posture. There is no real reason for him to pretend he cares; even the pretense is worthless, but for now, it entertains him. Some of the denizens of his realm wait the Netherrealm equivalent of months, even years, if Shinnok is indisposed and simply does not care. Lately, he has been taking more audiences, but then he has only lately had a… secretary. Kung Lao moves swiftly ahead of the demon, braid swinging tantalizingly behind his shapely back. The boy is an hourglass, upon close inspection, broad of shoulder, narrow of waist, and thick of hip and rear-end. The demon is inspecting.

“This is far enough,” instructs Kung Lao. “What are you called?”

The demon splutters with indignation. How could they not know him, the greatest general of the northern armies of Khadul, the god-king of the demons, the true creatures of Netherrealm! He has severely overestimated his importance, a grave error in the Bone Temple. The silent hall rings with its silence. An audience chamber ought necessarily to have an audience, but Shinnok prefers the cavernous immensity. It reiterates just how small his petitioners truly are. He eyes the demon, but has yet to speak. A bone arm sprouts near Kung Lao and it makes a twirling motion with its forefinger.

“Lord Shinnok bids you speak,” says the shapely boy through plump lips that look like they ought to be bruised and bloodied and used, in the creature’s foul opinion.

“I will speak,” he snarls, reaching out toward Kung Lao with the intent to brush past, “but with the lord of this Realm, he in whose temple we stand, not you, little slut. There are things I would do with you, yes, but speaking… it is not one of them.” The demon’s laughter rings out boldly into the hall, bouncing off the skulls and femurs and ribs and myriad other bones which make the walls, floor, and ceiling. Quan-Chi flinches minutely, though more at the brazenness of it than the sound. Shinnok is a statue. The bone arm has dissipated, crumbling like ash and ruin, leaving Lao alone. His lord is watching.

“No,” says Kung Lao, the syllable sharp and clear as a pretty bell rung in a mausoleum—and equally as incongruous next to the obscene, guttural speech of the demon. “No,” he repeats, “you do not speak. You bark like a mangy cur begging for scraps. Heel.”

He rushes the demon with lightning speed as it swings for him. There is a brief moment when it seems he might make a try for the beast’s sizeable testes, which swing visibly behind the scant loincloth one might say he is “wearing”. The idea occurs to him and a strange flash of melancholic amusement jolts Kung Lao’s spine before he disappears beneath his hat in a flash of red light and lotus petals. The creature, having never encountered this particular mortal, looks baffled and squats to examine the hat. Quan-Chi’s mouth opens to warn the beast of its insolence in his master’s presence, but a sharp gesture from said master silences him. His face heats with rage. How dare the boy show off this way? He will be punished—perhaps disemboweled or flayed. How delicious that would be!

As the as yet unnamed demon reaches toward the object to pick it up, the flash occurs once more and the deadly piece of headwear flips upward, turning vertically, its far edge held by the owner, the only man in any realm able to master such a strange weapon. The creature barely has time to cry out as Kung Lao draws the hat up its entirety, bisecting the thing and spilling its steaming insides along the floor. Midair, Kung Lao flings the hat, hard, toward Shinnok. Once more, Quan-Chi blanches, but the mad god catches it easily and holds it, bottom facing downward, toward his knees where he sits. This, he thinks, is the most fun I have had in millennia.

Kung Lao’s form plummets toward the gory mess he has made and for a brief, shining moment, Quan-Chi thinks perhaps he will fall and snap his neck and that will be that, one last escape attempt with the final spark of the monk’s spirit left to him. Lord Shinnok has no need of a broken doll. Of course this is a flight of pure fancy. Shinnok will find a use for that beautiful body, even broken.

Alas, rather than crashing to his death—or maiming, at least—Kung Lao’s body dives into a circle of blood, red light, once more accompanied by a flash and flurry of lotus petals. It takes only half a moment for him to repeat the trick, falling out of the hat and into his lord and master’s waiting lap. Shinnok allows the hat to settle upon Kung Lao’s head and once more tilts his chin upward so that their eyes meet.

“Far too impertinent,” he scolds, shaking his head, running his thumb over his little doll’s full, perfect, soft lower lip. Kung Lao is flushed with the pleasure of his accomplishment and hasn’t a spot of blood on his person. “Who are you to decide who I do and do not address, hmm? Is this not my domain?”

“His master would pretend it is not. One cannot serve two lords and you rule this Realm.” This is not a question, nor is it simpering. Kung Lao speaks cold, hard facts. “I merely saved you the trouble of hearing a dog bark.”

So bold, Shinnok thinks. I must curb this. But he does not punish his little favorite. The unpredictability delights him. Quan-Chi senses this misplaced delight and recedes from the receiving hall unseen, glowering over his shoulder and now hellbent on perfecting his machinations to bring his master to Earthrealm.

#violence #cc #cw #mortal kombat #kung lao #shinnok #shinlao #gift work

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ethanlivemere · 3 years

Text

Half-Life²: Anticitizen - Chapter 3

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

_____________________

Chapter 3

Trespass

The true citizen knows that duty is the greatest gift.

The true citizen conserves valuable oxygen.

The true citizen cooperates with his Civil Protection team.

The true citizen’s job is the opposite of slavery.

The Consul’s brief messages echo across the pavement, each one followed by a hollow chime. It has an almost hypnotic effect, as I find myself staring up at the cluster of screens hanging over the intersection. It’s an Orwellian sight to behold: the citizens going about their day while the Consul’s watchful gaze looks down from above.

The true citizen embraces the Universal Union.

I think back to my encounter with the Vortigaunt. It had been a shock to hear English words coming from the mouth of the alien. Its voice was guttural and rough, and it continually made insect-like hissing and clicking sounds, but it spoke English nonetheless. Quite eloquently, even. Vastly different from Black Mesa, where the hisses and clicks had been the only components of their communication. But perhaps the bigger shock in seeing the Vortigaunt was not what it said, but the way it spoke to me. Like I hadn’t killed dozens of its kind in Black Mesa after seeing them slaughter my coworkers. After such hostility, I expected this Vortigaunt to charge up a bolt of green energy and attack me, and my instincts wanted me to reach for a weapon I didn’t have. The last thing I expected was for it to greet me as an ally.

“Your presence gives us hope, Freeman,” it had said. “As you saved my kin in the border world, so shall you save us again on this miserable rock. For now that the lesser master lay defeated, the greater must also fall in time.” Ah, so that’s how it is, I thought. When I killed the Nihilanth, I freed the Vortigaunts from their enslaver, and now they expected me to do the same once more. I remembered the slave camps and factories on Xen, where, for just a brief moment, they didn’t attack me – until the Nihilanth’s Controllers arrived and forced them to fight. They must have realized I was their one hope for freedom. A freedom which, ultimately, was very short-lived.

The Vortigaunt then walked to the contraption that held another one of its kind in its dark liquid. It placed its two-fingered hand against the glass and, despite its alien features, I could see sadness fall across its face. “The Vorti-cells drain power from my kin to support the Combine’s machinery. Those who enter them seldom emerge. The few who do are weakened almost to the point of collapse. Truly, it is a fate far worse than the shackles I bear.” The shackles were different from the ones worn by the Nihilanth-enslaved Vortigaunts. Instead of shining green, they were a dull gray. Their design remained very similar, though. Wrist bracelets, a collar, but also a sort of codpiece that I didn’t remember seeing on the Nihilanth’s slaves. Apparently the Combine deemed it necessary to cover the Vortigaunts’ loins – even though they housed no visible organs of any kind.

The Vortigaunt proceeded to grab a broom from against the wall and told me it had to resume its duty or suffer punishment. It seemed rather ironic, almost comedic even, that an alien race powerful enough to power factories was also being employed to sweep the streets. Recalling the instructions Jeremy had given me, I asked the Vortigaunt if he knew how I could get to the Manhack Arcade, where Barney was supposed to meet me. “Ah,” he responded pensively. “The Manhack Arcade. The hall of the unwitting executioners.” He proceeded to give me clear directions. I was to go to a place he called the Stenographer’s Chasm and then continue in a straight line. I wondered what he meant by ‘unwitting executioners’, but before I knew it, he had already said his goodbyes and disappeared around the corner.

The strange encounter had left me confused and a bit shaken, but I resolutely continued my journey and followed the Vortigaunt’s directions. I had a hard time imagining what this ‘Stenographer’s Chasm’ could be, but I could never have imagined what it turned out to be. An enormous, Combine-modified warehouse consisting of one long room that extended far into the ground, filled with rows of workers perched on stools behind desks, frantically typing on typewriter-like machines. But the stools and desks weren’t on the ground: they were mounted onto single, suspended rails that ran across the room. There were multiple levels of these rails and desks reaching all the way to the ceiling and down into the chasm. The workers had nowhere to go. My guess was that at the end of their shift or when their quota was fulfilled, the rails transported them to a place where they could safely dismount their stools. Until then, they could do nothing but work. I didn’t know what it was they were doing. What kind of paperwork could the Combine have? They didn’t seem like the type to bother with those kinds of things too much. Then again, an intergalactic empire is bound to have some unavoidable paperwork. Probably keeping track of resources and the like.

More disturbing sights awaited me, though. It all began at a building that produced a continuous sound of whirring and chugging, like a giant steam engine. Looking through the window, I saw a black and white tiled hall that was filled with enormous, diagonal pistons moving back and forth. At their base, people were working on the large engines that seemed to drive the pistons. I then realized that the engines weren’t just large, the figures knelt at their base were also small… they were children. Children, no older than twelve, were working on heavy machinery under the watch of Metrocops. And that wasn’t the only factory where children were being forced into labor. A bit further down the street was a smaller brick building that housed a large furnace. More children were stationed at a conveyor belt that lead into the furnace. They took white, ellipsoid objects from barrels and placed them onto the conveyor. They weren’t being burned in the furnace: they reemerged out of the side, attached to the ends of poles, and were transported into another machine. I had seen the white objects before on the brown-robed, flamethrower-wielding beings in the station and on posters that Jeremy had referred to as ‘Cremators’. These were Cremator heads. I tore myself away from the windows and continued my way through the industrial area. I never looked through another window again.

The factories eventually made way for a busier commercial district, which is where I find myself now. It’s the busiest place I’ve seen in this city, apart from the military parade. This must once have been a street with many successful shops, but now most of the display windows stand empty. One of the buildings still in use houses the same ration dispensers I also saw in the station. Another one showcases multiple television screens, all of which display the Combine logo.

“Can you believe it? Free TVs!” says a citizen gazing through the window.

“Don’t get too excited,” his companion replies in a cynical tone. “Those things only have one channel: the Consulcast.” He points over his shoulder at the cluster of screens overhead, where the Consul’s many faces are still naming the values of a true citizen.

But the Consulcast nor the free TVs are the reason why there is so much traffic on this street corner. In fact, I’d wager the Combine strategically placed those here so that as many citizens as possible would be exposed to the propaganda. The real eye-catcher everyone seems to be here for is across the street: the Manhack Arcade. It’s a large building that forms the corner of the street. Completely Combine-made, no recycling of old buildings. The people in the street flock towards the wide entrance on the corner, which is flanked by two Metrocops. Above it hang a number of yellow posters and banners and even more screens, all showing Combine logos and imagery.

I wonder if I should go in. Jeremy told me Barney would meet me at the Manhack Arcade, but it’s unclear if that means outside or inside. It seem risky going into a Combine facility, but it doesn’t seem like the citizens get scanned like they did at the checkpoints, and I could probably slip by the two guarding Metrocops unnoticed by hiding in the crowd.

I wait a little longer, hoping Barney will show himself. The clouds have gotten darker still, and before long a light drizzle starts pouring from the sky. Not only am I not dressed for rainy weather, I also want to avoid getting into too much contact with this water, which, judging from the greenish color of the clouds it originates from, could have all kinds of toxins or undesirable pH values. And so, when an exceptionally dense group of people approaches the entrance to the Arcade, I join them and walk past the Metrocops without either of them giving me a second glance.

Inside is a corridor that leads to the main room. Like the Stenographer’s Chasm, it’s long, tall, and extends down into the ground. Instead of rails with desks and tired workers, this room is filled with catwalks leading to strange machines. Citizens queue in front of them and when it’s their turn, they step onto a pedestal in front of the machines, grab hold of two control handles and lean forward to place their heads in some sort of virtual reality display built into the arcade.

A screen above the player allows bystanders to follow the game. A citizen near me has just started: at first, the screen shows only a grid of red lines in a black void. Then, the grid bends and reshapes itself into a three-dimensional environment that resembles a ruined building. Several humanoid shapes appear in yellow and orange tints, like heat vision, but with a clear red outline to them. The player navigates the environment, seemingly flying, and moves towards the outlined targets. The targets start moving around, trying to evade the player, but eventually he catches up to one. It’s not clear what happens, but when the player bumps into the target, the red outline disappears and a score of one hundred appears in the bottom right corner of the screen. “Ha ha, got one!” the player exclaims. Another nearby player is already at a score of eight hundred, when one of the targets suddenly rushes at him, holding up some kind of long object. The screen goes black and the words ‘GAME OVER’ appear on the screen. “Damn it!” the man shouts. “I was almost at my high score!”

Something’s not right. The way the targets move – it doesn’t look like a video game character. Much too erratic and lifelike. And from what I’ve seen of the Combine so far, I doubt they would put effort into providing ground-breaking AI technology for their panem et circenses. The Vortigaunt’s words echo through my mind: ‘the hall of the unwitting executioners’. I can put two and two together, but I don’t want to. I refuse to believe that what I fear is true. People slaughtering their own, cheering while they do it – and without ever realizing what they did. Or, at least, I deeply hope they don’t.

I don’t want to stay here any longer. Watching these innocent people enjoying the Combine’s twisted games turns my stomach. I have to find Barney. But how can I simultaneously hide from the real Metrocops and try to get Barney to see me?

As I pace through the room, I notice a Metrocop eyeing me. It’s hard to tell with the gas masks, but it seems like his gaze is following me. Is he Barney or a suspicious guard? I try to act inconspicuous and wait for a signal. Suddenly, the Metrocop turns away and walks towards a door. He interacts with the locking mechanism and it opens before him. He throws another prolonged glance in my direction before stepping through, out of sight. I wait. The door doesn’t close behind him. I cautiously make my way to the door. It leads to some sort of backstage corridor, clearly a ‘staff only’ area. I can’t see the Metrocop. I look around the Arcade one last time, but none of the remaining guards seem to notice me, so I enter the corridor. It’s cold and dark, and my footsteps are loud on the metal floor. I arrive in a small room with one of those Combine consoles. The wall is lined with a rack containing dozens of small, deactivated drones whose purpose I can’t discern. I hear the door I entered through close.

“Hey, you!” I hear from one of the neighboring corridors. A Metrocop – the one I followed in here – enters the room. “Do you have your identification?” He menacingly steps towards me. Seems it wasn’t Barney after all. Tough luck. “You are not supposed to be in here. I need to see your identification.”

Well, I seem to have gotten myself into a sticky situation. The Metrocop is trying to drive me into a corner, drawing his stun baton. “Overwatch, restricted incursion in progress in sector 8. Permission to enact civil judgement?” he says to seemingly no one. There’s a short blip and a burst of static following his question. I’m not thrilled about the prospect of ‘civil judgement’, so I decide not to wait until he gets his answer from whoever Overwatch is. I place my hands on my head, feigning surrender, while I scan the exits. The corridor back to the main Arcade hall is sealed and I can’t tell where the others lead, so I’ll have to trust my instincts.

Either the Metrocop has received his permission from Overwatch, or my eyes darting around the room have made him suspicious, because he suddenly swings his stun stick at my head. I try to duck and the blow lands against my elbow, sending a shock through my entire arm as blue sparks fly from the weapon. In response, I kick at his shin as hard as I can. He grunts and loses his balance, and I take the opportunity to dart down the nearest corridor. I hear the Metrocop’s heavy boots give chase behind me as he mumbles a status report to Overwatch. I round a corner, praying I won’t run into a dead end. I see a T junction ahead. Suddenly, I hear a deafening bang behind me, and the sound of a bullet hitting metal. Damn. He has a gun. I have to reach the junction as fast as possible. No time to look which way to go. As the echo of the gunshot fades out, I speed off into the left corridor just before another bullet plunges itself into the wall.

Suddenly, my surroundings open up into a larger room that’s two thirds Combine architecture and one third concrete rubble, remainders of whatever building was here before they installed their Arcade. I could get out through the collapsed walls and floors, but I’d be an easy shot. There’s also what looks like a Combine elevator with a bright red button inside it. I have milliseconds to make a decision. How far behind is he? Can I pull it off?

I slam my fist into the red button, rush back out of the elevator and then dive behind a half-collapsed wall. The doors close and the elevator starts to rise as I flatten myself against the concrete, bent rebar poking into my shoulder. My left arm is numb from the shock of the baton. I hear the Metrocop charging into the room. I hold my breath and pray he falls for my trick. It’s a trick as old as time. He stands still and I wait, my heartbeat ear-deafening.

“Subject is headed for top floor, secure perimeter around elevator.” I have to keep myself from sighing in relief. He isn’t gone yet. In fact, he seems to just stand still in front of the elevator. He must be waiting for the elevator to reach its destination. If he waits for the top floor units to report an empty elevator, my cover is blown.

“Copy,” he says. My functional right hand grabs hold of a loose chunk of concrete near me. I hear him walk a few steps, and then a couple of beeps. “Elevator power disengaged. Heading to your location.” With that, he walks out of the room, and I can finally breathe again. They don’t know the elevator is empty yet. They think they have me trapped in an unpowered elevator. Now to finally get out of here.

Easier said than done, as it turns out. The ruins are a concrete maze, and I constantly have to watch my step. It doesn’t help that the rain that seeps down through the broken ceilings makes everything slippery. The downpour has changed into an outright storm: the water beats down loudly on the concrete and every now and then a roaring thunderclap tears through the sky. Meanwhile, I guess the Metrocops discovered I wasn’t in the elevator after all, because I suddenly hear the cold, disembodied female voice – Overwatch, I assume – echo through the air once more: “Individual, you are charged with anti-civil activities: 63 criminal trespass, 148 resisting arrest, 243 assault on Protection Team. All local Protection units: code alert: locate, contain, prosecute.”

I spot one of the lambdas painted by the resistance group on a pillar. It leads the way down a slope of collapsed floor into a sub-street level area. Knowing the Metrocops are looking for me again, I try to speed up my pace a little while heading down – a mistake. The wet rubble gives way and I lose my footing. The world spins around me as I slide and tumble down the slope. I try to shield my head with my arms. I roll over the floor after reaching the bottom before coming to a stop.

I lie on my back as my surroundings come back into focus. I’m in some sort of underground sewer chamber: I see a ladder on the wall leading up to a manhole cover and there’s a grate in the ceiling through which light and rain pours down in a small waterfall, though the ground I lie on is thankfully dry. I do a quick damage report: my palms are chafed and I’ll undoubtedly have a few bruises, but no lasting damage. I’m lucky I didn’t hit my head on any of the protruding edges of the concrete.

I become aware of a sound, just barely audible over the storm. It sounds like a fire – no, more like a flamethrower. At the same moment, I notice the dancing orange light on the brick wall, and my nostrils are assaulted with the stench of burning flesh. I immediately jolt up. Pain shoots through my back at the sudden movement. I look around and immediately spot the source of the sound: there’s a Cremator standing on the opposite side of the room. The two lanky, leathery-skinned arms sticking out of its brown robe carry a heavy flamethrower which, I notice for the first time seeing one up close, is connected to a spherical fuel tank in the middle of its stomach with a thin tube. ‘Flamethrower’ might be an incorrect word, however. Instead of producing flames, it shoots the green particle jets I also noticed being used to clean trains in the station. It must be some sort of corrosive liquid that only affects organic matter. The source of the orange light on the walls turns out to be a burning pile of charred flesh being sprayed by the Cremator. The flesh is being set ablaze by the green particles, but not only that: where the jets hit the flesh directly, it seems to blacken and disintegrate. Despite the fact that the corpses have turned black as coal and have been turned into an amorphous, ever-shrinking pile, I can still make out just enough to see that these were once people.

The Cremator stops what it’s doing and turns its white, oval head towards me, alerted by my sudden movement. Its tiny, expressionless eyes lock onto me. I hear mechanical breathing from the Cremator’s mouth-tube as it steps closer. It tilts its head like a curious animal before it points the nozzle of its weapon towards me. I could try to run, but I doubt I could get far enough to evade the scorching cloud. I briefly wonder if I should not have moved an played dead. It probably wouldn’t have saved me from being disintegrated.

“Cremator! Stand down!” A Metrocop charges in and stands between me and the Cremator. “This prisoner is property of Civil Protection and is to be transferred to Nova Prospekt for processing.” The Cremator tilts its head again, then turns around and returns to its previous work. The Metrocop turns around to face me. I should be worried, but I’m not. Despite its distortion, I have already recognized his voice. I once again hear the click of the mask detaching and am greeted by Barney’s smug grin. I’ve never been happier to see that stupid grin.

“So Gordon, is this what you call ‘not drawing any attention to yourself’? You’ve got practically every Metrocop in the sector looking for you!” He reaches out and grabs my arm to pull me onto my feet. The numbness from the stun baton is almost gone, though it now hurts from the fall instead. As I rub my elbow, I glance at the Cremator. It seems to be minding its own business, but I don’t feel comfortable hanging around near it much longer, and I wonder if it’s a good idea for Barney to unmask himself and be so friendly with me in its presence. Barney follows my gaze and says “Don’t worry about him, he won’t bother us again. They’re not too bright, these Cremators. Mindless synths. They were made to be janitors, primarily. Destroy biological waste, contain the Xen infestation…” He looks down at the charred corpses grimly. “… clean up after the Civil Protection patrols.” He beckons me and starts walking. “The reason he was about to disintegrate you is because you are not a registered citizen or Combine unit. So to him, you would have to be either a Xenian creature or a very lively corpse. Either way, you were considered ‘unauthorized biological mass’ and had to be disposed of.”

We enter an underground utility tunnel. The sounds of the storm fade away as we follow the cables and pipelines down the dimly lit corridor. “You’re lucky I found you,” Barney remarks. “Those Immolators of theirs can give you a nasty burn. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to meet you at the Arcade, I was held up by unforeseen complications on my shift. I had just gotten back to Dr. Kleiner’s lab when I heard the local CP units go crazy over some guy causing trouble at the Arcade.” He flashes me a smirk. I tell him what happened at the Arcade, with the Metrocop I had thought was him. “You got baited,” he replies. “Some CPs will bait citizens into breaking rules, like trespassing, just so they can enact some civil judgement.”

We march through the underground network in silence for a while before I cautiously bring up Jeremy. Barney sighs sadly and lightly shakes his head. “Yeah, I heard what happened.” He doesn’t say anything for a moment, seemingly choosing his next words carefully. “Listen, Gordon… don’t worry about it, okay? I can probably pull some strings to make sure he turns out okay.” He doesn’t sound all that certain. “Either way, don’t blame yourself. Each of us knows the risk in what we’re doing. We’re all prepared to... go all the way for our cause.” I get an uneasy feeling in my stomach. Barney is being uncharacteristically serious and grim. This is not the same man I knew before Black Mesa. Then again, the same goes for myself.

His face lightens up again and he slips back into his usual grin when we go down a side tunnel with another lambda, at the end of which is a short staircase with a metal door. “Well Gordon, looks like we’re finally here.” He opens the door and the sound of machinery pours out. Not harsh, loud and aggressive, like the Combine factories, but light beeps and clicks over a soft hum. A familiar sound that invites me inside. The sound of science.

_____________________

Consul screens

Stenographer's Chasm

Piston hall

Cremator factory

Manhack Arcade exterior + Citadel

Manhack Arcade interior

Cremator

Underground

And for the first time, there aren't just images for reference, but also sound: here is the original Vortigaunt voice.

As always, really excited to share this new chapter of Anticitizen with you. We've finally reached Kleiner's lab, so from now the story will start picking up pace. And as always, please let me know what you think :)

#anticitizen #half life #half life 2 #half life 2 beta #my writing #fanfiction #gordon freeman

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yeah-klave · 3 years

Text

Great Big Beautiful Tomorrow

Summary: Klaus and Dave visit the happiest place on earth.

A/N: Dave-didn’t-die!AU. Pure fluff.

Word length: 1.2k

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything.

*******************************************

“So, what’s the plan then?”

“What makes you think I have a plan?” Dave said lightly, turning to Klaus who was practically vibrating with excitement on the purple plastic seat next to him.

Klaus huffed an exhalation of disbelief, rolling his eyes. “Oh, please, don’t play coy,” he grinned. “I’ve seen you with your charts and your spreadsheets and your maps. Of course you’ve made us a plan. Come on, give it up buttercup!”

Dave grinned. “Okay, yeah,” he admitted, “I have made us a plan.” Dave paused, his eyes flicking over Klaus’ face. “Would it be unforgivable nerdy of me to admit I have a screenshot of an Excel itinerary saved on my phone?”

Klaus looked back at Dave fondly, the corners of his eyes crinkling with warmth and affection. “Nope,” he said firmly. “Totally on brand. I’m down. Now, come on, let’s see!”

Dave pulled his phone out of his pocket and pulled up an image of a color-coded grid with times and notes highlighted.

“Well,” he said. “I’ve come up with a rough outline that factors in showtimes, FastPasses and dining reservations, you can see I’ve highlighted these yellow here,” he pointed at the screen. “I’ve also planned a route” he pulled a colorful map out of his pocket, unfolded it in his lap and pointed out a roughly clockwise route, “which is as much of a complete circuit as possible, without too much zipping from one side of the park to the other. It doesn’t look like these places are designed so you can get anywhere quickly!” He paused and referred back to the image on his phone. “I thought we could start by grabbing some breakfast from Main Street Bakery, which is here,” he pointed at the map, “and then head off in this direction and hit up the classics Jungle Cruise, Pirates of the Caribbean and Big Thunder Mountain and then I’ve got us FastPasses to ride Splash Mountain mid-morning. Then I think we should head over to Liberty Square, here,” his finger indicated the position on the map, “and go on the Haunted Mansion and the Liberty Square Riverboat. It’s probably going to be about lunchtime by then, so I suggest getting something to eat in Columbia Harbour House – I’ve read their salmon and couscous is great – and then that leaves us all afternoon to do Fantasyland and Tomorrowland. I’ve got us FastPasses for Peter Pan and –”

“Hang on,” Klaus interrupted, “you’ve got us queue jumps for a kid’s ride?”

“Firstly, it’s not a kid’s ride just because it’s slow,” Dave said. “And secondly, I’ve heard the wait time for that ride gets ridiculously long. So yeah, I have.”

“Oh, okay,” Klaus nodded. “So what next?”

“Well, depending on wait times, there’s Barnstormer, Mine Train, it’s a small world… and I’d love to see Mickey’s PhilharMagic, which is this cute, multi-sensory show.”

“That sounds cool,” Klaus agreed, “Yeah, let’s do that.”

“And then in Tomorrowland there’s Space Mountain – I’ve got us FastPasses for that. And Walt Disney’s Carousel of Progress is an absolute must! Then I’ve got us a reservation at Be Our Guest for dinner, the photos online for that place look spectacular – you can eat in the Beast’s ballroom or even the West Wing. You order your food in one place, take a seat somewhere and then the food gets brought to you as if by magic! Although I think they track you with some kind of GPS rose. Then in the evening there’s the Happily Ever After fireworks – I think we should get a spot in front of the castle to watch them. I mean,” he paused, “there’s also loads more we could do too, and it’s going to depend on wait times and things, but I thought this was a good starting point at least…” He trailed off, pouring again over the map and his itinerary.

Klaus studied Dave’s face. “Hey Dave,” he said gently, taking hold of Dave’s hand, “I’m so lucky to have you.” Dave looked up, smiled and squeezed Klaus’ fingers. For a moment they just gazed into each other’s eyes.

“Just think,” Klaus laughed, “without you I’d have just been pinballing all over the place randomly and probably missing loads!”

“Yeah,” Dave smiled, “but I’m sure you’d still have had a chaotically wonderful time.”

“Only if I was with you,” Klaus said simply, reaching out and booping Dave gently on the nose.

Suddenly overhead a fanfare started playing through the speakers and Klaus twisted in his seat quickly, peering out of the window and desperately trying to catch a first glimpse.

The bus finally pulled up. “Thank you,” they both said as they stepped through the front doors.

“Have a magical day,” they heard, as the doors closed behind them.

As they stepped out of the air conditioning, a wall of hot air hit them.

“How can it be this hot, this early?” Dave pulled at the collar of his tee.

“Dave, we survived the wet heat of the Vietnamese jungle,” Klaus grinned. “We can handle Florida!”

“Yeah,” Dave said, “but I hate to think what this humidity is going to do to our curls.”

“That I’ll give you,” Klaus nodded, scrunching his nose and pulling a face. “Come on,” he took hold of Dave hand again and eagerly pulled him in the direction the other guests were walking.

“Woah,” Dave whistled, “this looks as intense as airport security!”

After having their bags checked, they scanned their MagicBands and fingerprints at the turnstiles and entered the Magic Kingdom park for the very first time.

Hand in hand, they walked under the train station and out into Mainstreet USA. Klaus was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. After another few steps they both stopped and stood in awestruck wonder.

“Woah,” Klaus breathed.

“Yeah,” Dave agreed. “Just, yeah... wow.”

“There it is” Klaus said. He tore his eyes away from Cinderella’s Castle and turned to Dave, his huge, dark-rimmed eyes twinkling. “We’re actually here, Dave. Finally!”

“Yeah,” Dave breathed, looking back at Klaus with pure affection. “It’s even more wonderful than I imagined.”

Their faces split into matching grins. Dave reached out, gently cupped Klaus’ cheek in his large hand and – at eight o’clock in the morning, at the bottom of Main Street USA, looking up towards Cinderella’s Castle, in the Magic Kingdom, the happiest place on earth – Dave leaned forwards and kissed the love of his life.

“What was that for?” Klaus murmured into the space between them.

“Oh, you know,” Dave said quietly, supressing a smile, “all princesses deserve a True Love’s kiss.”

“Oh, you Disney geek!” Klaus grinned, rolling his eyes. “I suppose you think that makes you Prince Charming?” But he pulled Dave towards him and grasped him in a fierce hug, pressing his cheek into Dave’s neck.

When they pulled apart, Dave could see Klaus’ eyes were shining a little.

“Right,” Dave said, his voice firm and determined, “are you ready to have the most magical day of your life?”

Klaus smiled and leaned forwards to rub the tips of their noses together briefly. “Every day with you is magical,” he said, “but let’s have this one in Disney World.”

Then, hand in hand, they turned, took a deep breath that smelled like jasmine and butter popcorn and happiness, and stepped into a magical kingdom of possibilities. Their very own great big beautiful tomorrow.

#klave #klaus hargreeves #dave katz #klaus/dave #klaus x dave #the umbrella academy #tua

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lu-undy · 3 years

Text

Chapter 94 - SBT

Here it is!

"Mundy, non, I will not let you play this."

"But, Lu', it's a guaranteed win! And then I can get you that massive teddy bear."

"Mundy, if you do that…"

"What? What'll you do, eh?"

"I will spend my nights with that teddy bear and you sleep on the sofa!"

"But Lu'...!"

Both men were arguing not far from the shooting stand.

"Alright, let's do it another way." Mundy suggested.

"Hm?"

"We both try it. If you do better than me, you choose whatever you wanna embarrass me with."

Lucien's eyes lit up.

"Deal?" Mundy extended his hand.

"Deal." Lucien shook it and they both approached the shooting stand.

"Gentlemen! Get closer, c'mon, don't be shy! Here we are, here is your rifle, and here is yours!" The manager of the stand handed them both a plastic gun. "Shoot only on the wolves and avoid the sheep! Are we all ready?"

Lucien and Mundy exchanged a smile.

"Yeah."

"Yes."

"Then leeet's go!"

The cardboard targets started sliding left and right, slowly at first. Both hit them consistently.

"Oh! We have good contestants today! What about a little faster, huh?"

The cardboard cutouts slid more irregularly, some fast, some slowly. But still, both men hit the targets without fail. Lucien and Mundy moved almost in sync left and right, their eyes catching the position and speed of the target a fraction of a second before they would rotate and align the iron sights of the plastic rifle on them.

The stand manager kept on increasing the speed of the moving targets but both men managed to match the challenge until the end of the round.

"Well, I'll be damned…" The poor man said. "It's not the first time it happens, but it's the first time I see it happen with both people!"

Lucien and Mundy chuckled.

"What reward would you prefer?"

Mundy was the first to answer.

"That big teddy bear."

"And for you, Sir?"

"The black panther, please."

Each of them took their prizes and exchanged them.

"There, now you will have someone to sleep with on the sofa, hm?" Lucien winked.

"C'mon…!" Mundy pleaded and both walked away.

They wandered through the alleys, passing by families, children with balloons, through the cheers and shouts of people enjoying their time as much as the couple of older men.

"Lu'?"

"Oui?"

"Want some cotton candy?"

"If I share it with you."

"Right, c'mere." They went to a cotton candy stand. "What color d'you prefer?"

"Pink." Lucien answered.

"Then can we get a pink one, please?" Mundy addressed the man in charge who nodded and they waited there, their eyes riveted on the cloud of sugar growing bigger and bigger with every spin of the stick.

"There."

"Thanks, mate." Mundy paid what they owed and they walked away. The Aussie held the candy while both bit into it. "Oh God… Hahaha!" He burst out laughing when part of it stuck to the Frenchman's moustache and beard.

"What?"

"You got a pink beard now!"

"Oh…" Lucien cleaned himself as best as he could. "Is there any left?"

"Nah, you're alright… Let's go."

They continued their walk through the stands.

"Do you know what we call cotton candy in French?"

"No, what?"

"Barbe à Papa."

"Somethin' of dad?"

"Dad's beard, literally." Lucien answered and both laughed.

"I can bloody well see why, eh, Papa?" Mundy said.

"Indeed. Oh, here, a bench."

They both sat down and put their prizes next to them. Lucien took the cotton candy and held it for both of them while Mundy stretched his arm on the bench's back, to end up wrapping it around Lucien's shoulders.

"Gosh, I didn't remember it was that sweet…"

"Well it is only sugar, what did you expect?" Lucien chuckled.

"You're the other way around." Mundy answered.

"What do you mean?"

"You're not only sugar but you're sweet."

"Pff…" Lucien rolled his eyes with a chuckle.

"What? It's true."

"Maybe, but it is very… uh… what do you say in English again for this...? Ah! Cheesy."

"Well, I'm tryin', eh? We can't all get born seductive'n all…!"

"Very true. But what you lack in the art of seduction, you more than make up for with other skills of yours."

"Oh-ho boy, what skills, eh?"

Lucien gave that trade-marked smile of his.

"This place is full of children, it would not be decent to answer."

"Ooh, I get it…"

They exchanged a smile and finished their cotton candy, lazily watching people pass by.

"I wish I could just…" Mundy started.

"What? What do you wish you could do?"

"Just… Y'know… Hold your hand or just hold you close."

"I am right next to you, mon loup. Also, I did not take you for one who would be comfortable with public displays of affection."

"I'm not. I just don't care about people, I only see you and uh... I need to hold you."

"Is something the matter?"

"No, no… It's just me, I need you." Mundy looked at people passing by. "Feels a bit unfair that they can but we can't."

"Believe me," Lucien answered. "A lot of them would give away their lives to have what we have."

"What d'you mean?"

"I mean that we love each other sincerely, not for pressure from our families or any other constraint that life might have thrown at us. I love you for who you are, and vice versa. We have gone through hell and back, and that did nothing but strengthen what we have between us."

"Yeah, you're right."

"The way I see it, we envy them for their ability to show their love, but they would envy us much more if only they knew the strength of the bond between us. It goes beyond a ring on a finger, or a promise. You saved me and I saved you, in more instances and more senses than they will ever understand."

Mundy took a deep breath and when Lucien raised his eyes to him, the Aussie was smiling.

"And they would envy me for that delicious smile you have, amongst other things." Lucien added and Mundy chuckled and lowered his head to hide his blush.

"You got a pretty smile too, Lu'. I like it when you smile and uh… Y'know, you do the thing with yer teeth."

"What thing?"

"It's like when you laugh and uh… I like your teeth, they're like in the ads."

"Like in the ads…?"

"They're perfect and they shine and… I just love your smile and laughter."

"Oh, I know…" Lucien raised lovestruck eyes to Mundy and gave him a flash of his pearly white teeth.

"Gosh, you're gorgeous… I'd kill to hear your laughter more often."

"Well, that doesn't sound too hard to do."

"Huh?"

"You want to hear my laughter? Make me laugh then." Lucien answered.

"Right… Uh… I mean… Hold on, I gotta remember a joke or two… Uh…"

And while Mundy squeezed his brains out in search for any joke he could remember, Lucien burst out laughing.

"But I didn't say anythin' yet?!" Mundy exclaimed.

"I know but you don't have to. Your effort alone is touching, mon amour…"

"So I just have to look like I'm looking for jokes to make you laugh, eh?"

"Non, just be yourself."

"Find me funny?"

"In your own way, oui."

Mundy looked down at Lucien and they exchanged a sweet smile.

"Let's put the plushies in the van and come back."

A few minutes later they were back in the fair, looking left and right at what they could do.

"Wanna try this?"

"Mundy, it's archery."

"Yeah, and?"

"Are you going to make me do all those things that you are an expert at?" Lucien asked.

"Why not? You can take me to stands where they make you wear a mask and do spooky stuff, eh?"

"That is a good idea. But fine, let us proceed to the archery stand."

They approached and queued. When their turn came, they each took a bow and five arrows.

"Ooh, I see both gentlemen know their ways with a bow and arrows, eh? But are they good sharpshooters?" The stand manager asked and the people waiting in the queue observed them.

Lucien and Mundy were about ten metres or so away from the large circular targets.

"Ready…? Set…? Go!"

Both pulled an arrow and placed it against the string of the bow. They pulled, Lucien closing one eye, Mundy keeping both open and-

"It's a bullseye for both!"

"Think you can beat me, eh?"

"Non, I am sure of it - gnh!" Lucien pulled a second arrow and shot it right next to the first one.

"Ha, you're cute…" Mundy took two and put them against the string of the bow. "Watch and learn, Princess." He pulled the string and released it.

"Mon Dieu… How did you do that?!" Lucien gasped. One arrow went to the centre of Mundy's target and one to the centre of his own.

"I'm just that good, heh." Mundy arrogantly answered and wiggled his eyebrows.

"Tu ne perds rien pour attendre…"

"Say whatever the hell you want, you've lost, darl'..." Mundy took two arrows from Lucien and while still staring at him, he aimed and shot both in the middle of his target.

Lucien sighed and lowered his head to bite his lip. If only… If only they were alone, he would have kissed the soul out of Mundy right there, right then. But too many eyes were on them and he decided against shocking all these people.

"Fine, you won… I cannot possibly do better than that…" Lucien admitted.

"Well," The stand owner approached them. "You both know what you're doing, but you…!" He turned to Mundy. "Are you a pro or something?"

"Yeah, sort of."

Lucien rolled his eyes and chuckled at the arrogance of his lover.

"Alright, you get to choose your prize then!"

Mundy looked at the plastic toys and other knick-knacks.

"Can I get two?" He asked.

"Uh, alright, go for two! What can I get ya?"

"This one, and that one, please." Mundy pointed at a French and an Australian flag.

"Sure thing!" The stand owner gave him both his prizes and Lucien followed him out.

"So…" Mundy asked when they were sufficiently far from the archery stand. "Impressed…?"

"Taken aback and twice amazed." Lucien answered.

"Here, that's for you." Mundy handed him the Australian flag.

"Hm, they really give the citizenship easily in this country." The ex-Spy laughed.

"Yup, and so does France. Look at me, I've got a flag now, I'm French!"

"Pfff!" Lucien laughed. "You need more than that to get the citizenship, I'm afraid."

"What if I was livin' with a French bloke?"

"Living?" Lucien repeated.

"Can't say more cause there are kids around." Mundy wiggled his eyebrows.

"Oh, I see…" Lucien chuckled. "And who is the lucky one?"

"Can't tell you his name," Mundy answered as they both went on wandering in the alleys. "But I can show him to you. I'm about to buy him somethin'."

"Ah, lucky man he is." Lucien went on.

"Yeah, and he has a sweet tooth, so I'm gonna get here and - hey, mate, two caramel apples please… Thanks." Mundy paid what he owed and handed one to Lucien who blushed and raised an eyebrow to his lover.

"Do you know what these are called in French?"

"Is it somethin' about your beard again?"

"Non, we call them 'pomme d'amour'." Lucien answered.

"Somethin' of love…?"

"Apple of love."

"Ooh, I see… Well, here we are then, I just offered the bloke who's got me an apple of love."

"I like this arrogance of yours, it's new."

"Well I just beat the world's best spook, let me enjoy this, eh?"

They both tipped their apples and bit into them.

"Mh… As sweet as your lips…" Lucien raised lovestruck eyes to his lover.

"Listen to you, and you told me I was cheesy."

"Because you are." Lucien answered and gently bumped his lover with his shoulder. Mundy wrapped an arm around Lucien's shoulders.

"Right, so I'm cheesy but you're not, eh?"

"Exactement. You are cheesy and I am seductive."

[Exactly.]

"Pfff, doesn't make any sense, why can't I be the seductive one?"

"Look into my eyes." Lucien said and Mundy obeyed. His breath calmed down and his pupils dilated. His jaw slowly relaxed and he lowered his caramel apple. Lucien gave him a slow flap of his long black eyelashes and Mundy felt a soft punch in his guts. "This is why I am the seductive one."

"Uh? What-why?"

"I can bring your heart rate down with only a blink of my eyes, Mundy." Lucien answered and they went on eating their apples. "The day that you will be able to do that to me, you will be the seductive one." He gently tapped Mundy's chest.

"Right… Tss…" They shared a chuckle and continued walking around. "Anything you want to play with me?"

"Plenty."

"Oh? What d'you wanna do?"

"It is too early and crowded for my kinds of ideas, mon loup."

"Lu'... I meant in this fair."

"Ah…" He winked. "Well, to be honest, I can barely remember the last time I went to a fair, mon loup."

"It's alright… I just want you to choose somethin' you'd like to do. So far, I've been deciding, doesn't seem fair."

"Hm…"

"You like fast stuff? Adrenaline rush and that kind of things?"

"Not really. I only ever liked the adrenaline rushes at work. Well, I learnt to like them, not that I had much choice."

"Right, so none of these fast spinny thingies…"

"Non but… I suppose there is one thing we could do. I have always wanted to try it." Lucien answered.

"What is it?"

"This." Lucien pointed straight ahead and upwards.

"The ferris wheel?"

"Oui, if you are comfortable with heights."

"Sure, let's go!" Mundy squeezed Lucien's shoulders tighter and off they went.

They queued and finished their apples while watching the gigantic wheel slowly turn. When their turn came they hopped in the cabin and took a seat one in front of the other. A few moments later they started taking off.

Lucien waited for them to be sufficiently far from the ground to gently move seats and sit next to Mundy. The Aussie wrapped an arm around him and squeezed him close.

"Mmh… Mon loup…"

"Yeah, luv'?"

"Look at this sight… We can see the entire city, the river…" Lucien's head was on Mundy's upper chest and shoulder.

"And I can see the most gorgeous bloke I've ever met, eh?" Mundy brushed his lover's hair and Lucien moaned happily. He raised his head and they exchanged a kiss.

"Mundy?"

"Mh?"

"I want to stay in your arms."

"You will. Nothin'll pull you away from me, eh?" Mundy kissed Lucien's head. "And I'm keepin' you. All the guys and sheilas in the world look at you like you're an ice cream and it's the middle of the bloody summer. But you're with me." Mundy laced his other arm around Lucien and pulled him impossibly closer. "You're with me and I'm not lettin' go of you."

"Thank you." Lucien left a few kisses in his lover's neck and Mundy smiled with his eyes closed.

The ferris wheel was such that they were at the top most position now.

"Look at this, luv'."

Their arms were laced around each other. The noise of people's cheers and chatter, as well as of the other activities in the fair were muffled by the distance. Lucien only heard Mundy's gentle breath and his gravelly whispers.

"All this city… And the desert over there, beyond it… Beautiful, eh?"

"Oui, it is." Lucien answered. "And I am grateful to see it all with you, mon loup."

"Same… I never… I never did stuff like that before, I mean, not with someone I love. Happened with friends, with my parents, never with someone special."

"Neither have I." Lucien said. "But I feel lucky that somehow, in this weird and nonsensical life, I eventually did, with you."

They pushed their smiling lips against each other and stayed there for a while. Mundy brushed Lucien's hair behind his ear and pulled him closer still.

"Lu'?"

"Oui?"

"Thanks." Mundy took Lucien's hand and held it against his own chest. "I know there's still stuff to do, I need to tell Dad about us and stuff, but… With you, I feel like I can do it."

"Of course you can, but by no means do you have to." Lucien answered.

"Yeah, I know. I'm glad Mum's alright with it all."

"She wants you to find your happiness more than she sticks her own definition of it on you. This is a rare quality."

"Yeah… Mum's great, she's the best, really."

Lucien smiled.

"I remember you told me your mum and dad wanted to force you into medicine or law and you ran away…?" Mundy asked.

"Oui. My mother was a saint, an honest, hard-working and faithful woman. The rumours of my father's death were well spread but she still refused to find another man. She insisted on being sure about it. I think she loved him more than she loved my step father. When my father's death was confirmed officially, she grieved for years…"

"I can understand." Mundy brushed his lover softly. "But she found another bloke eventually?"

"She did. Although, to be nearer the truth, one should say 'she accepted another man'. My mother was gorgeous, blond, long hair with kind, blue eyes. She refused more men than she ever showed me, a young boy. But I was growing up and started to understand that if men were complimenting her, it wasn't just out of kindness. I was defensive, very much so. I wouldn't let her go out of the house alone."

"How old were you?"

"About fifteen or so. I would hold her hand in the street and act almost like her companion. And she treated me like her guardian, her little man. I started to feel the responsibility of carrying a family, a woman whose heart was too pure to be taken by anyone else. But of course, one day, it happened. I think she didn't like him like she loved my father. She liked the feeling of safety, of having a proper man at her side."

Mundy moved on his seat to better hold Lucien, as they were slowly going down.

"Within a year, they were married, living together. He slept in her bed and acted as if he owned the place."

"You didn't like him?" Mundy asked.

"For some things, I am grateful. He treated my mother well, never raised his hand on her and treated her like an equal. But the speed at which he invaded our lives scared me and what pushed me away was the day that my mother, who was otherwise compassionate and understanding towards me, sided with him."

"For your studies?"

Lucien nodded.

"I told my mother that I wanted to become something else, someone else. Of course saving lives or defending people are noble causes. But my call was elsewhere, maybe as a policeman?"

"Oh… You wanted to become a policeman?"

Lucien nodded.

"I kept thinking that if I had been old enough to be one when my mother was being whistled and harassed by those men who came back traumatised by the Great War, I would have been a policeman and arrested all of that scum." He sighed. "My mother had nothing against me entering the police forces. My step father however disagreed. He knew me very poorly and thought that I was doing that just for the nice uniform, the status and nothing else. Besides, he thought I wanted to put my aggressiveness into something that would allow me to get it out."

"You were aggressive?" Mundy raised a curious eyebrow.

"Frustrated would be a better way to put it. I hated that he prevented me from doing something that I wanted. He kept telling my mother that it would be better if I became a doctor or a lawyer… He said it so many times that it became the truth to her, even though she knew I never wanted that.”

“So you went away, on your own?”

“Oui. It happened on a night that as usual, I argued with him, my step-father. We both ended up raising our voices at each other and… I saw my mother’s distress and I swore to myself that I would never see it again."

"Gosh… You really loved her, eh?"

"More than anyone else for a long long time." Lucien answered. "When I was old enough to find a woman myself, I struggled."

"W-what? But you're gorgeous…!"

"Oui. I did not struggle to attract women, I struggled to accept them, because the responsibility was gigantic, and what if someday they went away like my mother? I could not place my trust in any women. So I… You will find this horrendous…"

"Hey…" Mundy took Lucien's chin between his fingers and lifted his face upwards. "It's alright, it's behind you now, don't be ashamed or anythin', we all make mistakes, even gorgeous spooky men like you." He gave him a tender smile and Lucien gently nodded. "So go ahead, if you want to."

"Well… I used women… for the physical needs. I didn't have an ounce of sentimentality for them and could not care less if they did to me. For most of them, the arrangement was suitable. We would have a night, maybe a couple more but that was it."

"I guess some wanted more, didn't they?"

"Oui, unfortunately so. But I was a spy and a prudent man. I knew how to disappear, so it wasn't much of an issue."

"Were you like that all the way till you met Mary?"

"Oui, pretty much."

"Wow… I knew you could be like that, I mean, makes sense for a bloke as good-lookin' and with the manners and all as you… But I never imagined you actually were like that."

Lucien pulled himself out of the embrace.

"Well, I was. I enjoyed the privileges that Mother Nature gave me, shamelessly and recklessly. Part of me never thought I could make it out of the war anyway. I was young, inexperienced, and everyday I learnt of the death of people who were much more used to the chaos of war, people who trained about it for years. So I gave everything I had to taste life as best as I could, before I would get caught."

"Jesus… C'mere." Mundy pulled him into a hug but Lucien pushed him back. "W-what's wrong?"

"Are you…" Lucien wiped a tear at the corner of his eyes. "Disappointed in me?"

"No…? Why would I?"

"Why wouldn't you?" Lucien answered. "You would be right to have doubts about me or… distrust me."

"Lu'." Mundy's voice was assertive enough to make Lucien's eyes move up to meet his. "You can tell that nonsense to someone else. I've been through hell with you and without you. I've seen what you're capable of doing, I know you and even with all that, I love you. Every day when I wake up, I don't even ask myself about it, I don't question it, I don't have the slightest doubt. I love you. Now you take all that bullshit your mind's been cookin' up for years and you throw it out your head, ok?"

"But Mun-"

"No, there's no but." Mundy cupped his lover's face and pushed his forehead against Lucien's. "I'm takin' you and I have taken you. With all your story, with all your problems and with everythin', ok?"

"D'accord."

[Fine.]

"Lu', d'you hear me?"

"Oui."

"Lu', I know you, I know the ex-spook, I know the singer, I know the fighter, I know the stubborn, arrogant piece of a liar that you might have been before." Mundy brushed his thumbs on his lover's temples and Lucien sniffled. "But I love every bit of you. Doesn't matter what you were in any other way that it helped build you as you are now. And y'know what? Now, you're my Lu', ok?"

Lucien gently nodded.

"Say it."

"I am… I am your Lucien."

"No, that's not what I said. Say it properly."

"I am… your Lu'."

"Good. You got that in that beautiful head o'yours?"

Lucien nodded again, his forehead still against Mundy's.

"You sure?"

"Oui."

"C'mere, now." Mundy hugged him and this time, Lucien did not push him away. He clawed in his lover's sides, his back, everywhere his fingers were planted, and buried his head deep in his chest. "I love you, Lu', I love all of you."

"Merci." A muffled voice answered. The Frenchman wanted to let tears run down his face but the cabin was getting closer to the ground and he didn't want to cry in public.

Beyond Mundy's words and the comfort he was bringing him, what touched Lucien most was that feeling of achievement, of reaching somewhere that he did not know he could reach. He had been taught to grow up, get married to a lovely wife, have equally lovely children and work to support them. But life gave him an outstanding partner, a couple of beautiful cats and some years to go still.

When he broke the embrace and looked up at Mundy, his eyes red and his throat burning as it held back his emotions, he smiled. In the Aussie's lagoon blue irises, he saw all the versions of himself, the little boy, Maman's guardian, the young homeless teenager, the rookie spy, the father, the fiancé, and now, a man better than what he thought he could ever be.

"Merci, Mundy."

#tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #sniperspy #SBT

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twstwonderlandstuff · 3 years

Text

Jamil with a doting and loving little sister

why the fuck does this exist- i dont fucking know

Spoilers for Scary Halloween Event ahead!

“Karin!” A young girl with long, dark hair yelled. “Please don’t run!”

“Eh? But aren’t you excited to see your big brother, Aniq?” Karin shot back, her loose, white hair flitting through the air. “I can’t wait to see what Scarabia’s doing for Halloween this year~!”

“I am too, but...” Aniq forcefully pulled Karin back, leaving Aniq to pout. “I can’t have you ruining the Asim family name looking like that.”

“Eh? But I’m the 12th, it’s not that important.” Karin dragged out, dramatically walking back towards her right-hand (wo)man/best friend. Pouting, she reluctantly let Aniq tidy her appearance- carefully tying the whit turban back in place, tugging the aqua-blue sleeveless top so it covers her decently, making sure the matching colored parachute pants reach her bottoms and shining the golden jewel that rests on her sandals it’s Jasmine.

“There, much better.” Aniq gave her a once over, satisfied at the appearance. “Wait, let me do yours too!” Karin insisted, roughly cleaning Aniq’s image.

“Ah, don’t-” Aniq gave up, letting the girl do as she pleased- well, it’s not like anyone can see them, right? Just in case, Aniq gave the room they were in (Karin’s room) a onceover, glad that nothing was amiss.

In contrast to Karin, Aniq wore a very simple black cloak that draped gracefully over her shoulders and a collared, midi-length, grey dress that has buttons running its entire length. For a pop of color, orange, curly-toed shoes line her feet (it’s a witch)

“There~ you look better, see?” Karin grinned. “Now we can both look good!”

“Well, I guess... thanks.” Aniq replied, twirling around. “Well then, my lady, shall we go?” She teasingly asked, offering Karin an arm.

“But of course. We can’t have our brother’s anxiously wait for our arrival, can’t we?” Karin answered in kind, looping her arm in hers.

“They don’t even know we’re coming, how are they supposed to wait?” Aniq sighed. “I wonder if this is really ok...”

“It’s fine, chill. My dad already said ok, and I forced your parents to take you with me!” Karin casually replied, stepping out of the room. A glare from Aniq made her soften her voice.

"You and your abuse of power...” Aniq sighed. “If my parents knew I told you to...”

“Hihihi... ahh, just relax already! We’re going to have fun, and you are prohibited from being anxious, do you understand?! This is a command straight from the master herself, okay?!” Karin commanded, booping Aniq’s nose.

“Hai hai~” The two of them laughed good-naturedly, chatting light-heartedly about other things.

"Woah!” Karin exclaimed. “Is this what NRC looks like when it’s Halloween?! It looks so cool...!”

“I know right?!” Aniq noticed a man with what seems like bandages, but made into clothes on him. “Oh, there’s a guy sitting there- let’s ask him for the directions of the Scarabia dorms- oh wait, isn’t that the dorm leader of Octavinelle?”

“Hmm, maybe? I think I remember someone looking like that when we came here last year.” Karin hummed, walking placentally towards the guy. “Excuse me, do you know where the Scarabia venues are?”

"Oh, welcome and happy Halloween. Yes, they are located in the Mystery shop.” Azul explained. “Do you have anything else to add?”

“No, that’s all. Thank you, and happy Halloween!” Aniq replied, flashing him a quick thank you smile before leaving with Karin.

“Eh, you remember the way?”

“Duh~ I mean, do I not have good memory?” Aniq flexed lightly, grinning.

“Oh yeah, you helped me cheat on that test one time-”

“Ahhh shaddup don’t talk about that!”

“Eh- but you’re the that brought up the topic!” Karin argued back.

“No, you did! I didn’t say a word about tests!”

“Oh yeah.. ahaha...”

“Ah, what am I going to do with you?” Aniq sighed, shaking her head and smiling.

“There they are- oh...” Aniq’s spirit dissipated after seeing to long, long line that stood in front of the Mystery Shop. “H...how are we supposed to find big bro and Kalim-san now...?”

“Ahh, I don’t know...” Karin echoed, sighing sadly. “But I’m so lazy to wait in line...”

“I’ll wait for you, you go do something else.” Aniq suggested. “I think we passed a haunted house or something. You love those things, right?”

“Yup, thanks Aniq! Karin playfully teased, pressing her lips on Aniq’s cheek. “See ya!”

Aniq blushed deeply, but managed to wave her off. “Honestly, that girl...!” She grunted under her breath, a little bothered. “She’s way too affectionate...”

Aniq aligned herself in the queue, looking around. It certainly is more crowded then last year. I wonder why- oh, right, because of that picture of the ghosts and the cat. Ahh, I kind of want to see the cat... it looks so cute! She thought, smiling at the thought. And the cute girl too... I wonder why there’s a girl in NRC? Ah well, I can ask big bro, can’t I?

She grinned happily at the thought and accidentally overheard the chatter of a few people.

“Ahh, I wonder what angles I should take for the waffle?” Girl A pondered, asking her friend.

“I think from up high is good because the lighting is better. That way, the post will definitely get more likes.” Girl B answered, concluding Girl A’s response.

“Hey, are we going to actually eat the waffle? No, right? It’s so annoying to walk around holding this around...” Girl A sighed, hesitantly looking at the waffle store.

“But it says not to throw it here...eh, I’m sure its fine since everyone is doing it too!”

“Right, right!” The two continued chattering, but Aniq’s eyes went straight for the trash can.

She glanced at the pile of waffles and containers surrounding the trash can. Ahh, I don’t think big bro is going to enjoy that... She spotted several caterpillars and slugs on the trash can and sighed. Most definitely not.

Silently, quietly, she muttered a spell: Spread your wings, and turn the ugly to good.

After a few seconds, the pile of trash became a flight of butterflies, which quickly dissapeared and flitted into the air, along with the caterpillars and slugs.

“Woah, the trash just dissapeared! Is that the way they clean the trash?” Girl A gasped, shaking Girl B by the shoulders.

“So pretty! Let’s throw some more trash so we can see it again! Maybe if we put it on Magicam it’ll become viral!” Girl B added.

That’s not what I meant to do! “Don’t-” The word slipped out before Aniq could stop herself. The two strangers in front of her glared at her.

“Have you been eavesdropping on us? That’s rude.”

“Ah- I’m sorry, but I couldn’t help it when you said that you’d continue littering.” She countered calmly.

“Why not? It doesn’t hurt anyone, right?”

“Well, there is a sign clearly indicating that you shouldn’t throw trash, but if you ignore that, then yes, the actions you did obviously have no impact at all.” She chastised sarcastically, pointing towards the sign.

“Ahh, so annoying! Let’s just wait for the waffles another time. I’m tired of waiting in line anyway.” Girl A said, shooting a dirty glance at Aniq, which she subtly ignored.

“Yeah.. oh, let’s go to Savanaclaw! Maybe the rumor that...” The 2 customers walked away, letting Aniq take their place.

2 people away from my order... come on, hurry up! Aniq thought impatiently. Ah, shit, where’s Karin?

She hurriedly pulled out her phone and called. After precisely 3 rings, Karin’s cheery voice rang from the other side.

Hello?

Is everything okay on your end?

Ehh, are you worried~?

When am I never worried? Aniq deadpanned.

That’s true, yeah. I’m okay! I took a picture with THE Malleus Draconia, can you believe it?! I mean, there were these people who tried touching him, but I got a brain, so I didn’t do that.

Heh?! Really? Woah, they have some guts! Aniq replied in surprise.

“Next.” She stepped forward one step, noticing that the server had some wolf ears attached to them. Hmm, I don’t remember Scarabia students having animal ears... it’s probably for the costume.

Oh, and I found the cute girl in the picture you were talking about!

Eh, did you find the cat and the ghosts too?! Send me the pictures ya! Aniq reminded her.

Yup, will do~ Karin replied fleetingly. They were swarmed with people haha! I pitied them, so I just... watched as the throng of people overwhelmed them. The people were saying something about the Malleus Draconia challenge, or something.

Eh, really? What’s it about?

Like, they have to film them touching him. Isn’t that crazy?

Well, more like moronic but yeah, I guess. I heard a few people talk about Magicam here too. ‘Let’s upload the waffle pictures! It’ll definitely get a lot of likes!’ then they throw it away! So stupid, right? Karin snorted.

...Are there people in the area-

Oh shit-

Oh my god you dumbass- Aniq could hear her friend laugh. Well, order some waffles for me, okay? I’m headed over there right now.

Aight then, bye!

Bai bai~

Click.

“Next, please!” The Scarabia student called, prompting Aniq to eagerly step forward, happy to see her big brother-

“Oh, is that you, Aniq?” Kalim cheerfully asked, prompting Aniq to quickly bow.

“Ah, Kalim-sama!” Kalim laughed.

“Raise your head up, jeez! I told you over and over you don’t need to do that, ya know~” Kalim lectured playfully, resulting in a quiet giggle from Aniq.

“Yes, master!” She inclined, using her left hand as a salute. “Can I take a picture- after I order, of course!”

“Sure!” Kalim agreed. “So, what do you want?”

“2 NRC waffles, please.” Kalim cringed at the word. “You’re going to actually eat it, right~?”

“Of course! What’s the point of buying food you’re not going to eat?” She casually answered back.

“Don’t be so casual, Aniq.” Jamil’s voice floated through the booth. She grinned once she saw him.

“Big bro!” Jamil was quick to give her a head pat, which she radiated from. “Aha, sorry... it slips out sometimes.”

“Hmm.” Jamil replied. “Kalim, the residents of Scarabia are asking for your help. Can you handle it by yourself?”

Kalim nodded, putting a thumbs up. “Leave it to me!” He then left to help with whatever needed to be done.

Aniq eyed her big brother. “Oh, you’re donned in a costume too, big bro.”

“All vice-dorm leaders and leaders are required to wear the costumes.”

“Oh, did you make it, big bro?” Jamil shook his head.

“No, Vil did- Pomefiore dorm leader.”

“Ahhh, you mean the pretty guy in charge of the mirror of chambers?” Jamil nodded. “I saw it on one of the flyers plastered on the walls.”

"Ah, that makes sense. Ah, Aniq.”

“Mhmm?”

“Can you guess the theme of our dorm venue? I’ll add in a special treat if you guess it right.” Jamil teased, watching his sister’s eyes light up.

“Really?! Well, um...” Her eyes quickly darted to take in the surroundings. The ragged carpet draped across the trees and roofs, with lanterns hanging from the trees. “Well, it’s very LHS (Land of Hot Sands)… oh!” She gasped, clicking her fingers. “Is it recyclable material? The carpets are made out of rags, and the lanterns out of reusable plastic.”

Jamil hummed, genuinely pleased. “You’re right.” Aniq beamed at the praise. ““I assume you’re with Karin?” He questioned.

“Mhmm, but she’s in the haunted house, or wherever Malleus Draconia is in. ”Oh, by the way, bro, what’s with the trash piling in front of the station? Are people really just buying the waffles to take pictures on Magicam?” Aniq asked, watching his eyebrows furrow.

"Unfortunately.” Jamil sighed. handing her the cones. "We tried telling them off, but they wouldn’t listen. They also bugged with Kalim’s tail.” Jamil smiled smugly, giving her the scones back. “Oh, and thank you for the trash.”

“Ah, you saw, big bro?” She asked happily. Jamil shook his head. “You shouldn’t be using your UM so casually.”

“I know, I know, but it did help, right?” She grinned, but before she could continue, someone behind her whispered: “Oh my god she’s taking so long!”

“Oh, right!” Aniq quickly realized. “Um, chocolate for me and Mint choc-chip for Karin.”

“Of course.” Jamil got right to it, taking the wrappers from their containers.

“How’s everything going, big bro?” Jamil raised an eyebrow at the question. “You know what I mean, with Kalim-sama... and everything.” Aniq asked, staring straight at her brother, who sighed deeply.

"Don’t say that out in public.”

“But I’m worried! You’re doing okay, right?” Aniq frowned.

“It’s been... decent. He still treats me like a friend, no matter how many times I shrug him off. It’s annoying.” Jamil hissed, putting more force then usual when putting the waffles. “I’m just thankful nobody- except you- knows about this back home.”

“Ahaha... Kalim-sama is always like tha-” Her phone rang, interrupting her talk.

Hell-

ANIQ SOMETHING HAPPENED!

Jamil, well understanding the circumstances, quickly handed her the waffles, mouthing ‘For free.’ Aniq grinned in thanks and waved goodbye, walking away.

What happened?!

I found this cute guy, and- Aniq wanted to slap her.

Oh my god, I thought you were in ACTUAL trouble you dumbass!

Hehe- anyways I found this really cute guy and he’s got ears and- OH MY GOD HE’S COMING MY WAY- oh nevermind he’s walking away...

Aniq couldn’t help but laugh at her friend’s simping level. I’ll be there right away. Maybe we can get you to score a date with him.

so basically lads

Aniq (which means classy in Arabic haha see what I did there): Jamil’s younger sister

Karin (a play on the Kalim’s name): Kalim’s younger sister

also they cute Karin’s just rlly affectionate

#kalim al asim #kalim twst #twst kalim #jamil viper #jamil twst #twst jamil #oc twst #kind of oc #twst #twisted wonderland #lads immmm #once again simping FOR THAT KALIM SPRITE OF MY FUCKING FOD #immaculate #vertical-align: inherit;#<font style=><font style=>my writing</font></font>

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clumsyclifford · 2 years

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If you could see the queue there's SO much more than I tagged at you and Paige. Certain things just make me think of you both and am like yes hope they see this. The one today I forgot I had even tagged it. We went on a round around there. I'm happy happy you are having/ had? A good day. Are you in my head??? That's pretty much put into a better cohesive thought that I could do it. I'll be honest and say at first I was skeptical about the show because like always Hollywood either gets the mark so wrong when it comes to actually navigating these topics. You know there's a lot of movies and shows that show you someone who's Hispanic is always the cleaning ladies or drug dealers and to see odaat show and shine such a different light and actually take time to make sure it was correctly represented just made me love it more. All those episodes are so good. The ones that stick the most with me are Lydia in the hospital, quince, and Schneider relapsing ( tw there ) those entire seasons are so good and ugh you're gonna make me rewatch it again. MMM really is another good show. You watch that too??? Woah. Stance on Joel? And a whole other note all I've thought about today is chapter 5 and I think you've gotten into my brain 😂. -🧚‍♀️

omg adorable i love that for us :)) looking forward to seeing what other evil things are in your queue i guess

yeah so true like i'm impressed at how good it is. shows like odaat make me have faith in the future of television and the progress we've made and all. it's nice. we love to see it. yeah dude i was full on sobbing at the entire s2 finale (the one w lydia in the hospital) it was a sad sight you can ask megs she had to witness my breakdown lmao and the quince one as well fuck dude when elena is just standing there and finally penelope gets up to do the father-daughter dance with her and goes "i got you" BITCH I CRIIIIIIED also the whole time lydia is like i've failed at making your dress the perfect dress will make you tear up and leave you speechless and elena is like no it's beautiful it's fine it's a nice dress and then lydia makes it into a suit and elena TEARS UP AND IS SPEECHLESS fuck dude. fuck. also the way they introduce a nonbinary character and it's basically never an issue? they don't misgender syd?? at all??? not even just to be like "oh haha this happens sometimes" they just say actually fuck you all, everyone in this family is Getting It Right. and that's what they fucking deserve. god fucking damn it so much of this show makes me so happy. i literally sit there going wow. every episode has passed the bechdel test. aglskdj also the scene where elena is bummed about being white-passing and then schneider is like you're still gay ! and elena is like ...oh yeah i AM gay. AND a woman! i'm back in baby! like hgafdshgdshldskfj i really fucking felt that tbh anyway you get it

yeah bro!!!! although it's been a minute, if there's a new season i probably haven't seen it i think ive seen up to s3? my mom and i watch it together :) we don't watch any shows together almost but it's nice to have the one. my thoughts on joel are that i don't really remember but i'm pretty sure he had a REALLY strong redemption arc. for that matter so does victor in odaat in my opinion! strong and realistic. these things are important to me. unfortunately that's the extent to which i remember joel, i can't actually remember anything he does or says just that i remember having the impression that his redemption arc was decent so that's all i can say. i WILL say that i am OBSESSED w the costume design of maisel it's all so fucking colorful and i just really do love it. man maybe i should rewatch maisel lmao

hdsfhlgskdj yknow reading this ask was what made me go "damn i really should just post the chapter already huh" so you have yourself to thank for it <3

#back to my tv show now !#and my cuppa !#i said i would make tea and then i actually did it #shocking scenes from bella #glitter #glitterandjalex #ask #anonymous #every single time i tag those in different order lmao

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musedblues · 4 years

Text

Born To Love You [Part: 7]

summary: When Gwilym ropes you into a lie, the truth becomes painfully obvious. When Joe makes things harder, there’s no telling if he even has a clue

a/n: I can't really believe I've finally finished this. If only you all knew how long this story sat in my drafts before I even considered sharing it. I'm eternally gratful to those of you who’ve stuck around and shared your thoughts and shown me and this fic such sweet love. I can only hope I've done some kind off justice in bringing this wild ride to a close. As always, and especially now, I really can't wait to hear what you lot think. So here you have it.... The End! 💖

w/c: 4k

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Even after all this time, not a moment passed that didn't dazzle you. No little gesture slipped by unnoticed, or underappreciated.

From across the room, you adored the way his eyes glowed as he laughed. How they shined and crinkled in a pattern you'd memorized long before you were brave enough to stare. How they always sparkled just so when he spun into a fit of giggles, a sound you couldn't help but turn toward.

Joe tossed his head back, letting out a hearty chuckle as James and Andy filled him in on the details of their recently disastrous road trip. For their anniversary, they planned to cruise around the countryside for a week. But a flat tire, and a run in with a couple wild animals sent them running back to London before the week was up.

You couldn't have gotten luckier, when you found the perfect house in the safest part of the city with the best schools; just a half an hour drive from where James and Andy had moved a couple years before- after living with you for longer than you could recall in a flash.

They helped you move boxes from your old flat, and stood with you in the empty place, taking a silent beat to say goodbye to all the life you each lived there. You'd fondly remember the parties, and even the tears. The day you found out about Olive. The room you brought her home to. The place you loved. But it was never the same after your dear flatmates found a home of their own.

On their generous drives to help you unload boxes in an all new place, that's when your pair of best pals really got to know Joe. They (like everyone else) laughed at most of his jokes, and beamed when he laughed at theirs in turn. When they weren't helping you unload boxes, they were off cackling with Joe, too awestruck by shared conversation to help you move your sofa into a reasonable spot.

And when you and your man with fossil colored eyes were settled, James and Andy still managed to stop by for plenty of surprise breakfast visits. And every time they stopped over, they each took turns insisting that their location was the sole purpose you'd been so keen to move to this part of the city. And while they might have been half right, you'd never let on that it was one of the many reasons.

London just made sense. It was closer to Gwil's new place. He'd been traveling to and from the city for work so often that he'd felt like his usual train car was more of his home than the one down the road from your old flat. So he found a cozy space just outside of London and loads more work within the first few days of settling in. When he wasn't busy on set, or away for an audition, he was just a few streets away- ready and willing to come and take Olive on days he hadn't planned to, at her beck and call.

Some days you missed when all Olive knew how to say were a handful of words. But you knew you'd soon miss all of the girls never ending questions, too. "Why can't cats talk?" "Where do all the badgers sleep at night?" "Why do I have to wear socks with my shoes?" She had a knack for asking the silliest questions when you least expected it. She'd come out of no place while you were busy making dinner. While she should have been practicing tying her shoes. In the dead of the night, at the edge of your bed. She'd stop everything just to ask a question or two, and some days you reckoned she fancied getting you to giggle more than hearing an actual answer. You always chuckled before you could muster the brain power to give any semblances of an educated response. And when you were too busy, getting ready for work, or hurrying about the market before it closed, Olive would ask Joe.

You loved the way Olive made him laugh then, too. Just like you. But before ever giving a reasonable answer, he'd always ask her the same questions back. "Well, what do you think is at the bottom of the ocean?"

And as she decidedly rambled about imaginary creatures and cities, Joe would listen. He'd even remember the names of some of those made up monsters long after Olive had moved through several more memorable questions. You couldn't believe how patient he was. It was astounding to you, the way Joe dropped everything to bend at Olive's will, as she wrapped her fist around his wrist and yanked him across a bookstore toward the children's section.

You'd find them after getting what you strolled in for, and join in for story time, before checking your watch and ruining all the fun. Joe was usually more disappointed for those moments to end than the kid who was hooked on his every fictional word.

You loved Joe's heart. How you could tell when it was in the right place. When he offered help and advice and suggestions to anyone who trusted him enough to pour their heart out to his open ear. How he at least pretended to be excited when your friends begged the two of you to join in a night out at the end of a particularly busy week. Neither of you were keen on letting them down, because you'd come to value those rare nights out with the people you loved. You'd made a sacred, personal decreed to never let your friends forget how vastly you'd cared for them. So you were right behind Joe each time another offer came to sit among your pals and listen to their lame jokes and drunken singing.

But it was no secret that nights in were your favorite. You might have marveled even more so, over Joe's heart, then. You relished how it hammered under your palm, as his pulse raced from your touch. You loved the sound of its steady beat under your ear, as you rested against his chest till morning. He'd run a lazy set of fingers through your hair while the quiet of the new day threatened to lull you to sleep again. Then he'd say something so ridiculously hilarious that you'd laugh your drowse away.

You never took for granted Joe's countless attempts to get you to smile, despite yourself. In the middle of movies, at the end of long hard days- and during times you wondered how much stress you could endure before your head exploded and your dramatic expiration ruined the upcoming holidays.

When you and Gwilym argued over Olive's imminent school year and how many summer holiday trips were one too many, Joe waited for the bickering to end. Then he'd say something that made stupidly perfect sense. He'd make you and Gwil apologize to each other, and you did with all the grace of two grumpy toddlers. Then you'd all go to some posh brunch place and try and enjoy the last of the perfect summer weather that crept into the first few weeks of London's picturesque autumn.

Olive would stop eating to ask one of her latest queries to the sweet elder waitress who dropped off another round of drinks. You'd all take turns giving the kid answers, and steal bits of the chips she'd left over. When your meal was finished, Joe and Gwil went off to see a game together, and you were left with your darling girl for a whole glorious day.

Times with just the two of you weren't very rare. When you could, you made sure to take afternoons off work and save the laundry for later to spend a day with Olive. Of course, some were just as difficult as ever. But between odd growing pains and missed nap times, were icecream dates and trips to the aquarium. The latter, a place she always begged to spend hours strolling through. So when you could, you'd be quick to take her.

And when Gwilym took Olive along to visit his mother's family in Wales, you'd gotten used to the tiny wave of melancholy that came when your girl wasn't attached to your hip. But unlike all the other times before, you weren't nearly as lonely.

When it was just you and Joe, and a handful of days to waste however you pleased, you had to stop yourself from wondering how you'd gotten so lucky. You knew if you thought too long, you'd start to feel bad about how everything came to be. But you learned to let go of the regret attached to the mess you'd made during your first month long visit to London. You realized that it was silly to wish for a redo. Because everything worked out anyway, didn't it?

Joe was always quick to remind you how lucky he felt, too. Sometimes he'd say so, when he worried about the future and stopped rambling long enough to let you promise everything was going to be okay. Or first thing in the morning, when you got to wake up with the sun instead of a blaring alarm. But most of the time, he showed it. He'd leave silly little notes for you to find while you brushed your teeth. He'd bring your knuckles to his lips while waiting in the queue at the market. He'd take photos of you walking through the park and pointing to a pair of birds flying close overhead. He'd upload them in the middle of the night- when he said he was staying up to finish writing a script, or memorizing lines of another.

You'd get the notification and smile to yourself while you pretended to be asleep in the other room. When it was just you and Joe, it felt too good to be true. But that feeling didn't go away when your time alone was over.

Ben asked you to fetch him from the airport after he'd spent months away filming in another country. You and Joe fought over who got to hug him first, but when the blonde materialized from baggage claim, his arms were too stuffed with packages to dream of embracing either of you. He'd collected far too many presents during his time away- all of them for Olive. You scolded him, reminding Ben of the article you read about how kids with fewer toys grew to become more creative and resourceful. Ben argued that since you weren't going to spoil her that he was just going to have to. He'd leave the dozen gifts in the back of your car, and drag you and Joe out to a pub until you could hardly keep your eyes open.

Life felt too good to be true on nights like then, too.

And the feeling remained when Lucy and Rami got back from acting their hearts out in America. They stole Olive away as you and Joe ambled behind them on trips through high end shopping centres. When that day turned to night, your remarkable friends settled onto your sofa to tell all the stories they'd been saving up. Then they crashed there, when the night turned to morning and the sun threatened to rise before you'd stopped giggling long enough to sleep.

Those times were cherished. When your friends came around. When you went out of your way to go and see them, because it had been too long. You knew you were lucky to have mantiatiend a handful of connections with some of the most adoring and admirable friends that must have ever existed.

And on some especially rare, but guaranteed occasions, everyone got together.

The thought of joining forces was usually a never ending sentiment exchanged through the group chat that kept you all in touch. But it was Lucy's eventual doing, of course. She went about renting that darling little cottage in the countryside- the one she'd found last minute for Joe's birthday.

She got there before everyone, before Rami, even. The paint was a little more chipped, and the trees seemed even more mighty, guarding the home nestled miles away from the nearest town.

"You're just in time!" Lucy squealed as you lugged a bag into the house that hadn't changed a bit since your stay a few years back. You snorted a laugh as you stepped closer to the den full of mismatched furniture.

"For what?" You wondered. No one else had shown up yet, the night was very young.

"To keep me company, duh." Lucy shrugged as she moved to wave out of the open front door.

"Does bigfoot live out here?" Olive asked, as she skipped inside, her beloved worn down stuffed penguin tight in her clutch.

"He might." You chuckled. Because hell, you'd come to believe anything was possible at this point. And you didn't realize Olive even knew about the mythical creature, but you had a hunch about who'd been the one to tell her.

"I can't believe this place is still standing. It's charming as ever." Joe marveled, shutting the door behind him. Lucy beamed, turning to glance around.

"Yes! Remember last time?" Lucy asked, like she really wanted to know. Like it wasn't something the lot of you thought back to often. And right when you considered responding, she spoke up again. "Well forget it because this time is going to be the best ever."

The bubbly blonde recruited Joe to help her finish unloading all the treats she'd brought along to store away for the entire weekend you planned to stay. Olive trotted ahead of you toward one of the dozen tiny rooms you remembered struggling to sleep in last time, finding no reason to bite back your smile now.

It was too cold to think of going out back to enjoy the chest full of sporting goods, or the tattered net that somehow still remained. Olive was already complaining about the chill, so you abandoned your bags and tossed her a sweater, deciding to start a fire in the stone place while you awaited everyone else.

Ben was the next to arrive, bringing his usual ton of liquor and a brand new set of books and crayons to keep Olive entertained. You flashed a middle finger his way when the kid wasn't looking, and called dibs on his most expensive bottle of booze he brought to decorate the counter tops much like the time before.

By then the kitchen had been stocked, and Lucy was on a new mission to make some Pinterest worthy snacks. You scolded Ben for encouraging Olive to dance around the countertops and banished them to find some new trouble to cause. Lucy kicked you and Joe out soon after, following close behind with her plate of savory treats.

Rami dashed in from the cold around then, chucking his bags away and rushing to join the rest of you in record time. The fire you'd maintained was starting to die, and the home was too perfectly warmed to dream of starting up another, for a while. So as the evening shifted, you and Ben offered to clean up and carry everyone's rubbish away, while Joe offered to pour everyone a drink. While you went about your duties, Olive was busy yanking on the strings of Rami's hooding, begging him to join in some imaginary game the two of them made up long ago.

"I'm really glad she's joined us this time around." Ben grinned, catching a glimpse of Olive, her curls peeking around the corner, her laughter floating from one room to another. You agreed with the sentiment as you tossed your collection of rubbish in the bin. And as he followed suit, Ben rambled about his high hopes to have a couple of children of his own one day. It was something you'd always suspected Ben was keen on, but a subject he'd only just ventured into discussing lately.

"You ever think about having anymore?" He wondered in passing.

"Sometimes." You smiled to Ben, offering an innocent shrug, before catching Joe's eye from across the kitchen. He balanced a trio of glasses of wine on his way out, shaking his head of coppery hair. He shot you a look you knew well, an eager grin below a set of fiery eyes. "Sometimes" was an understatment. But Ben didn't need to know everything.

By the time Gwil showed up, Olive was on cloud nine. She ran to attach herself to his ankle, so you took his bags while he bent to scoop her up. Then, you reckoned, that this might have been the first time everyone was together that Olive might be able to recall for years to come.

She bounced from one person to another, showing off nicely colored pictures in the books Ben had brought along. He shot you a wink from across the room before she fell asleep with a dozen sunset toned crayons in one fist. You gathered her from the floor and carried the girl to the room you'd chosen hours earlier.

And before you'd even finished tucking the kid away in bed, another set of feet creaked into the room behind you.

"Here's this. And some things she forgot last time." Gwilym extended Olives favorite stuffed penguin in one hand as he rested a bag decorated in cartoon drawn bats on the chair in the corner. Your tradition of trading the girls things might never end. You'd be rattled if it did, actually.

"Oh, thank God. I mean, I know I asked you not to forget that, but I'd forgotten." You chuckled in a whisper, tucking Olive's ratty old penguin beneath the covers at her side.

Gwilym chuckled too, saying something about how he'd nearly left her bag behind on his rush to get here before nightfall. And then a silence fell, as you both waited a beat to make sure Olive was out cold. It was second nature, something the pair of you became accustomed to after the first year, when leaving Olive alone for a minute was usually followed with unhappy, ear piercing cries. And as you thought back to then, you seemed to think back to everything all at once.

"Lucy said that last time we stayed here won't be worth remembering, because this time will surely be the best." You said with a lithe grin. "And I think she may be right, but last time wasn't so bad."

"It wasn't?" Gwilym turned to you with a quizzically raised brow, a hint of a smile on his lips. You knew he was asking if you were sure. If you remembered correctly. How he'd said things he didn't mean, last time you were here. How you hardly slept that night. How it haunted you for days afterward. How he knew that.

"It wasn't." You kept your smile, sure. It could have been much worse. You could have been alone through all of that shit. But you weren't. You had Gwilym. And you hoped he knew what you meant, now. How grateful you were for him, and the kindness he'd show you, how it still remained. You couldn't go on worrying that his company might fizzle away in the years to come. Because it couldn't. You wouldn't let that possibility come to pass. So you bumped your shoulder against his arm and nudged Gwilym to leave the room.

"Let's go have some fun." You whispered. Gwilym let his smile linger as he studdied you for a beat. Then he nodded, and led the way back to everyone else.

The coloring books had moved to rest on the mantel, and bottles of alcohol had moved to the coffee table for easier access. And then you all took turns cleaning up for the evening and flipping through stations on the telly till some classic film flashed across the muted screen. And it was lots better than last time, with familiar drinks mixed in fancy new ways, and favorite laughs decorating the old unchanged home.

By the time Ben had drunken himself into a fit of random laughter, and Gwilym was nodding off between Rami and Lucy, Joe was saying something about American traditions. He demanded everyone's attention, and insisted the lot of you confess at least one thing you were thankful for. And after Lucy shouted the name of the drink in her hand and Gwilym sat up to clink his cup to hers, you all started giving actual answers. Each revolving around family, and friends, and health and happiness. But before anyone could get too choked up, Ben stood to shift gears with his favorite game of drunk history that never really went the way he wanted it too.

But it wasn't till the next morning that you realized it must have been that silly American holiday. And when you rolled over to find Joe was already awake, you announced how poorly you felt for not realizing when he made everyone say thanks. You hadn't even said good morning before you started yammering promises about how you'd remember to have a proper celebration next year.

But instead of saying good morning, or acknowledging your apologises, Joe broke into a laugh. The kind of laugh that reaches his eyes, the way you love so much. Then he told you he loved you, and you said it back; and then you sprung into another lucky day among friends.

You spent the weekend watching Gwilym teach Olive how to bake and assisting her in passing around treats she helped pour spoonfulls of ingredients in to create. Rami was most often roped into her imaginary games, and he played along with ease. You and Joe were invited to join in one morning, but neither of you could grasp the ever changing rules to Olives satisfaction, and you were swiftly kicked out of the loop while she and Rami played on.

Lucy made sure Olive was perfectly content snuggled up with Ben to watch cartoons, before she pulled you into her room with a bottle of wine for each of you to sip from. You spent a whole afternoon there with her, taking turns spilling your guts over all things you could only discuss with your dearest darling Lucy.

And when the getaway was over, everyone left in separate hurries much like before. But unlike then, you weren't so worried about where everyone might end up. You weren't worried about where you were going, either. You'd all managed to keep coming back together so far, and with an established faith that your group would keep finding excuses to do so, you didn't despair.

You remembered everything, on your drive back to London. The time you'd closed your eyes on this ride, years before. How you and Gwilym survived the nonsense you'd swept yourselves up in. Lucy's unconditional friendship. Rami's strong hugs. Ben's strong feelings.

You thought of what Joe said to you, when you met. How he said he saw a future with you, before he even knew your name. And the thought tore you away from remembering everything to look ahead. To look over, and settle your gaze on Joe. His pretty profile, and the shine of his moonstone eyes. You couldn't quite picture the places you'd end up, but you realize that you couldn't dream of a day without Joe at your side. He was always meant to be there.

While you drove, he entertained every one of Olive's questions that echoed from the back seat. You turned a grateful smile his way every now and again and savored the way he smiled back, in the way you loved so much. In a way that you didn't have to wonder how he felt, or what might come next. Unlike before, Joe made up a million of your memories. And unlike before, you knew he always would.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

taglist: @sonic-volcano @imtheinvisiblequeen @redspecialty @itscale @stardust-killer-queen @joemazzelo @dancetohotspace @kiwi-hardy @joeneslee @borhapqueen92 @im-an-adult-ish @johndeaconshands @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye @beepbeephardy @slutforbritdick @joemazzmatazz @almightygwil @sadhwstudent @freakibanana @lelifesaver @drummah-in-a-rocknroll-band

#joe mazzello #joe mazello x reader #joe mazzello fanfic #joe mazzello imagine #gwilym lee #gwilym lee x reader #gwilym lee fanfic #gwilym lee imagine

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trollstree · 2 years

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You always wanted to be hiding...

#holiday in harmony #dreamworks trolls #gifset #branch #my gifs #BRANCH MY BELOVED...................#i see your true colors shining queue

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thickcrskiin · 6 years

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#⁎ || i see your true colors shining through ( music. )#⁎ || i guess it’s a brand new day after all ( nymph patrol. )#⁎ || if i can live through this i can do anything ( queue. )

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looney-joonie · 4 years

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Genre: Angst / Fluff

Pairing: Soulmate!Seonghwa x reader

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 781

A/N: I've had this one written for a while. Enjoy!

Summary: You met your soulmate a while back, and yet you're getting married to another man today. What will happen when your new husband may 'kiss the bride'?

[ 3:25 pm]

Staring at your blurry reflection, you can only think about one man, Park Seonghwa. Your once-in-a-lifetime soulmate. Your heart burns with knowledge you've kept to yourself since you'd discovered how soulmates work. Not only had you managed to research it, but you had been able to keep it all a secret. The plan you concocted would be ruined if anyone had suspected anything.

The tears in your eye dissipate as you blink them away, you flood your lungs with air to help calm your nerves. You needed to be completely calm for this to go well. Staring at your gorgeous wedding dress in the mirror, you trace your eyes down the lacy bodice clinging to your every curve to the flare just above your knees, the mermaid-esque dress helped to enhance the figure you had kept hidden all your life.

"Y/n, my darling, it's time." blasts its way to your ears as your mother enters the room. Plastering a fake smile on your face, you turn to her and nod. She offers you a hand which you take with internal distaste before being led to the doors of the ornate cathedral's sanctuary. The sound of Here Comes the Bride drifts through a crack in the door causing a wave of nausea to travel through you. Shaking it off, you give your mother the signal to which she opens the door. You stride down the isle as rehearsed to your intended, Kim Hongjoong.

It's when you finally reach the alter that you spot Seonghwa, the best man who looks as though he is dead inside. His teary eyes, mistaken as happiness for his friend, are caused by the feeling of his heard burning with sadness. Your heart beats hard in your chest and makes you want to forget the whole plan and just run away with him, but you know that in the end neither of you will make it if you don't follow through.

Turning your body towards the priest, he begins to talk as each moment ticking by traps you in your fate little by little.

[4:17 pm]

It was as if a bomb had gone off the moment your lips connected to Hongjoong's. And when you kissed him to become man and wife you really hadn't planned for there to be this much screaming.

The shock wave that had pulsed out of your heart and blasted its way through the cathedral, only stopping when Seonghwa started screaming. Many other screams fill the air, though Seonghwa's scream is the only one you can focus on. His heart threatens to burn him up from the inside out due to your betrayal. That's how it works for souls who are connected by true love. Regardless of the circumstances, when one soulmate weds another, the treachery of their action burns a hole in the other's soul and body so that the betrayer will be empty for eternity as they search for the one they can never have again. Even with extensive research you'd only found one solution to such an action: self-inflicted death. Hiking up the flare of your dress, you remove the intricate dagger from the sheath you had strapped to your left calf just before the ceremony had begun.

Aiming it at your heart, you prepare to end your life until you feel a trembling hand on your shoulder. Hunched over, Seonghwa looks up at you with water-less eyes, bloodshot from pain, "Don't-" he gasps for breath, "don't do it." You cup his face, tears streaming from your eyes and gently kiss lips. Suddenly, the entire room goes quiet.

Glancing around, you realize that time has stopped and so has Seonghwa's pain as he stands up completely fine albeit totally confused. A gentle voice drifts into your ears, "You have passed the test. Many people don't realize that all it takes to complete your bond is a simple, heartfelt kiss."

Both you and Seonghwa look around, then at each other in bewilderment due to being unable to find the source of the voice. As if trying to hold back laughter, the voice begins speaking again, "I know you two are confused. All will be explained in a few moments, but first you must enter the portal to your forever." As if on queue a sizzling sound followed by sparks summon an ethereal door. Reaching forward, you push the door open to see sparkling violet water crash against a shore of blush colored sand, the sky shining brightly from its many stars. The world beckons you and Seonghwa towards what you had only thought a dream. Without another moment of hesitation, both of you step through the door and head towards your destiny.

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