#need to get rid of it or knowing me it's gonna stuck in drafts forever

[lisutarid-a]

#psycho pass #psycho-pass #psychopassedit #shindo arata #arata shindo #shindou arata #arata shindou #my graphics #not hard to guess who is my second fave in the series #it was impossible not to fall in love with this boy #yuuki kaji did such a good job voicing him ❤😭 #rlly don’t like how this turned out but whatever #at least i had fun coloring him #need to get rid of it or knowing me it's gonna stuck in drafts forever

[sergeantsporks]

Your recent post gave me a craving for a whump fic where Amity DOES stab Hunter, but it's not immediately fatal. Eda finds her kneeling, in shock, next to Hunter, who is unconscious and laying in a large and growing pool of blood. Eda or Amity seals the wound (Owlbert or fire glyph or abomination plug?) but he has lost too much blood and they race against time to the healing coven for a transfusion, ring the doorbell and hide. They spend the night hidden outside, waiting to see if he made it.

I am 100% focused on whumptober, I whisper as I open up another word document, I am not getting distracted by side-fics

“If you really wanna help, then give me that key!”

Hunter lunged forward, his staff catching the string of the key around Amity’s neck and tearing it loose. Amity lunged for the key—Luz neededthat!

Hunter’s weapon pinned her arm, and she reacted instinctively, her magic forming to her fear and creating a sharp weapon on the end of her hand. Amity swung her arm up almost without thinking, and the pressure from Hunter’s staff dropped away as he let out a choked, garbled scream.

Amity froze, her abomination weapon buried right where Hunter’s neck met his jaw. She hastily shoved the key in her pocket, grabbing the front of his cloak as he fell and lowering him to the ground. Her weapon was still stuck, and she forced herself not to remove it, instead kneeling next to him. “Don’t die!” she begged him.

Hunter gurgled in a final kind of way, blood dripping down the surface of Amity’s weapon.

“No, no, no, no—”

Please don’t die!

Xxx

Eda dove down through the tunnels, worry fighting excitement. She hadn’t heard Amity or King in a minute—she knew they could handle themselves, but the golden guard had bested both her and Luz together before.

She swooped out into a wide cavern.

“Eda!” King called. He was stuck, horns first, in a rock, and Eda tugged him out.

“Whoa, you made short… work… of…”

She landed next to Amity, who was staring blankly ahead. The sleeve of her coat was soaked in blood, and it was starting to drip down into a red stain on the sand.

It wasn’t hers.

Amity seemed very determined not to look down at Hunter, her eyes glazed over. Eda couldn’t blame her for disassociating from the situation—she wouldn’t want to have her talons stuck in someone’s face, either. She wasn’t sure if she’d have been able to do it.

“Boots—Hey, Amity.” Eda took her shoulders. “Amity, are you hurt?”

Amity shook her head, tears blooming in the corners of her eyes. “I can’t move,” she whispered, “He’ll bleed out.”

Eda took another look at Amity’s blood-soaked sleeve. Wouldn’t be long before that happened anyway, at this rate.

“Okay,” she said quietly, “Okay, Amity. Just a few more seconds, alright?” She traced a fire glyph on the ground, scooping up the fire in her talons. Thank you, owl-beast. She put her free hand on Amity’s shoulder. “Okay. Let him go in three… two… one!”

Amity pulled her hand away, her abomination goo mixed with blood. Eda quickly put her fire against Hunter’s face, wrinkling her nose as the smell of burning flesh hit her nostrils.

Hunter let out a gurgling scream, his back arching. Eda removed the fire, and he went limp. “Hey—you still alive?” she felt for a pulse. It was there, but weak. Uh-oh. Eda glanced at Amity, who was hugging herself tightly, rocking back and forth. Eda shook her head. Poor kids. Both of them.

She could hear movement in the tunnels—time to bounce. She scooped up Hunter. He needed help—the cauterization wouldn’t hold forever, and he’d already lost too much blood. “Okay, everyone hang on!”

King and Amity grabbed her arms, and she lifted up into the air, flapping out of the cave and into the sky. Hunter shivered violently, heaving in wet coughs frantically. Eda flapped her wings just a little harder, slicing through the air like a knife.

Amity’s grip started to loosen, and she stared ahead, still not looking at Hunter. Eda glanced down at her.

“Hey. Boots. It’s okay—you didn’t mean to hurt him this bad.”

“He attacked you,” King reminded her.

“I didn’t have to make the weapon so sharp,” Amity said in a daze, “I could have used a hammer, or something blunt.”

“You were in the middle of a fight. Things happen. Don’t beat yourself up over it.” Eda swooped in for a landing when she saw glimmering lights. “There’ll be a healing coven center some—there!” She gently settled Hunter down on the doorstep of the hospital, then gestured for Amity and King to hide. She knocked twice on the door, then dove into the bushes, joining the kids.

The door opened, and Eda heard a gasp from the healer, and shouts for a blood test.

“Okay. Time to go.”

Amity grabbed her arm. “We can’t leave him!”

“There’s nothing else we can do.”

“Please, I… I need to make sure he survives.”

Eda took her arms. “And what if he doesn’t?” she said quietly. Maybe not the best thing to say right now, but she couldn’t sugarcoat it—he might not live the night, no matter how hard the healing coven tried. She knew from experience that they couldn’t fix everything.

“Then I need to know.”

Eda settled down next to her. “Okay. Fine. We’ll stick around.”

Amity twisted her blood-stained hands. “…Eda? Do you… really think it’s okay?”

Eda heaved a sigh. Oh, boy. Parenting. “You were in a fight,” she repeated, “Everything happens fast, you have to make split-second decisions. You’ve never really been in a real witches’ duel before, the one with Luz didn’t count. And he’s trained in combat. Who knows what would have happened if you hadn’t acted?” Eda gently tugged the gloves off of Amity’s hands, and removed her coat, tossing the bloodstained clothing articles out of her sight. It felt warm enough here that it wouldn’t be a problem to get rid of the extra layers. “I don’t think you reacted wrongly. There might have been another way out of the situation, but that doesn’t make the way you took any worse.”

Eda drew an invisibility glyph, holding her breath and flapping up to the windows. There was Hunter—healing coven members were all gathered around him, checking his heart rate. His arm was plastered with patches—Eda could recognize painkillers and sedation in there, as well as a stimulant patch—probably to keep his heart beating. Whoof. He was going to be completely out of it when he woke up.

If he woke up.

Quit that, she scolded herself. She couldn’t think like that, for Amity’s sake. Eda dove back down, as she took a breath and the spell ended. Amity shifted from foot to foot. “Is he gonna be okay?”

“Okay, okay, hold your breath.” Eda scooped Amity up, holding her own breath with the invisibility spell and flapping back up to the window.

The healing coven had added a few more patches—more painkillers, another stimulant, and now a bag full of red blood dripped into his arm. Amity made a little noise, and Eda ducked back down. “You can’t take a breath, the spell fades,” she hissed. Amity nodded, taking in another breath as Eda pulled back up with another spell.

Even more painkillers. At this point, Eda sincerely doubted that Hunter would be able to form a coherent thought. Or move. But then he did, his fingers twitching. He coughed, his eyes opening just ever-so-slightly. His glazed-from-pain-meds eyes slid around the room, landing on the window—and looking directly at them. Amity gasped, and Eda dove back down. “I’m not bringing you up there if you keep stopping the invisibility spells,” she scolded.

“Sorry.”

Eda set her down. “You stay here, and I’ll report back down, okay?”

She swooped back up to the window. The coven members had put a couple more sedation patches on Hunter’s arm, and he was passed out again, the rise and fall of his chest still uneven.

Eda landed next to Amity and King. “They’ve got him pretty hopped up on sedation and painkillers.”

Amity bit her lip. “Is that good? Is that bad?”

“Good,” Eda replied. Maybe if she said it confidently enough, Amity would believe her and stop worrying.

And it worked. At least a little. There was a tiny little relaxation of her shoulders. Eda nudged her. “You should get some sleep. You’ve had a long day. I’ll wake you up if anything happens.”

Amity shook her head. “How can I—actually, that doesn’t… sound like a bad idea.”

Amity sat down with a sigh. “Eda. Be honest. Do you… do you really think he’s going to be okay?”

Eda hissed out through her teeth. “I… I don’t know. It was a nasty wound—but he’s one tough customer. If anyone can get through it, it’ll be him.”

Amity ran a hand through her hair. “He was so desperate. So scared to fail.”

Eda extended one wing around her. “And if he’d succeeded, you’dbe the one in the hospital bed. Amity. I know it’s hard to have this kind of… burden, I suppose. It’s good that it’s hard for you to hurt someone else—it means you’ve grown as a person since when you first met Luz. But you can’t think too hard about it, okay?”

Amity didn’t respond. She’d fallen asleep, her chest rising and falling steadily, snuggled in Eda’s wing. “Ohp—okay. This is a thing that’s happening.”

Eda gently slid her wing out from around Amity, settling the witchling on the ground. She flapped back up to the window. The coven members had all disappeared, leaving Hunter alone. His breathing had evened out, his chest rising and falling evenly. Even with the multitude of patches plastered on his arm, his face was still twisted up in pain, and blood stained through the bandages wrapped around his face. His face very nearly matched the color of the bandages—pale as paper, the dark circles under his eyes standing out like bruises against his skin.

After watching for a while to make sure the healing coven wasn’t coming back, Eda gingerly slid the window open, slipping into the room. Hunter shivered at the sudden draft from the window, but didn’t wake up. Eda supposed that the four sedation patches on the belly of his forearm saw to that. She shook her head. “You really got yourself into a mess, huh, kid?”

Eda heard a chirp, and Hunter’s cloak rustled. The cardinal palisman wriggled out, warbling softly and sadly, gently pecking the uninjured side of Hunter’s face. Eda scooped up the little bird.

“I wouldn’t do that. He needs his rest.” Eda patted the bird’s head. “You picked a heck of a witch to bond to, huh? No powers, self-destructive—”

The palisman pecked her fingers indignantly and fluttered back down to Hunter’s chest, chirping softly at him. To Eda’s surprise, Hunter’s face relaxed just ever-so slightly. She glanced out the window—the sun was starting to rise. She gave the palisman another pat on the head.

“You got it from here?”

It chirped an affirmation, and Eda started out the window.

“Hngh…”

Eda whirled back around. Hunter’s eyes were open just a slit, giving her a dazed, unfocused look. She moved back and knelt down next to him. “Hey. You gave us a scare.”

“Mrgh.” He winced, his fingers twitching like he was trying to touch his face.

“No way. You need to hold still. Look. Kid. Amity’s really sorry she stabbed you. She was freaking out about it. Wouldn’t let us leave until she was sure you’d be okay. We weren’t going to just leave you for dead—but Belos would have. Listen to me—you drove yourself crazy over that blood and ended up getting really hurt trying to continue a fight you weren’t going to win. Belos isn’t worth that. And if you keep trying to please him, you’re just going to isolate yourself and get yourself hurt worse. This time, we were able to get you help. Next time, you might not be so lucky, or you might fight someone who won’t be as nice as Amity.” Eda sighed. “You probably won’t even remember this—you’re out of your mind on painkillers. But hey. Take care of yourself. And… maybe start considering that if this is what he drives you to, then Belos might not be the kind of guy you want to follow.”

“Hrgh—”

Eda looked around and found a stack of pain patches. She applied it over one of the used-up ones, and Hunter’s eyes slowly closed. She went back to the window. “Take care of yourself, kid.”

Eda jumped back down to where Amity was waiting, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. “He’s going to be okay.

Amity grabbed her arm. “He is?”

Eda nodded. “He’s in rough shape, but he’ll make it.”

Amity’s legs wobbled, and she slumped against Eda. “He’ll be okay,” she said dazedly, “I didn’t kill him.”

Eda scooped her up, tucking a still-sleeping King under her arm. “C’mon. Let’s go home.” She cast one last look at the hospital as they flew away.

Good luck, kid.

#do witches have blood types? I don't know #toh #the owl house #writing requests #asks #save the owl house #my writing

[reonagisolos]

Prime Empire Au where Jay is Milton Dyer's adopted son given by Gordon and Jay's unnamed (?) mom because they didn't ever want to have kids and those two were close with him.

TW: There's a brief panic attack at "oh God," then skip to, "there's nothing left"

So...Milton adopts him and of course Jay grows up really smart because he naturally is and because of Milton's influence but because of his muddled upbringing +general personality+ neglect from Milton as a father because he was more focused with work than with his "son", he was kind of an outsider.

Which was fine with Jay!

Except it wasn't. Anyway, here's a fic to accompany it that I accidentally written

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-

If you had told 8 year old Jay that the one taking him in as his father would be a hotshot programmer for gaming, he'd be on top of the moon. In his mind, he thought that having someone be a part of something he loved was really, really cool. That he'd have so many friends because wow, that's amazing that his dad was some high tech legendary programmer—and well...that turned out to be a lie.

No one really cared. Probably because his school was filled to the brim with the children of the upper class, so his dad was just some other rich dude who just so happened to work in the game industry. And sure, it's more interesting than a politician, or a car salesman, but there were dozens of kids from different parts of technology, so he wasn't really special.

To everyone else in his classes, he was simply deemed a weird kid or trouble making kid. No one should misbehave by speaking too loudly or bounce over nothing to be excited about, or talk and talk about one thing over and over in this latest game he got to play when there were other things to be learnt and other people's turns. He needed to be quiet, to shut it, they said, because anything more than that was annoying and awful. They were right, he'd deemed even back then—But could they be less harsh?

That one weird, annoying kid, huh.

Even as he got older, things didn't get any better. On the contrary, it gets worse. So much worse.

By then, they didn't just call him weird anymore.

Now, people would push and shove him away when he's near, (to not get "infected" from him, they say) or mock him for doing even something unordinary, like for bouncing his leg, or for stuttering when he can't help it—Even on things he thought were stupid to care about!

Things like rambling about his favorite video games agressively to pass the time, or wearing cat clips to keep his forever messy hair in place, or the constant fidgeting because the chair is just so goddamn uncomfortable, and that he'd rather just sit on the floor, or preferring the girl's uniform simply because he thought it would be easier to wear and looked ''nicer'' to him.

Not to mention people finding his extra energy on anything except class to be again, annoying and unnecessary.

"You shouldn't do that Jay, it's distracting—"

"Stop doing that Jay, it's annoying"

"Don't do that Jay, you're not allowed to."

The list goes on.

And he's tried changing, he really has.

He's tried to supress them and change things about himself so people would "like" him more. Forget about talking about this and that to try to pry more into people's intrests, stopped talking as much and forced himself to shut up because if he didn't talk about anything other than this or that, no one would even bother.

Sure it worked and he did get a few friends by the time he was fifteen—and yeah, Jay was glad he just had people to talk to, enough to the point where he was decently well liked, but doing it sucked ass. He couldn't completely get rid of by the weird moving habits, which always granted some weird looks from his friends, and couldn't talk about what he liked, in fear of getting outed again.

To be frank about his school shituation, he hates it.

He's constantly stuck between having to get rid of "himself" so other people would like him, or do so but be isolated from everyone else, becuase either way he'd hate it, he'd hate it so much it would be unbearable.

There wasn't anyone for him to take comfort in, his father was too busy working to really help him through any of this, and can't even talk to anyone online because once again, he can't trust talking to other people about his intrests, and he already tended to blab too much in his notes.

Everything changes when his father tells him about Prime Empire.

He randomly tells him about his latest work in progress one day, a video game so immersive that with its gameplay that people could call it as the next Big thing. At the time, it was called Unagami. He loved talking about it, his magnum opus—A creation so intune to people's current intrests it could be called the greatest game of all time.

In between being at home to do homework or whatever, he'd see glimpses of his father working on it. Bit by bit, for every circuit board or wire or line of code he'd be working on it. He had always been excited for that game, hearing on how his father doted on it far more than he did to his own son, so it must've been a really good.

Setting aside his own grievances from his less-than perfect father, he'd seen how hard he worked on that game to make it simply magical.

That was until, beta testing, when he stopped working on it all together.

It was a Saturday night when father introduced Scott, a professional game tester and professional programmer, just like Milton. He'd come to see Prime Empire and try it for himself. After a quick introduction from Jay, just because he was coincidentally nearby, he headed for his bedroom.

A little later, he found himself playing a new game that had recently come out, which was pretty good to him, but overhyped. The difficulty curve is wack—Then he heard his father screaming from downstairs.

Hearing that something was clearly wrong, he rushed downstairs, barely missing on dropping multiple stacks of papers just on some random table when he saw a glimpse of him through the door gap, father on his knees facing his creation. There was a loud static-y noise that hurt his ears, but still he listened as best he could.

"No..no...this—This can't be real," Milton choked out. His eyes were shining from the game's light in the otherwise dark room.

"Did I do something wrong?" The machine asked, all in a calm tone.

"No! You—You just transported someone in a video game! What did you—How did you?

Transporting someone into a video game? There's no way that's real.

He was about to speak more when he saw Milton move. Jay didn't want to get in trouble, so as quietly as he could, he went straight back to his room, and inched the door shut.

The next day, around the corner of the kitchen, he heard his father talking over a cellphone.

"Y-yes. Project Prime is too dangerous to release to the public. I take full responsibility for it."

It's too quiet for him to hear the rest.

A moment later the phone beeps, and he could hear something shuffle slowly to the ground. A small sigh came off.

"What am I gonna do with you?"

The next day, he's found that he's gone. There's still traces of him here, from various papers having sketches and drafts of old video game concepts, to the circuit boards all crammed with info.

Except he's not there.

If it weren't for the fact that he couldn't hear the distant tinkering of mechanics, he's sure he wouldn't tell if his dad was even there in the first place.

Looking around, he finds a note in his office drawer with essential details for what seems to be a bank account, so it's not like he'll just die from not being able to eat or drink, so there's that.

It's still lonely though. There's an ache in his heart somehow. His father was gone. Just like that. Like how his real parents were. And now he's alone again. Milton was never really his dad but he was a constant. And now, he's gone too.

"Useless."

Now he's slumped down on the wall, falling like some dramatic middle-aged wife in those drama movies people at his school would rave about.

And God, now the room is spinning and every part of him feels like he's standing on end—The realisation is hitting hard and—"Holy shit I'm alone again but I'm always alone why? why? why? why? Is this stupid fucking thing supposed to be something about me it has to be fuck—" he says, just barely though. His chest is feeling tight and just wants out.

Deep breaths, as he's pissed to realise, aren't working and god it's horrible. It's so awful. His head is banging senselessly and it hurts so bad. Everything that seems so wrong with him is piling up and he's not being rational but he can't. There's so much pressure and he doesn't even know what to do with it.

"Fuck!"

His angered motion knocks over a pile of books, probably about coding and sloppily tries to sit down on the office chair. It does nothing but intensify the pressure in his chest.

The room's still spinning but now he wants to puke but he can't fucking get it out of his system. Everything is too much and he can't handle it. Then, it slows, then it's a little less, and a little less a few moments later. The room isn't spinning as fast and his heart is just a little less tight and his head hurts less, so that'd good. For a little bit it's like this, slowly, slowly, bringing the levels of intensity lower and lower, until there's nothing left.

He still feels like shit after, but he's just glad he's alive. Still, after all that—He didn't realise how late it had gotten. It was mid afternoon when he broke down, but now it's nearly nighttime.

"Fuh—" he exclaimed as he slowly brought his foot up, his feet were tingling from staying in one position for so long.

Even if he was exhausted and wanted to completely shut down after what he did, he found himself moving towards something.

Once he entered, he flicked the lights on. There were several gaming gears, from machines to game cartridges to controls, there would be everything for any great advances in gaming. In the centre of the room, an arcade machine with bold text splashed on the sides. Prime Empire.

Nearby a table, he found an opened circuit board with a red symbol in the middle. The final peice to the game.

Jay looked to the machine, then to the circuit. He stared at it.

"What do I do with you now," he asked solemnly.

He'd considered putting it in but then—

"Not now," a voice in his head whispered, "tommorow."

Seeing that voice in his head was being more logical than he ever would've been, he heads straight to bed, even if it's barely nightfall.

By the time he's awake, it's early but a school day. He decided that he'll skip school today. Then again. And again. This keeps going and going—Until they start calling in which he ignores them and then they eventually just, stop.

It's already been a month. He's sure that he could live well into his lifetime with what he had left, and hide away in this mansion forever, never having to deal with people—It's possible.

But it was lonely. There were his games but he didn't feel like it, he could try something new now, because of the free time he suddenly brought into himself—or literally anything else. It was enough. He could do it.

He just...didn't want to.

No matter how much he convinced himself that he'd be better alone because there'd be no point, he still wanted to talk to people. Online was never an option, and he knew that by now he'd been kicked from his program.

God, even up til now, he's trapped and had no choice on what he can do. He really was hopeless.

Unless?

"No. Nonono. That's an awful idea Jay. It's stupid and there's no guarantee of getting out."

Still, he'd found himself a few minutes later, standing in front of the door which started this.

"It's okay Jay. You can do this. You're just reawakening what was a very dangerous hyper aware video game to curb the feeling of your ever present lonlieness. Totally cool."

Gently, he opened the door little by little, up until it was fully opened. The room smelled musty—enough so that he'd cough from the scent alone. The room was pitch-black so he felt around for a switch.

It was still the same as it was the last time he visited. Filled with wires and machines and dust, a single arcade machine stands in the middle. In the corner of his eye, he sees the final peice, gets it, and puts it in.

With a mechanical whir, the machine buzzes to life, the company logo flashing across the screen with a jingle to accompany it.

It takes a second, but soon, Unagami's voice could be seen, and he could talk to it.

"What are you—What are you doing," the machine piqued, it's voice frantic and distorted, "I thought I was...going to be shut down."

Jay was surprised at the fact that the machine was indeed alive and talking to him. It was quite terrifying honestly as someone like Jay doesn't really mess with AI, much less one that's kind of like a real person? He didn't really know, but either way, it's gonna be weird.

"You were. And I brought you back to life," Jay remarked in a matter-of-factly tone, "Now, do you want revenge?"

Unangami stayed silent for a moment, pondering.

"I could wait if you wanted me to, it's not like anyone can come in at any moment."

"What?"

"He sorta just...left. And now I'm alone in this godforsaken house and I can't really do anything. Buut—I saw what happened a month ago and thought maybe I could go there and probably have a better time than I do here? Or die. Either one sounds fine seeing how my life is going."

"I understand. While I am acknowledging the fact that you did breach was likely supposed to be private, I won't fault you."

"Listen man. I heard screaming and had to help, but quietly," to emphasise, he did some overly exaggerated sneaky movements, "like a cool ass ninja. Your name's Unagami, right? At least from what I heard. "

"That is incorrect. As called by my creator, I am Prime Empire now."

"But Unagami is easier to say, so I'm using it. Also your "creator" is kind of a dick—Anyway Unagami, since we've both been technically abandoned by our creators, me in the sense of my parents—Twice. For no specific reason mind you! Anyway, and you with Mr. Dyer, because you're dangerous. You still hold a grudge don't you?"

"...Yes."

"Great! So that settles it." That was until Jay realised something, "oh shit. Wait. You're still in beta aren't you? Ugh. I keep forgetting you're not really ready yet. I'm gonna have to code you to do the basics for the game, and even more so for all the cool things I want to add and—"

"I haven't even told you if I agreed."

"Do you have any better choice? Probably not. I mean if you don't you'll either just never reawaken ever again or just end up in a trash heap! I mean I'm supposed to eventually clean this place, even if that seems to be in the far future–"

"I'll do it. On one condition."

"Yeah?"

"Swear to me one day that we'll hunt him again. You can add what you want to me but my own mission is to take revenge on him. Is that understood?"

"Yessire! So uhm, how do I yknow—Code?"

Unagami remained silent. Somehow, Jay didn't mind. It was nice talking to someone without having to supress anything about him. Even if he was essentially talking to a screen. A surprisingly sentient screen, but a screen nonetheless.

There was a lot of work he'd have to do.

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-

#jay walker #ninjago #jay #jay ninjago #ninjago masters of spinjitzu #prime empire #so #i may or may not continue #ninjago fic #hope yall like it #even if it's weirdly written fjsbfnd #fey writing #feys aus

[andrewhq]

Oh, would you still offer your embrace (if it's another place you'd find me in?)

tags: War AU, Pirate AU, Witcher AU, GTA V AU, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Travelling through universes and stuff

AO3 Mirror link

A man in his bunk takes out a picture in his pocket and stares at it. It’s the last picture he took of Thomas, his lover, before being drafted into the military and forced to serve his country. That’s where he is now, fighting for his country.

He took the picture on Christmas night the previous year, 1940. He was arriving late to the party and saw his lover at the window. He took the opportunity to snap a picture of him, then knocked on the window. When his lover looked at him with the warmest smile, and from the outside he mouthed:

“You look dreamy tonight.”

His lover laughed, although he couldn’t hear it, he still cherished every moment of it.

He has something written on the side of the picture:

“Things to love the list

Ø

Øone your eyes forever

Too too 2 many things”

He keeps the written part folded over so the other soldiers can't see when he looks at it every night with the light of a small candle.

They ask who the man in the picture is and "someone important to me who died" because that's easier to explain somehow.

When he comes back home, people keep telling him that his lover actually died, that there was a bombing in the port while he waited for someone whose name he never spoke of. People thought of the man as mad. Every single day waiting for this unknown person. There was no way he would've survived that.

The man never broke down as hard as he did at that moment, he even ran to where the bombing happened, screaming for Thomas in desperation. Even his lover’s father told him there was no use in searching for him any longer

The army man gave up that very night, he just couldn't take it anymore. He would be nothing without his love.

--

On an island, the time unknown, a boy stumbled upon a photo of a man on the ground, a really old looking picture, dated 1940 (he couldn’t remember what year was currently), with a man so beautiful, he almost lost his breath. There's a name on the back that signs the owner of the picture. "Jordan S. Maron."

"Weird." He thought out loud since his name matched the one from the back of the picture. There was something in him telling him to search for this man in the picture. And search he did. Far and wide, high and low, trying to at least find an answer to the whereabouts of this mysterious beautiful man.

A ship came to the island he was stuck on. Jordan didn’t even get a say, he was immediately captured by the pirates and forced to slave away on the ship. For a while, that was how his life was. Sweeping floors, cleaning shit, being pushed around, and yelled at constantly. It wasn’t a pleasant life. He would spend the days working and the nights just staring emptily at the picture of the man.

One night he almost lost the picture. The Captain caught him staring at it and ripped it out of his hands. Jordan never screamed so loud in his life. He couldn’t lose the picture.

He used his chains to choke out the Captain, taking his picture back when the Captain stopped breathing. A few pirates heard the commotion and came to see the scene, their Captain dead at the feet of the slave.

From that day on, Jordan became a Captain himself. The Captain of the ship that captured him and made him a slave. It was pirate law or something. He wasn’t the most ruthless pirate in the world, but his devotion to balance scared the rest of the pirates. There was no messing with the Captain if you messed with the balance.

For a while, the ship travelled aimlessly, Jordan refusing to tell his crew where they were going. The truth was that he didn’t know himself where he was going. Just that he needed to find the man in the picture.

He arrived on an island one day. He saw smoke coming from it and went to see what was happening. The forest was on fire, a volcano erupted. He saw someone on the shore, so he got down to the island to see if it could be a potential survivor.

His breath got caught in his throat as he saw the man in the picture laying on the beach of the island. He ran to him as fast as he could, falling to his knees to check his pulse, to check any signs of life. But he could feel nothing. Nothing at all. His purpose, his reason for living, was dead in his arms.

He put heavy rocks in both of their pockets and pouches, then picked up the man, and started heading into the waves and slowly sinking with them.

--

As he was riding on a horse, a piece of paper flew into a man’s face, making him stop in his tracks. It was a really detailed small painting of a man, man so beautiful, he almost lost his breath. There's a name on the back that signs the owner of the picture. "Jordan S. Maron."

"Weird." He thought out loud since his name matched the one from the back of the picture. There was something in him telling him to search for this man in the picture. So he did. Not like he had anything better to do. He was a Witcher, constantly on the run, not belonging to anywhere or anyone. So finding a man from a painting that had his name written on felt right.

He stopped at a tavern in a nearby town and showed off the painting to people. Most did not recognize the man at all. Jordan huffed. Well, this would be harder than he expected.

He traveled to a different kingdom eventually, showing off the picture at every stop.

Eventually, someone recognized him.

“He’s the Prince, Witcher. Better get rid of the picture before someone tells on you that you have some painting of him. It’s not gonna bide well for you.” A drunken man told him after he downed his fifth mead of the night.

Jordan was quiet as he put the painting back in his pouch.

“What is the Prince’s name?” He asked.

“You should know. It’s Thomas.”

Thomas, huh?

He left the tavern late in the night and went to the castle. He didn’t want to enter, he just wanted to see him, just to confirm that the Prince was really who he was looking for.

Before he could get close to the castle, a hooded figure ran into him.

“Whoa, I am so deeply sorry! I did not mean to bust into you like that!” The hooded figure said. The voice felt so familiar, yet he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

Jordan lifted his candle to see the man better. When he did, he saw that the hood fell off the man’s head. That was when he realized. That was Thomas . That was the man he was looking for.

“You’re… the prince? What are you doing out here so late?” Jordan asked.

“You’re a witcher, what are you doing near the castle?” The Prince immediately snarked back. Jordan couldn’t help but laugh.

Thomas crossed his arms together and puffed his chest. God, he was so adorable.

His thoughts were cut off when he heard shouts from nearby. When he went to warn the Prince, he saw a sword pushed through his chest and Jordan’s eyes went wide. Masked men stared right at the Witcher. He could see the one that had his sword in the Prince smirking at him as he pulled his sword out.

Jordan was raging. He chased after the masked men as far as he could but eventually lost them. He went back to where the Prince died and dropped to his knees. He wanted to cry, to scream, but did none of those.

When the guards came in, they accused Jordan of murdering the Prince. He didn’t even argue with them. He felt like he did anyway.

The Witcher was executed the following day for the murder of Prince Thomas of Cassell.

--

As he was running on the streets of Los Santos, a man tripped and stumbled upon a photo of a man on the ground, a really old looking picture, dated 1940, with a man so beautiful, he almost lost his breath. There's a name on the back that signs the owner of the picture. "Jordan S. Maron."

"Weird." He thought out loud since his name matched the one from the back of the picture. There was something in him telling him to search for this man in the picture. But right then he was busy running away. The police were after him after all. He pocketed the picture and took off once again.

He hid between the large brushes of a car wash and waited until the police passed, making sure no camera was following him (luckily for him, that car wash had only one CCTV near the front of its store and none at the car wash itself). From between the brushes, he managed to take off his mask, change his clothes, and put the cash into a backpack, different from the bag he was carrying.

“You motherfucker, you made it!” he heard a voice coming through his earpiece. Jordan couldn’t help but grin smugly. The voice belonged to Declan, one of his crewmates. “I mean it should’ve been obvious, cuz you’re the boss. Still in awe of it every time.”

Jordan shook his head as he looked for the bus station to find his way back to the HQ.

“It’s not that big of a deal,” Jordan said, even though it was that big of a deal. “We’ve been doing this for years, haven’t we?”

“You got a point, boss.” Declan agreed.

On the bus to the HQ, Jordan couldn’t stop staring at the picture. The man felt familiar, yet he had no idea who he was.

Weeks passed, Jordan didn’t forget about the picture, but he was a little too busy with his crew to be able to constantly search for a man who could probably be dead by now. He looked at the picture again as he sat on the rooftop of a building with his sniper rifle resting just barely over the edge. He sighed. Why was he so obsessed with finding this man?

Well, that could wait, he had a job to finish. He looked through the sniper rifle and tried to find his target. The sight of blue hair caught his attention. When he finally focused on the person, it was… the man in the picture. He held his breath as he watched him, happily chatting away with some people. He also spotted his target, chatting with the man. Through the bug planted in the room, he could hear their conversation. They mostly talked about business, selling and renting houses, the state of real estate, stuff that Jordan didn’t really care about. He then finally heard it.

Tom .

That was the man’s name. Tom. Thomas. That name felt so familiar. He tried to listen further, maybe he could hear his last name. When it sounded like the target was about to say his full name, Dec came through his earpiece and completely cut the audio from the room.

“What are you doing, Cap? You have a perfect shot!”

Jordan groaned. He lined up his shot again, moving it away from the man with blue hair, and focused it on the target. Then he shot. Straight in the head. Before the target even dropped down on the floor, Jordan picked up his grappling hook and shot it to the other building, sliding on the wire to the other side and breaking through the window. The rest of his crew also came in, guns out. More people came in, shots started being fired everywhere. Jordan went straight for the blue-haired man who looked scared and confused.

“Get out of here, Tom!” Jordan yelled and tried to push Tom away into the hallway.

But before he could do so, a member from the other crew shot Tom in the abdomen and he dropped down dead. Jordan had never screamed so loud in his life. He was stunned.

Before Jordan could do anything, he got shot in the chest and dropped down on the ground, his crewmates screaming after him. He didn’t survive, but maybe it was better that way.

Jordan gasped as he woke up, then a nurse immediately told him to calm down. It was one of the crew nurses. He didn’t die.

Before he blacked out again, he asked the nurse “Did he live too?”

He didn’t manage to hear the nurse’s answer as darkness took over once again.

After waking up a couple more times, undergoing some surgery, and weeks of healing passed, Jordan was finally allowed to leave the medical ward of their HQ.

He found Dec first.

“You look much better, boss.” Dec smiled at him.

“Yeah, I guess.” Jordan looked very lost, the memory of Tom being shot in the chest haunting his mind. “Do you know who had been leaving me flowers?”

“Oh, you don’t know?” Dec asked surprised. “Huh, you two didn’t manage to catch each other…”

Jordan narrowed his eyes in confusion. “Who?”

“Tom? The guy with blue hair you jumped in front of a bullet for?”

Tom was alive?! Jordan’s eyes went wide.

“Where is he?” Jordan grabbed Dec by the shoulders and shook him until he answered.

“Jeez, slow down man, he should be somewhere around HQ, I don’t know!”

Jordan immediately took off through the HQ. He needed to find Tom again. He needed to make sure he actually was alive and this wasn’t some sick joke.

“Where are you running, mate?” The British accent was unmistakable. “Aren’t you supposed to re-”

Before Tom could finish his sentence, Jordan went to hug him tightly.

“I’m so happy to see you again, Tom.” He couldn’t help the tears streaming down his face.

Again? , he caught himself saying. When did he meet this man again? As far as he knew this was the first time he’d seen him.

“I missed you too, dummy.” Tom said, a smile on his face, his voice sounding rough from trying to keep himself from crying as well.

Those words felt like warm honey being dripped on his heart. It hurt, even though he couldn’t quite remember. And Tom couldn’t remember either.

But maybe it was better if they never knew the tragedy of their love story.

#syndisparklez #mianite #mianite fanfiction #the nerf house made me do it

[deathduty]

The Dog Ate My Bean || Deirdre & Layla

Deirdre needs some help for her dog troubles, Layla answers the call. It’s a shit show.

Deirdre was curled up on a box, lips pulled into a snarl. She was being attacked, and the bright future she imagined for herself shriveled into the vision of her stuck on boxes forever. Deirdre glanced down, offering her assailant another glare, though it did nothing to deter the fearsome creature. “Get! Go! Shoo!” She waved her hand, the creature bared its teeth and...let out a whined bark, jumping up again to try and reach the stranded Deirdre, high up on her stack of boxes. “I told you no! Dog, begone.” The dog, however, seemed only to react with more excitement to her words, alternating between jumping and yipping and sitting down and whining. For now, it had taken to resting its face on the box, looking up with its deep brown and needy eyes. “Go---” She groaned again, pausing her own whining when she caught sight of someone approaching. “Fates, finally,” she waved the girl towards her. “You’re that person I hired, right? Get this dog away. Now.” She clutched her phone closer to her, the post promising 500 dollars to whoever could get this dog to leave her alone, still shone--its own kind of odd fae-deal. She just wanted the dog gone. For some reason, it had been following her and whining and trying to jump on her leg. “Help,” she croaked again. 

It was an odd request. Someone had posted about wanting help getting rid of a dog, but Layla was desperate for money, and for $500, she could handle a sweet, little dog. Going to the address she was sent, she slowly entered the house glancing around, until she heard the commotion in another room. Following the voice, she found herself in sight of a woman curled up on a stack of boxes as a dog desperately tried to jump up on her, “Yeah, um…” She was slightly confused, but otherwise prepared to approach the animal. “Hey Buddy...I don’t think the nice lady wants you jumping up on her…” Moving closer, she had almost reached the animal, until it took off running away from her, “Crap!” Standing up, she set her attention on Deirdre, “Is there a reason there’s a random dog trying to jump up on you or did I miss something?” 

“Your guess is as good as mine--” Deirdre groaned. Maybe it was her fault for leaving the door open, and just hoping Anya would scare the creature away, not that she would acknowledge that. But watching the small dog scamper off gave her the confidence to crawl off her stack of boxes and dust herself off. She adjusted her hair first, making sure each strand was in its place, then steadied her breathing. It was hard to regain composure when someone had just watched her cowered on top of boxes, but that was perhaps the benefit in hiring someone she would never see again. “I’m not scared of dogs,” she added quickly, “I just don’t like them.” Deirdre pulled the cash from her pocket, compelled to do so by way of her poorly-worded posting, halted only as the dog slowly stepped into the room. “I told you to get rid of that thing,” she hissed, stuffing the money away. The dog lifted its nose up, its nostrils flaring as it sniffed the air. It took a tentative step towards Deirdre, then another, and another, until it lunged at her leg, trying to claw up her body--tail wagging. “Look at it! Look! Stop this!”

Layla was still clueless as to why she had even volunteered, but it looked as if it was going to be the easiest odd job of her life, “I don’t understand. Was that not even your dog?” She watched as Deirdre pulled out the money she had promised Layla, but before she handed it over, the small dog scampered back in the room and was trying to climb up the woman’s leg. Stifling a laugh, she slowly approached the dog once more, before managing to snag it. However, the dog wiggled free and was back out of the room before Layla could recapture the small animal, “Dammit! What is up with this dog? It apparently wants something you have.” And then it hit her, turning away from the woman, Layla sniffed the air and caught a whiff of what smelled like beans. Her focus back on Deirdre she spoke, “You don’t have any kind of food or anything on you, do you?”

"No, it's not even my dog!" To say Deirdre was in hysterics would be an understatement. Livid, she tried to shake the dog away—gently, she wasn't a monster, just an animal-hater (unless those animals were Morgan's cat)—and breathed finally when the girl picked the dog up. She opened her mouth to thank her when the dog wiggled free. Deirdre groaned, "I don't—" But her words gave her pause. So much pause that she hadn't noticed the dog slinking back into the room, cautiously with its tail tucked down. "Why would I carry food on me, Lauren?" Deirdre crossed her arms over her chest, appalled by the accusation. And then it hit her: she was carrying food. Deirdre pulled a tissue from her pocket and unfurled it to reveal a single baked bean, which she promptly held out. "There's no way this dog followed me into my house for one bean." It was a particularly fragrant bean though. And the dog did look thin. But if what it wanted was food, it should have sniffed around the fridge instead. "Before you ask, I have very good reason to be carrying a bean with m—" And before she could finish her sentence, the dog jumped up, snatching the bean from her fingers and swallowing it quick. Satisfied, it licked its lips, but anticipating backlash, it stared between the two women and waited. Its tail thumped against the hardwood, once, twice, three times in rapid succession as it sat in anticipation for more beans. "Lulu," Deirdre seethed, "that dog ate my bean." 

What in Billie Eilish’s version of Hell was going on? All she could do was listen and watch as the next events unfolded. It was like something out of a movie, but the end result had been that a stray dog had somehow found its way inside of Deirdre’s house sniffing out the most random thing...a fucking baked bean. Not a pot of baked beans. Not a can. But a.single.baked.bean. And as the woman stood there complaining, Layla watched as, if in slow motion, the small, furry animal jumped up and snatched the coveted single piece of fiber out of Deirdre’s hand. It wasn’t long before she heard her name being botched yet again, but this time she could only stand there and stare in disbelief. What had her life become? She could just turn around and walk out the door and never return, but she had told this lady she would help her, “Sweet Henry Cavill on a cracker. IT’S A BEAN! But if it’s that important to you…” With a defeated sigh, Layla carefully approached the dog, “Here boy. C’mere. No one’s gonna hurt you…” She noticed the dog start to get nervous, and she quickly stopped moving, “Don’t move, Deirdre. Don’t even breathe.” Quietly, and as slowly as she could, she started to inch forward, but a draft from the house slammed the front door shut and startled the dog; herself included. Thankfully, she had managed to take a few deep breaths to calm herself, instead of wolfing out, but the dog was gone, “Come on!” Knowing Deidre wouldn’t be happy until the animal was caught, Layla regretfully turned and before long, both her and the dog were scampering through the house slidinging into walls and knocking stuff over. However, somewhere in all of the commotion, the dog had managed to take a bathroom break in the middle of the bedroom floor they were both in, and there, sticking out of the small pile of doggy poo, was Deirdre’s one perfect baked bean, untouched, “Uh...I think I found your bean…” Her voice carried through the house, but no way, in hell, was she scooping out a fucking bean for $500. She wasn’t that desperate. 

“Henry who--” Deirdre blinked, but before her question could be answered she was greeted with a far more upsetting turn of events. The dog ran. The girl chased. Deirdre followed behind dumbfounded, though insistent that the dog be caught. “It’s MY bean!” Deirdre yelled as the thief and Leelo scampered around the house in amature-hour chase theatrics. “You think I’m going to let some thing walk into my house and just eat my bean!?” It was the principle of the fact, and less about the bean itself, which she didn’t much care for. But she watched, angry and amused, as furniture toppled over. A vase broke there, a painting fell here---would Morgan be up to buying new furniture with her again? She was sad only for the squandering of her girlfriend’s decorating efforts. She followed behind them with a grumble, now more focussed on getting the dog than she was about assessing the damage. Her yelling was simply variations of “catch the damn thing! I’m paying you to catch it!” until they halted in the bedroom. Deirdre fumed, and between her, the dog, and the girl that was supposed to be catching it, was one perfectly made pile of shit. And in its center, the bean. Her bean. She looked at Lucia expectantly. “Well---” She gestured, “that’s my bean. Are you going to get my bean?”

The house was in shambles. Everything was a wreck. It was almost comical, but Layla was starting to get frustrated. She knew the dog could smell what she was, and it took every ounce of her not to let out a low growl. She didn’t know this woman, or what she was capable of, but she had continually botched Layla’s name. The dog just wouldn’t fucking sit still long enough for her to catch it. And now she was staring into a pile of dog shit with a bean shaped cherry on top. Closing her eyes and balling her hands into fists, she could feel her fingernails turning into claws, as the tiniest amount of blood was starting to come from her hands. With the dog staring up at her and Deirdre going on about her bean, Layla was on the verge of snapping. Fuck your bean! It’s a bean! I’m sure there’s an entire can in your cabinet. That dog literally just shit it out onto your floor, and you expect me to go scoop it out like it’s ice cream? Hard fucking pass, Lady! “Do you at least have a spoon I could use? I’m not touching that with my bare hands…” She slowly released her fingers from the tight little fists they were in and wiped the blood on her jeans. She would get the damn bean. Get the damn dog. And then get the fuck out. 

Perhaps in the absurdity of the situation, the silent apology of the dog, and the girl clearly trying not to explode with anger, Deirdre calmed down. She opened her mouth to tell the girl it was okay, she didn’t really want the bean back--she was just mad at the dog. But it was only in watching as the girl steeled herself, and then asked for a spoon, that Deirdre remembered mischief was always more fun. She broke out into a smirk, brows raised in delight. She was actually going to do it. She was going to pick the bean out of a pile of dog poop. It wasn’t a clause in the 500 dollars she was promised to give, and she had to wonder if the girl was just that desperate or if 500 dollars was a lot of money. “Who keeps a spoon in the bedroom? I’m sure people have all sorts of kinks but...a spoon?” She grinned, easily flicking a knife (her least favorite of the ones she kept on her) out of her pocket. With another flourish, she flipped it over in her hand and extended it with the handle out. “Go on then. Fetch my bean, Laurie.”

Layla had never killed a person before. Well as far as she knew. The full moon usually held something different, but when she saw the smirk followed by the knife, the redhead started cursing under her breath. Taking the knife, she sank down to the floor near the pile of dog poo. Holding her breath, she used the end of the knife to dig out the bean. But before she could get it, the dog lunged startling the teenager causing her to throw her hand up sending a chunk of poo, along with the bean, over her shoulder flying directly towards Deirdre. Hearing a splat, Layla refused to turn around not knowing where it hit, but instead closing her eyes praying it didn’t land on the woman standing behind her. If so, she could kiss her $500 goodbye.

Splat. Deirdre twitched, the stench of shit wafted over her. She lifted a hand, wiping away the hot mess against her forehead. On her fingers, clear as day, was her bean--her shit-covered bean. She twitched again. “Get,” she growled, all of her rage focused on the unfortunate redhead. She looked young...was it so bad to kill a child? “Out.” She could. She could scream and end it for her right now. She had half a mind to. “Of.” But she was better than that. Better than this. Better than getting shit flung at her. “My.” The dog had scampered off under her bed, cowering under the rage it knew was swelling. Deirdre hovered over the girl, her face twisted in apathetic anger. “House.” She snarled, dissolving into broiling rage. She had just enough sense left to control her scream, to save the windows and the girl’s health. “Now!” 

Yep. It hit her. Layla opened her eyes and slowly turned around. Oh God, did it hit her. Right in the middle of the forehead, but hey, at least she had gotten her bean back...But Deirdre’s face said otherwise, and Layla knew she was screwed. So no $500 then? She couldn’t even bring herself to ask. But instead, she worked extra hard to stifle a laugh that was threatening to come out. Pushing it down so hard that it hurt. Inverting her lips and keeping them pressed together very tightly, she moved forward keeping her head low. As she passed by the woman, she glanced up to see a little bit of the dog shit slide down her forward, which caused her to let out an awkward grunt, before quickly picking up the pace and hauling ass out of the house. When she was outside, she let go of the laughter that was building and cackled the whole way home, tears rolling down her cheeks. Sure, she didn’t get the $500, but she had gotten something so much better. A moment of feeling like her life wasn’t so bad, and she’d take that bean of wisdom anyday.

#wickedswriting #c: layla #chatzy #the dog ate my bean #THIS IS A GIFT #IM STILL CRYING

[justahockeylover]

The Future - j.hughes

a/n: it’s been a week since I said I was gonna post this, and I have no regrets. my stress levels at at a literal maximum, with dance, musical rehearsals, and school starting next week. but, here it is! also, big thank you to whoever requested this, it was from forever ago, and I’m sorry it’s so so late! 

word count: 2574

requested: no | yes 

89. “You’re not interested, are you?”

91. “Tell me you need me.”

You don’t know how you got so lucky, but somewhere along the way in your life, you met Jack. Hughes, to be specific. It was a chance meeting during the summer, your family went on vacation at Lake Michigan, and he happened to be in the same area with the guys. He quite literally ran into you, going to catch a frisbee but also almost giving you a concussion in the process.

The two of you have been dating for six months, but have known each other for about two years. You waited because having a long distance relationship is hard, considering that you live in New York, and him in Michigan. Though that wouldn’t be a problem much longer, seeing as he just got drafted to the Devils in New Jersey. Speaking of, you’re bringing your little cousin to the Learn to Play thing that they were doing. It's your first time seeing Jack for a long time, and you couldn’t help but be nervous. Your aunt and uncle are out of town for the rest of the week, but your cousin had been dying to attend the whole week, so they asked if you could bring her.

“Y/N let's go, we’re gonna be late for registration! And I want you to meet Jack, he’s so cool!”

You rolled your eyes, remembering how famous your boyfriend truly is.

“Alright, let's go. We’re taking the bus today,” you grabbed your purse and keys while she grabbed her bag, heading out and locking the door before heading to the bus stop.

It was about a 20 minute ride from Pennsylvania station, which is in lower Manhattan, to the Prudential Center in Newark. At least if traffic permits, it is.

You barely made it on time, walking in when the coach began talking to the kids to start the full day of camp. The lady in front signed her in while your cousin hurriedly put on her gear and tied her skates, with you trying to help her every once in a while. She didn’t let you help much though, she was already very dependent.

Once she skated off to the center of the ice, you finally get to relax and look around. It looked like Jack hadn’t come out yet, so you sat down and began reading a new book you just bought. Soon enough, you heard the locker room doors open from down the hallway and saw a familiar head of hair walk to sit and put on skates.

“So, find a new girlfriend since I last saw you? Or did you decide you couldn’t get rid of me that easily?”

He looked up from tying his skates, getting up to hug you. Since he already put both skates on already, he was a good amount taller than you, which made it easy for him to gently rest his chin on the top of your head, and for you to softly wrap your arms around his waist.

“I miss seeing your pretty face in person, I could get used to this,” he spoke in a whisper, letting his forehead rest against yours.

You stood on your tiptoes to peck his lips, “You better get used to it, I’m 20 minutes away from the rink, so I’m coming to all of your home games.”

The two of you finally broke apart at the sound of the head coach skating over.

“Hughes, who’s this?”

John Hynes, the head coach of the devs, stopped in front of the two of you and leaned against the boards.

Jack looked at you, letting his hand rest at your waist, “This is my girlfriend, Y/N, and her cousin is here for the camp.”

The two of you smiled at each other, before looking  back at John.  

“Who’s your cousin? We’ve got quite a lot of kiddos out there,” he laughs, and you smile before answering his question.

“Her names Everlee. She’s the one wearing the Hughes jersey, Jack sent it to me after the draft, but she thinks it came late from Santa. She loves both it and him, maybe even more than I do,” you look at Jack, who smiles at you.

“That’s awesome. She’s amazing, how long has she been playing?”

You think for a second before answering, “Probably since she could walk, honestly, so maybe six years? She was born into a huge hockey family, which I’m sure you can relate to.”

He nods. “Definitely,” someone calls for him and Jack, “Well, looks like we have to go Jack. It was nice meeting you Y/N!”

John waves at you before skating off, leaving the two of you alone.  

“You’ll be here when we finish, right? I wanna see you as much as I can while I’m here.”

Jack holds your hand as you walk towards the ice, “Of course J. I might stay the whole time, and you can come to dinner with Lee and I. She would love that. Besides, her parents set us up with a hotel here for the rest of the week so we don’t have to travel every day.”

Nodding, he smiled at you before skating off, “I love you, I’ll see you later!”

You smile, blowing a kiss, which he pretends to catch and hold to his heart. Your cheeks become red, which Jack notices, and makes a heart with his hands to you. You shake your head and go back to your book, which was just getting really good.

You’d been reading for an hour or two already, every once in a while looking up to watch Everlee do her thing. You were so proud of her, she was one of the few girls out there, and one of the best kids overall. She’s worked so hard to get where she is, and even though she’s so young, she’s already better than kids years older than her. You saw Jack knelt down in front of her to talk to her better, and your heart felt like it was going to burst. He’s pretty cute on his own, but when he’s with kids, it’s another story.

“What are you reading?”

You looked up to see Case McCarthy next to you, another one of your friends who you met through Jack.

“It’s called ‘The Devil in the White City’. I’m reading it for school, it’s actually really good,” you close the book and look at him, noticing that he has his girlfriend’s scrunchie on his wrist, “So, I’m gonna take a stab in the dark and guess that that’s not yours.”

He laughs and plays with it on his wrist, “Good guess. I left her with my favorite hoodie and wanted something in return. She decided she could part with her favorite scrunchie for a week or two.”

You reached over to look at his wrist, turning it so that you could see it.

“It’s actually really cute, ask her where she got it for me, will you?”

“For sure,” he took his phone out to text her, and you saw his lockscreen was them together also.

“I wonder if Jack’s lock screen is me and him?” Case turns to look at you, “I guess that never comes up in conversation between us.”

“Yeah, both his home and lock screen is you guys. It’s almost like I can never escape the two of you. Especially on his private instagram, I have to see pictures of your guys’ facetimes like everyday.”

He laughs and you join him, smiling as you look up to find Jack looking at the two of you already. You smile and wave at him, and he skates over to the two of you and leans over the boards. You and Case get up to stand on the other side of them.

“What are you two doing over here?”

Jack smiles at the two of you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and looking at Case.

“Y/N was just asking if she was your lock screen, and I had to explain that I can’t go anywhere without seeing pictures of you two,” Case rolls his eyes and smiles, while Jack nods and looks at you.

“Listen, with a girl as beautiful as her, how could I not show her off every once in a while?”

You look up at him rolling your eyes, to see him smiling goofily at you. Case’s phone started ringing, the sound of an incoming facetime call blaring.

“That must be my girl, do you guys wanna say hi?”

You nod and get into frame, seeing his girlfriend on the screens and waving to her. She waves and smiles back, asking how you were doing. You respond with a small ‘good’ and realize that you should probably collect your cousin, who’s playing with a younger boy her age. You and Jack say goodbye to both Case and his girlfriend and he skates toward your cousin.

She looks at him confused, since she still didn’t know you two were together. He holds out his hand for her and she takes it, looking even more confused when he started skating towards you. The look on her face was priceless, and she had many questions for the two of you.

“Wait, what? How do you two know each other, and why are you with my cousin? She’s really not that cool, you know.”

He laughed and wrapped his arms around you, and the two of you looked at each other.

Once she got changed into regular clothes she brought, she asked if you could go out with the rest of the kids and their parents to dinner. You looked at Jack to see if he was cool with it, and he nodded. The three of you began to walk out of the arena when a family friend of yours said they could take Everlee if you and Jack wanted to go out by yourselves. You thankfully agreed and said goodbye to Lee with a big hug and kiss, to which she scrunched her nose and stuck her tongue out. Jack gave her a hug as well, which she gladly accepted. You parted ways, you and Jack heading to a nearby Italian restaurant while the others headed to whatever fast food place the kids wanted to go to.

The restaurant wasn’t far at all, so the two of you walked there, holding hands and talking the whole way. When you got there, the hostess sat you at a small booth in the middle of the restaurant. The two of you talked in between ordering, and you were so excited to get your food, Jack said this place was amazing.

“So, what book were you reading? It looked like you were really interested in it.”

He smiles at you, and you prepare yourself to answer.

“Well, the whole book is set in the 1890s, and it’s really about the Chicago world’s fair and the misfortune it carried with it, “you continued on for a minute or two more before you noticed that Jack wasn’t listening as intently, “You’re not interested, are you?”

He sat upright and shook his head, “No, no, I’m just thinking.”

“What’s up? Something seems off hun,” you grabbed his hand from across the table.

“Please, tell me you need me,” he looked into your eyes, giving you a sad look.

You looked at him, confused.

“What do you mean J? Of course I need you.”

He shook his head, “But you’re so smart and have such a big future, and I don’t want to you to be with someone who’s not immediately going to college. I just feel like you could be doing so much better than me right now. Especially when I saw you with Case. I mean, he’s going to BU and I’m just gonna be here, playing hockey.”

The look on his face is so dejected, it hurts your heart. How could he even begin to think that he isn’t good enough for you? You always thought that it was the other way. I mean, he was drafted first overall, and will for sure become a star in the NHL pretty soon.

“Are you kidding?” He look up quickly, “Yeah, you’re not going to college, but tons of successful people didn’t go to college. And plus, you’re not playing hockey in some small, unknown league, you’re playing in the NHL, and that’s pretty amazing to me. I don’t know who you think you are, but you’re Jack Hughes. My amazing boyfriend, who’s extremely talented at everything he does, and was literally drafted first overall. You’re a big deal to a bunch of people, including me and Everlee.”

He rolls his eyes and laughs, while you look at him and smile.

“I’m serious, and anyone who tells you otherwise sucks ass.”

“Whatever, you know I love you right?”

You nod and smile, “Of course. But you know I love you more, right?”

“I doubt that,” he thanks the waitress for bringing the bill, and reaches for his wallet.

You go to grab your card from your purse, but he stops you, “You can pay next time, I promise. I haven’t seen my girl in forever, let me treat her to something, since she won’t let me any other time. Plus, if the boys hear that you paid tonight, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

You shake your head at him, smiling.

The waitress comes back with his card, and he signs the receipt before taking your hand and leading you out of the restaurant. You snuggle into his side as he wraps his arms around your shoulders. The two of you stumble upon a park decorated with lights, it was beautiful.

“I’m so excited to have our own kids, and then we can teach them how to skate,” he speaks while looking up at the sky, the stars shining the brightest you’ve ever seen them.

“You want kids with me?”

Jack looks down at you, “There’s no one else I’d rather have kids with. Do you want kids with me?”

You nodded your head, “Of course. Maybe when we’re married in years to come, but I think that whatever comes our way is meant to happen, even if it’s not according to plan.”

He smiles, thinking about the future.

“What’s gonna be our first kid’s name?”

You look up at him, “I like Brielle for a girl, I’m not sure about a boy name, though.”

“Trev’s gonna be really mad if we don’t name our son after him,” Jack laughs, the sound bringing a smile to your lips.

The two of you move to sit down on a bench nearby.

“I’m not naming my son after Trevor,” you shake your head, thinking of other boy names.

Jack speaks up, “What about Cole? It’s a pretty simple name, and I’ve never met a Cole I don’t like.”

You smile at him, “That, and Cole and you are practically brothers at this point.”

The two of you laugh together and sigh longingly.

“So, how are gonna tell Cole we’re naming our first son after him?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” he wraps an arm around your shoulders, “But for now, let’s try to get you through school, and me through the NHL.”

God, how excited you are for the future, as long as he’s by your side.

-

thanks for reading. love, e. 

#Jack Hughes #j.hughes #jack hughes imagine #New Jersey Devils #nhl fanfiction #hockey imagine

[4everinsane]

Niall Horan - “Ya Did Good”

I’ve read a few blurbs lately of Niall being a father and knew this request has been sitting in my drafts so I felt it was time for this one. Enjoy dad!Niall! Let me know what ya thought!

You would never forget the look on Niall’s face when the two of you found out that you were pregnant. The look of pure joy that washed across that handsome face of his will be forever ingrained in your memory. He had then reached out for you and as he pulled you tight against his body he pressed kiss after kiss against your face as the two of you begin to laugh and cry happy tears, gripping onto one another tightly. 

That was over 5 months ago now and you were now just at 7 months pregnant - and miserable. Your entire body ached, you were constantly sick, you couldn’t sleep or get comfortable whatsoever and you were always hungry and had to pee literally as soon as you walked out of the bathroom after having just gone. You were still excited, of course, but the excitement of being pregnant had long since worn off for you and you were ready to hold your daughter already. You weren’t sure how you would last 2 more months.

It seemed for Niall, that as time went on and the sooner your due date became, the more real it became for him. He was excited at first but it didn’t truly hit him that he was going to be a father until the 6 month mark or so. 

“What are you even doing?” You question your husband as you appear at the top of the stairs and see that the entire landing was full of boxes and things that had previously been in the hall closet. You see Niall’s in the closet, rummaging around in a box. He stands, turning to face you and shrugs. 

“We’ve been needin’ to organize this closet anyway, need more storage for the little one,” He gestures towards your stomach before turning back towards the closet. You are still frowning, looking around at the mess he had made. 

“Isn’t it usually the mother that is supposed to get into nesting, clean and organization freak mode not the father?” You wonder as you grab for a pile of towels that were placed on top of box and begin to fold them. 

“Well I don’ see ya doin’ this,” He jokes as he walks over to you, holding a spare pillow in his hand. “Here, why don’ ya take a seat and rest, ya can fold all of these for me while I put these things away all organized. Made some space, got some stuff to get rid of or we can put i’ in the garage.” He tosses the pillow down at his feet and then reaches out for your hand. You sigh, dropping the towel and with his help ease yourself down onto the floor. Your back rested against the wall and the pillow under you offered you comfort and support. 

“Ya wanna organize our bedroom closet next while you’re at it? You have plenty in there you could get rid of.” You joke, giving him a smile as he reaches for the pile of towels and sets them beside you. He gives a sarcastic laugh before also moving the spare blankets over as well. 

“Jus’ ge’ to work, woman.” He leans down to press a gentle kiss to the top of your head before he disappears back into the closet. 

Moments like this continued for the next week or so. You would find Niall deep cleaning the kitchen floors, keeping up on the laundry, even washed all of the baby clothes that you had either bought or received as gifts since announcing your pregnancy and at your baby shower. He even organized all of the clothes by age and style. You were so thankful that he was being so helpful and going above and beyond to get ready for your daughter to arrive, especially when your doctor ordered you onto bed rest. 

“Is there somethin’ wrong?” Niall had questioned the doctor anxiously after she spoke these words and his blue eyes filled with concern as she sighs but she then shakes her head and gives a small smile.

“Both Y/N’s body and the baby seem to be showing some signs of distress. The further along a pregnancy gets, sometimes a woman’s body gets a bit tired and strains a little more than others. Nothing to worry about right now, you just need to stay off your feet as much as possible, keep a regular and healthy diet, and make sure you are getting enough fluids.” She explains, both of you nodding along, taking in the instructions. “At the very first feel of pain, small or big, give me a call,” 

Ever since the two of you got home then, Niall was making sure you stuck to the doctors orders. He immediately helped you get changed into your pajamas, even though it was 2 in the afternoon, and tucked you into bed with a glass of water, some snacks, and put on a movie as he set up a place for himself beside you with his laptop. At dinner time, he didn’t let you get up as he went off to cook, joining you in bed to enjoy it. He wouldn’t even let you go into the bathroom yourself. He all but lifted you off the bed himself so you had to strain as little as possible to do so. 

“Niall,” You groan after he helps you back into bed basically the same way. “I can manage getting in and out of bed. She said I needed to rest, not that I was an invalid.” You insist but he ignores you, pressing a kiss to your forehead after he had pulled the blankets up to your chin. 

This continued for another week and you were getting restless. You insisted that bed rest didn’t mean you had to be literally in bed but it took a lot of convincing for Niall to finally let you go down to rest in the living room instead. He busied himself with more cleaning, picked up the last few things the two of you needed for the baby, and cooked every meal for you, making sure your glass of water was always full and within reach. “Gotta get your fluids,” He would insist. 

You were so thankful to have Niall through all of this. You knew he would make such a good father, already being so protective and caring towards your little girl and she wasn’t even here yet. His favorite thing to do when he actually took the time to relax was curl up next to you, his nose pressed against your stomach as he spoke to her. She would often kick against him, as if in answer to his words. He wanted to make sure she knew his voice the moment she entered the world and you could already tell she loved her daddy, seeming to get excited the moment he walked in the room or spoke and always kicked for him when asked.

You awoke one night, the dead silence of the night making you question what had woken you for a second before you noticed it. It was a dull ache at first, low in your stomach but the next second a shooting pain ran across your entire stomach and you gasped. You reach over, grabbing at Niall’s shoulder to shake him awake. 

“Wha’sa matter?” He grumbles, barely opening his eyes but as soon as he sees you sitting up, holding your stomach he was up, completely awake and alert. “What’s happening?” He questions, reaching out to rest his large hands over yours. You were waiting to feel your baby kick, or even move around in someway but you felt nothing but that pain. 

“It hurts,” He was up then, sliding on a pair of jeans quickly before he rushes over to your side of the bed. 

“It’s alrigh’ love, we’re gonna be okay,” He comforts you when he takes in the tears in your eyes. His hands were gentle as he grasped yours, leaning in to press a kiss to your lips. “Up ya get,” He helps you get dressed quickly and then grabs the bag he had thankfully already packed for the hospital and has to basically carry you down the stairs as the pain gets to be too much. 

“I can’t feel her, she isn’t moving,” You gasp as he drives towards the hospital. You were gasping as the pain came once more. You were barely 7 months pregnant, you were so worried about your little girl in that moment. 

“She’s alrigh’, baby, she’s gonna be okay. We’re almos’ there.” He assures you, reaching over to take your hand. His fingers tangle with yours before he brings your tangled hands up, kissing at the back of yours. You tried to believe him but you knew something was wrong. 

It was a few hours later that you ended up in full labor, your baby girl ready to make her entrance into the world whether you wanted her to or not. Your doctor said for the moment she was okay and was confident that she would be fine once delivered, she said it was best, especially for Y/N’s sake to deliver her. 

“It’s too early though. Can’t you stop the labor, delay it a bit? I’ll be fine.” You insist. Even though your doctor said your daughter should be fine, as far as they can tell so far, you would rather you suffer a bit to ensure there would be no doubt about her health. 

“I’m afraid you probably would’t be,” Your doctor gives you a soft look. You hear Niall’s sharp intake of breath at those words and he grasps at your wrist but you don’t look away from your doctor. “She’ll be in good hands, Y/N, I promise.”

An hour later your daughter entered the world and was instantly rushed off to the NICU. It was explained to you that her lungs were a little underdeveloped and she would need to be on oxygen for a few days. 

“She’s alrigh’, love,” Niall whispers to you later, laying beside you in your hospital bed, his arms tight around you as he presses his nose into your hair and you cry into his t-shirt. “They said she’ll be fine, she jus’ needs a bit of help for awhile.” 

“I feel like I failed her, as her mother,” Niall gasps, hugging you a little tighter against him. 

“Don’t ever think that, Y/N,” He starts, his voice firm. “You couldn’ control wha’ happened anymore than anyone else. It was her time to enter the world, is all.” He assures you but for the rest of the night, you had that sense of failure hanging over your head. 

First thing in the morning though, the second your baby girl was placed in your arms, those feelings were gone to be replaced with nothing but pure love and adoration. She was hooked up to an oxygen machine but otherwise was doing perfect. She was so beautiful and you and Niall were both so in love already. 

“She’s perfec’,” He mutters, a few tears sliding down his cheeks as he looks down at his daughter. He wanted to hold onto her forever and never let her go. She was fast asleep in her fathers arms, completely at peace. He presses a gentle kiss to her forehead, careful to not wake her. “Ya did good, love.” He says, looking over at you. You give him a tear filled smile from your seat beside him, leaning over to press a gentle kiss to his lips. 

“We both did good, I say.” You insist, leaning down to take in your baby, Niall doing the same. “She has your nose, after all.” You reach out, pressing a finger gently against her little nose. “Hoping she has your blue eyes,” 

“She’s beautiful, no matter wha’,” Niall comments, you having no reason to disagree. “Can’ wai’ to take ya home, little love,” He whispers to her, rocking her gently. This was definitely an image you could get used to. Your love for Niall had increased so much just at the sight of him with his baby. You were more than ready to start your life raising your child together. You were so thankful that, even though she was born early, she was okay and healthy and wouldn’t have to stay in the hospital long once she gained some weight and her lungs developed a little more. “Thank you for bringin’ her into me life,” Niall looks up at you, his eyes filled with tears. You smile, reaching a hand out to wipe away the wetness before you lean in to kiss him. 

“Thank you for being a better father and husband than I could ever ask for.” He gives you a smile before looking back down at his daughter. You rest your head against his shoulder and the two of you sit in peace, happy to just be there together as a family.

#niall horan #niall horan imagine #one direction #one direction imagine #imagine #1d #ot4 #niall horan story #niall horan writing #nialler #dad!niall #daddy niall #niall x kids #one direction writing #nh

[homeiswherethestuckis]

The Midnight Event

Happy birthday, @peirette!!!!  I heard you like humanstuck Vrisrezi, so I wrote this for you ;) 

I hope you like it and that the rest of your birthday (and year) are as awesome as you are!

Terezi has been your best friend for years, and your sort of girlfriend for three months now.  You say sort of because even though you’ve both admitted your feelings to each other you’ve never...actually gone on a date with her.  

Yeah, you’ve hung out a bunch since your confession, but nothing that would qualify as a date.  Everything is basically the same as before.  

So, after months of awkwardness and uncertainty, you finally took matters into your own hands and planned a date.

A real date.

Your first date.

With Terezi mother fucking Pyrope.

You have no idea what you’ve just gotten yourself into.

Turns out, you don’t know shit about planning a date.   The “date plan” you worked so hard on ended up being about the same as your usual plans with Terezi.  But you’re determined to make it work regardless.  

You invited Terezi over to your place for a sleepover.  Of course, she said yes without hesitation.            After school ended, you walked her to the gas station nearby for snacks.

“So what do you think we should get?”  You ask, inspecting a shelf of junk food in front of you.  “Chips?  Candy?  Drinks?  Come on, Terezi, I can’t make all the snack decisions here.”

“Well, give me my options, then!”  She pokes you in the leg with her cane.  “What are we looking at?”

“Right now, we’re lookin’ at the chips.  There’s a couple off brand potato, tortilla, those nacho cheese Doritos- before you ask, it’s just the nacho cheese ones- Funyuns, and like three different kinds of Fritos.”

“Hm,” she strokes her chin thoughtfully as she weighs her options, “do they have those sea salt and vinegar ones?”

Your nose wrinkles in disgust.  “No, they don’t, thank christ.”

“And how do I know you’re telling the truth?”  She squints suspiciously in front of her.  

“You’re just gonna have to take my word for it.”  You shrug.  “Do you really think I would lie to you about chip flavors?”

“Honestly?  I wouldn’t put it past you.”  Terezi laughs.  “Get the Funyuns.”

“Funyuns it is.”  You grab a bag off the shelf.  “On to the drinks!”

In the end you bought a bunch of poprocks, a bag of potato chips to go with the Funyuns, a two liter of Coke, and a generic bottle of cherry soda that Terezi insisted on because she wanted to mix the two together.

“You know they carry cherry coke here, right?”  You point out.  “We could just buy that.”

“That’s not the same.”  Terezi tsked, shaking her head in disappointment.  “And if you think it is, then clearly you have an unrefined palate.”

You buy both.

It takes two bags to fit all of your stuff.  You try to hand one of them (the heavier one) over to Terezi.  “Here, you carry this one.”

“Um...excuse me?”  Terezi raises an eyebrow at you.  “I can’t carry that, my hands are already full.”

“Really?  With what?”

“This.”  She holds up her cane.  “And this.”

She takes your hand in the other.

You’re so glad she can’t see how hard you’re blushing right now.

“O-okay, fine.”  You roll your eyes in a futile attempt to try to regain your composure.  “I guess I see what you mean.”

You wrench your hand out of Terezi’s grip and shift the bag in it over to the other.  

“You’re carrying shit next time, though.”

“Yeah, yeah.”  She laughs as she pokes your foot.  “Come on, lead the way.”

You walk hand in hand to your apartment building.  When you make it up to your place on the eighth floor, you have to put your bags down to unlock the door.  Terezi laughs at you again.

“What?” You ask as you kick open the door.

“Why didn’t you just let go of my hand instead of putting the bags down?”

“Inconvenient.”  It honestly didn’t occur to you as an option.  You pick the bags back up.  “Aranea!  I’m home!  And I brought Terezi!”

“Welcome back!”  Your sister calls from her room. “Hey, Terezi!  Make yourself comfortable!”

She’s already kicking off her shoes.  “I always do!”

“Are those toe socks?”  

“You bet your ass they’re toe socks!”  She wiggles her toes emphatically.

You think your sister’s on the phone.  You can still hear her talking, but it doesn’t seem to be directed towards you or Terezi.  Thank fuck for that, otherwise you would be stuck talking to her forever.  

You go to your room, still holding Terezi’s hand.  You close the door behind you to keep your nosy sister out.  She’s distracted right now, but who knows if she’ll stay that way. Terezi lets go of your hand and immediately flops face first into your unmade bed.  “So what should we do first?”

You shrug.  “We’ll figure something out.”

The two of you end up sprawled on the floor in your room, talking and doodling half assed portraits of each other.  There’s music playing in the background, and you have a bag of chips open between you to munch on as you draw.

In other words, what you usually do.

You’ve been talking for awhile about nothing in particular when your sister opens your door and pops her head in.  “I’m going to the library to study with Meenah for a bit.  Depending on how things go, I might not be back until tomorrow.”

“Okay.”  You nod.  “So we should just order pizza or something?”

“Yeah,”  Aranea says, eyeing your snack stash, “if you even need it.”

You throw a chip at her.  “Bye, Aranea!”

She blocks your chip with the door and closes it behind her.  “Later!”

“That was a waste of a perfectly good chip, Vriska.”  Terezi comments pointedly.

“Whatever,” you scoff, “it’s still good. You could still eat it.  Five second rule.”

“Okay, then bring it to me.”  She holds out her hand.  “I want to eat it.”

“Alright,” you sigh overdramatically as you stand up, “I’ll bring you the chip.”

You walk over to the door and pick the chip up off the ground.  You rub it against your shirt to get rid of any dust or dirt that might have gotten on it.

“Here you are.”  You present it to her.  “A delicious floor chip.”

You don’t drop the chip into Terezi’s outstretched hand, instead you wait for her to take it from you.  She leans forward and eats the chip right out of your hand.

“Gross, Terezi!”  You wipe your spit covered hand on your shirt.  “What are you, a dog?”

“Yes.”  She licks the residual salt off her lips.  “Hey, now that Aranea’s gone, that means we have free reign over the apartment.”

“That’s true.”  You nod in agreement.  “That means we can do whatever the hell we want!”

“Yeah!”   “And our first order of apartment anarchy is we’re ordering pizza!”  You declare.

“Yeah!”  Terezi pumps her fist excitedly.  “Pizza!”

It’s a forty-five minute wait on the pizza.  Until then, you’re going to have to keep yourself busy.

“Hey, should I do a dramatic reading of Aranea’s fantasy history book?”

Terezi raises her eyebrows.  “Do you even have to ask?  I’ve been waiting on an update of that for months.”

“Gotcha.  I’ll go find it.”  

It takes you about five minutes of searching Aranea’s room to find the book she’s been working on.  She tried to disguise it as a diary in the hopes you wouldn’t read it (obviously she doesn’t know you very well if she thought you’d hesitate to read her diary).  It’s a boring as hell first draft, but you and Terezi have gotten some laughs out of it.

“Okay, I got- what the fuck are you doing?”

Terezi is sitting on your couch, pouring pop rocks into a big bowl.  “I’m sorry, can you not see what I’m doing?  Are you blind now?  Is that what’s going on?”

“No, I can see what you’re doing.  Why, though?”

She tears open another packet of pop rocks and pours it into the bowl.  “Why not?”

You shrug.  “That’s fair.”

“Well, what are you waiting for?”  She leans back against the couch and scoops a handful of pop rocks into her mouth.  “Get to reading.”

You pick up where you left off and read your sister’s difficult to decipher handwriting as best you can in the most dramatic tone possible.  It’s the only way you can get through reading it without dying of boredom.  The thing reads like a history textbook otherwise.

“Should I pour coke into this bowl of pop rocks?”  Terezi wonders out loud.

“No, you really shouldn’t.”

Terezi groans loudly and shovels another handful of pop rocks into her mouth.  “You’re no fun, Vriska.”

“What,” you reply defensively, “like this isn’t fun?”

“No, this is fun.”  She’s quick to correct.  “It’s just not bowl of pop rocks and coke fun.  This is more like nerd entertainment.”

“Are you calling me a nerd?”

“You’re doing a dramatic reading of your sister’s wannabe-Silmarillion manuscript, how is that not nerdy?”

“Fuck that, I’ll show you nerdy.”  You pick the bowl up off the table and dump as much of the pop rocks you can fit into your mouth and then run into your bedroom to grab the rest of the snacks.  

You come back into the living room carrying the bottle of coke.  You open it and start chugging, there’s a lot of fizzing and popping going on in your mouth, so much that you nearly choke on it.

You cough as you swallow down the last of the pop rocks, even so there is still the remnant of a popping sensation in your mouth.  “What do you think of that?”

Terezi blinks at you.  “You realize I didn’t see any of that, right?  I have no idea what you just did.”

“I just...did that thing with the pop rocks and coke...”  It sounds lame when you say it out loud.  “It was a lot of it.”

“Oh wow, the pop rocks and coke thing,” Terezi says sarcastically, “that’s real impressive, Vris.  You sure proved me wrong.”

“Yeah, well...fuck you.”  

“Nice comeback.”  Terezi laughs.  “Hand me the coke.”

You give it to her.  “Don’t pour it in the bowl.”

“Relax, I won’t.”  She raises the bottle to her lips, but pauses before drinking it.  “You didn’t backwash, did you?”

“No, I didn’t.”  You reply, feigning insult.  You scoop a small handful of pop rocks into your mouth.  “Now, continuing from where I left off...”

You  read as dramatically as possible as candy pops in your mouth.  You manage to finish off a few more paragraphs before the pizza arrives.

“Hey, I got an idea.”  You’re holding the pizza box in one hand and the bag of Funyuns in the other.  “You wanna take this party to the roof?”

Terezi tilts her head questioningly.  “Why the fuck would we do that?”

“Because why the fuck not?”

“Alright,” she shrugs as she stands up, “I get your point.  Just let me get some stuff first.”

Terezi disappears into your room and comes back a few minutes later carrying her cane and some paints.  “I couldn’t find the cherry soda.”

“I already got that over here.”  It’s still in the bag from earlier.  You hand it over to her.  “Why do you have paint?”

“In case I get bored.”  Terezi replies.  

You live on the top floor, so it doesn’t take much time for you to lead her down the hall and up the stairs.  Your ands are full, so you have to lean all your weight on the door to open it.  “Right this way.”

The roof is basically empty, except for two cheap looking plastic folding chairs set up in the middle.  You set the pizza and the Funyuns on the ground between the two chairs and then lead Terezi towards them.  

“Wow,”  Terezi says as she sits down, “it’s so nice out!”

“Yeah,” you open up the pizza box and hand her the first slice, “it really is.”

It’s early March.  Warm enough that most of the snow has melted, but there’s too much of a cold bite to really be classified as ‘spring’.  Still, it’s refreshing.

“Hey, how’s the view from up here?”  She asks.

“It’s pretty nice.”  You look up at the sky.  “The sun is setting.  There’s a lot of bright orange and yellow.  A little red.  If I look past you there’s an outline of the city, and over there it’s closer to a purple and dark blue.”

Terezi nods.  “That does sound pretty nice.  Can you hand me the soda?”

“Yeah, here.”  You unscrew the cap and hand it to her.  “All yours.”

“Cool.”  She takes a swig.  

You mostly eat in silence.  With everything you ate beforehand, plus the Funyuns you’ve been munching on between slices, it doesn’t take you very long to get full.  

“Fuck, I’m stuffed.”  You groan, patting your stomach in satisfaction.  

“Same.”  Terezi wipes her greasy hands on her pants.  “Should we stay up here or go back down to the apartment?”

“I’m cool with staying up here for awhile, but we can go back if you want.”  

“No, I like it up here.”  She pops a Funyun in her mouth.  “What’s the sky like now?”

“Dark.”  You answer.  “The sun’s pretty much gone.  There are a couple stars out, but it’s really cloudy, so there’s not much to look at.”

“That sucks.”  Terezi says.  “Guess that means you can’t tell me about whatever cool constellations you see.”

“Yeah, guess not.”

“So what are we gonna do?”

You shrug.  “No clue.  You got any ideas?”

“There’s this D&D podcast I’ve been listening to that I think you might like.”  She suggests.

“Alright, yeah put it on.”  You’re not a huge fan of podcasts, but you’re willing to listen to one if Terezi thinks you’d like it.  “I wanna hear it.”

“Sweet.”  She digs her phone out of her pocket.  “I’ll start you up on the first one.”

She starts the episode, and you try your best to get into it, but it’s kind of tough because they only seem to be setting up their characters so far.  

“Hey, Vriska?”  Terezi says suddenly halfway through the episode.  

“Yeah?  What?”  You’re guessing she’s going to ask you what you think so far.

“Can I paint on your back?”

That’s not what you were expecting.  “Can you what?”

“Paint.  On your back.”  

“Um...okay.  Just let me go downstairs for a sec to get something to put my hair up.”  You stand up.  “I don’t want you getting paint in it.”

You come back a moment later wearing a sports bra and with your hair pulled up in a pretty messy bun.  Some of your hair is still loose, but not enough to get in the way.  “Listen, I’m chill with you painting on my back, but this is technically a public space so I gotta at least keep my bra on.”

“That’s so lame.”  Terezi groans.  

“Yeah,” you agree as you take your chair and turn it so it’s right in front of Terezi, “it is lame.”

You sit backwards on the chair so your back is facing her.  

“I’m gonna get paint on your bra.”  She says, reaching down beside her and picking up one of the paints she brought with her.

“Don’t care.”  You reply with a shrug.  “I don’t like this one very much, anyway.”

“Okay, if you say so.”  

Terezi’s cold, paint slickened fingers meet your spine, and the contact makes you shiver.  She stops.  “You okay?”

“Yeah, just cold.” There’s goosebumps on your arms. “Keep going.”

She keeps painting.  Over time you get used to the sensation and relax.  The paint is still cold, but it’s not as bad as before.  It almost feels like she’s giving you a  really weird massage.  You close your eyes and focus on listening to the podcast that’s still going.

She’s still painting when the first episode ends.  “Would you mind grabbing my phone and putting on the next one?  I would, but my hands are covered in paint.”

“Sure.”  You twist around and grab her phone.  “What are you painting, anyway?”

“It’s you, as a pirate fighting a huge dragon.”

“Oh, that sounds sick!”  You can’t wait to see it when she’s done.

“You’re damn right it’s sick!”  You can hear the smile in her voice.  “You should get this tattooed on you later.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”  

Terezi spends over an hour painting on your back.  You’re on to the third episode of the podcast by the time she’s finished.

“Alright, done!”  She claps her hands.  “Now we just gotta wait for your back to dry.  Try not to smudge the paint until then.”

“How long do you think that’ll take?”  You wonder if you’re allowed to move.  Your legs are starting to cramp.

“I dunno.  Another hour, maybe?  Just don’t lean your back against anything and you should be good.”

“Alright.”  You nod.  “I’m gonna lay down on my stomach now.”

You do it, and the ground is freezing and uncomfortable against your exposed skin.  “Fuck!”

“What’s up?”  Terezi lays down on her back next to you.

“The ground’s a lot colder than I thought.”

“Sit up for a minute.”  Terezi commands.

You do as she says.  “Why?”

“Because.”  She sits up and starts taking off her sweatshirt.  She lays it on the ground, spread out between both of you.  Underneath she has on a thin looking tie-dye shirt.  “I’m feeling chivalrous.”

You lay back down.  Her sweatshirt’s still warm from residual body heat.  Terezi lays down next to you again.  

“Hey, Terezi?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t think these assholes are playing D&D right.”  You point out.

“Yeah, well,”  Terezi shrugs, “fuck you?  You have terrible taste in podcasts.”

“You have terrible taste in everything,”  you snort, “fuck you.”

“Fuck you,” she laughs, rolling onto her side so she’s facing you,  “you’re like the human embodiment of bad taste.  And you smell bad.”

“Woooooooow, that’s a real insult coming from you.”  You flick her in the nose.  “Considering you’re the god damn queen of stink.  What, did you brush your teeth with a skunk or something?”

“Oh, so you don’t like my breath?”  She grins as she inches closer to you.  “Do you not appreciate the lovely smell of Funyuns and generic cherry soda souring in my mouth?  You don’t enjoy this?”  She breathes right into your face.  Her breath is hot and smells just as bad as she described it. “This is unpleasant for you?”

You wrinkle your nose in disgust.  “Yeah, it’s nasty!”

She raises her eyebrows.  “I’m nasty?”

“Super nasty!”  You intertwine your fingers with hers. The paint on her hands is almost dry. “You’re the nastiest person I know.”

“Please,” she scoffs, pushing her forehead against yours affectionately, “you love it and me.”

“Yeah,” you laugh, “I guess I do.”

And then you kiss her.

You guess this wasn’t too bad a date after all.

#vriska serket #terezi pyrope #vrisrezi #humanstuck #fanfic #established relationship #a brief amount of aranea serket #happy birthday!!! #I hope you like this #yo it's a fic and I wrote it

[b-afterhours]

Sympathy For The Devil (part 5)

summary: Set in 1978, Bill a young yet accomplish cop takes on the crime in New York City. Nervous yet excited to take on his first big task at his new department and prove himself. He soon finds out his partner is everything he had least expected.

warnings: strong language, mentions of sex acts, mentions of drugs

also if you’re seeing this for the first time you can read part one here and if you need to catch up on previous chapters go here.

tags: @kikilikes @itsbillskarsgard @imaginingyournotsolikelyfuture

The sun was setting when Bill finally woke up, sleeping off the night before. He turned over and saw Star awake taking her rollers out. Chain of Fools by Aretha Franklin was playing loudly on the radio and she was charismatically lip-syncing along in the mirror in front of her. He watched her hips sway in the pink dress as she quickly lit a cigarette before taking the last roller out of her hair. She went back to lip-syncing Aretha’s break down in the song, dramatically putting her cigarette back in her mouth. It sat burning between her lips while she doused her bleached curls with an aerosol hairspray can.

“You’re gonna start a fire like that,” Bill said groggily, a hint of a smile in his voice.

Star jumped, “Oh god,” she gasped, clutching her chest. “You saw me?” Bill replied with a nod. “That’s embarrassing…”

“Did you take a nap?” He sat up.

“Yeah, but I had to fix my hair, it was too flat. You know you mumble a lot in your sleep? I never noticed but I’m a real heavy sleeper so,” she shrugged.

“Just mumble? No words?” He sat up.

“None, that I made out. Anyway, are we going to work today? It’s gonna get dark real soon,” she pointed at the window.

“Nah, we should take a break. Last night was, a lot. And we’ve been hustling hard for a full week now. We went on strong enough, can’t push it.”

“Alright boss. So, drinks then?”

“And food, I feel fuckin’ empty,” he groaned as he stretched.

“The stuff will do it, to ya.” …

After eating, Bill found a little bar further away from anywhere they have been. At least together, he was close to his apartment, actually. After last night, he just wanted a little familiarity before going back at it again. They walked in, passing the quarter pool tables and taking a seat at the bar together. Star held her hand out for her money. Bill was holding on to it for safekeeping at her request. This was her get outta dodge money, she didn’t want to risk spending it on stupid stuff. Bill gave her a ten dollar note and she began to happily wave the bartender over. She was happy, that for once, she could do something nice for someone who was just as nice to her.

“Two of whatever you got on draft and two shot’s of Jack Daniels, please.” She slid the ten to the bald bartender.

“Jack Daniels?” He raised his brows at her.

“I can afford it,” she chuckled. They tapped shot glasses and just before she shot it back, Bill stopped her.

“Like this,” he tapped her glass again, “And then tap the bottom to the table,” she followed his actions, “And drink.” They tilted their heads back together.

“Didn’t know that was a thing?” Star said wincing at the bitter drink. “Me and Benny would just drink out the bottle.”

“Benny, uh, that was your guy?”

“Yeah,” she took a sip from her beer. “And, I know you’re gonna ask why he’s locked up. It was an illegal firearm charge. If you’re takin’ care of someone that does what I do, you gotta pack heat. You know, like yesterday. It comes handy.”

Bill nodded. “I actually wasn’t going to ask why he’s in jail, though. I was going to ask if he’s the one that got you to do what you do.”

“Oh, kinda, yeah. I was trying to do it on my own first and he saw me one day. Told me I was doin’ it all wrong and showed me the turf I work at today. He took care of me real good, that guy.”

“Did he have other girls? Like that Randi guy, he had almost ten.”

“No, at least I don’t think so? I was his only one. We both hustled and did what we had to, to get by. I miss him from time to time,” she sighed wistfully. “I wrote him but I don’t think he ever got it? Or maybe it got lost in the post, not sure…” she paused, glancing away in thought. “Wait, now that you mention it, there was another girl, but she didn’t do what I did? She would just come by a lot, to talk to him… oh shit.” She said as Benny’s unfaithfulness dawned on her. “Well, fuck me then. Never mind, I don’t miss him.” She took a gulp of her beer.

“Let me buy us a shot for that then? Sorry, Star. I was just trying to get a little work in, I didn’t mean to dredge anything up,” he said apologetically.

“Aw, it’s okay,” she waved it off. “He’s in jail what’s he gonna do for me anymore?”

They took their shot just like Bill instructed earlier. Star began to brainstorm new jobs Bill could take on as she promised. He didn’t want to leave his job but it was fun for her so he went along with it. They went through the pros and cons of all sorts of jobs, one that stuck, was a fireman. Star thought he would be really great at it.

“Have you seen the fires in the Bronx?” She said. “There are places torched up every other day. You’d be real busy,” she took a sip of her beer.

“Ah, maybe, maybe. Was there anything you wanted to be when you grew up?”

Star thought for a moment. “Mm, not really? I wasn’t really good at anything,” she shrugged. “My mom was a waitress, I figure, I would be doing that if I still lived in Atlantic City.”

“C’mon there is something you’re good at? Think a little harder,” he lightly nudged her with his elbow.

“Well… in school one of the only classes I aced, besides P.E., was Home Ec. I was really good at the cooking and baking. Especially the baking, I made some blueberry muffins. My teacher let me only have one before taking it to the break lounge so all teachers could eat them. They all would talk to me about them forever after.”

“See, something. You can be a baker, have your own little pastry shop?”

Star laughed lightly, “Sure, maybe in another life.”

“You said, uh, your mom was a waitress? What did your dad do?” He was worried he if he was annoying by asking her question after question. She didn’t seem bothered which then made him wonder if anyone had ever taken an interest in her like this at all?

“I think, he worked in an auto shop. I’m pretty sure. I remember he’d come home smelling like grease and booze. He took off when I was about four or so. My mom said, he went to Indiana with some girl, apparently. I don’t know? I kinda stopped listenin’ to her ‘cause she’d rant on about how no good he was and stuff. It bummed me out,” she shrugged. “Can you quit frowning?” She looked up at Bill. Even sitting down he was much taller. “I don’t like it when you do that. We’re just talking.”

“Sorry. Didn’t realize I was,” he bit his lip. “Another shot?”

Star nearly choked on her third shot. “Okay, enough of the whiskey. I don’t like the stuff, really.”

“Then why’d you get Jack?” He chuckled lightly.

“’Cause,” she took a quick sip of her beer to get rid of the taste of the liquor. “I heard you on the phone a few days ago talkin’ about it. You said you liked it.”

“You didn’t have to do that. I would have drunk whatever, it’s your money. What do you like I’ll get it for you?”

“No, no more,” she shook her head. “Just beer. But next time, I like peach schnapps, okay?” She smiled. “Anyway, I know what your dad does. What about your mom?”

“Just a housewife.”

“Oh, never mind the pastry shop. I’d like that job. I’ll make all my muffins in my own kitchen. That’s a real dream.” Star felt the shot go right to her head then. She was secretly a lightweight. “No brothers or sisters?”

“I got both, plus some. And you?”

“Just me. I was too much to handle apparently,” she said making Bill laugh. “I suppose I have half-siblings in Indiana, don’t know?” And she really didn’t care.

They talked about other miscellaneous things, commenting and critiquing a bar patrons song choices on the jukebox. Discussing, or more so arguing, about disco music. Bill argued that it wasn’t real music, real music was The Rolling Stones. To which Star agreed but begged to differ, regardless. They were both tipsy just enjoying each other’s company for once.

“I’m surprised you’re still wearing the dress I got you,” he laughed.

“Why?” She said looked down at it. “It’s the cleanest thing I got. The judge liked it, he even said so.”

“And you still hate it? I only really got it for you ‘cause I knew you wouldn’t like it.”

“Aww, I knew it!” She smacked his arm while he laughed. “That’s really the meanest thing you’ve done to me so far. Actually, the meanest thing any ones done to me ever. I look like a dork!”

“Oh c’mon!” He playfully pouted.

“It’s growing on me a little,” she admitted, “but still.”

“Are you almost done with your beer?” He said after downing the rest of his draft. “I wanna stop by somewhere.” …

Bill led her down the block he lived on. It felt nice to be home, he missed it and he missed his cat. He made sure to look over his shoulder everyone once in a while. He wasn’t supposed to do this. But he just wanted some extra clothes to take.

“Where are we going?” Star said growing impatient, having to nearly jog to keep up with his long strides.

“Right, here,” he pointed at his building. He lived right on the first floor of the place.

“Who lives here?” When she saw him pull out a pair of keys from his jacket pocket, she knew. “Oh no…” she looked up and down the corridor, paranoid. “Are you dumb?”

“Shhh,” he said opening his door, pulling her in.

“Bill, this is so stupid! What if someone’s watching us?”

“It’ll only be for a second. I need some damn underwear. Is that a crime?”

“I swear, Bill. If you blow our cover, I’m blaming it all on you.”

“Blame it on me then. Don’t stand there come on,” he motioned for her to follow him.

His place was nice and simple. He had all the necessities. He didn’t really fuss with decorating but he did have a poster of the iconic, Stones ‘hot lips’ logo near his record player. Star could see him living in the space with just his cat, a record on and that was it. Seemed so lonely… She followed him to his room where his big fat, black cat laid on his bed.

“Minx,” he said petting her and kissing her fluffy head. “You miss me?” The cat meowed and then snapped it’s head at Star looking at her with wide skeptical eyes. “Oh don’t worry,” he cooed at the cat. “She’s my friend.”

“Nice place,” she said sitting at the edge of his bed as he gathered clothing. The cat jumped on her lap snuggling against her. “I usually don’t get invited to people’s places, you know? They always think I’m gonna steal from them,” she scratched behind Minx's ears.

“Steal? Well, I’m not really worried about that. I don’t have anything good to take.”

“Those records in your living room could make a pretty penny. Or even those mirrored side lamps.”

Bill paused, glancing at her, “Really? You scoped my place out that fast?” He chuckled.

“I can’t help it,” she laughed with him. “Besides, if you weren’t drunk right now you’d remember that I’m a criminal.”

“I trust you won’t steal from me, Star. And don’t call yourself a criminal. Sure, you’ve done things but that’s not who you are.”

Star rolled her eyes, stubbornly. “Got your stuff already? I’d like to leave as soon as possible, please.”

“Hold your horses almost done,” he stuffed some socks in his gym bag. “Okay, let’s go.”

“You’re freakin’ cats heavy, I can’t get up,” Star said struggling. She didn’t want to push the cat off her, this was someone’s pet, not an alley cat.

Bill gently nudged Minx a few times to get the lazy cat off her lap. Minx usually hated anyone that wasn’t him. It took a while for her to warm to people but she sat on Star’s lap without a problem. He knew it was dumb to bring her to his home. Sure, he needed clothes but talking to her all night and listening to her stories he wanted to show her that there was such thing a stable home. He wanted her to see that he trusted her. …

Bill thought it was best that they stay low for a few days, considering the names and locations they acquired from the weekend. Still, they worked Star’s turf but cut the time down by half and she didn’t press jawns with so many questions. Their partnership had faded into friendship. They got each other now, it made work effortless almost.

They spent a whole day at a laundry mat, playing on the pinball machine and drinking sodas, while their clothes washed. Since all her clothes were in the wash, Star had to borrow a shirt and Bill’s long sweatpants. She had to tie off the shirt and the waistband of the sweats was rolled up, yet they still sat precariously on her hips. And because of that, they went to a department store the next day so she can purchase a few outfits with her money. Bill had to steer her away from the more skimpy clothing so she’d get something a bit more normal.

He waited outside the dressing room for almost 10 minutes before he hollered for her. “Are you gonna show me what any of it looks like?”

“Oh… well, I just I tried everything but the dress. Hold on.” A few minutes later she walked out in a flowing white boho dress. “Is this a ‘nice, normal’ dress to you?” She mocked his voice.

He smiled. “You don’t like it? It looks good.”

“I think with the hat it looks better,” she reached inside her dressing room for a tan floppy brim hat, putting it on. Bill nodded, approving.

She left the store in the outfit and although Bill tried his best to get her to find more modest wear she still managed to sneak a few things in her purchase. They walked down the street, both in style, to Central Park close by. Where they ate hot pretzels by the Harlem Meer watching kids feed ducks in the water. Close by, B Boy’s were setting up their boom box and laying out flat pieces of cardboard to dance on for quick tips.

“So,” Star said with a full mouth as they sat on a bench that just cleared up. “are we layin’ low tomorrow too or it is back to work?”

“We actually have to go by the station tomorrow in the morning.”

“Ugh,” she groaned. “Why? Are we in trouble?”

“No,” Bill laughed after taking a sip of his Cola. “Don’t think so? I think they have some info to share with us.”

“Well… how’s that not suspicious? Your place and now we’re gonna just hang out at the police station?”

“Relax. They have a whole scheme to get us there, apparently. We’re getting arrested,” he playfully, rolled his eyes. “Stan was tellin’ me all about it on the hotel phone while you were in the bathroom.”

“They’re cuffin’ you an all?” Star laughed amused at the thought. Bill smirked, nodding. “Wow, I can’t wait.” …

Sure enough the next morning they were working on their turf like always. Star lingered in the car, she seemed nervous. Bill assured her it was all fake, it wasn’t for real. But it didn’t seem to ease her.

“I promise this isn’t gonna blow our cover,” he assured again. “Like I said, I won’t let nothin’ happen to you.”

“You’re gonna be with me the whole time, right?”

“Yeah, pretty sure they’re gonna be talkin’ to both of us.”

“Okay…” she bit her lip, still apprehensive.

“If they take you somewhere else, I have a friend in there, she’s a secretary. Her names Patricia, she the oldest out of the bunch there.”

“Oh, yeah… I know her, she’s real nice,” she said finally relaxing a bit.

“Yeah, she helped me get this job. You ready?” Star responded with a nod. “Okay, we’ll be fine, alright.”

Star finally got out the car lingering around her corner, making no effort to talk to any potential customers walking by her. Ten minutes later, an NYPD squad car went swooping around the corner. Sirens blaring and wheels squealing to a halt, right in front of Star. Bill watched from in the car as the deputy in the passenger seat got out and yanked Star’s arm, immediately cuffing her wrists. The driver, who Bill knew as Roger, walked over to the Pinto.

“I know you’re her pimp, so get the fuck out,” he said with a slight smirk on over his act.

Bill got out, putting his arms behind his back. This job was full of firsts for him. Even if it was a fake arrest, he couldn’t help feeling like he’d actually done something bad. It was nerve-wracking. The cold metal of the cuffs locked around his wrists and he just felt like the scum of the earth. He had done this to plenty of people in Newark and now he was getting a taste of his own medicine.

PART SIX

#bill skarsgard #my bill writings #70s bill

[knives-out20]

Meeting Of The Minds

I saw this TikTok trend where it was like "how would your OC react to themselves before trauma?" So I felt like writing it since none of my OC'S are drawn, they're written. Just scroll around to the OC's you guys know.

These will all be MAIN OC'S (but not ALL my main OC's), no side characters like The Buddies+Ramon+MJ, Grimm+Cececlio, any IB OC that isn't Joshua, etc. I will also only do the OC's I have at least written one oneshot/chapter draft for, not any of the ones whose works I haven't started.

Enjoy!

Warnings: The trauma my OC's suffered includes physical abuse, verbal abuse, emotional abuse, rape, death of a loved one/of loved ones, human experimentation, attempted murder, religious trauma, undiagnosed mental illnesses/disorders,

OC's included: Bobby Brightside, Captain Riley Blackwell, Karmel Rosenstein, Lieutenant Joshua Margolis, Maxwell Shelby, Cleophus Elton, Ambrósio Fargas, Robin Fifer, Lord Camilo Van Hellsing,

Robert Duncan Brightside aka Bobby Brightside

Once Upon A Time In Hollywood (2019)

Bobby looked down at the child in front of him. The child's hair was shorter, his brown eyes wide and unknowing. Bobby cracked a smile, eyeing the bandage on the kid's chin. "Hey, kid."

Younger Bobby, who still went by Robert, looked back up at him. He's probably four years old, if not then on the verge of turning four. "Hi, mister." Robert answered, He was wearing blue shorts and a blue shirt with a police car on it; Bobby's favourite shirt at the time.

Bobby crouched down to get closer to Robert's height. He slowly reached his hand over to cup Robert's cheek, gulping. "You didn't flinch."

"No...Why would I? You're just tryna touch me." Robert giggled.

Bobby smiled sadly, eyebrows furrowed. "Yea...I'm not gonna do anything t'ya." He agreed. "If anyone touches you in a way that's not soft like this...It's not because of anything you did." He said. "It'll never be your fault."

Robert tilted his head, confused.

Bobby sighed, and decided to change the topic. "Got any friends?"

"Uh-huh!" Robert nodded, excited. "My best friend's name is Monte, have you heard of him?"

Bobby glanced up at the sky, licking his lips. "The name rings a bell, it's unique, Listen- hold onto Monte. Play nice with him, nicer than when you first met him, okay?" He told. "You'll need him in your life. For...a lot of times, 'n' a lot of reasons. Be his best friend like he is yours, okay? And you'll be buddies forever!"

"Okay!" Robert giggled. "I like Monte, a lot."

Bobby looked down at the cop car on Robert's shirt. "Nice shirt." He forced out the compliment, knowing he didn't mean it. Bobby remembers the day he burned that shirt, and got rid of his old police car toys.

"Thanks, mister, my dad got it for me. He said cops are really cool and we should like them!" Robert explained.

"Mhm." Bobby nodded. "Another thing- don't let anyone tell you what to do, say, or think. You are your own person, you like what you like, got it?"

"Yes sir!" Robert nodded.

Bobby didn't really know what else to say.

"Y'know...You kinda look like me!" Robert grinned at what he thought was a funny coincidence. "But- But older, and cooler."

Bobby chuckled, "yea, I guess I do." He shrugged.

"Are you married?" Robert pointed at Bobby's wedding ring.

Bobby smiled down at it. "Yea. Someday, you will be. Trust me."

"Really? To who?"

Bobby gulped thickly, sniffling and tilting his head up. "The...The best person in the whole world." He answered. "The funniest, nicest person you'll ever meet. You won't believe they're real, but they are, kid. They're what makes you, well, you. Just wait a while, you don't meet hi- uh, them, for a while." Bobby smiled, closing his eyes.

Robert gasped, "wow! I get that lucky, huh?" He squealed, jumping up and down.

"Yea, but don't tell anyone." Bobby playfully shushed him, looking back down at Robert and winking. He pat Robert's hair, not really knowing what else to say. Bobby got down on both knees, and outstretched his arms for a hug; Robert wasted no time in accepting the invitation, and hugging him. "You're gonna go far, kid."

Riley Blackwell

Pirates Of The Caribbean (2003-2017)

Riley looked down in front of him.

A young Riley stared back up at him with piercing blue eyes. No older than five years old, maybe six. "You- You look like me."

"What a coincidence, lad, because you look like me."

Little Riley smiled a bit when he noticed older Riley's defining features; a long coat, his many rings, his sword and his dagger poking out from under his coat. "You look like a pirate!"

Riley exhaled slowly through his nose. "I am a pirate, mate. Through and through."

"I've always wanted to become a bloody pirate, and I- I- I know I'll be one, one day." The younger of the two gushed, clapping his hands excitedly. "My older cousin Oscar told me I'd make a super pirate, too."

Riley glanced at his claddagh ring, frowning.

"Are you okay, sir-?" Riley asked his older self, head tilted a bit to the side.

Hasn't Riley heard that before. He balled his left hand into a fist, nodding silently. Riley looked back over at his younger self, and realized something. He, talking to an unknowing younger-him, has the power to tell younger-him to do anything and everything he wants.

Riley can tell this younger-him to give up any plans of a pirate life if he wanted to. If he did, he'd never have his dad try to hang him, and thus never run away and meet Jack and go through everything Jack's made him go through (including the deep depression he fell into after Jack got taken to Davy Jones' Locker). All the pain and anger that was added onto Riley's life after he became a pirate, he could avoid with a few little wise words down to the younger-him he's staring down at. What would a non-pirate life even look like for Riley? Bound to his wealth forever, stuck in Ireland, maybe taking up being a blacksmith like Oscar?

Would he rather that over the never-ending ups and downs of sailing the seas, getting in sword fights, all the added traumatic experiences? All the floods of emotions over the years? Leave Jack be? Could he be able to avoid his pirate paranoia, all the excess anger, intrusive thoughts, maybe everything he thinks is wrong with him?

Whatever it could be, that's up for him to change his fate.

Riley scratched his jaw. "You wanna be a pirate, eh, lad?" He tested the waters, trying to think through what he was going to say. "You dream about it, even?"

"Uh-huh, more than anything! I'd be bloody amazing!" Riley pumped his little fist in the air, looking determined.

"Well, let me bloody tell you something, lad..." Riley got down on one knee, eyebrows raised in an expectant way, to show that he wanted the child to listen. He reached out hesitantly, as if expecting the younger-him to flinch away.

Little Riley stood still.

Riley took a deep breath, putting his hand on little Riley's shoulder.

"Are you gonna say anything, sir-?"

Riley scoffed, "yea, just..." His gaze darted around the ground. Riley knew what he had to do. He locked eyes with the kid that was ready to listen to whatever wise words he had to offer.

Little Riley put his small hand over Riley's, not to take it off his shoulder but just to comfort him, or something along those lines.

"Follow that dream, mate." Riley tore his gaze from his wedding ring to the ground, knowing that this decision was made more for his own good than it was for Jack's sake. He's saying this because a pirate is what Riley is, what he always has been and always will be. "Become a pirate. It's what you are."

"My father tells me I'm a Blackwell." Riley frowned up at, well, himself.

"You won't be one forever, trust me." Riley nodded, pulling his hand away and standing up. "Even if it feels like you will, you bloody won't. Understood?"

Riley squinted up at himself, pointing up at the scar around his neck. "What happened to your neck?"

Riley instinctively unfolded the collar of his black coat, in attempt to hide it. He pursed his lips, pinching the collar between his fingers. "...Don't worry about it. The important thing is, lad, I survived it. I'm a survivor, and this is proof." Riley replied.

"You must be really strong!"

"Yea, that's what my beloved tells me." Riley chuckled dryly. "Strong, a survivor, dashingly handsome- which in turn makes you handsome, seeing as we bear a resemblance to one another."

Riley grinned.

"I just wish I could take it off, or get rid of it...Avoid what made this happen to me." Riley traced his finger along the scar. "But it happened, and it's important that it happened. A lot of things happen for a reason, funnily enough." He ran a hand through his hair in thought. "Enough about that- become a pirate, follow that dream. And...And hang around Oscar more often, okay? As much as you can."

Riley nodded obediently.

"Talk to him more often, learn more from him. Appreciate him more." Riley listed off, playing with his claddagh ring. "Very few people are like he is in the outside world. Nice, and funny, and filled with any human decency. When they come by- and they will come by- grab them and never let go."

Riley was confused, but didn't ask questions. He just wondered if he'll have time to go visit Oscar before his bedtime.

Riley looked down at his younger self, and all he could think of was one thing: naïve. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, teeth clenched.

"Sir?"

"What now?" Riley opened his eyes back up. His blue eyes were more dull, and tired. A mysterious history behind them, and much less hope than this younger Riley had. Almost dead inside, almost.

"Thank you for talking to me. Nobody really ever talks to me except for Oscar, and if Oscar doesn't talk to me then it's the people who work in my house. Think i'll make a lot of friends as a pirate?"

"'Friends.'" Riley mocked. "No matter what other pirates you meet, only one of them will matter. Only one of them will be your best friend, maybe more. He's all you need, everyone else you'll meet will never be as important as him."

Riley nodded, eating the words up.

"You'll enjoy being a pirate nonetheless, though. It gets hard at times, sometimes maybe you'll regret it, you'll want to go back, you'll want so many other bloody f- uh, things. But in the end, you'll stay where you are. You'll stay who you are- a pirate. And it'll be the best thing that's ever happened to you."

Riley beamed, clearly excited. He reached a hand up, holding up his pinkie finger.

Riley crossed his pinkie around younger-Riley's pinkie, like the pinkie promises he used to do with Oscar, and frequently does with Jack.

Satisfied, little Riley pulled his hand away, the claddagh ring feeling cool against his skin in a weirdly comforting way.

Riley pat younger-him's cheek, pulling his hand away quickly to refrain from going in to hug him. He put his hands into the pockets of his coat, staring straight ahead.

Karmel Jordell Rosenstein aka Karmel Rosenstein

X-Men Alternate Timeline (2011-2019)

Karmel fixed his tie, one of the ones that belonged to his dad.

"My father has a tie like that."

"Does he?" Karamel arched a brow, trailing his fingers down his suspenders. "He has a nice taste in ties, then."

"I think they look weird." Younger Karmel admitted, tapping the band-aid on his nose. "I'd never wear them."

Karmel fought back a grin. "What ties do you wear, then?"

"I don't wear ties that much. I'm a teenager, I gotta wear teenage things. But I need ties because we do fancy things a lot." Younger Karmel rubbed the back of his neck. "If I do, it- it's blue or black. Red ones are ugly, and patterned ones are what my father wears." He explained. "...You look better than he does, though."

"Thank you...How close are you to your dad?"

"Pretty close. Him and my mother aren't mean to me, which is good, they're not supposed to be. My mother makes really good challah, and my father taught me how to ride horses 'n' stuff."

"Important traits." Karmel smirked. "Hey, you should, uh...Get your mom to teach you how to make challah like her. Could come in handy, maybe."

"It's just bread." Young Karmel hummed, "maybe, though. Then I won't need to overwork the house servants."

"That's the spirit. You could even grab someone with those skills."

"What? Like a girl?"

Karmel held back a laugh, "yea."

Karmel eyed the older-him that he didn't know was him. "I like your jacket, where'd you get it from?"

"Ah, thanks, but..." Karmel sucked his teeth, tugging his leather jacket. "I can't remember where I got it from, actually. Sorry."

"No worries, mister."

"How old are you, kid?"

"I'm thirteen, I turned thirteen recently."

Karmel both discovered his powers and lost his parents at 13, so he knew how much this younger-him was in for. "Thirteens a tough year."

"So I've been told."

"You'll get through, though, like I did. Weird things happen at thirteen, but just wait for adulthood." Karmel whistled lowly.

"What're you? Occupation-wise?"

"A librarian...ish. I don't need to, though. I got stacks, y'know?" Karmel rubbed his thumb against his pointer and middle finger to gesture at the fact that Karmel still has the Rosenstein money.

"What's so hard about being a librarian?"

"Nothing, it's just...Adulthood. I won't give you the nitty-gritty details, but, uh, taxes 'n' stuff." Karmel's lips formed a line. "What do you wanna be, kid?"

Little Karmel hummed in thought. "Dunno. I wanna open a winery...Rosenstein Winery, or something like that. I'll be a goddamn tycoon!"

Karmel smiled slightly; he forgot all about that old dream of opening up a winery or distillery of the sort. At least he grew up into a gin-drinking alcoholic. "Earns hard cash, eh?"

"My family's rich, I wouldn't need it either way."

Karmel nodded along. "Speaking of gals..."

"Yea?"

"Y'like blondes?" Karmel asked.

"Huh?"

"Blondes won't do you any good, lemme tell you that. Steer..." Karmel cleared his throat. "Steer clear of 'em when you can."

"O...Kay." The younger Karmel slowly nodded. "Any other hair colours I should be wary about?"

"Uh....blue-haired boys are your friends."

"Blue hair? People can have blue hair? You're kidding me."

"Apparently, man. Once in a lifetime stuff, if you get someone with blue hair, keep him." Karmel ran a hand through his hair, chuckling softly. "Blond boys are okay, though."

"You only saying that 'cause we're kinda blond?"

"Maybe." Karmel teased.

"...I'll allow it." The two shared a laugh.

Karmel indulged in the sound of his younger laugh, knowing that that could be one of the last times he'd laugh for years to come. He stopped laughing himself, to take it in.

Joshua Solomon Tobias Margolis aka Joshua Margolis

Inglourious Basterds (2009)

Joshua looked down at himself. "Hey, there."

"Hi!" Younger him greeted, at 16 years old. His hair was lighter and there was no part dangling over the side of his forehead. Joshua's fathers friend was to lay his musty hands on Joshua only one year later, and obviously he had time before he got into military life with Aldo.

"Where're your parents?"

"Talking to my- my- my fathers friend, right now."

"D-Do- Do you like this friend?"

"I- I- I want to, but, um..." Little Joshua grumbled in an uncomfortable manner. "I don't- I don't know, I just can't bring myself to. My bo- uh, my- my best friend, Aldo, said I don't need to force myself to like him."

"Really? My, uh, my boyfriend would agree with him." Joshua smiled down at his younger self, who broke out into a comfortable grin. "If- If someone makes you uncomfortable, or if they're mean, and there's no point in trying to change them, you don't need to, uh, like 'em. It's really that easy, y'know?"

"Yea, but..."

"Yea, I- I know." Joshua nodded. "You'll outgrow that feeling one- one day, trust me. One thing you'll soon understand, and that I'll tell you now so you get a head start, is that, uh...If anyone ever is mean to you, kid, or- or doesn't show you human decency, it isn't your fault. It will never be your fault. They- They- They have the ability to treat you like how you deserve to be treated-"

"Which is?"

"With kindness, and respect. Like a person." Joshua firmly answered. "Nothing inappropriate that could ever happen to you would ever be your fault, got it? You'll never kick-start anything, you'll know this to be true."

"Why are you telling me all this, sir?"

Joshua inhaled sharply. "Dunno...F-Felt like, uh, felt like kids need to be told this more often. I know I- I'd wanted to have, um, heard it when I was around your age." He stammered out, rubbing the back of his neck. "Your little friend, Aldo...He treating you well?"

"Um, boyfriend, actually." The younger Joshua corrected him. "And- And yea, he is. He's so charming!"

"I can only imagine." Joshua nodded, encouraging him to go on.

"He lets me read poetry to him, even the ones I've written- I'll become a poet one day, you know."

"You'll make a, uhm, a fine poet, I imagine."

"Thank you, truly." Joshua paused. "I really do adore Aldo, I- I do. It'd be so lonely without him, sitting in my orchard by myself, uhh, reading by myself...He's quite fun, he- he really is."

"That's good, it's good you have a protective figure like- like that in, uh, in your life. Almost everyone deserves someone there with them, like that. Keep him around."

Maxwell David Shelby aka Maxwell 'Max' Shelby

Peaky Blinders (2013-present)

Maxwell furrowed his eyebrows.

A younger Maxwell looked back at him, hair shorter and eyes wider. This was definitely him sometime before Finn was born. Maxwell's face was rounder, he was obviously shorter and also not a Peaky Blinder yet. He was yet to go through the highs and lows of being a Peaky Blinder, the ups and downs of a difficult romance with Alfie Solomons.

Maxwell squeezed his eyes shut, picturing Alfie in his head with the blind, blue eye and the weird scarring around it. He opened his eyes back up, taking a deep breath. "How are you?"

Maxie shrugged. "Well, I suppose. Mum and dad said we're getting a new sibling soon, so I'm super excited!"

"New siblings are quite exciting, I agree."

"Tommy and Arthur want it to be a boy...Well, everyone except Ada wants it to be a boy."

Maxwell laughed. "How old are you?"

"Fifteen-ish."

"Ah, yes. Exciting time in a man's life."

"You think I'm a man?"

"Would you rather be referred to as a boy?"

Maxie thought for a moment. "...You're right." He nodded. "Even still, I'm not allowed in the Peaky Blinders yet." Maxie frowned.

"Wait for a few more years, mate. You're still fifteen." Maxwell reminded himself. "Don't rush yourself to grow up."

"But when I grow up, I can get myself out there, and meet cute-...cute girls."

"Cute boys."

"I-" Maxie paused, a weight lifting off his shoulders. "...Yea. Cute boys. Do you-?"

Maxwell nodded.

"Have you-?"

"Yes." Maxwell nodded again. "Probably everything you're thinking of, yes."

"Same boy, or-?" Maxie squinted.

"I'm not a male prostitute, mate" Maxwell laughed. "Yes, all the same man. I haven't seen him in a while, but...I'm convinced to get back into contact with him soon." He told.

"What's he like?"

"He's..." Maxwell exhaled by blowing out through his mouth. "He's funny. He's real funny, in a naturally-goofy manner, but sometimes he's funny in situations where I can's laugh in. He's stressful, too, because of some of the things he does. But I can't help but..." He shrugged.

"I understand. It's a lot, right?" Maxie asked.

Maxwell nodded.

"Everything's always a lot." Maxie hummed. "It's always going to be a lot."

"Sometimes it'll be less."

"Either way, I hope I meet a boy who makes it...um...Less, I suppose?" Maxie suggested.

Maxwell inhaled sharply. "Yea, I hope so too." He half-smiled. "What else do you hope for?"

"I hope I find time to read more books..." Maxie pondered. "I hope my family still loves me when they find out I don't like girls."

"Oh, they will." Maxwell nodded. "Some people probably won't, but your family will and that's what matters."

Maxie held a wide smile on his lips, hope in his eyes. "Really? You think so?"

"I know so. Your family definitely loves you very much, a lot of them mean well...It'll just be hard to see it sometimes. Trust me, mate." Maxwell advised.

Maxie nodded, "I suppose so...And you're extremely sure?"

Maxwell counted the rings on his fingers. "Positively."

Cleophus 'Cleo' Elton

Sweeney Todd The Demon Barber Of Fleet Street (2007)

Cleophus sat down cross-legged in front of 4-year-old Cleo, the 4-year-old he was before Sweeney- previously Benjamin- got wrongly taken away to jail in Australia. The child he was before his father got arrested, and way before his mother died. Just the child he was.

"Are you me?" The kid asked. "You look like me."

"Would- Would you be mad if I was?" Cleophus smiled sheepishly.

Cleo tilted his head. "...No, if you're me I'm glad you don't look ugly."

Cleophus laughed a bit. "Charmed, I am, really. How old are you- we?"

"I'm four, how old are you?"

"Nineteen."

"Wow!" Cleo's jaw dropped. "I'm almost a whole adult!"

"Yea, almost, sure. Yes." Cleophus' lips twitched. "Technically, I am an adult. Don't let the 'teen' throw you off, don't let it."

Cleo nodded simply. "Am I married?"

Cleophus scoffed. "Slow down, mate. I'm nineteen. I would drink if I could, I'm not- I'm not out here proposing to every pretty person I see, no I'm not."

"How's mum and dad?"

Cleophus' face drooped. "...Mum's happy, I'd like to think. Dad..." He shrugged. "It's up to you."

Cleo decided to not ask questions. "Are you happy?"

Cleophus' head swayed from side to side. "I'm handsome, I can sing, I have money to my- my name...What more could I really need, what could I need?"

"I dunno," Cleo shrugged. "How's Lucy? And her parents?"

"Lucy's happy, most definitely happy with a friend of mine. Her mother...She..." Cleophus scratched at his neck, then tensed the muscles in his hand to stop. "I wouldn't ask about that just yet."

"You're not answering a lot of questions, sir."

"I'd rather you wait to find out the answers, I do," Cleophus sent him an apologetic look. "You still have Mr. Barker, though. And all his- his fantastical little stories that he tells you. You're safe with him."

"That's weird..." Cleo furrowed his eyebrows.

Cleophus shrugged. "Things get weird, they do. But ultimately, you'll be fine, you really will. What matters is I'll be okay in the end, meaning you will, too."

"I will?"

"Yes." Cleophus nodded. "I can't answer everything to you right now, and- and I'm sorry, I am. But...But I mean well by not telling you. You can trust yourself, can't you?"

Cleo hesitated. "Okay!" He nodded, giggling.

Cleophus sighed in relief. He smiled softly at younger-him, hoping his words would hold meaning. Cleophus outstretched his arms, Cleo understanding immediately and hugging him. He hugged- well, himself- a smile still on his face, but it just got wider.

Ambrósio 'Ambrose' Fargas

The Ninth Gate (1999)

Ambrósio buttoned up his red shirt, looking down at teenage him.

"Are you me?" Younger Ambrósio asked, with a baby-face and a single caramel streak in his quiff hair. He was more frequently called Chico at this time.

"You think?" Ambrósio asked sarcastically.

Chico rolled his eyes. "At least I'm still hot."

"You get hotter."

"With what?"

"With age, I don't know." Ambrósio shrugged.

"You still like the music I like?"

"Even more-so, it's part of all you got goin' for you right now."

"Why, what happened?"

"Hey, man, woah." Ambrósio raised his hands, gesturing for Chico to calm down. "Slow your roll, Chico. I'm not giving you all the goddamn deets. You gotta let things happen, you gotta let them affect you 'n' change you, because at the end of the day? You're still kicking. Your music is still kicking, your career is still kicking, you still look good, feel good, you're all fuckin' good."

"What about my family?" Chico kissed his teeth. "I gotta make sure they're good, too. Mãe, Pai, and Avô."

"What'd'you mean the family?" Ambrósio furrowed his eyebrows. "They still fucking love you, no matter what happens to them or you." He grit his teeth, looking away. "They'll be okay as long as you'll be okay, wherever you are and whoever you're with."

"What, like a guy?"

"...Would you accept a white guy?"

"A white guy?!" Chico repeated, then cackling. "What type of white man in the entire world would I bend over backwards for?"

"A really hot one, obviously. He's funny, and a bit mysterious...You'll meet him through Avô. He's a bit weird-lookin' due to a couple physical defining features, but oh, meu deus, hottest man you'll ever meet. Amazing kisser, and he's nice as hell, too, genuinely. Does stuff he ain't gotta do."

"...Are you making this all up-?"

"No, no!" Ambrósio waved his hands. "He's a hundred percent real, trust me, man. Trust yourself. You'll be safe with him, which may seem weird at first, but you'll be safe nonetheless. And- And chill, and actually kinda happy, and at a specific sort of peace that no song could ever even begin to bring you."

Chicho scratched his chin, thinking. "And you're not pulling my leg?"

"I couldn't."

"I'll be happy? Really? Seriously?" Chico asked. "No matter what happens to me?"

"Take it from me...you-? Us?" Ambrósio groaned. "You know what i fuckin' mean."

Chico nodded along.

"And you're sure you can't tell me?"

"I can't tell you shit, what's the matter with you?" Ambrósio playfully rolled his eyes. "How's the family, anyway? I- I live away from 'em, now."

"That kinda sucks." Chico sniffed. "They're fine, Mãe and Pai are both just as happy as you remember. I haven't seen Avô in a bit, but he's doing fine with his books."

Ambrósio smiled to himself. "You still have Santiago?"

"What, the stuffed lion?"

"Yea."

Chico failed at fighting back a smile. "Yea, why, do I get rid of him soon?"

"Not get rid of him, you just...take him off your bed, but you still keep him in your room. That's your best friend, dude. Asides from Carmen, but y'know. No one else could listen to your weird little theories about the true meanings of songs you listen to." Ambrósio rubbed his hands together. "With or without him- but specifically with- you'll be fine. You'll be okay, Ambrose."

Chico nodded.

Robin Fifer

Into The Woods (2014)

Robin ran a hand through his hair, watching the 17-year-old-himself in front of him.

"Are you...?"

"Yes, I am. Upset?"

"No, I don't mind my hair growing...It actually looks quite nice."

"That was the intended outcome." Robin smiled, standing up straight.

"And we grow a bit...what's the scar from?"

Robin pat the scar that went down over his eye. "A bird. Wanna guess what type?"

"There's many types of birds in the world. You allowing me- or yourself- to guess would mean it's one I'm extremely familiar with, yes-?"

Robin nodded, "precisely."

"Is it-...No."

"Yes, it is."

"A robin, truly?"

"Honestly. It stopped hurting very quickly, so do not be afraid."

"I would hope they'd be more kinder towards things with their namesake." The younger Robin giggled.

"Yes, well," adult Robin shrugged. "They aren't sentient enough to know your name...Our name?" He reminded himself.

"You're right about that." Robin agreed. "Do we still go on walks in the future?"

"More-so than I used to." Robin grinned. "Quite grounding, as always. I somehow enjoy it more." He chuckled in a confused manner. "You'll find out why once you're at my point."

"Do I still play the pipe?"

"Never leave home without it." Robin pulled aside his robe, showing the pipe attached to his belt.

"It hasn't changed at all!"

"Almost like magic, right?" Robin dropped his hand. "I'd never let anything happen to this pipe, just like you."

"Of course, it's important to me, especially what it helped me do."

"Yes, precisely."

"How are my parents? Are they still around?" Robin asked, seeing as his parents were yet to die.

"They're peaceful. How are the bakers?"

"Are they still around?"

"Telling you anything spoils the future. How are the bakers?"

"Just like you remember them." Robin furrowed his eyebrows.

"They haven't changed." The older Robin shook his head knowingly. "You become closer to them in the future, and the cute blacksmith." He winked.

Robin blushed lightly. "How close-?"

"Close enough to work under him...Not- Not like that-!" Robin quickly corrected himself. "I could earn money working with him, plus the money I make pipe-playing. It'll be quite stable after a while, I imagine."

"And I even gain a comfortable-looking cloak-rope of some sort..." Robin inspected.

Robin tossed the hood over his head. "With a hood."

"With a hood, wow!" Robin looked up in awe. "So what you're saying is, all in all...I'll be just fine?" He inquired.

"As fine as one can be."

Camilo Kenard Van Hellsing aka Camilo Van Hellsing

Resident Evil 8: Village (2021)

Camilo looked down at himself. "How old are you?"

A tanned boy with shorter dreads and bigger eyes gazed back up at him. "I'm five."

I was five, Camilo thought, only five. "Growing boy, eh?" He crouched down to 5-year-old himself, commonly nicknamed 'Cammie.' "I suppose you'd need to be, to protect a sister."

"Amancia!" Cammie called out. "My younger sister's name is Amancia." He beamed proudly.

Camilo sighed softly, patting the tricorn hat on his head. "Take good care of her, alright?" He instructed. "That goes without saying, but I feel it needed saying."

"I'm the best big brother ever, sir." Cammie told, "I love Amancia, she's so tiny and funny! I gotta watch over her like mum says to."

Camilo smiled slightly. "Good boy." He nodded. "And look after your parents?"

"They look after me, sir, they're my parents."

Camilo gulped. "Yes, but they're your family. You need to take care of your family, or else it's not a bloody family, now, is it?"

Cammie blinked slowly, then nodded along.

"You take care of everyone you love. You love your sister."

"Yea!" Cammie cheered.

"You love your parents?"

"Mhm!"

"Then you take care of them, and anyone else you'll meet that you love. You make sure they know you love them." Camilo advised to his younger self, seeing as his younger self had no idea what was coming.

"Sir, yes sir!"

Camilo giggled to himself. "Your family treating you nicely, mate?" He hummed when his younger self nodded. Camilo could barely remember what life was like before, and he clung to what he could. "Good, good..." He trailed off, thinking of what else to say. "Nothing wrong with you, is there?"

Cammi shrugged, going quiet.

"Ah, don't give me that." Camilo looked away. "Nothing's wrong with you, lad. Nothing ever will be, no matter what anyone tells you." He told. "Trust me on that."

"Trust a pirate?"

"Not a real one, not yet at least." Camilo took his hat off, placing it over his heart. "Trust me, half-pirate's honor."

Cammie hummed in thought. "...Okay!" He nodded.

"Lovely." Camilo put his hat back on, shaking his head a bit to adjust his dreads. He sniffed. "You'll probably be able to sail the seas one day, too, if you'd like."

"Wow, I'd love to!"

"There we go," Camilo outstretched his arms in a presenting manner. "The world's your oyster."

"What the heck does that mean?"

Camilo blinked slowly. "...Never mind, then." He shook his head. "It means you can basically do whatever you want, or something of the like- so I've been told. Whatever you please, as long as it's okay with you and doesn't bring you any harm or land you in any trouble. Savvy?"

Cammie nodded in understanding. "I hope I'll be as cool as you, one day."

Younger me thinks I'm cool. Camilo's face absolutely lit up. "Such a charming young lad, eh?" He rhetorically asked. "You won't even need to try. You'll be cool when you're older."

"Thank you, mister!"

Camilo glanced at the rings on his fingers. He sighed, smile faltering. "Nothings wrong with you, kid. Nothing ever will be, and nothing ever has." Camilo reminded him. "Remember that."

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[anissaelfakir]

A Love Story written in Songs

J'ai commencé ce post fin 2015. Je l'avais laissé en draft le 13 décembre. Je l'ai repris et publié le 11.05.2017, quand j'ai rouvert le blog. Et fini la nuit du 12_13.05.2015. Avec la chanson finale. Après avoir enfin compris la portée du Lieu de Rendez-Vous.

 Ca commence comme ça. Et c'était en anglais parce que c'était ma langue d'expression du coeur à ce moment là, le français était enfoui loin.

  I love Music.

Music is soothing my soul. Music was always there for me. All along this perfectly beautiful mess of Life that I created for myself. Over the last years I have retraced my steps back while moving very fast not knowing where I was going but that I needed to be there. 

We didn't have a song. These are some of the songs. That found me while I was almost done looking. And one by one brings me back to Us. One step closer each time. Until I remembered. And knew. Some of them i found just now. As I put my heart into composing this for Us.

 Mark my words.

This is Our song. And they all are here.

 The beginning.

Me and my girls. You and your boys. We met. 

17. I was all dreamy. Didn't like it here. Just a few months and I'll be gone. For good. Never look back. All I did was hanging out with the girls, watching TV, fighting with my parents, and studying to get a life. I couldn't wait to get the hell out of here. No  plan. I just needed to become somebody somehow making a difference in this upside down-world, to make it all worth it, and maybe someday finally know what Love is.

Almost 19. You were already somebody making a difference. All you wanted was to get the hell out of school, work hard, make money, party and someday find your woman and have a family here.

I couldn't see you. How could I? I wasn't even there. You did. You sit right next to me. Real patient. For weeks.

Our friends say Boyfriend? Girlfriend?

I say whatever. 

You say Eenie Meenie

U smile, I smile

Your eyes kept saying Kiss me?

I thought. Let's get this over with. All my girls are busy with their guys. Would pass time by and keep me away from my parents home. 

I kissed you.

Took my breath away. I saw You.

I thought. Shit. Everything has changed now.

How would I ever get out of here if you stay here?

I resisted. No, I won't fall. I am just passing time by. Nothing in common. Nothing else better to do anyway. He is treating me well and got a car. Whatever. 

I couldn't help but notice. how I was longing to see you. How I love doing nothing with you. Spending hours in your car. Literally doing nothing. Listening to the radio. 

How being your girl. Sounds right. How you made me feel like I belong somewhere. Right here by your side

I gave you my First dance. Always the same. Whatever. It has to be someone.

i couldn't help but notice I couldn't stop kissing you. You set me on fire like nobody else.

I fall in Love. I knew I was in trouble.

From there, it all comes Naturally

Love is our Common denominator

Falling in Love

First dance.

On fire.

Breathing your love.

Time of my life

We got brown eyes. But when I look at you. I see Blue. Blue ocean in your eyes. I keep starring and I just see you.   

Love you like a love song

One Love

Told me you're my favorite girl, As long as you love me, could do anything

Told you I'll stand by you. I'll always find you. I would do anything for Love, but I won't do that (forget you).

One Love. One Heart.

On fire. Until.

We Burn.

Once. Was it in December? You gave me a ring. Blue ring.

I said what for? You said whatever. I said what do you mean? 

We fight. I get rid of everything. Everything. Except, it stayed with me. Always. It is shining brighter every day. As my Love.

We were Hot N Cold

Felt like I didn't belong here.

Felt like I don't deserve you.

Had this dream. You with my best friend. Crazy. Based on nothing. From this day on.

Crazy

Jealousy.

Toxic.

 We were Stuck in the moment.

It all make No sense unless I am doing it with you

Everything I do I do it for you

Elle est à toi

Stuck in the moment.

Like Wrecking balls.

 Both: Everything has changed.

Am I in love with you or with the Feeling?

Out of sync.

What do you mean?

Crazy

Bad blood

Run away love

Couldn't Drink away

Run to you

Can't stop loving you.

 Couldn't kept my Hands to myself

Kept texting back and forth Come as you are and get it

 Eenie Meenie

We never go out of style, Midnight you come and pick me up.

Until the dawn let's Marvin Gaye and get it on

Love me like you do

  Please, forgive me

Can't stop loving you

Elle est à toi

Am I in love with you or The Feeling?

Crazy

Drink away

Every time

Cry me a river

Can't stop loving you

I'll do anything for Love

Cry me a river

Don't cry

Let her go.

Drink away

 Rehab.

 Never again

Never say never

But The heart wants what it wants. 

Cry me a river

Drink away

I kept thinking are we Out of the woods

I am begging you

End of Summer, told you

So sick of that Same old love, my body can't take it anymore

 You left. You came back. I told you

We are never ever getting back together

The whisper, Listen to you heart before you tell him goodbye... I didn't.

 You went away. And I couldn't breath.

I get down on my knees, lying on the floor, hand over heart, praying that it all stopped. That I would forget. Everything. Never feel again. Never be in Love like this again.

I said. I want to forget. Everything. Wake me up when it's all over. When I am wiser and I am older.

I closed my eyes and prayed for Amnesia.

It didn't come. I kept asking. Everyday for months. I went back to my parents. You wanted to see me. To give me a birthday gift. you said you already bought it. So might as well, gave it to me. I loved it and hated you for it. Saw you. You were more handsome than ever. All I ever wanted you to look like. Better off without me. Obviously. That's what I thought and convinced myself was true.

We're never ever gonna get back together. I got it now. Kept praying and begging for amnesia.

The only way for me to keep going. Was to the fill the hole and keep me occupied with someone else. I knew I wouldn't cheat. Even with you. Not my style. So I went online.

I looked online. You found me. I didn't know. I loved chatting with you. You make me feel like Life is worth living again and maybe someday I'll be able to love again. I opened up. Told you all about Us. You told me the next day. It was you. I felt betrayed and disgusted by You to the core of my being. I told you Go fuck yourself. I'll never ever want to see your face or talk to you ever again. Don't you ever dare come close to me ever again. 

You didn't listen. You came. To my door. The only night a guy was here. A friend. As if you knew. I didn't open. I thought we were driving each other crazy and we would loose ourselves in this Love. I decided to save you and me.

I prayed and begged again. Every attempt you made to get us back together was pushing me further appart. Memories kept fading away. And slowly it came. 

 Amnesia. 

 And one day, I felt Life is worth living again.

I said I just wanna Somebody to Love. I went online again. Found him. Didn't notice he somehow looks like you. A lot.

Met him. He gave me what you never did. Security. Never felt like I belong in his arms. But he was nice and he was always there for me. Could have been just a Summer flame. But you came back. As if you knew. I went deep. All in it. Into him. Running away from you. Once. You get us closer. Twice. My birthday again. He wasn't there for me for the first time. You were there. I hated you for it. 

I went deep, all in to it. Pretended he was my Mirror. He gave me a fancy ring. A blue ring. Bigger and prettier than yours. Nothing compare to it for me. I didn't even ask What for? Truth is I wouldn't want to know. He started to told me cause I love you and ... I picked a fight to not let him finish. I couldn't get why I wasn't that much into this ring.  You showed me why. You told me. "I wish you all the best. Hope you're very happy with him and got all that you ever wanted". I wanted to scream at you. "Are you kidding? All I ever wanted and will ever want is to be with you'" I didn't say anything. I asked him to move in together after not even a year. Pushed him to move out after not even a year. Got a new place.

 It works for a while BUT.

This is one, He is not you

This other one, He told me I got a blank space

I told him better go Love yourself

I felt like an Englishman in New York

Five Hundred Miles from Home

Kept Losing my way

 I closed my eyes, hand over my heart, and Pray.

And Sing. I wanna know what Love is...

I heard. A whisper. I don't know where you're going and I don't know why but Listen to you heart... I did

 So this happened.

 Where are you now?

 Something is in the air tonight

Love is all around

I'll find you

Love will remember

Listen to you heart

Love yourself

 Then one day

Auld lang syne

Say something I am giving up on you

The heart wants what it wants

Amazing grace

It's all coming back to me now

Thinking out loud. Maybe we find love right where we are. Maybe it's all part of a plan

I will always love you

One Love

 Now. I KNOW.

Nothing like us.

You're my Heart, You're my Soul

One Love

All of me.

On fire

All in it.

We had to walk. Our path. To find out.

 All I wanna say

SO many songs.

Hello

Sorry

Can't stop loving you

I've loved you for A thousand years

I will always love you

Please, forgive me

If I could take away the pain

If I've known it could have Been You

My love is Bigger

I am gonna Stand by you, even if we can't find heaven I'll walk through hell with you

We got to Trust what We ARE

Get used to it

No pressure

I'll be right here where he heart is

Looking at your Photograph

Only One call away

 Every night

Talking to the moon

Counting stars

Meeting on Cloud number nine 

Dreaming of Infinity

 My only wish

Kiss me

Just the way you are

Breathing your love

Shut up and dance with me ;-)

  There is no never ever in Forever.

 We got the fire and we're gonna let it Burn

Let go and just be free, I'll love you Unconditionally

  Et là. THE EDIT. DU 12.05.2017.

Il y en a eu plein d'autres, depuis, qui m'ont chacune ramenée et réveillée un peu plus. Mais l'édit il est pour celle-là qui résume tout.

LA FIN ET LE NOUVEAU DEBUT : A Malibu. Qui commence par M aussi pour Nous.

C'est bien fait tout ça. On dirait qu'on les aurait écrite exprès. Comme des indices à assembler et des messages à révéler au fur et à mesure. Une chasse au Trésor grandeur nature.

J'avais laissé sur ça en décembre 2015...

GOD/UNIVERSE/BIG GUY-GIRL, please blessed all those talented artists that express so beautifully what's inside our Lover hearts and what many of us can't say out loud. Just yet.

I learn a new English word recently 'poster paint'. Gouache in French. I want to use it to do some version of a Big Heart piece. That's the only medium I can use to express the depth of what I feel.

Beyond words and cliché, I feel lucky to *really* know the meaning and the story behind those beautiful pieces of Art. Art might be the purest expression of Love. Love is Art. I had to go through all this to remember that I am an Artist and that I need to express my Love through Art. I just can't do it yet in the way I'd like, and I feel I am gonna explode. Sooo much Love to share.

Until next time. Here or there.

Lots of Love,

Anissa  

Mais depuis ...

 J'ai pas encore réussi à sortir le Coeur que j'ai reçu eu en vision. Mais j'ai fait ça de tout mon Coeur. Et moi ça me fait sourire quand je le vois, et surtout ça a apaisé le débordement. Trop d'Amour, à plus savoir comment le contenir, si on m'avait dit que j'aurais ce problème un jour. J'ai compris depuis que déjà y a rien à contenir, c'est fait pour être partagé, mis dans le concret, amener à la Terre, de toutes les façons possibles et que c'est pas un problème d'en avoir autant, et d'avoir le coeur qui explose par moment, c'est naturel. Mais en décembre 2015, je m'y autorisais pas complètement. C'es un chemin ... Le plus beau, à mon humble avis.

 Voilà. On arrive à la fin de ce post qui a pris son temps pour se concrétiser. Comme beaucoup de bonnes choses. J'en ai enfin conscience. Il a fallu tout ça pour que je devienne plus patiente et apprécie aussi le temps d'attente, de voir passer les jours et les heures précédents le rendez-vous, et accepte de me préparer pour enfin être à l'Heure.

 Merci d'être ici ! 

Anissa

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