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caitlesshea · 3 years

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build your heart a home

For the Roswell, New Mexico Big Bang @rnmbb

Tripp gives Arturo more than money that fateful day in 1987 and it changes everything. It’s the start of a new life; with three pods, three aliens, and three children.

What would’ve happened if Arturo adopted Michael.

TW: Mentions of Jesse Manes & Caulfield.

Thank you @manesguerin for the most amazing gifset, check it out here!

1987

Arturo Ortecho pockets the cash that Tripp Manes hands to him and is about to bring some dirty dishes back into the kitchen when a hand falls on his arm.

“Sir?” Arturo asks Tripp as he waits for the older man to speak.

“Is there somewhere we can talk Arturo?” Tripp glances back at the table he was sitting at with Jesse Manes and Arturo nods his head.

Tripp follows him through the kitchen and outside to the back of the diner. Arturo paces on the pavement as he waits for Tripp to speak.

After a moment Arturo gets impatient. “Here, sir.” Arturo tries to hand the money back to Tripp but he just shakes his head.

“No, son. That’s for you.”

“Then why?”

“I need to tell you something. Something you’re not going to understand but I need you to believe me.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Whatever it is sir, I’ll listen.”

~~~

“Woah.” Arturo looks at the three pods with small children floating in them and then back to Tripp. “You weren’t lying.”

“I wish I was,” Tripp says quietly as he goes up to the pod with a young curly haired boy in it. Tripp places his hand on the pod and then grabs the necklaces he’s wearing and takes them off.

“What?”

“The crash in 1947 was real.”

“So they’re?”

“Aliens. Yes.”

“I don’t understand.”

“A woman I was...she was his mother.”

Arturo watches as he rubs the pod softly, almost like he’s petting it.

“This necklace was hers from before the crash. These are my dog tags.”

“Sir, I can’t take - ”

“You must. You’ll know who to give them to one day.”

“Why not tell Jesse, or someone else?”

“It has to be you. I can’t explain it, but Arturo, promise me. Promise me you won’t let anything happen to them?”

“Sir.”

“Promise me.”

“I promise.”

1997

“Why’s it have to be so cold at night?” Walt complains and Arturo shushes him.

“Stop complaining.”

Arturo gets a gruff sigh in response and Arturo shakes his head.

“He could’ve given you a time,” Walt mumbles and Arturo walks further into the cave.

It’s been a while since he’s seen the trio, he and Walt take turns to visit them to avoid suspicion. It’s just after midnight on June 14th, the date seared into his memory from Tripp’s talk ten years ago.

“Woah,” Walt says as they come up to the pods and Arturo has to agree. Normally the trio is floating peacefully in their suspension, unmoving on their own, but now they’re moving and stretching against the pods like they’re trying to escape.

“No.” Arturo stops Walt as he tries to help them. “Tripp was adamant they’ll come out of them on their own.”

“Fine.”

Arturo watches in fascination as the trio breaks free from their pods, all wobbly on their legs like a baby colt.

“It’s okay,” Arturo speaks softly and holds up the blankets.

The three of them eye him wearily but the young girl walks forward and takes the blanket. The other two seem to sense it’s okay and allow him and Walt to wrap them up in blankets long enough for Arturo to get them into the car and into pajamas.

“Did he say they wouldn’t speak?” Walt asks Arturo as they drive back to the diner.

“All he said was that they might not, and that they wouldn’t have any memories without someone from their planet there to help them out of stasis.”

Arturo looks in the rear view mirror at the three of them huddled together.

“Great.”

~~~

“Arturo, you can’t take in all three of them.” Arturo looks over at Mimi, who had agreed to watch Rosa and Liz tonight since Helena had taken off a week ago.

“I have to do something.”

Arturo looks over at his daughters Liz and Rosa, Mimi’s daughter Maria, and their friend Alex, who joined the sleepover and how they’re making the three alien kids more comfortable.

“At least the curly haired one,” Walt says gruffly around a bite of his hamburger.

“Well it certainly can’t be the other two.” Arturo turns toward Mimi and raises an eyebrow.

“Look.” Mimi points to the way the kids have each grabbed the hands of one alien. Rosa comforting the young girl, Liz comforting one of the boys, and Alex comforting the other boy, the one with the curly hair.

“You don’t think?”

“He said it was possible.”

“I’m going to call Michelle.”

~~~

“You can’t be serious?”

Arturo looks sharply at Michelle and suppresses the urge to roll his eyes.

“We can’t just put them in the Group Home.”

“You can’t take all three. What about Helena?”

This time Arturo does scoff. “She won’t be an issue.”

Michelle looks at him then and he swears she knows the truth about Helena and her husband Jim, but he doesn’t dwell on it now.

“I can take the boy.”

“The one with the curly hair,” Walt pipes up from his seat and Arturo nods.

“I can’t take the other two,” Mimi says even as she eyes the young girl, something familiar in her gaze.

“We can’t split them up. Look at them.” Arturo gestures to where the other two are huddled together even as his girls sit next to them.

“The Evans’ are looking to adopt…” Michelle trails off and Arturo looks at her sharply.

“You think they’d take them both?”

“It’s worth a shot.”

“We’d have to tell them.” Mimi says from her seat.

“We can’t just…”

“We’d have to tell them Michelle. It’s the only way to ensure the kids' safety.”

“Jim can’t know.” Mimi reminds everyone and they all nod solemnly. “If Jesse…”

“Jesse will never know.” Arturo says with a conviction he doesn’t feel about Alex’s father, Tripp’s nephew.

“But Alex…” Walt nods his head to wear Alex is curled up with the curly haired alien and Arturo shakes his head.

“We cross that bridge when we come to it.”

“They need names.”

“Michael.” Mimi points to the curly haired boy. “Isobel, Max.”

“That just came to you?” Michelle eyes Mimi skeptically.

Mimi shrugs unapologetically.

~~~

“So, not only are you telling me aliens are real, and the crash in forty seven was real, but these three just hatched out of eggs tonight and you want us to adopt two of them?” Ann Evans asks as she stares at all of them incredulously.

“Well when you put it that way…” Walt mutters and Ann turns her gaze to him sharply.

Arturo sighs, well aware of how Ann feels about Walt, and himself if he’s being honest, but right now his biggest concern is the trio.

“Pods.” Arturo pinches the bridge of his nose. “They’re called pods.”

“Whatever.” Ann looks over at Max and Isobel and smiles slightly.

“They are cute.” Phil Evans, who has been quiet since they arrived, mutters as he stares at the kids.

“Okay.”

Arturo looks up at Ann and Phil, not quite sure he understood her and she sighs.

“We’ll take them.”

“You understand…” Michelle trails off.

“Yes. Don’t tell Jim, don’t tell Jesse. Call the second they start showing any powers. They’ll learn English if we keep communicating with them and they like music.” Ann lists all of the things they’ve mentioned since they’ve arrived.

“Look. We aren’t taking them away. They’ll always live here, near the boy. If you’re saying they’d be in danger if they went elsewhere then I believe you.”

Arturo nods, not entirely satisfied but willing to accept the circumstances.

“It’s fine by me. I have a friend who can do the paperwork quietly.” Michelle reluctantly agrees and Arturo looks at Walt and Mimi.

“What? I just wanted the boy safe.”

“He will be,” Arturo says with a conviction he doesn’t necessarily agree with.

“Mimi?”

“I see no other way.”

“Then it’s settled.”

2004

“Papi!”

Arturo hears Michael shout from upstairs and he runs up, out of breath as he stares at Michael wide-eyed.

“Mijo? Are you okay?”

“They’re floating.” Michael exclaims excitedly and Arturo sees some of Michael’s figurines floating in the air.

Arturo watches as Michael uses his hand to manipulate the toys until suddenly he falls down and grabs his stomach.

“Mijo.”

“I’m gonna be sick,” Michael says just as Arturo grabs his trash can, thankful it’s close by, as Michael empties his stomach.

“Okay. I think we need to call Mimi.”

~~~

“The acetone will help,” Mimi says as Michael sips it slowly.

“It’s poison.” Arturo tries to take it away but Mimi is quicker.

“Not for them.” Arturo watches as Michael drinks it straight from the bottle and smiles.

“It’s a pain reliever.”

“Okay. So I just keep it handy in case things start floating?!”

“Papi,” Michael says quietly as he moves closer in his chair. “I can practice at home, when no one else is around, so I’m able to control it.”

“That’s probably for the best. I don’t have enough of the pollen, and if it’s controlled he should be okay.”

“Should be?”

“What pollen?”

Mimi turns sharply to look at him and Arturo shrinks under her gaze.

“You never told him?”

“Don’t look at me like that! The Evans’ haven’t said anything either.”

“Well, we better call them.”

~~~

“We can’t just take away their powers.” Arturo looks over to where the kids are all watching tv and sighs.

“Look, Isobel’s starting to get visions, things she can manipulate.” Ann looks pointedly at Mimi as Mimi smirks.

“Well, she’s my Aunt, so…”

“I thought we said we weren’t going to tell them,” Ann hisses at Mimi and Mimi shrugs.

“We aren’t. Not until they’re older.” Arturo tries to placate them while Mimi and Ann glare at each other.

“Max is showing signs of electro manipulation.”

“Tripp did say someone could shoot fire out of their hands.” Arturo reminds them all quietly.

“Great.” Ann rubs her forehead. “Well, right now he’s just shorting out our light bulbs.”

“If we give them a safe space to practice then maybe they won’t accidentally use them around others and at school?” Arturo suggests and both Mimi and Ann nod.

“As long as they never get caught it’s fine by me.”

“We’ll just need to explain some ground rules.”

Arturo doesn’t want to set the ground rules. He doesn’t want to hinder what is a natural part of them, but he knows deep down that it’s for their safety. He could never live with himself if he allowed something to happen to the three of them for his own carelessness in keeping them safe.

“They won’t like it.” Mimi warns.

“It’s for their safety. I’ll help them understand.”

~~~

“Papi?”

“Yes, Mijo?” Arturo finishes tucking Michael in and sits down on the edge of his bed.

“Am I in trouble?”

“No. Of course not. You just need to be careful about when and how you use your powers, okay?”

“Okay.”

Arturo sees Michael bite his lips and he soothes it with his hand. “Just practice here at home with your sisters and with Max and Isobel and you’ll be okay.”

“And Alex?”

Arturo smiles at the mention of Michael’s other half even if neither boy has realized it yet. They’re always together, Alex spending the night more often than not any chance Arturo can get to pry Alex out of his terrible home.

“Yes, Mijo. With Alex, too.”

Michael smiles so bright, his love for Alex clearly shining through, even at fourteen.

It makes Arturo’s heart swell when he thinks of all of his kids and how they have their own alien and how lucky they all are.

2008

“It’s not fair and you know it!”

Arturo pauses making dinner for a moment as he hears Liz yelling at Michael, presumably. Rosa is downstairs in the diner and he knows Alex and Michael are in Michael’s room, with the door open now.

That was a fun development. Arturo had known they had made changes to their relationship, but it’s one thing to know, and another to see.

“It’s not my fault I’m smarter than you, Lizzie.”

Arturo groans. Whoever told him raising three teenagers at the same time would be a good idea is a fool.

“Mikey!”

At the sound of nicknames that neither of his kids like he walks calmly into Michael’s room and sees Michael laying back against his bed with a guitar in his hand and Alex next to him writing in a notebook while Liz stands at the foot of the bed not so silently fuming.

“Mijos? What is the meaning of this?”

“He didn’t study at all for our chemistry test and he still did better than me!” Liz screeches at a volume that is honestly impressive and Arturo rolls his eyes discreetly but not before Alex notices and smiles.

“Mija, did he cheat on the test?”

“What? No.”

“Then you can’t be upset with him.”

“But, no!” Liz sulks while Michael laughs and Arturo turns a sharp glare onto him and he rightly sits back quietly.

“Mija, why don’t you go down and get your sister and Michael and Alex can set the table for dinner and maybe you can study together for the next test?”

“Ugh, fine!”

Liz stomps out of the room and Michael and Alex follow him to the kitchen. He notices that Alex’s eye has some form of makeup on it, probably covering a bruise.

Jesse Manes, that son of a bitch.

More than once he’s wanted to beg Michelle and Jim to take Alex away, and let him come stay with him. He doesn’t know how he’d manage, but he would, if he never has to see this wonderful boy with bruises on his skin.

“Mijo. Take these.” Arturo hands Alex some frozen peas and for a moment he freezes but then looks grateful. Even though Arturo has been helping him for years and he knows Rosa and Liz have both helped with the makeup it breaks his heart that Alex still feels like he can’t accept the help.

“Thank you.”

“Help Michael set the table.” Arturo goes back to finish dinner but not before he notices Michael gingerly placing the peas against Alex’s eye as he leans in to kiss him.

Arturo turns away to give them some privacy and just as he finishes pulling dinner out of the oven he hears Liz’s shout.

“Are you kidding me?! Papi!”

“What, Mija?”

Arturo turns around and he can’t help it, he laughs at Michael using his powers to set the table while he kisses Alex.

Teenagers.

~~~

“I’m not ready for this,” Arturo mumbles as he watches Liz and Michael pack up the rest of their rooms so that they can move off to college. Michael is going to the University of New Mexico and Liz to UCLA. Rosa got into an art program and is still living at home, so at least it’s not all of his kids, but it still hurts.

“I’m not going far, Papi.” Michael soothes as he comes to stand next to him. Michael’s been vibrating with excitement since he got a full ride to UNM and has been floating on cloud nine since Alex announced he was also going to UNM, to absolutely no one's surprise.

“I know.” Arturo waits for Alex to finish packing up the last box and he gestures them both into the living room. “I have something to give you both.”

“What is it?”

“Just sit, I’ll be right back.” Arturo walks into his room and grabs the box that holds the journal Tripp wrote for whichever Manes man fell in love with an alien after he did.

“Papi?” Michael asks curiously as he eyes the box Arturo is holding. Arturo takes a deep breath and hands Michael the box as he watches them open it.

“A journal?” Alex asks as he opens it and turns it over in his hands.

“It was given to me by your great uncle, Tripp.” Arturo points to the journal as Alex and Michael both gasp.

They pull a photograph out of the journal of a young Tripp Manes with Nora Truman and Louise Truman.

“The man is Tripp Manes, the two women with him are Nora and Louise Truman.”

“Are they?” Michael’s voice breaks and Arturo nods.

“Nora is your mother. Louise is Isobel’s. I’m sure Mimi is telling Isobel everything that happened with their own family history, just as I’ve been charged with telling you yours.”

“Their own?”

“Mimi’s mother is Isobel’s half sister. Tripp was able to bring Louise to the reservation where your mom is from, Alex.”

“My family?”

“It’s how Jesse met your mother. Tripp tried to save Nora.” Michael’s breath catches but Arturo continues. “He wasn’t able to, and I’m sorry to say that she ended up passing in ninety seven, just as Louise did when you all hatched from the pods.”

Arturo hates the broken look on his son's face. Like he betrayed him. He hates it.

All of the conversations and arguments over the years with Mimi, Michelle, and Ann sit at the forefront of his mind and how he should’ve fought harder for Michael.

That they should’ve told them the truth sooner, knowing his son would’ve wanted to know, even if it was hard.

Arturo thinks back to seven year old Michael, who was scared and crying when Ann and Phil took Max and Isobel away. Who wouldn’t let Alex’s hand go and wouldn’t sleep unless Arturo stayed in the room with them.

He thinks back to all the nightmares Michael has had, of a planet long forgotten but still coming back to him. He thinks of the language on the ship console piece Michael found when he was fourteen and how he’s been trying to decipher it ever since.

He thinks about how Michael is looking at him like he doesn’t know him. Arturo knows he needs to give Michael space. Knows him well enough to know that Alex will be spending the night and the door will remain closed as Alex whispers sweet nothings into his hair. It’s the least Arturo can do.

“You can’t...why didn’t...you didn’t tell me!” Michael stands and screams in frustration and Arturo’s heart breaks for him, for Isobel, for Max, for all of them.

“Mijo.”

“No!” Michael falls into him and Arturo pulls him into a hug and let's Michael cry into his shoulder as Alex rubs his back.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I didn’t know how.”

“I want to see her, wherever they’re resting.”

Arturo doesn’t know where Nora’s final resting place is, somewhere in Caulfield, no doubt, which he’ll have to also explain to Michael someday. But he knows where Louise’s is, and he knows Nora has a place there as well.

It was one thing Tripp had been sure to tell him, one thing he wanted to make sure Arturo had understood. Wherever Louise was, Nora wasn’t far, and wherever they both ended up they would want to be together.

“Okay Mijo, we’ll go.”

~~~

Arturo is glad they went out to the reservation. It gave Alex a chance to see his mom and it gave Michael, Isobel, and Max more insight to their families and histories. He knows it won’t settle Michael’s curiosity. He also knows that they all want to find out more about Max’s family, as well.

But for now, his son gets to be a college freshman sharing an off-campus apartment with his boyfriend.

Arturo is not ready to say goodbye.

“Papi, they’ll be fine,” Liz says as she settles into his side. They head to California next to drop her off and he’s barely holding it together.

“I know, Mija.”

“Papi!” Alex shouts from his and Michael’s bedroom and Liz laughs as he goes to investigate.

“What, Mijo?”

“Tell Michael that we do not need to keep the chemistry set in the bedroom!”

“Oh, nope, you’re on your own.” Arturo backs out as he hears Alex’s indignant squawk and Michael’s laughter.

Sometimes Arturo thinks he’s being a bad father by letting them live together, but then he thinks they’ll end up spending all of their time together anyways and he doesn’t want them to have to pay for two apartments for no reason.

And then Arturo thinks back to how Alex calms Michael, how his music soothes him and helps him concentrate.

His entropy changes, as Michael likes to say. Arturo knows Alex is the budding songwriter but he thinks his son has a chance at being a pretty successful poet if he ever wanted to.

Arturo smiles as he thinks back to finding them behind the Crashdown in the back of Michael’s truck one night after a particularly bad fight Alex had with Jesse and how Michael had his head in Alex’s lap with Alex carding his fingers through Michael’s curls, just singing softly to Michael so he was practically asleep. It was then that Arutro knew there was no going back for either of them. That what they had would withstand the test of time. After all, Michael woke up at the right time to meet Alex. Something like destiny Arturo likes to think.

But, they are teenagers, and teenagers fight, so Arturo just smiles at them as he goes to help Liz unpack their kitchen.

Living together should be interesting.

2018

“I’m so proud of you, Mjio.”

Arturo looks around at the house Michael and Alex purchased after moving back home to Roswell after ten years away.

“Thanks, Papi.” Michael smiles as they sit down on the couch, which is next to all of Alex’s music equipment.

Alex is a successful songwriter, his career taking them all over the world these last ten years and Michael’s an agricultural engineer, something he wanted to do to honor his mother after he found out she could grow crops.

“I’m glad you’ve all decided to come home.”

Michael laughs and Arturo pulls him into his side, just like he’s still a kid. He thinks about how lucky he is to have all three of his children home now, with Liz getting a position at the local hospital and Rosa owning the art gallery in town.

“I am, too.” Michael looks around their home and smiles. “I am, too.”

“You did get quite a big house.” Arturo hears the teasing in his own voice and so does Michael because he laughs. It’s not that Michael and Alex haven’t talked about having kids. Michael’s been talking about starting a dad band with Alex since they were seventeen, so Arutro has no qualms bringing it up now.

“How about we start with a dog before we start deciding which room to use as a nursery.”

“You said it.”

“I love you, Papi.”

“I love you, too, Mijo.”

~~~

Arturo comes out of the kitchen and sees Michael slurping on a milkshake in the middle of the day.

“Mijo. I didn’t know you were coming by!”

“Can’t a guy just drop by to see his dad?”

Arturo raises an eyebrow at Michael, well aware of his penchant for sarcasm and Michael laughs.

“Fine, you caught me. I came to talk to you about something.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just...” Michael gestures upstairs and Arturo nods his head.

Arturo sits on the couch, well aware that Michael will tell him when he’s ready and luckily he doesn’t have to wait long.

“I’m gonna ask Alex to marry me.”

“Mijo.” Arturo blinks away tears as Michael sits down next to him and grabs his hands.

“Papi, please say it’s okay.”

“What? Of course it is.”

“Okay, it’s just. He doesn’t really have parents I can ask, and he calls you Papi, so…”

“Oh, Mijo, I love you both, you don’t need my permission, but you have it.”

“Thank you.” Michael breathes out and Arturo pats his hands before he gets up.

“Where are you going?”

“Just a second.”

Arturo comes back into the living room holding a ring, a necklace, and dog tags that he hands to Michael.

“The dog tags were Tripp Manes and the necklace was the one your mother was wearing when they crashed here.” Arturo watches as Michael runs his fingers over both items with tears in his eyes.

“Papi.”

Arturo thinks back to the conversation he had with Tripp out by the pod cave and how he wanted to see Michael end up in a good home, with a good family. And how Tripp wanted Arturo to make sure that happened. Arturo likes to think he did a good job.

“Tripp wanted you to have them. He said you would know who to give them to.”

“Thank you.” Michael breathes out as he looks at Arturo. “And the ring?”

“It was the ring he was going to give your mother.”

Michael looks at him, fully crying now, well aware of the relationship that Tripp and Nora had. Arturo pulls him into a hug and runs his fingers through his curls.

“He’d want you to have it. He’d also want you to make it your own.”

Michael nods against his chest and Arturo knows with a little doctoring it will be the ring Michael uses to propose to Alex with.

Two sons and two daughters. Arturo is one lucky man.

2020

“Nervous, Mijo?” Arturo jokes as he takes over tying Michael’s tie for him. Underneath Michael’s shirt is the necklace he gave him a couple of years ago. The one his mother Nora wore when they crash landed on Earth all those years ago. He knows Alex wears Tripp’s dog tags, as well.

“To marry Alex? No.”

Arturo envies Michael sometimes. His quiet confidence and how loudly he loves Alex is something that most people can only dream of. They’ve been inseparable since they were seven and Arturo brought the trio to the Crashdown.

Isobel and Rosa got married two years prior and Liz and Max got married four years ago. Arturo will be a grandfather before the year is over and his heart is overflowing with joy.

“I’m so happy for you both.”

“Papi, don’t make me cry.”

“Sorry, sorry, not yet, you’re right.”

Michael laughs as he hugs Arturo tightly and Arturo has never been more glad that Tripp pulled him aside in the diner all those years ago.

“Come, Mijo, it’s time to get you hitched.”

“Ugh, Papi, you’ve been spending way too much time with Isobel lately.”

Arturo laughs and ushers Michael outside to where Alex will be waiting at the altar for him.

Michael and Alex’s backyard has been transformed into something out of a magazine. Small lanterns line the aisle, white chairs with greenery, and cafe lights hang above. Isobel has truly outdone herself.

And at the end of the aisle is Alex, with tears in his eyes staring at Michael, who Arturo can tell is barely holding back his own tears.

The music starts and Arturo hears Alex’s voice waft through the outdoor speakers and Arturo gasps.

“Did you know?” Arturo whispers as they make their way down the aisle.

“I knew he was planning something, but I didn’t know he was signing his own song.”

It's you I'm fighting for

If I call off the battalion

Break my walls down stone by stone

Tear down my defenses

I can build your heart a home

And if I did

Would you come home

I still find my fathers shrapnel

Buried beneath my skin

But I've begun to heal in all the places your hands have been

Would you meet me in the middle

Could we both stop keeping score

There's a battle I must fight alone

It's you I'm fighting for

If I call off the battalion

Break my walls down stone by stone

Tear down my defenses

I can build your heart a home

And if I did

Would you come home

The song is beautiful, just like their love, and Arturo, along with everyone else, is a mess of tears by the time he hugs both Alex and Michael and sits down next to Michelle.

The ceremony is truly the most romantic thing Arturo has ever witnessed, Isobel leaving no stone unturned, and it’s not until Michael and Alex are ready to say their own vows that Arturo realizes just how lucky he is to be these boys’ father.

“Alex.” Michael begins as he grabs Alex’s hands. “I think I knew when we met at seven that we were meant to be. I know you think I’m always coming up with these cheesy and brilliant lines to express myself, but I think when we met it was as if we were built from the same star drawn together by something cosmic. I’m from another galaxy and yet somehow you are as familiar as my own reflection. I’ve loved you, for a long time, and I will continue loving you, far beyond this world.”

Arturo has tears running down his face, recognizing the lines from Tripp’s journal that he gave to Michael twelve years prior. Alex laughs at Michael’s joke and Arturo notices that he squeezes Michael’s hands a little bit tighter.

“Michael.” Alex responds, throat thick with emotion. “Together we could quiet all the noises, drown out the voices, and play our own song. I think back to when we were boys becoming men under the desert sky, and how I wanted nothing more than to spend my life with you. I knew then that you loved me, just as I know you love me now. You were the best of me. You are the best of me.”

Arturo is really crying now, along with everyone else and he wipes his eyes just in time to see Michael and Alex kiss as they’re announced husbands to the world.

“I now pronounce you married.” Isobel shouts. “Everybody cheer for Mr. and Mr. Ortecho!”

Arturo pauses as the name they’ve chosen sinks in and both Michael and Alex turn to him and hug him before making their way back down the aisle.

“We love you, Papi.”

“I love you, too, Mijos.”

#malex #roswell new mexico #arturo ortecho #roswell nm big bang #rnm bb

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brother-genitivi · 3 years

Text

Summary: A nervous Arda goes to meet Jaal’s family for the first time, two lads kissin, Arda comes to terms with his loneliness

Pairing: Arda Ryder/Jaal Ama Darav

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: None (mention of anxiety)

Word Count: 1.5k

"What is bothering you, Ryder?"

Arda turned to face Jaal, the sweet faced Angara he was falling head over armoured heels for. Ugh, were his hands sweating? He sheepishly rubbed his clammy palms on the legs of his trousers, managing a pitiful shrug in reply.

"There is no need to worry." Jaal put a hand on Arda’s quivering shoulder. “My family will like you, I am sure.”

Arda’s heart leapt into his throat at the contact. He sighed deeply and reached for the bag he stowed away under his seat. As the shuttle drew to a stop at Jaal’s home, Arda attempted to relax.

"Jaal? Jaal!" His true mother, Sahuna, ran forward to embrace her son. Arda squashed down a painful pang of jealousy. He rarely received hugs from his father (though he got many from his twin and mother) while he was still alive, and yet to Jaal and Sahuna it seemed like a habit… like it happened all the time. Knowing Angaran culture, it probably did.

"Wait, is there bad news?"

"No, no," Jaal gestured to Arda who waved awkwardly in turn, adjusting a curl that had fallen in front of his eyes. "The Pathfinder is interested in where I grew up. Arda, this is my true mother, Sahuna Ama Darav."

Arda smiled and greeted her with a hug. His shoulders slumped in relief almost instantly.

"It’s wonderful to meet you! I hear the Angara like hugging," he said, then added hastily, "I do too, but we don't usually have enough time for hugs in my line of work."

To his surprise, Sahuna swept him into another one, surely to make up for all the hugs he missed out on. For a split-second Arda had to resist the urge to cry. He'd been there for less than two minutes and already felt like he was at home.

“Jaal’s told me about how much he admires you.”

Arda couldn’t stop himself from grinning. He glanced at Jaal, a warm buzz replacing the crushing weight within his chest. “Really?”

“He’s my favourite,” Sahuna beamed fondly at her son. Arda noted her eyes crinkled the same way Jaal’s did when he smiled. “He’s smart. Loyal. Kind. A great shot. Writes poetry…”

“Mother…” If Angara could blush, Jaal certainly would have then.

“Ah, I’m late for a Resistance meeting.” Sahuna put her hands on both Arda and Jaal’s shoulders. “Stay clear.”

“One last thing,” Arda called out to her as she walked to the shuttle. “What should I call you? Sahuna, or Miss Ama Darav?”

Sahuna seemed to ponder for a second, but she’d known the answer as soon as she was asked. “Arda, you can call me anything you’d like. ‘Mother’, if you so wish. Now, go on. Have fun!”

Arda made a mental reminder to bake something special for Sahuna later. She deserved the best of his baking capabilities. Even then he couldn’t believe what Sahuna had said. Jaal actually talked about him to his mother! He considered that one of the highest of compliments.

“Let’s go inside,” Arda broke the comfortable silence, a new-found confidence rising within himself. “I’m excited to meet the rest of your family.”

“After you. Everyone, this is Arda.”

Arda waved good-naturedly, observing the room. When Jaal mentioned having a large family, Arda thought he meant five or six family members. He did a quick head count and ended up having to start over again. Despite the main room being full of people, it felt neither claustrophobic nor crowded. It was obvious to Arda everyone enjoyed each other's company. He squinted suspiciously at the tranquil scene in front of him, thinking back to the interactions he used to have with his father. They couldn’t go two minutes without arguing. But Jaal’s family? They seemed so… healthy.

“This is wonderful! It feels so warm and cosy here,” Arda mused, setting his bag on the table.

“We like to live like this.” Jaal smiled briefly, leading Arda to his room. “My tiny sanctuary.”

Jaal’s room was mostly tidy aside from a few scattered books and pages of what looked like poetry. Arda couldn’t be sure; most of the leather bound pages were covered in illustrations of galaxies and constellations he didn’t recognise. They didn’t look like any stars he knew from the Heleus Cluster either.

“We have this saying and, uh, I think it applies here. ‘Home is where the heart is’.”

Jaal chuckled, then stopped abruptly as his gaze fell on a box sitting on his bed. “Oh, who put this here?”

Arda sat next to him, knees brought into his chest. Their shoulders bumped for just a second, but it was enough to send his stomach in twists. He instinctively leaned his head into the crook of Jaal’s neck.

“So-” Arda squeaked as Jaal returned the gesture, resting his head on top of his own. He cleared his throat and peered into the box. “These a-are schematics?”

“When I was seven, my aunt stole a kett weapon for me. So I took it apart. To learn.”

“Makes sense. Ooh, and that is - was - a kaerkyn.”

“Pet kaerkyn,” Jaal corrected him. “Alfit. He died. So I also took him apart.”

“Once again, makes sense. If you learnt from him, then why not?”

“Exactly. I don’t really show people these things…”

Jaal pushed the box away and held Arda by the arms.

“You make my heart sing. I want us to be together.”

Arda blinked slowly at him. Did he hear that right? He couldn’t help the grin spreading across his warm face.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” he replied breathlessly.

“Yes!” Jaal laughed gleefully, prompting Arda to laugh with him. That was a sound he never wanted to forget. He looked into Jaal’s eyes and found himself lost in them. They reminded Arda of the days he spent searching for marine life by the local rockpools, or the nights he spent stargazing alone, watching the stars dot the sky like lights on a patchwork quilt of blue and black.

“I adore you.”

Jaal took Arda’s face in his hands, thumbs gently tracing the outline of his cheekbones. Arda giggled like an idiot as their noses bumped together. Warmth spread through his chest as their lips grazed each other, tentatively, softly, for the first time. They drew apart slowly, bearing twin expressions of contentedness.

“Let me show you something else you might like.” Jaal helped Arda up from the bed, reflexively squeezing his colder hands. “Lie down.”

Arda stared into the ceiling and gasped as Jaal flicked a small switch, illuminating the room in hues of soft blue and purple. He was looking at a cluster- no, a whole galaxy of revolving stars and planets.

“These are the stars in your pages,” Arda observed, pointing at the flickering dots, then at the pieces of paper distributed around. “It’s beautiful. Did you make that?”

“Long ago. It’s not accurate. More of a dream, really. Just one more thing I want to take apart and figure out.” Jaal stole a glance at Arda. Did all humans look this cute while concentrating?

“Ah, Jaal...” Arda placed a hand over Jaal’s and squeezed it tenderly.

“And now I have someone to do it with.”

For a few moments they lay there unbothered, no sound except for their steady breathing and whirring of the projector. As he watched the ceiling transform into a symphony of lapis and indigo, he thought back to the evenings where he would drag a blanket onto the roof and analyse the ever changing sky. Every single time Arda did it, he was by himself. He would have invited his twin, but she was always asleep, or away at boarding school.

He used to write stories about exploring the galaxy in a huge ship, away from the tense arguments between him and his father. He would dance wistfully to slow music under the moonlight, careful not to disturb the small birds nesting in the gutter, singing under his breath and telling secrets to the open air with only the stars as his witness. He felt so free, so alive, and so frightfully alone.

Arda brought Jaal’s hand to his lips, sighing again. That horrid weight in his chest was back.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes,” Arda made out through shaky breaths. Great. An anxiety attack. Of course it has to be right now, he thought bitterly. “Uh, maybe not yes. I don’t know. Well, I do. It’s stupid.”

“You can tell me,” Jaal said, rubbing Arda’s arm comfortingly. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I’ve noticed humans are much more secluded with their emotions.”

Arda wrung his hands together, offering his boyfriend a small smile. “Honestly? I just want to go onto a rooftop under the stars and have a picnic.”

“Well...” Jaal gestured to the room around them. “It’s no roof, but we have stars and we have food.”

Jaal helped his darling one to his feet, heart swelling with adoration for the short human in front of him. If Arda wanted a picnic, he would get a picnic.

“Jaal? Thank you.” And he meant it. Because for the first time since he was sixteen, Arda wouldn’t have to watch the stars alone. He finally had someone to do it with.

#rydaal #mass effect andromeda #jaal x ryder #jaal ama darav #jaal romance #arda ryder #my writing #mass effect fic

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deadanddeactivated · 4 years

Text

Matchmaker, Matchmaker, Put on Your Pants

Fandom: Sanders Sides Pairing: DLAMP Characters: Virgil, Deceit, Remus, Logan, Patton, Roman Notes: Day 12 of the fluffuary event being hosted by @tsshipmonth2020 - DLAMP. i am so far behind opps. Summary: Remus doesn't really mean to meet his brother's soulmates first. He just sort of does.

AO3

In a world of soulmates, Virgil sometimes wonders what end of the stick he got when words started appearing on his skin. They weren’t First Words or Love Words, static words that marked a special moment. Rather they were Written Words - the things that his soulmates had written on their skin. Or drawn. Or accidentally marked themselves with. Basically whatever ink spills onto his soulmates, leaks onto his.

Sometimes it’s nice, like the little ‘I love you’ that always appears in light blue pen at his wrist. Other times it’s annoying, like back when he was trying to figure out exactly how many soulmates he had.

The ink only remains on him as long as it remains on them. Which is why that ‘I love you’ is usually faded by the time he goes to bed but fresh in the morning. It’s also how he got a completely free and mostly painless tattoo of a yellow snake on his hip.

But there’s a thousand other connections Virgil could have developed, and sometimes that thought keeps him up at night.

A timer would have been interesting. An exact count of the seconds until he met his soulmate, or the moment he fell in love with them. It also would have been terrifying and a lot of pressure and Virgil’s really glad he didn’t get a timer.

First Words might have been nice. Solid words that didn’t change or fade. But then he ran the risk of having terrible first words, or gerentic ones. Sure, no one really greets strangers with a ‘hello’ for that exact reason but the risk is always there. And what if he misheard someone? Or if two people said his words? It all sounds like such a nightmare.

Virgil would just straight up hate having a first touch soulmark. He isn’t a touchy-feely type person, just brushing up against a stranger in the street leaves him wound tight all day. And what if that was how he and his soulmate touched? He’d never notice.

Of course there are also the invisible connections. Like Strings of Fate, or Guides. Then there were the colourblind soulmates. And the mental connections. Virgil’s pretty sure any type would make him nervous. It’d be too easy to ignore the strings and guide, to run away from who fate deems his match. Being colourblind doesn’t seem too bad, but Virgil would always be doubting if he had soulmates at all. Same if he had something like a soul song.

Besides, he’s seen Aunt Patty cornering his cousins with invisible connections before, grilling them for news way worse than everyone else. That is something he’d rather avoid, thank you very much.

So yeah, Virgil often wonders about the other connections. But usually he decides written words suit him just fine.

Usually.

“Oh come on.” Virgil complains when he steps out of the shower. Red’s got a moustache drawn across his face, which means Virgil has a moustache across his face. Virgil also has class today. Where people will see the moustache across his face. And stare.

“I so don’t need this today.” He grumbles. Unfortunately, there’s really no avoiding it. He can’t miss this class. Only hope his soulmate will rub the moustache off soon.

Another piece of ink catches his eye as he gets dressed. Light blue ink right beneath the usual ‘I love you’. ‘Sorry! It was a joke! -- thinks hes funny.’ One word, likely a name, is smudged and unreadable. Like names always are. Virgil isn’t sure if Light Blue doesn’t know those details wouldn’t show up or if they just never think about it.

What he does know is that Light Blue and Red have met, a few months ago at least. He figured it out when the usual ‘I love you’ appeared in red text on his other wrist, the handwriting matching Light Blue’s perfectly.

Virgil also knows that, despite Light Blue’s tendency to talk to him, none of his soulmates share his Written Words. Which is fine, it’s whatever. Most soulmates don’t share a connection.

He’s pretty sure Red can see strings, based on the rings they sometimes draw around the base of their fingers. Light Blue told him he has Love Words, one night long ago when he was wondering about a person he doesn’t know exists. Virgil has suspicions that Yellow is coloured, because sometimes they write the names of colours up their arms. To Virgil they’re all yellow, but he doubts that's accurate. Dark Blue is a mystery. If Virgil had to guess, he’d say Dark Blue has Timers because, very occasionally, Dark Blue writes numbers and dates that don’t quite match their usual science-math mumbo jumbo.

All of that is fine with Virgil.

Really.

“Put it out of your head Virgil.” He orders himself, huffing. Why is he so focused on his soulmates this morning? Does a stupid moustache prank really have him digging deep right now?

Or, a quiet and very honest voice says in the back of his head, maybe it’s because it’s your birthday. Which, Virgil knows, is much more likely. That doesn’t mean he wants to admit it.

So what if it’s his birthday? So what if he’s another year older and no closer to finding his soulmates?

So what if it’s another year he doesn’t even exist in their lives. Not really. Not the way they exist in his.

Because if he’s right about his soulmates, then they don’t have a changing connection like his. They have some flat, unchanging thing that doesn’t tell them anything.

But Virgil? Virgil already knows them. He knows that Red likes theatre, because they’re always writing down their lines or the dates of shows or the roles they want, sometimes later circling the ones they got. He also knows that Red always forgets the milk.

Then there’s Light Blue, who will write on his skin for hours because he doesn’t want Virgil to feel alone. Even though he doesn’t even know Virgil’s there, reading his every word. He also sounds like the sweetest person on Earth.

Yellow likes to draw. They also have a pet snake, and a pet rat. Virgil thinks they’re terrible with names too, because they like to write people's names only to give them little nicknames or descriptions.

Dark Blue probably writes the least, but when they write boy do they write. Virgil’s arms have been covered in various math formulas and half-finished thoughts. It’s like Dark Blue can’t find enough paper in the world to contain all the thoughts in their head.

That’s what his soulmates are to him. Full people that… well, that he’s sort of already fallen in love with.

It hurts to think they know nothing about him.

“Okay great, I guess we’re just having a bad day today.” Virgil huffs, fitting a scarf over his face in hopes it’ll cover the red moustache. It must have been drawn in some heavy duty stuff.

Great.

“Trying to look anime instead of emo today?” Virgil sighs as he falls into his seat, not even sure he wants to give Remus a response. No matter what he says, Remus is likely to make something of it and Virgil just isn’t sure he has the energy.

Of course, his friend is likely to make something of it even if he doesn’t say anything so…

“No.” He admits, pulling the scarf down to reveal the mark. “Apparently someone played a prank on Red this morning.” Remus gasps, then grins.

“Matchy!” He says.

“Sadly.” Virgil agrees, rolling his eyes and fixing his scarf back up. “Hopefully by tomorrow they’ll both be gone.” This time Remus’ gasp is more offended.

“Are you insulting my moustache good sir?” He demands.

“Always.” Virgil smirks.

“I’d throw my gauntlet at you but Roman refuses to give it back.” He claims.

“You’d duel me on my birthday?” Virgil asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh most certainly. It’s like birthday punches but with sharp pointy things!” Remus grins. “But, since it is your birthday…” Virgil’s amusement turns to caution at the look in Remus’ eye.

“Don’t make a big deal out of it.” He warns.

“I won’t, I won’t!” Remus assures, brushing him off. “I’m just saying you should come to my dorm later to get your present.”

“Isn’t that my present there?” Virgil asks, gesturing towards the lump on the desk, horribly wrapped in a mix of purple spider-themed paper (the spiders look self-drawn) and green octopus paper.

“Nop!” Remus claims, very concerning grin on his face. “This is something else!”

“Seriously?” Virgil sighs.

“As a heart-attack!” Remus grins, and then grins all the more as Virgil mutters about how that doesn’t work.

‘It’s ready!’ Virgil sighs at the message for the thousandth time, trying to pretend he wasn’t nervous. And excited. Nercited. Oh god, he’s been spending way too much time with Remus lately.

And he’s about to be spending more time with him too, because he’s just reached the door to Remus’ dorm and the mysterious birthday present beyond. Raising his hand to knock, telling himself he just wanted to get this over with, Virgil pauses right before his hand connects with the door.

“Remus, this is ridiculous!” An unfamiliar voice snaps from the other side of the door. Does Remus have guests? Although it could be Remus’ roommate, that guys so exlusive Virgil’s not convinced he exists. Should he still go in?

“Just trust me Ro, you’ll love this!” That’s Remus. What is he talking about? Surely it’s not… no, Remus wouldn’t be trying to play a prank of him. He’s better than that. Right?

“I don’t trust you.” Mysterious Person, possibly roommate, probably ‘Ro’, huffs.

“Oh come on Roman,” a new mysterious voice speaks up, “I’m sure it won’t be that bad.”

“The last time you said that I ended up with a moustache drawn on my face!”

What?

“Shush!” Remus shushes the other. “Shhhhhhhh!”

What?

Did, did Virgil hear that right? Surely he didn’t. Surely he misheard, or it was a coincedience or-

A ding sounds from his pocket as Virgil’s phone goes off. The door opens a second later, revealing a wide-eyed Virgil with his arms still raised to a pouting Remus.

“You heard, didn’t you?” He whines. “Roman you stole my thunder!”

“What?” Virgil finally manages to say it as Remus steps back, revealing the owners of the mysterious voices. Two men are standing side by side in the middle of the dorm, chests wrapped together with a mix of purple wrapping paper and green paper covered in octopus’. One has browny-blond hair and big blue eyes framed with glasses. He smiles at Virgil, seeming entirely unbothered by Remus’ sheddigans.

The other man is clearly the twin brother that Remus has mentioned having. They’re practically spitting images of each other, although this one looks more… well, less like a chaotic mess. He has his arms crossed and a moment ago he sounded very put upon. But now? Now he’s staring at Virgil like a deer in headlights.

A lot like Virgil is staring at the two of them really.

Surely these aren’t…

That can’t be possible, right?

But right under the twins nose is a somewhat smudged, slightly faded moustache. It’s drawn in a black marker but it other wise matches the red mark on Virgil’s face perfectly.

“Hi!” The blond greets, waving. “I’m Patton! You’re a friend of Remus’, right?”

“Um, hi?” Virgil manages, swallowing around the lump in his throat. If Remus’ twin is Red, and Virgil is starting to really think hope he is, would that mean Patton is Light Blue?

Holy shit was Virgil really… really staring at half his soulmates right now?

“He’s a friend of mine, but his much more to you.” Remus says, grinning ear to ear and wrapping and arm around Virgil’s shoulder. Still stunned, Virgil doesn’t even push him off.

“Huh?” Patton asks, tilting his head tiltly. In response, Roman holds up his hand and wiggles a finger. Virgil can just barely make out the purple ring at the base of the finger. “Oh my gosh, really?” He asks, hands raised to cover his gasp and growing smile.

“I uh, I think so.” Virgil says.

“Well I know so!” Remus grins. “I recongized that moustache immediantly, I mean I did draw the original. Aren’t I the best best friend? I got you your soulmates for your birthday! They’re even wrapped!”

Virgil takes a moment to let that sink in.

And then…

“You got me stuck with a moustache on my face!” He accuses, turning to glare at Remus.

“It was for a good cause!” Remus claims.

“Good cause my ass.” Roman huffs.

“This is so exciting!” Patton grins, bouncing and accidentally breaking the wrapping Remus had done, much to the mams dismay. Without the paper in the way, Patton quickly bounded over to grab Virgil’s arms. “What’s your name? What’s your soulmate connection? Wait, you were talking about the moustache does that mean you have Written Words? Oh my gosh that’s so exciting! Does that mean you got my words?” Words tumble out of his mouth so fast that it takes Virgil a moment to catch up.

“Uh,” he starts, “I’m Virgil. And uh, yeah. Um…” he trails off again, not quite sure what he’s meant to say. So instead he gently pulls his arm out of Patton’s hold, turning it over so he can see the words there. Words that Patton wrote. Every morning. Holy shit.

“Oh my gosh!!” Patton squealled, pulling Virgil closer to look at the words.

“Babe you’re overwhelming him.” Roman warns, having recovered a lot more completely than Virgil has.

“Oh please.” Remus says, leaning more completely on Virgil’s side. “I’m the most overwhelming person he knows.” This time Virgil has the sense of self to bump Remus off, although he has to do it with his shoulders since Patton still has his arms.

“That’s not a good thing.” He huffs.

“Ignore my brother.” Roman says, he taps Patton’s shoulder and Patton, begrudingly, steps away. Virgil’s arms don’t stay free for long, Roman taking his hand and bowing over it. “I am Roman Prince, I have been searching all my life for you Virgil. You are more beautiful than I ever dreamed.” He says, ending his little speech with a kiss to the back of Virgil’s hands.

“Uh,” is all Virgil can manage, his face flushed red.

“That was really good Ro! You didn’t even stutter this time!” Patton praises, making Roman’s face turn red as he stands back up.

“Patton! You’re not meant to tell him that!” He hisses. His face goes all the redder when Virgil laughs.

He knows these people, he suddenly remembers, he’s known them all his life. Red is just as dramatic in person, Light Blue just as sweet. Virgil never should have expected anything different. The thought calms him. Why was he so overwhelmed in the first place?

“I’ve been waiting all my life for you to find me, Roman Prince.” He teases, laughing again when Roman stutters. It reminds him of the grand declarations Red would write, the hearts he would draw, only to quickly scribble them out in embarrassment. It’s cute.

“Using our dorm for a party I see.” A new voice speaks up. “And blocking the doorway.”

“Hey De!” Remus grins. “Guys this is my roommate, I told you he was real!” The three soulmates look over, meeting the mysterious mans yellow eyes. Roman makes a strangled noise but Virgil doesn’t get time to think about that. He’s a bit distracted as De’s eyes roll into the back of his head and he stumbles.

“Shit.” Virgil curses, quickly stepping forward to catch the stranger.

“I’m fine.” De claims, eyes already blinking open again. “It was just… lots of colour, rather quickly.”

“Oh my gosh!” Patton grins, looking from the now yellow band on Roman’s wrist to the new comer.

“I am the bestest best friend and the bestest rommate!” Remus announces, cheering.

“Huh.” Is all Virgil can manage for the moment, staring at his soulmate as gets back on his feet.

He’ll never actually tell Remus this but… yeah, best birthday present ever.

“I am determined to find our last soulmate first.” Roman announces, slamming his lunch onto the table the others have claimed for lunch.

“I’m still reeling from the fact there’s only one.” De, actually Dante, says. It didn’t take long for him, and Virgil, to get used to Roman’s particular brand of dramatics. Or Patton’s practicular brand of ‘constantly, unintentionally adorable’.

“I’m sorry!” Virgil says for the thousandth time, although there’s no heat in it. “I can’t help my eye colour!”

“Colours.” Dante corrects. He’d been only a little put out when he realized Virgil had mismatching eyes, apparently he’d spent his life assuming he’d have five soulmates not four. That has been added to Virgil’s ‘con’ list for being colourblind.

The little messages his soulmates send him have been added to the ‘pro’ list for Written Words, not that he’ll say aloud how much he loves them.

“Why first?” Patton asks, because he’s a kind heart who will actually play along and not just tease Roman.

“Because Remus keeps meeting my soulmates first! He’s convinced he’ll meet our last soulmate first, and I won’t let him!” Roman explains.

“Well he does have a fairly good track record.” Virgil says.

“You meet Patton first at least.” Dante offers.

“No, I meet Remus first.” Patton admits.

“Patton was his favoruite barasita.” Roman says, like it’s some great tradegy.

“You know, it shocks me how good he is at finding soulmates. He couldn’t even find out classroom today.” Virgil says.

“Seriously?” Dante asks, smirking.

“Yep. Apparently he ended up in some science class and decided to just stick around. He made a friend though.” Virgil elbroates, pulling out the text messages they’d been sending earlier that day.

“Oh, maybe his friend is our soulmate!” Patton suggests, deaf to Roman’s dramatic ‘noooooo’. “He does write a lot of science-y things, right Virgil?”

“Lots of people do science-y things Patton.” Virgil points out.

“Still, maybe there’s a clue in the things he writes to you.” Dante says.

“He doesn’t write anything to me, he just writes on his arm.” Virgil argues.

“There has to be some sort of clue.” Roman claims, suddenly in good spirits again. “This could help us track him down, so we can meet him before Remus.”

“I hate to break it to you but any ‘clues’ would probably be smudged.” Virgil shrugs. “All I know is that he’s probably got a timer.”

“A timer?” Patton asks. “How can you tell?”

“Well it writes weird dates sometimes.” Virgil explains, lifting his sleeve to show the date on his shoulder. There’s a date about three weeks from now, which has be crossed out. “But it changes almost every time.”

“I hear that’s common with timers.” Roman says. “Apparently the timer changes when your fate changes, like you were meant to meet today but you missed your train and now your won’t meet for another three months.”

“Seriously?” Virgil frowns. “Okay that’s terrifying.”

“I like it.” Dante says. “Soulmates seem way too ‘free choice is a myth, our lifes are completely pre-determined’, you know?”

“Okay! Let’s not have another one of those talks! I need to sleep tonight!” Patton quickly shuts that down.

“Yes, let’s go back to talking about how we’re going to meet our soulmate before my brother!” Roman says. “If he’s crossed it out, does that mean that’s not the date anymore? What’s the new date?”

“How am I meant to know?” Virgil sighs.

“Hey guys!” Remus calls out. “Look I made a friend! His names Logan.” He gestures to the man beside him who suddenly raises a hand to his head, wincing.

“Go away Remus, I’m trying to organize how to meet my soulmate without you.” Roman says, back to his brother.

“Might be too late for that.” Dante warns.

“Seriously?” Virgil asks, looking from Dante’s smirk to the new comer. Roman turns to look, eyes glued to the end of a red string that no one else can see.

“Oh come on!” He exclaims, frowning.

“Four for four!” Roman cheers.

“Why does Remus keep meeting my soulmates first?!” Roman demands, standing from the table to glare at his brother, hands on his hips. For his part, Remus is finding quite a bit of amusement in his brothers annoyance.

“Oh last soulmate!!” Patton grins, jumping from the table to wrap his arms around Logan. “We found you!”

“Or Remus found you, he has a habit of that.” Virgil says.

“It’s a horrible cruelty of fate.” Roman huffs.

“Way not to be overwhelming everyone.” Dante comments, resting his cheek on his hands as he looks between Patton, Roman, and Logan. Virgil just watches Logan, seeing all the stages of surprise and confusion that he went through meeting Pat and Roman.

“Ah,” Logan finally manages to speak, “I was wondering why they suddenly all matched.”

“What luck!” Patton grins.

“Remus luck.” Virgil says.

“Stop giving Remus all the credit for my soulmates!” Roman snaps.

“We’re not just your soulmates.” Virgil argues, just to rile Roman up a bit more. As they bicker, Patton lets go of Logan and instead leads him to their table. It was a little cramped with just the first of them but they managed the six.

“They’re always like this.” Dante warns from his spot across from Logan.

“Don’t lump me in with them.” Virgil says, only to immediately return to his overplayed argument with Roman.

“Believe it or not, this is actually them giving you space. De almost passed out when he met everyone.” Remus faux whispers to Logan.

“It was because of the colour!” De claims, face turning red.

“Oh my god!” Patton exclaims, suddenly standing and looking mortified. “We didn’t do introductions!”

“I think,” Logan tells De, looking over the chaos, “I might not mind.”

“Yeah, they get you like that.” Dante sighs.

“Don’t let him follow you, he’s just as bad.” Virgil says.

“Oh so’s Logan, you guys just didn’t see him in class.” Remus grins.

“Falsehood!” Logan claims. Virgil can’t help but laugh, grinning as he feels something settling. They go through proper introductions. Roman goes last, giving his customary prince-y bow. And then getting flustered as Patton, Dante, and Virgil clap because they’d made a secret pact and they all agree Roman looks adorable flustered.

When Virgil goes home, he’ll fret that they scared Logan off. He’ll worry they were too much.

But tomorrow, Logan will join them for lunch once more. And the day after, and the day after. Then, when the semester ends and they have the time, they’ll all look for a place to live together.

And when Roman comes home, grumbling about how Remus found his own soulmates and Roman wasn’t at all involved, Logan will be there to chuckle about it.

All of them will be.

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dragonnan · 4 years

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Everyone is encouraged to join!

FYI - yeah I know it’s actually Saturday... Didn’t feel like changing it though, lol!

Share links to fic, artwork, WIPs, whatever you want!

My works:

Link to my AO3

Link to my portfolio (which includes some fanart)

The work I thought it would be fun to share is an in-progress unpublished work that will likely take a while to put together. I was incredibly inspired by the brilliant writing of both @hanuko and silentsaebyeok who both have stories about Wilson Fisk. Here is my take on that character in an Avengers fic!

Untitled Fic

Setting: near the end of Homecoming and just prior to Tony reconciling with Pepper

AU of Daredevil season 2-3 (Karen didn't murder Wesley as Fisk's mother didn't remember her visit. She only remembered Ben)

Late afternoon sunlight had turned every pane of glass into a pool of gold. The patio doors of the tall office building had been left open – allowing the haze of late day warmth to coil upwards; carried on drafts of air heated from the concrete below. Rubber soles squeaked softly against marble that knew mainly Italian leather and the rare alligator hide. Two-hundred dollar sneakers were incongruous to the wealth of the man sporting them, but then, Tony Stark had never been a fan of the expected.

“So what wrong side of the bed did I wake up on this morning to earn this clandestine meeting before my Kai Jiew has had time to settle?” One hip resting on the edge of the railing, Tony managed to shudder back a yawn before it became embarrassing. Behind him, the familiar snap of a briefcase lock barely drew a glance as “Dilbert” pushed up his glasses and withdrew a thick file from the depths.

Further in the shadows, the larger man, silent, stood with his head at an oddly subdued angle. Often reticent in the blessedly few interactions Tony had ever had with the man, it was little surprise that it was his assistant who spoke.

“Apologies, Mr. Stark. I assure you this won't take long.”

The unstated request, of course, was that Tony sit at the table positioned within the large room. Tony raised an eyebrow. “You didn't say please.”

A smooth, tight lipped smile, followed his quip. Meanwhile, the still silent other member of their trifecta finally stepped forward – grasping one of the stuffed leather office chairs and rolling it back before seating himself. Wilson Fisk wove his hands together above propped elbows. “I appreciate your willingness to meet me so early, Anthony. I felt it best to speak with you privately given the... delicacy... of the issue at hand.” He gestured towards the single remaining chair.

Well that wasn't at all circumspect.

Returning the tight lipped smile in kind, Tony grabbed the chair facing the head of the table and sat; leaning back and settling his arms on the padded rests. “You know, usually I let Pepper handle SI business. Not sure if you got the memo but I'm not actually CEO any longer. How was prison, by the way? I heard the kitchen got a new chef.”

Ignoring the comment, Fisk tapped his thumbs together and kept a close study of the polished inlay before him. “That is something we share in common,” he looked up, then, finally, “I, too, find that most business affairs tend to be... tedious.” Fisk grinned, a flash of small, even, teeth, before he nodded towards his assistant... Wilbur? Weston? “Mr. Wesley, if you would please?” He turned back to Tony – also leaning back and resting his thick hands over his thicker waist. “I can assure you, however, that what we're here to discuss is a matter that falls somewhat outside the purview of Stark Industries.”

While his employer spoke, Wesley neatly stacked the pages of the file before sliding the bundle across the polished tabletop to Tony. Eager to just get everything done with, Tony pressed his hand flat on the cover to slide it close, flipped it back... and froze.

Across from him, Fisk continued speaking. “I have found that I have an over-abundance of pressure on me as I attempt to rebuild was was lost during my incarceration. Aside from the judgement of the good people of this city I also have faced an ongoing assault from a number of vigilantes. This city, for all of its potential, has the unfortunate side effect of breeding these... vermin... faster than the rats that inhabit the sewers. As it is they are beneath the notice of those who claim to protect the people of this city.” His hands stilled – lying one on top of the other as Tony silently turned to the next page. “Too busy protecting the rest of the world, perhaps.”

Tony made himself turn to the next page; his eyes blinking rapidly.

“Of course it isn't in my nature to harm innocents. I find it distasteful to involve women and children in such matters. And, yet, I find that it is, in fact, a child at the center of my current dilemma. Of greater irony is that this child has both power and connections that would, under normal circumstances, place him outside the reach of those who would wish him harm.”

The forth page was a photo – clipped from a newspaper and a duplicate to the framed image that sat on the worktable in Tony's lab. In the grainy image he stood, one arm slung around a young man's shoulders, as the kid received his certification for completing the “Stark Internship”. Tony licked his tongue across his teeth before closing the file once more.

Fisk let out a soft hum. “As it is, prison has a way of creating strange bedfellows. I met someone – a man you may know. Adrian Toomes. After some persuasion he had something very interesting to share with me. Something that, I can only imagine, you would wish to keep out of the hands of certain individuals.”

Tony wanted to clench his hands – his fingertips twitching before he pushed them flat against the wood beneath them. “Just to clarify you're threatening my intern?”

Fisk leaned forward; hands folding tight before him on the table. “I was hoping we wouldn't have to play any games but given your refusal to read the rest of the documents Mr. Wesley provided, I will summarize them for you.” Here he stood; walking to the open doors facing the patio. “I know who Peter Parker really is. I know about his aunt. I know the names of his friends, where he goes to school, and where he buys his favorite sandwich every afternoon.” He rested his hands behind his back; squinting in the sunlight. “If he continues to disrupt my affairs in Hell's Kitchen, the consequences could be... unpleasant.” He glanced back at Tony; his face serene. “You realize I'm asking for very little. Keep your new pet leashed and allow me to conduct my business in peace. The child will never have to know my name. Other than what he may learn from news reports; of course.” Tugging his cuffs, Fisk turned to more fully face into the room. “I never wanted to involve you. This is the sort of attention I have spent a fortune to avoid. As it is I find myself in a position where reticence could cost me even more.”

Pushing to his feet, Tony could no longer stop his hands from fisting at his sides – though he managed to control the tremor as he joined Fisk. Side by side, the other man practically loomed over him.

“So you aren't just threatening a kid – you're threatening everyone he cares about. Little bit budget TV villain but you do you I guess.” Pulling off his tinted glasses, he stared up at the other man. “The thing is this little weekly drama you're playing?” he waggled his fingers back and forth, “way above your pay grade. Maybe stick to collecting on gambling debts and playing whack-a-mole with the other lowlifes in your contacts list.”

The smallest of smiles twitched at the corner of Fisk's lips. “I know you're someone who prefers visual aids,” his voice became guttural – losing the soft quality, “perhaps a demonstration would help to convince you.”

A glance to the side, the barest nod to Wesley, and the other man typed into his phone.

There was a moment – silence this far above the city.

And then an apartment complex, three blocks away, exploded into flame.

Horrified, Tony gave Fisk a single look, seeing the purpose in that cold gaze, before twisting the dial on his watch and backing up just enough to turn and take a running leap. One foot caught on the railing and with a surge of his muscles, he launched himself out into open space.

Terrifying free fall – the ground racing towards him at breakneck speed.

And then smooth metal wrapped his body and he shot towards the blaze.

:Cutting things a little bit tight, aren't we, Boss?:

“No time to chat, Fri. Emergency response status?” He twisted his body into an angle as the building grew large in his visor – too few residents stumbling free out onto the pavement.

:Fire and Rescue are three minutes away:

“Shit.” Aiming for a top floor window that had been blasted out with the explosion, Tony shot through the opening and made a quick scan of the room. He winced at the sudden burst of heat that briefly enveloped his suit. “Anyone on this level?”

He almost swore he could hear his AI sighing. :Apologies, Boss. I am unable to differentiate life signs from the ambient temperature. Also the heat is steadily rising and will soon be at levels exceeding this suit's tolerances.:

Ignoring the warning, Tony finished his check of the room and moved on to the next apartment. “Yeah, let's put a pin in that. Adjust audio input and scan for human voices.”

In the second apartment he found a single person – deceased. Same for the next two. In the forth apartment there were two dead but he also found a child – burned and terrified but alive – buried beneath the blankets in her parent's closet. Tony kept her wrapped to protect against the flames and rushed her to the sidewalk and into the arms of one of the firemen who had just arrived on scene.

“Explosion – multiple charges – there's still people...” He coughed at the black smoke boiling from the ruined building and dropped his visor back into place before returning inside.

Even with the protection of his suit the heat was breathtaking. There were no more survivors on the top floor so Tony proceeded to the next level down.

:I'm detecting instability in the surrounding structure.:

“We got three apartments left on this floor. Stop listening to the walls and keep listening for voices!”

The next sign of life he found, however wasn't a human but a howling dog still locked in its kennel. Tucking the kennel under one arm, Tony finished his search of that floor – finding three additional people and four more pets. With everyone holding their respective creatures he didn't risk another flight but, instead, soaked several blankets in a shower and guided them to a stairwell FRIDAY had located that was still relatively flame free. Then, turning back to his task he set out to locate more survivors.

Another five minutes in – fire and rescue now dousing the building as fireman began going door to door on the bottom two floors, Tony took the last one remaining.

It was then that disaster struck.

He'd just entered the first apartment – already racing towards the elderly man collapsed on the floor when there was a sudden burst of flames across the ceiling above – overlaid by a warning from FRIDAY.

:Boss, there is a weakening of the...:

“Shit!” His heartbeat was a drum in his ears as hooked a thick blanket from the ratty chair in the living room – slow motion tornados of smoke lifting up from the surrounding dry surfaces. Propulsion would actually take longer – factoring in the time to slow his speed before reaching the man. It was a fast paced eternity bolting across the ancient carpet. The blanket billowed out ahead of him and cloaked the man just moments before he wrapped arms around him – knowing that even inside the blanket he was burning the old man with the super heated surface of his suit.

He managed two steps to the window.

And then the world shattered in a concussive blast.

#fanfic #Self Promotion

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splendidlyimperfect · 4 years

Link

**I know this was supposed to be for Christmas but hey, at least I finally finished it!**

When a taxi refuses to take Sting to the airport because they won't accept his service dog, a charming stranger named Rogue offers to drive him instead. The act of kindness gets Sting home to his brother Natsu and the rest of his family in time for Christmas, but Sting can't help hoping that he'll run into Rogue again.

Chapter Summary: Sting, Rogue, Natsu and Gray play 'Never Have I Ever.'

Chapters: 3/3 Fandom: Fairy Tail Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Natsu Dragneel/Gray Fullbuster, Rogue Cheney/Sting Eucliffe Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, Family Fluff, Home for Christmas, Meet-Cute, Airports, Blind Character, Disabled Character, Fluff, seriously just lots of fluff, Sting and Natsu are brothers, and are total shits to each other, Power Outage, Drinking, Drinking Games, Never Have I Ever, Truth or Dare, Kissing, First Kiss, Literal Sleeping Together, Making Out

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“I can’t believe your parents have tequila.”

Natsu’s voice came from somewhere to Sting’s left, where he was curled up on the basement sofa. They had pushed both couches together, as close to the fireplace as possible, and Sting could just feel the heat from Rogue’s body where he was sitting next to – but not quite touching – Sting.

“It was a gift,” Gray said, dropping a pile of blankets onto Sting’s lap. “My aunt and uncle brought it back from Mexico.”

“Wasn’t that like… eight years ago?” Natsu asked.

“Mm.”

“So, what I’m hearing is that they won’t miss it if we drink it all.”

Continue reading on AO3

“You’re going to drink an entire bottle of tequila?” Sting asked, reaching out with his foot and trying to kick Natsu on the other sofa. He didn’t quite connect, but the shift brought him close enough that his knee rested against Rogue’s.

“No,” Natsu corrected, “we are going to drink an entire bottle of tequila.”

Sting snorted. “Last time you drank tequila, you go mugged by a fox.”

“A fox?” Rogue sounded curious.

“A literal fox,” Sting explained, laughing at the indignant sound Natsu made. “We were heading home through the park and he told me he wanted to pet this dog, but it ended up being a fox.”

“It looked like a dog,” Natsu insisted.

“Mhmm. It came up close enough to grab his bag off the back of the wheelchair and take off through the park.”

Rogue’s laugh was warm and rich, and it made Sting want to curl up against him. “Well,” Rogue said, “at least you got a good story out of it.”

“Oh, Natsu has lots of good stories,” Sting said, tossing a pillow in Natsu’s general direction. He was satisfied when it hit Natsu and he made a surprised sound. “He’s kind of an idiot.”

“Look,” Natsu started.

“Can’t,” Sting replied, and it took a second for Rogue to get it and start to laugh again.

“You’re the worst,” Natsu grumbled, and Sting could hear the lid being unscrewed from what he assumed was the bottle of tequila. “As if you’ve never done something stupid.” Lector, who was curled up on the couch next to Sting, gave a soft woof. “See, Lector agrees with me.”

“Now I’m curious,” Rogue said. “We do have all night to tell embarrassing stories.”

“That hardly seems fair,” Gray commented. “None of us know anything embarrassing about you.”

“Let’s find out then,” Natsu said. “Never have I ever!” Sting groaned, but when a shot glass was pressed into his hand, he didn’t argue.

“I need you to make sure the two of them are drinking when they should be,” Sting said to Rogue. “Natsu likes to cheat.”

“I do not,” Natsu said indignantly. “I, unlike you, can hold my liquor.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Sting muttered. When he felt a warm hand brush against his fingers he jumped, then realized it was just Rogue letting him know he was filling the shot glass.

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay.” Sting swallowed, hoping his cheeks weren’t pink. “Just surprised me, that’s all.”

Rogue left his hand against Sting’s for a moment longer, then leaned across him to hand what Sting assumed was the tequila bottle to Gray. This close, Sting could smell Rogue’s shampoo – it smelled like apples.

“All right,” Natsu said when everyone had their tequila. “Never have I ever broken my toe walking into a wall.”

“First of all,” Sting said, gesturing at Natsu with his glass, “Fuck you, I’m blind. Second of all, it was one hundred percent your fault and you know it.” He tossed the shot back and made a face, then held the glass out for Gray to refill.

“It was only partially my fault,” Natsu insisted. “Forty percent, at most. The rest of the blame goes to Lector.”

“He was a puppy,” Sting insisted, scratching behind Lector’s ears. Rogue laughed beside him and something warm settled in Sting’s stomach. “Fine,” Sting said, gesturing in Natsu’s direction. “Never have I ever tried to go through a drive-thru when I wasn’t in a vehicle.”

“Okay,” Natsu said, “in my defense, I was drunk, the sign said ‘no walk up service,’ and I was not walking.”

“I felt awful for the cashier,” Sting said. He tipped his head toward Rogue. “When she told him ‘no walk ups’ he told her it was discrimination, and she ended up giving him free chicken nuggets.”

“You weren’t complaining when you ate half of them,” Natsu insisted. “Also, Rogue drank too.”

Sting raised an eyebrow and reached out for Rogue’s hand, tapping the shot glass to make sure Natsu wasn’t lying. He could hear a quiet hitch in Rogue’s breath when Sting’s fingers brushed the inside of his wrist, and when he didn’t pull back, Sting let the touch linger.

“I was, um… on a skateboard,” Rogue admitted. Once Sting had verified the glass was empty, Rogue held it out to Gray for a refill. He shifted his other hand onto Sting’s knee, and the warm sensation turned into a thrill that ran up Sting’s arm into his chest.

“You know how to skateboard?” Gray asked.

Rogue sighed. “I was kind of a, uh… skater-slash-emo kid in high school,” he admitted.

Natsu burst out laughing. “I guess it’s not too hard to picture that. You’ve definitely got the hair for it. It’s black and pretty long.” The last statement was directed at Sting, who had already reached out to touch Rogue’s hair without thinking. Instead of pulling away, Rogue leaned into Sting’s hand, letting him run his fingers along to the back of his head where it was tied up in a ponytail.

“It’s, uh…” The words stuck in Sting’s throat and he swallowed hard. “Soft. And nice.” He quickly withdrew his hand, but Rogue didn’t pull away. Instead he ran his thumb across Sting’s knee and mumbled, “Thanks.”

“All right,” Gray interrupted, and Sting breathed a sigh of relief. “Natsu already went, so it’s Rogue’s turn now.”

“Oh.” Rogue shifted next to Sting until they were pressed together, knee to hip, then said, “Never have I ever been arrested in a foreign country.”

Sting could hear Gray’s sigh as he tossed back his shot and muttered, “It was a misunderstanding and you know it.”

“You got arrested?” Sting asked incredulously. Gray was the kind of person who would find five dollars on the ground and spend three hours looking for the person who dropped it. “This is a story I have to hear.”

Two hours later, Sting was comfortably drunk, and they had switched to ‘Truth or Dare.’ Gray had argued that they weren’t in high school, but Natsu had teased him about being too chicken to play and he had acquiesced.

“What,” Natsu said to Sting, giggling, “was the worst sex you ever had?”

Sting groaned, tipping his head back against Rogue’s arm that was draped lazily across his shoulders. He’d removed his sweater at some point and Rogue’s fingers brushed against his bare arm now, tracing lazy circles on the skin of his bicep.

“You’re an asshole,” Sting said to Natsu.

“It was Lisa, wasn’t it?” Natsu snickered.

“Yes,” Sting grumbled. “We were both sixteen and the only reason she wanted to sleep with me was because she was self-conscious, and I couldn’t see her.” Rogue snorted. “She was terrible!” Sting added, waving the hand that wasn’t holding his shot glass for emphasis. “Just like… laid there. Like a… a fish.”

“A fish?” Rogue asked, laughing.

Sting frowned. “No, a…” He shook his head, gesturing vaguely. “I can’t do the words. ‘m a bit drunk.”

“Just a bit?” Gray asked. Sting stuck out his tongue in Gray’s direction. “Nice one. Okay, whose turn is it?”

“Yours,” Natsu said.

“No, I took off my pants. It’s Rogue’s turn. Truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

Sting sighed and was about to tell Natsu that he wasn’t allowed to dare anyone else to eat hot sauce when Gray said, “I dare you to kiss Sting.”

Sting’s cheeks immediately flushed hot and he felt Rogue tense against him. The gentle touch against his arm stopped and the contented sensation in Sting’s stomach quickly turned to an anxious mess.

“You don’t have—”

“Can I?” Rogue shifted on the couch until he was facing Sting, moving the hand from Sting’s arm to tentatively touch the back of his neck.

“You…” Sting’s mouth went dry and he hoped nobody could hear his heart pounding when Rogue moved closer. “Um. Yes. Very much yes.”

Rogue’s fingers slid into Sting’s hair, hand trembling as he murmured, “Good.” Then he pulled Sting closer and kissed him.

Oh, Sting thought as his heart stuttered and skipped a few beats. He quickly returned the kiss, leaning into Rogue and bringing a hand up to touch his cheek. Rogue made a soft sound against Sting’s lips that sent sparks straight to his stomach and Sting kissed back harder, tipping Rogue’s chin up with gentle fingers.

After a second, they both pulled back and Rogue pressed his forehead against Sting’s, letting out a quiet sigh. Sting moved his hand down to Rogue’s neck, enjoying the way Rogue’s heartbeat fluttered under his fingertips.

“And with that,” Natsu said, voice only slightly teasing, “I think it’s time for bed.”

As soon as Natsu and Gray were upstairs, Rogue’s hand made its way back into Sting’s. “You okay?” he asked.

Sting swallowed, sliding their fingers together and nodding. “I—yeah. You?”

“Yeah.”

A gentle silence hung between them for a moment and then Rogue asked, “Can I…”

Sting couldn’t help the smile that crept across his face as he answered Rogue’s fragmented question with a kiss. Rogue sighed happily against him, this time bringing both hands up to run through Sting’s curls as he quickly deepened the kiss. Sting opened up to him, tasting the tequila on Rogue’s lips.

“C’mere,” Rogue murmured, pushing himself back against the couch and nudging Sting’s hip. Sting quickly shifted onto Rogue’s lap, legs on either side of his thighs, and when Rogue’s lips pressed against his neck, he let out a quiet sigh.

“You’re gorgeous,” Rogue murmured against Sting’s skin, nipping at his earlobe and sliding his hands down and under Sting’s shirt.

“’m gonna take Natsu’s word on you being good looking,” Sting said, laughing. “He keeps telling me he has good taste, and I think this time he’s right.” Rogue smiled against his skin, pulling him closer and continuing to kiss across his neck and down his shoulder.

“C’mere,” Sting murmured, tipping Rogue’s chin up. He ran his hands over Rogue’s collarbone, up his neck and across his face. Rogue sat still as Sting traced his features with gentle fingertips – high cheekbones, soft eyelashes, a dimple in his cheek. “You’ve got a scar here,” Sting said when he felt the uneven skin across the bridge of Rogue’s nose.

“Mm.” Rogue leaned into Sting’s touch. “The unfortunate side effect of skateboarding is falling on your face occasionally.” He brought his hand up to Sting’s face and ran his finger along Sting’s eyebrow. “You’ve got one here.”

Sting laughed. “The unfortunate side effect of being blind and having a brother who is kind of an asshole,” he said, “is that you occasionally fall into swimming pools.”

Rogue leaned up and gently pressed a kiss to the scar, then rubbed their noses together. “Better?”

“Better.” Sting giggled, tipping his head forward and resting it on Rogue’s shoulder. “I think I’m kinda drunk.”

Rogue laughed, kissing Sting’s temple and wrapping both arms around him. “Me too,” he said, then yawned suddenly. “Mm. I wanna keep kissing you but I’m gonna fall asleep.”

“Same,” Sting said, nuzzling Rogue’s cheek. “Sleep with me?” Before Rogue could answer he added, “I mean—not like that, actually sleep, I’m too drunk to…”

“I know,” Rogue said, smiling as he kissed the corner of Sting’s mouth. “And yes.”

Sting woke up to the familiar weight of Lector across his legs, and a warm body pressed against his chest. Rogue. A smile crept across Sting’s face as he nuzzled the back of Rogue’s neck and kissed it.

“Mornin’,” Rogue mumbled, stirring under Sting’s arm. He yawned, stretching and turning to face Sting. “You sleep okay?”

“Mm.” Sting shivered at the feeling of gentle fingertips drawing patterns across his stomach, exhaling shakily when a soft kiss was placed on his neck. Rogue hummed against Sting’s skin, thumb rubbing circles over his hipbone.

“Is the power back on?” Sting asked as Rogue trailed kisses across his neck to the hollow of his throat.

“Mhmm.” Rogue’s hand drifted up Sting’s side, brushing along his bare skin and shifting against him until they were pressed chest to chest. “’s still early though.”

Sting exhaled, pulling Rogue closer to him and grinning when he felt Rogue hard against his thigh. “You don’t seem very sleepy,” he murmured, slipping his leg between Rogue’s and pressing forward. Rogue exhaled shakily and shook his head.

“’m not,” he said, rolling his hips and bringing one hand down to the waist of Sting’s sweatpants.

“Good,” Sting said, nudging Rogue’s hand further down. “’cause I really like you, and I want you to touch me.”

Rogue’s fingers trailed across Sting’s sweatpants and Sting could hear the smile in his voice. “I think I can do that,” he said as Sting ran gentle fingers through his hair and pulled him back in for a kiss. “And I really like you, too.”

#fairy tail #ft fanfic #stingue #gratsu #sting eucliffe #rogue cheney #natsu dravneel #gray fullbuster #fluff #christmas fluff #four months late but hey at least it's done #update #new chapter #completed #my fic

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carry-the-sky · 5 years

Text

there is the road,

and there is the story of where the road goes—

(or: jesse finds his way. tw for brief descriptions of ptsd-related nightmares.)

+ one day after.

Haines is—different. You sure as hell aren’t in the ABQ anymore. There’s like, no people here, for one thing, and that makes you nervous. You’re a strange face, a newcomer. People will notice, right? They’ll notice, and then—

But you make it to the grocery store just fine. You push your cart around, pay for your food the same as everyone else, and no one looks twice at you. Then you’re driving back through town, past a post office and a bank and at least three different seafood restaurants, which, hell yes. The classiest seafood place you’ve been to is Red Lobster, and only then because their biscuits tasted fucking phenomenal when you were high. Skinny had once convinced Badger to bribe the waitress for the recipe, which went about as terribly as you thought it would. Later, Skinny looked it up and found out you could just buy the mix at the store.

God, you miss them.

It hurts more to try not to think about them, so you let yourself. All the way out of town, you think about Badger hitchhiking up from the Mexico border, Skinny taking heat from the police, covering for you. You think about the last words you said to each of them, and how you wish you would’ve said more.

The turn comes up faster than you’re expecting. Asphalt gives way to mud and snow pack, and you shift the Toyota into four-wheel drive. The street doesn’t even have a real name—Road S.7, reads the battered sign at the turn-off—and you can’t help but feel a swell of gratitude towards Ed. Quiet, he’d promised, and he definitely delivered.

Your house is the only one on this street. It’s an a-frame, like the ones your parents always talked about building. They wanted a place up north, somewhere like Wyoming or Montana where they could take you and Jake skiing, or whatever it is normal families do. Maybe that’s what they would’ve done with the extra cash from selling your Aunt Ginny’s house.

You put the Toyota in park, open the back hatch, and grab a bag of groceries in each hand. The snow here is still fresh, and it crunches under your boot when you take a tentative step.

Start over. Start fresh. Put things right.

No. Sorry, kid. That’s the one thing you can never do.

Maybe, maybe not. You take another step forward anyways.

+ one week after.

The a-frame is nice. You’re not sure what you were expecting, but the place is fully-furnished, down to the shower curtain in the bathroom, and the living room windows face south, so it’s warm and light most of the day. It’s the last type of place you ever saw yourself living, but it’s yours. It’s safe.

This morning’s routine is the same as the last few have been—coffee, breakfast, get a fire going in the wood-burning stove. There’s a deer outside the window, and you watch her for a moment while you sip the rest of your coffee. She lifts her head to look at you, the length of her statue-still—and then she’s turning away to resume foraging. You aren’t a threat.

You have more money than you know what to do with, but you still give the job classifieds a once-over. The thought of hanging around the a-frame day after day makes your palms itch—you want to stay busy, stay doing, so you circle a few part-time stints, places you’re reasonably sure won’t laugh you and your lack of a resume out the door.

No flashbacks today, when you finally make it to the shower.

This life you’re carving out is a work in progress, but that’s okay. You’re building it from scratch, sanding it down and filing away the jagged edges. It’s gonna take some time, and you’re okay with that. You’re okay.

There’s a dog curled up on the porch when you open your front door. Definitely a mutt, some kind of lab mix maybe. No collar. You ease the door shut as quietly as you can, but it stirs at the noise and lifts its head.

“Hey, bud,” you say, squatting and reaching a hand out.

The dog takes a tentative sniff in your direction, so you shift closer. It’s the wrong move. The dog scrabbles to its feet and tears off into the trees before you can blink.

“Yo!” you shout, but it’s gone.

You make a mental note to grab some kibble when you’re in town.

The first three jobs on your list are a bust. One of them has been filled already, another wants at least a year of previous experience, and the lady at the last place takes one look at your ink, plasters a fake smile on her face, and tells you she’ll be in touch.

“Bitch,” you growl under your breath as soon as you’re back in your car. Your fingers itch for a cigarette, and you dig around in your pocket before remembering that you don’t have any, that you’d purposefully avoided buying any at the store. Fresh start, and all that.

You tip your head back to rest against the seat. For the first time since getting here, it starts to sink in just how alone you are. It has to be this way, you know that. It’s like your life’s been split cleanly in half—everything before Alaska, and everything after. You can’t go back, and you can’t fit the pieces together again. You get it.

Doesn’t mean it’s not gonna suck, sometimes.

You pick up some dog food on your way home—a bag with words like “natural” and “grain-free,” because why the hell not—and you’re almost out of town when a sign by the road catches your eye.

Morley’s Custom Woodworking, 2 miles south on 3rd Ave

When you get to 3rd, you turn automatically, like you know exactly where you’re going. It’s your foot pumping the gas, your hands on the steering wheel, but you can’t shake the feeling that you’re being pulled towards something.

Fuck off, universe, you think, but you keep driving.

Morley’s sits where the road dead-ends. You duck inside, and the first thing that hits you is the smell, all pine-y and sweet. There’s a table and a couple chairs sitting by the entrance, and you run a hand over the closest one. Smooth as glass.

“How can I help you?”

You turn. There’s a guy walking towards you who looks like a lumberjack poster boy—big and tall, full-grown beard, arms like tree stumps. He’s older, maybe Mike’s age.

“Uh,” you say stupidly. “Yeah, hey, man, I was just—I was in the, y’know, the area, and I just wanted to see if you maybe needed help with, I don’t know, stocking inventory or cleaning up, or whatever—”

The guy’s looking at you like he’s trying not to laugh, and honestly you can’t blame him. You sound like a rambling moron.

“You know what, I’m just gonna—” you gesture towards the front door.

“You new in town?” the guy says, looking thoroughly amused.

Shit. It’s that obvious.

“Yeah, been here about a week.”

The guy appraises you. His eyes are soft and kind, which kinda flies in the face of the whole lumberjack thing, but, hey, no judgment here.

“Got any woodworking experience?” he asks.

Sure, if making half a dozen boxes for a vo-tech class in high school counts.

“Not exactly,” you say. “But—I’m a fast learner, and I’m good with my hands. In a totally non-pervy way,” you quickly clarify, “which you probably didn’t need to know, but it’s always good to, y’know—” you trail off and heave a sigh. “Okay, how badly am I screwing this up?”

The guy quirks a smile. “Depends on if you’re gonna keep talking or not.”

You’re laughing before you can think better of it, and the guy’s chuckling too, and then he’s saying, “I’ve got a workshop this Saturday. Why don’t you come by? We’ll see what you got.”

You’re not sure if it’s the universe making the decision or if it’s you, but you don’t really care. Either way, it’s another step forward, and you’re gonna take it.

+ one month after.

You still have nightmares. Sometimes you’re in the cage, and sometimes you’re on top of it, and they’re pressing you down, pressing your face against the bars.

“Open your eyes, Jesse,” someone—Todd?—is saying. “Open your eyes and look.”

Sometimes, you fight back. You strangle Todd with your handcuffs, the metal digging into his neck. You beat the shit out of Jack, or one of his other inbred thugs (you never bothered to learn their names). You shoot yourself in the head.

Sometimes, it’s Walt holding you down instead of Todd.

You’re not sure when, if ever, the dreams will stop, but maybe that’s not the point. Maybe the point is that they’re all gone and you’re still here. Whatever that means, you’re still here. You’re still fighting.

It’s a small comfort, but it’s something.

It’s taken you a couple weeks, but the dog is starting to warm up to you.

You’ve started calling it Skinny, and yeah, you tell yourself it’s because the poor thing really is skin and bones, and no other reason. It still sits a comfortable distance away from you whenever you’re outside, but it’s stopped bolting every time you make a movement that’s faster than not moving at all. You don’t know shit about dogs, but you know enough not to try approaching it again. Just let it be, let it see that you’re here and you mean no harm.

You keep a handful of dog food with you when you’re outside, just in case.

You’re stacking cords of firewood in the shed out back when the dog comes up to you, right up to you, tail wagging tentatively.

“Hey, there,” you say, but as soon as you stick a hand out, the dog growls.

“Okay.” You fish around in your back pocket. “You don’t know me, I get it. I totally get it. But maybe this—” you proffer the hand with the kibble— “will change your mind.”

You’re careful not to make eye contact as it sniffs your hand. Then it’s crunching the food up, tongue licking your palm enthusiastically as it searches for more where that came from.

“Right on, my kind of guy. Or, uh—” you duck your head and quickly scan the dog’s underside— “girl, I guess. Sorry about that.”

It’s another few weeks before Skinny will let you pet her, and one more after that before you can coax her into your car to take her to the vet. She’s not micro-chipped, and no one’s reported a missing dog, so they give her a routine series of shots and tell you it’s okay to take her home.

You’re not sure if this is a good idea—can you really even take care of yourself?—but it feels right. She’s like you, lost and alone. Maybe this is what both of you need.

You rent out a space at Morley’s after hours to work on the projects he gives you. Small things, at first, like cabinet drawers and birdhouses. During the week, you take orders and receive shipments and assist him with the larger custom pieces he’s working on. It’s hard work, but it’s good. You like working with your hands, making things instead of breaking them apart.

You think a lot about that box you made. You wish you would’ve actually given it to your mom. She would’ve been proud of it, of you.

You wish—

+ one year after.

“...and I’m gonna gently, gently tap, following the angles in the mountain. Always follow your angles.”

“Follow the angles,” you echo, bringing your brush up to the canvas. “Hell yeah, I can follow the angles.”

You must be pressing down too hard, because the colors are starting to smear together. If you’re being honest, most of this painting is a mess, but the mountains actually look halfway decent. You’re starting to get the hang of those.

“...and then just beat the devil out of it.”

“That’s my favorite part,” you tell Skinny, who’s watching you with mild curiosity.

Netflix freezes for a moment, the percentage ticking upwards slowly as the episode renders, but you’re not concerned. That happens pretty frequently. You take advantage of the pause to clean your brush beat-the-devil style, which startles Skinny. Her claws clack against the wood floor as she scrambles away from you.

The rest of the painting is relatively painless—you mix the phthalo green with your purple instead of phthalo blue, but hey, happy accident. You’re getting used to accepting those.

Skinny re-emerges, eyeing you warily. You laugh and stoop to ruffle her ears.

“Sorry I scared you,” you say. “But, hey, it’s part of the process, yeah? Can’t jerk around with the process. Especially not Bob’s.”

Skinny just licks your hand in response.

You finish your first major piece at work, a two-leaf, red oak dining table. You’re almost a little sad when the couple who ordered it come to pick it up, but it would just sit in the shop otherwise. And you’d never live it down if you admitted it to Morley, who likened selling the first piece of furniture he ever built to sending a kid off to college.

“It’s beautiful,” the couple tells you. “Even better than we imagined. Thank you.”

You do your best to ignore all the knowing looks Morley shoots in your direction for the rest of the day.

You write to Badger and Skinny (the human) on a semi-regular basis. The letters are pretty general—you try to avoid any details that might give away where you are—but you tell them about the wood shop, and Skinny (the dog). Once, you accidentally write your return address on the envelope. You briefly consider sending it anyways. They’d come, they’d absolutely come if they knew where you were, and you’d be selfish enough to let them.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss them, but it’s gotten better. You picture them playing GTA on Badger’s Playstation, or smoking a bowl, and it hurts a little less. They’re safe and they’re happy, and your loneliness is a small price to pay for that.

You’re, like, my hero and shit.

They have no idea it’s actually the other way around.

You watch the Northern Lights from your porch, a mug of hot tea in your hands and Skinny’s head resting on your knee. You think, this must be what heaven is like.

“So, where should we go?”

Skinny looks at you like she’d like nothing better than to murder you, but you figure that probably has more to do with the car than you. She’s quivering in the backseat, and you haven’t even turned the key in the ignition yet.

“C’mon, don’t look at me like that. You love car rides.”

Skinny whines and paws at the door.

“Okay, maybe love’s a strong word, but you love the mountains right? And the only way to get to the mountains is to ride in the car, so. We cool?”

Soon you’re on the highway. The back windows are rolled down, and Skinny’s sticking her head gleefully out the passenger side, all thoughts of murder gone from her head. You think you both might be happiest when you’re driving like this, wind in your hair and your ears, nothing but open road stretched ahead.

You don’t know where you’re going, but that doesn’t matter. You’ll find your way.

#jesse pinkman #el camino #el camino spoilers #breaking bad #my fic

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the-precious-peter-parker · 5 years

Text

Day 6: Swimming/Hurt/Comfort

Harley couldn’t wait for summer break to come so he and Peter could stay at the lake house and spend more time together. It had already been decided that Peter would meet Harley, Pepper, Tony, and Morgan at the cabin as soon as the second week of summer began. Harley wanted him to come the first week but he understood that Peter wanted to spend some time relaxing and hanging out with his Aunt May.

Harley practically goes stir crazy while waiting for Peter to arrive at the cabin. He spends most of his time playing games with Morgan to keep himself distracted from how much he misses his boyfriend.

By the time that the second week of summer rolls everyone in the lake house is sick of hearing Harley complain about being bored and missing Peter. Everyone is pleased to hear the sound of a car pulling up outside because it means that Harley will stop moping around and complaining to anyone who will listen.

Harley bolts out the front door to go greet Peter while everyone else waits inside to let the boys have a moment alone together. Happy trudges inside with Peter’s suitcase and gives Tony an exasperated look.

“I might lose my mind if I hear one more story of how the kid misses Harley’s accent or Harley’s cuddles or Harley’s anything!” He grumbles. “I even rolled up the divider between us and he just kept knocking and asking when we’d be here because he didn’t know how much longer he could go without a hug from Harley!”

Tony just shakes his head fondly and peaks outside to see the boys clutching onto each other as if they hadn’t seen each other in years. “Trust me, Harley wasn’t any better. He kept flopping over on the couch melodramatically and acting as if he were dying from lack of seeing Peter.”

Morgan nods in affirmation and explains how Harley would complain that Peter wasn’t at Morgan’s tea party with him or that Peter wasn’t playing hide and go seek with them or swimming in the lake with them.

Harley pulls Peter into a tight embrace as soon as he makes it outside. Peter just laughs happily and scoops Harley up into a bear hug.

“I missed you...” Peter whines and then pouts childishly. Harley just rolls his eyes and kisses Peter softly before pulling away. Peter follows Harley as he pulls away and steals one more sweet kiss before allowing his boyfriend to truly pull back.

“Come on! Hurry up! Lets get your things put away so that we can catch up on cuddles, kisses, and hugs.” Harley says as he drags Peter into the house. He lets out an exasperated groan when Tony stops him from dragging Peter to his room.

“Harley I get that you’re happy to see Peter but at least give us the chance to say hi to him before you drag him off to do god knows what.” Tony rolls his eyes and gives Peter a little side hug but Peter pulls him back in for a real hug.

Peter drops down to one knee to hug Morgan as she comes running over to him. She giggles happily as Peter scoops her up and then sounds her around. “I missed you.” She grumbles and wraps her arms around his neck.

“I missed you too but don’t worry, I’ll be spending the next month here with you and Harley and Tony and Pepper.” He assures her and holds her close for another moment before setting her down and moving on to greet Pepper.

“Okay, you’ve had your chance to say hi. I’ll now be taking my boyfriend to get settled and then later on we’re gonna take a dip in the lake.” Harley huffs and resumes dragging Peter to his room.

Peter is nudged awake by Harley a few hours later. The pair had fallen asleep, cuddled close together on Peter’s bed. The smaller boy whines softly and tries to hide his face again Harley’s chest and go back to sleep but Harley has other plans for them. Harley nudges Peter again which results in the other rolling over to face away from Harley and try to curl up and go back to sleep again.

“Peter please, I just want to go swimming with you for a little bit. We can cuddle and nap again after but it is going to get dark in like two hours and you know Tony won’t let us swim out there unsupervised while it’s dark and I really don’t want him interrupting our time together.” Harley whines and nudges Peter over and over again until the other finally lets out a whiny grumble of agreement.

“Okay fine! Stop pushing me. I’m awake already.” Peter whines and slowly sits up against his headboard. He blearily rubs the sleep from his eyes and yawns, his adorableness has Harley’s heart clenching and he feels slightly guilty for making Peter get up. His guilt vanishes when Peter pulls off his t-shirt and Harley catches a glimpse of his abs. “Well, are you just gonna sit here after you made me get up or are you going to go get changed into your swim trunks?” Peter asks and throws his shirt at Harley’s face. He just laughs as Harley mutters something unintelligible before heading to his own room to get changed.

The teens meet each other out by the lake less than ten minutes later and Peter takes his turn staring at his boyfriend’s abs. “You’re looking good Keener. I can tell that you’ve kept up with the training schedule that Nat gave you.” Peter smiles and stands on his tip toes to give Harley a quick kiss before beginning to wade into the lake. He recoils at first but pushes himself to continue on a little further into the water.

“Is it honestly that cold?” Harley asks as he makes his way to the dock, preferring the just jump in method to the gradually getting used to the water method that Peter is using. He doesn’t wait for Peter’s reply, instead he jumps off the edge of the dock and swims over to meet his doe-eyed boyfriend. “Sweetheart come on in already, it’s not even that cold.” Harley laughs and gently takes Peter’s hands to lead him further out into the water.

Peter lets Harley lead him out into the deeper water toward the center of the lake and after a few more minutes of getting used to the water Peter finds the temperature bearable. He grins at Harley and takes off toward the far side of the lake, “Race ya there!” He yells over his shoulder and just laughs when he hears Harley’s complaints about cheating, head starts, and super strength making him have super speed while swimming.

Peter is making his way back across the lake before Harley can even make it to far end. He decides to try and catch Peter instead of making it to the end of the lake and turns back to swim after his boyfriend. Once he’s close enough to tackles Peter under the water with a playful shout.

Peter isn’t sure what happened, one moment he was racing Harley across the lake and the next he’s being plunged under the water. His mind hurls him into a memory and all he can think about his the parachute that is encasing him. His limbs are stuck and he can’t swim to the surface. He’s drowning, he’s going to drown all because the vulture dropped him into a lake and his parachute got stuck around him.

He struggles to free himself from the weight that is dragging him down and in a moment f panic he tries to scream and call out for help but ends up sucking in a lungful of water instead. It feels as though his lungs are burning, he desperately needs air but still can’t seem to free himself and kick to the surface. Finally someone has come to his rescue and he gets pulled up out of the water and he barely manages to register that it’s Harley carrying him out of the lake and not Tony this time.

Harley feels Peter struggle in his arms and he holds his boyfriend close to keep him from swimming to the other side of the lake and officially beating him in the race. It only takes him a moment longer that Peter isn’t kidding around and something is seriously wrong.

Peter is sinking down further into the lake and his movements are short as though he’s truly trapped by Harley’s arms which he knows is not really the case. Harley lets go for a moment hoping that Peter would swim up to the surface when he realized he was free. When Peter just continues to struggle under the water and even gulps down a lungful of water in his panic Harley knows that he needs to get his boyfriend out of the water.

He grabs Peter around the waist and kicks as hard as he can toward the more shallow area of the lake. Once he’s reached a place where he can stand up he scoops Peter up in his arms bridal style and races out of the water and toward the house. He screams for help before laying Peter down in the grass. He rolls his shivering boyfriend onto his side and is relieved when Peter easily coughs up the water he’d accidentally breathed in.

“I’m so sorry Peter. I promise you’re gonna be okay. You’re safe. You’re alright and you’re not wherever your mind took you. You’re at the lake house with me and Tony and Morgan and Pepper. You’re okay just please breathe for me baby.” Harley rambles and rubs his hand up and down Peter’s back.

Tony comes sprinting out of the house and Pepper follows shortly behind him, carrying two fluffy towels in her arms. Tony drops to his knees besides Peter and immediately cards his hands through his hair.

“Kid listen to me, you’re alright. You’re not back in that lake that the Vulture dropped you in. He’s still locked up kid. You’re safe. I promise you’re safe.” He coos and glances over to Harley. “You’re safe here with me and Harley who feels really guilty about whatever happened and I’m sure you’re gonna be mad at him for blaming himself.” Tony rambles.

Peter splutters and coughs but he is slowly coming back to reality. His eyes focus once again and he pushes himself up into a sitting position with a little help from Tony. He coughs a few more times and gratefully accepts the fluffy towel that Pepper wraps around his shoulders.

Harley opens his mouth to begin apologizing but Peter cuts him off with a sharp look. “Don’t you dare say you’re sorry. I should have warned you that I still haven’t recovered completely from what happened with the vulture. So uh, for future reference, getting submerged in water without warning really freaks me out and so do small enclosed spaces.” Peter rambles, his voice is a little rough from all the coughing he’s done in the past few minutes.

Harley just pulls Peter into a tight hug and is quickly joined by Tony and Pepper. “I’m still sorry for that. I was dumb for doing that. I assumed I couldn’t possibly hurt you because of your powers but I was wrong. Now lets get back inside I think promises you more cuddles and another nap.” Harley says and helps his boyfriend to his feet once their group hug ends.

I fell further behind then I meant to and I’m sorry for that. I intended on posting this story and Day 7 yesterday but my puppy fractured her nose yesterday and I spent the rest of the day and most of today watching her and making sure she was okay. She’s gonna be perfectly fine I just have to keep an eye on her and make sure she doesn’t get into any trouble while she heals and make sure she doesn’t run into anymore glass doors. Anyways I’m gonna try and get caught up tomorrow! Thanks for reading!

#parkner week 2019 #parkner #parley #harleypeter #harley keener #morgan stark #tony stark #tony stark is a dad #protective tony #protective harley #hurt peter parker #peter parker #the vulture #spiderman #happy hogan #may parker

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iamdeadlocked · 4 years

Text

When I arrived at Aunt May’s funeral it was a regular, normal arrangement.

Some people chatted quietly with one another, others sat quietly in the seats provided, and a few people went up to the body for one final goodbye.

Some people I recognized as her friends would come up to me and give me the usual spew about how sorry they were and how they were going to miss her, how they haven’t seen each other in X amount of years, how much he’s grown, how she’d be so proud of him, and other things that he didn’t want to hear at that moment.

I guess they all forgot about the falling out Aunt May and I had.

I didn’t.

Neither did she. It’s the reason why we haven’t spoken in almost a decade. It’s the reason she died alone.

It was nice gesture for them to invite me to the funeral and to try to include me in the conversations but I honestly just wanted to be left alone. I wanted to say good bye to the “dearly” departed and be on my way. I had a nice fast food made burger and fries sitting at home in my refrigerator calling my name.

I suppose I should feel some type of empathy and be a little bit upset that my aunt is no longer alive. We weren’t as close as we used to be mostly because of Uncle Ben’s death but I just can’t find it in me to feel more than a spoonful of bitter sadness. I suppose when the one person you thought you could trust and love tells you that “you are nothing to me and that a robbery gone wrong is your fault and that you should have been the one to die, not my Ben.” You lose all sorts of kinship and respect for them, who knew?

Anyway... everything was fine, the last of the guests arrived and the pastor begin a slideshow of Aunt May while retelling her life beginning to end. I settled in and got comfy because the bitch -oops! I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead- the lovely lady lived a good 79 years.

As her life unfolded on the screen and through the words, a few people would laugh here and there and and an occasional person would wipe away tears every few minutes. One person blew their nose loudly into a napkin causing me to wrinkle my nose in disgust.

About halfway through the pastor’s talk, he went quiet. I didn’t notice at first to caught up in daydreaming about the food at home.

When I noticed I looked around the room to see if anyone else had notice the weird behavior.

Apparently not seeing as they all were completely still much like the pastor.

It was like they all were frozen.

Everyone but me.

I looked around trying to see what the problem was but as far as I could tell nothing in the room was causing this strange occurrence. The video on the screen goes from Aunt Mays tenth birthday party to a black screen with a man in a red and black mask sitting in a spotlight right in front of a piano. His hands carcasses the keys as if they were his lover. He softly patted the lid of the piano as if it was his pet. Even stranger than that he leaned down and kissed the piano. When he sits back up he cracks his knuckles breaking the silence with the loud painful cracks startling me a bit. I look round the room and the people are still frozen. The only difference is their eyes are on the screen with the man in the mask.

The man rolls his shoulders first the left one, then the right.

Once,

Twice,

Three times.

He sets his fingers which I just noticed are covered with black gloves on the keys and begins to play.

I wish I could name the song but I’m not one for classical music. Even if I was something inside of me says that this man created this piece.

The song is beautiful.

It’s hauntingly beautiful.

I know this doesn’t make sense but I think this type of song is something you would hear only in your nightmares.

As of in a trance the people in the room all stand up simultaneously. That honestly would have been fine and I would have just accepted that everyone was a robot in this moment but there were at least three men and two ladies who were wheelchair bound that stood up and walked with the rest of them. I would call it a miracle but I’m pretty sure whatever is happening here is not a god given miracle.

The women work together to move the chairs out of the way while the men work to push the old, dull, hasn’t worked in thirty years piano to the center of the room in front of the screen.

Sweat began to form at the top of my forehead.

This is weird. I know this is weird. I should go but something keeps me rooted to my own seat in the corner.

After they finish getting everything situated the people pair up and begin to dance to the dramatic, powerful and eery melody. As they dance Pretty a strange fog started pouring in from the cracks of the windows and under the doors. It moved as if it had a mind of its own, swirling this way and that in attempts to cover the whole floor. Slowly it works it’s way to the middle of the room, covering the feet of the elders dancing around the piano.

The piano begins to play the same creepy music from the screen.

https://youtu.be/VagES3pxttQ

youtube

There was absolutely no one sitting on the bench, so once again that shouldn’t be possible but what do I know?

The smoke lifts up and over the seat of the piano bench and settles on top of it. A spotlight appears on the piano. (Funeral home doesn’t have a spot light but whatever.) The man from the screen slowly fades out as the fog takes shape of a man. His fingers gliding over the keys matching the same song as on the screen perfectly until the spotlight on the screen goes out and the video player shuts off. Now it’s just the man giving a live performance.

He sways with the music.

I finally find some sense and decide now would be a good time to just nope the fuck out of here and take the what the hell train to fuckthatville.

I slowly stand as to avoid any attention. I quietly and slowly make my way to the end of the aisle. I take care to look where I am going. I don’t want to be that person in the movies that trips and falls causing a loud disturbance and getting killed because of their stupidity.

The best thing I can hope for is that’s there’s nothing on the ground because this stupid fog is thick and covering everything up to my ankles.

As quiet as a mouse sneaking around a sleeping cat I tip toe my way to the end of the aisle.

Success!

I quietly walk to the back of the room praying to a god I don’t believe in that I make it to the door. I kept one on the mysterious figure and the dancing old people surrounded and the other eye on the fog. It was able to make a man appear out of thin air so I wasn’t above thinking it could make a man disappear as well. I walk backwards as I eye up the supernatural one man concert playing before me.

Not one person turned to look at me. No one even noticed I was the only one not in a trances. I guess I need to send a thank you note to Flash for helping me perfect my silent walk and being the perfect invisible man.

I only stop walking when I harshly bump into the door causing a soft thud to resonate loudly though the room.

The beautiful notes the man is hitting quickly goes sour as he slams his hands down onto the keys.

The air goes several degrees cooler causing a deep shiver to race through my body.

My blood freezes and my fear spikes.

My mind says to just quickly open the door and run. Bolt out of here and into the dying night. Everything will be fine if you run. You’ll be fine when you run.

My body will not listen to the sound advice of my brain. Instead it takes a step forward and away from the door.

I tried to fight what ever was controlling my body, since I need to blame something I blame the fog.

I fight with all my might pleading, begging, demanding and bribing my body to stop moving all in vain.

I take another step forward,

And another

And another.

I get closer and closer to a place I really would not like to be. Closer and closer to the man I don’t know. Closer and closer to the no longer dancing old folks.

My nose begins to bleed as I fight the otherworldly pull on my body. I bring my hand up wipe away the blood.... ain’t that a bitch. I have free lotion over my hands by not my legs. This definitely means the fog is controlling me. I should have played the floor is lava. That might have saved my life.

I lose the fight with my legs mostly because I’m not even strong physically let alone mentally.

I close my eyes as my body finally comes to a stop directly next to the piano man.

I hear shuffles as if people are moving to surround me. I hear a loud freak in the silent room as the masked man stands or at least I assume he stands. I refuse to let my curiosity get me killed.

I flinch hard to my left as I feel breathing into my right ear and a warm body standing directly behind me. A gentle hand steadies me by grabbing ahold of my hips.

The man whispers into my ear.

“Open your eyes little one.”

The voice sounded like sandpaper feels. Rough and dry as if the person hadn’t spoken in a very long time or as if they hadn’t had any water in months and their throat was dry. Yet somehow the voice sounded seductive and sweet. It was like he wanted to scare you but only a little. I don’t know how to explain it.

All I can say for sure was that it was a dark voice.

It was scary.

It was dangerous.

It was inhuman.

I didn’t hate it. Kind of want more of it.

Ignoring all red flags, flashing lights, and loud abort mission sounds my eyes open one at a time. Dirt the right one then the left.

My eyes opened and the first thing I saw was that I was in fact surrounded by my aunts friends.

The funeral guests all were standing in a half circle around me and the piano. Their eyes were black. I blinked a few times and wiped my eyes just to make sure I was actually seeing what I thought I was seeing.

I was.

There are were straight up black. I’ll admit I was extremely scared and damn near close to wetting myself from fear but nothing was worse than looking into the small crowd of wrinkled skin and liver spots to see her. By her I mean my aunt.

The same aunt who was and should be as dead as a door knob (that metaphor literally makes no sense... focus!) was standing there behind owner of the funeral home Mr. Stan Lee. She was standing and staring directly into my pure-ish soul.

How is she standing there? She’s been dead for two weeks. (No one knew she died in her home for a week and a half. How messed up is that...Peter focus!)

Was she alive again? I can’t see her chest moving but also no one else’s but mine is sooo is everyone dead like her?

Why do they all look so angry? Well I’d be angry to if my dancing music was shut off.

Despair and hopelessness take ahold of my body, pulsing through it with each beat of my heart.

I slowly decide to turn my head and look behind me at the man.

The first thing I notice is that his mask is gone. The second thing I noticed was that he wasn’t going to win any beauty contests... and omg this man is horrible to look at. I’ll be honest he’s lucky I was raised previously with live and had manners because otherwise the chances of me throwing up on this mans shirt and feet would have been a lot higher. Be that as it may I was so I swallow the bile in my throat and gulp.

Words couldn’t describe the horror of how horrific the man looked. He face was riddled with scars. The only places that didn’t have acres were completely missing. Chunks of flesh look rotted in some places, missing in others, and scarred on the rest. His eyes were pretty to look at and he smelled nice which sent me into a very conflicting state of fear and arousal.

His hands are still on my hips soothing me causing my fear to lesson just a bit. Maybe his wouldn’t be so bad? Perhaps I was just judging a book by its cover and this may not be as scary as it seems. He smiles at me as if he can hear my thoughts. It’s a gruesome and terrible sight but I find myself hesitantly smiling back. He brings up his hand, which is in the same terrible mangled mess as his face, from my hips to my face and strokes it with just a hint of pressure. It felt as if a feather was being running over my face. I place my hand on top of his and just feel his skin. Despite it being a horror fest it wasn’t that bad when you got used to it.

Suddenly he stops smiling and his eyes somewhat pretty eyes flash red. His grip on my jaw turns harsh and bruising. I can feel it begin to break as he allies more and more pressure. The hand on my hip pulls me hard into the front of his body and wraps around my mid section tightly as I begin to struggle. He pulls me tighter and tighter into him causing my bones to feel like they were point two seconds away from snapping as well.

His strength is out of this world although I already knew that. I look from him to the people in front of us. I plead with my eyes for help hoping that one of them comes to their senses and tries something.

I hear the demon laugh as if once again he can hear my thoughts... who knows maybe he does here them.

Everyone smiles at me. Ms. Al smiled so wide her dentures fell out.

The man leans down as he is quite literally breaking my bones and whispers into my ear,

”There’s a price to pay for breaking the sound of silence.”

Next thing I know my hip bones and my jaw are both shattered.

I scream the best I can with a broken jaw as the man releases me. My body drops to the ground like a broken doll. I see him place his mask back over his head and places his gloves back on his hands. He sits back down at the seat, hiding his upper body from my sight. I can see his feet and legs and I hear him begin his chilling song again.

The people around my broken body get closer and closer stooping down as the reach for my body.

I close my eyes as they draw nearer.

#spideypool #fanfiction #prompts #writing prompts #spiderman #deadpool

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lurafita · 5 years

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Petvengers Chapter 4

Read chapter 1 here: Chappy 1

Read chapter 2 here: Chappy 2

Read chapter 3 here: Chappy 3

Bruce/Hulk

If anyone were ever to ask Peter, what it had been like the very first time he met Dr. Bruce Banner face to face, he would tell them that he was the embodiment of sophisticated professionalism, and not at all embarrassing.

If they were to ask anyone else that had been present at the time, however, they would tell a quite different story.

- (about 2 years ago) -

“I'm really not sure about this, Tony.”

Bruce said, as he was led through the halls of the tower's common floor, by the far too excited engineer.

Tony just grinned.

“Relax, Brucie Bear. I'm telling you, you are going to love the kid. Fair warning though, he can talk. Like, boy, can he talk. If he starts rambling, don't try to get a word in edgewise, just let him get it all out. He will run out of oxygen at some point, and that's when you seize the opportunity to get the conversation back on track. Because, believe me, Pete will somehow manage to totally derail the topic. Like yesterday, when he came over after school, he started out telling me about his and his friend Ted's AP chemistry project, and suddenly we are in a deep, philosophical discussion about the representation of real life issues in children's cartoons. By the way, you should absolutely watch more cartoons in your free time. Some are surprisingly deep. Did you know that Sailor Moon was way ahead of the curve on LGBTQ relationships? And considering the time period in which it first aired, that's saying a lot. And Captain Planet was actually taking on AIDS hysteria in 1992. Not to mention the fact that in Steven Universe, child heroes have to deal with trauma, instead of things just getting swept under the table. Really, this stuff is more educational than you might think.”

Bruce side eyed his friend.

“So the kid goes off on a tangent suddenly and just keeps going, huh? Completely disregarding the topic you were just talking about right before, huh? Wonder where he gets this from. This sounds in no way familiar. At all.”

Tony either didn't catch the sarcasm, or ignored it, and nodded.

“Beats me. Can't be his aunt, that woman is scarily on point. She never let's you forget, or talk your way around anything. She is just like Pepper in that regard. I think its the Italian blood in May.”

Before the billionaire had the chance to get lost in that particular line of thought, Bruce cut in.

“Look, Tony, I'm not worried about whether or not I will like Peter. From all the proud dad raving you have been doing since I got back, I already know that he is a great kid.”

(“Excuse you! I do not rave! Least of all proud dad like!”)

“I'm far more concerned about the kind of impact standing in a room with the man who turns into a giant, green rage monster at the drop of a hat, will have on a 15 year old. I'm really not looking forward to watching the kid run away in a panic.”

Tony scoffed.

“Oh please. If you turned Hulk at 'the drop of a hat', my tower would have crumbled years ago. Also, the kid is a superhero. He fought a maniac with alien weapons and a metallic bird suit. I'm gonna eat my 1.500,00 $ Italian leather shoes, if the Hulk scares Pete even a tiny, little bit.”

Bruce would have balked at the money that Tony spent on footwear, but at this moment, the two men stepped right into the living room. They were greeted by the sight of Steve, Bucky, Natasha, Colonel Rhodes, and one brown haired teenager. Which might have been a normal enough scene, if said teenager wasn't sitting cross legged on the ceiling, clutching a bag of marshmallows to his chest and alternating between stuffing one into his mouth, and trying to convince both Steve and Bucky that it counted as a healthy snack, since it was blackberry flavored.

And even though Bruce wasn't 'that kind of Doctor' he couldn't help but clear his throat.

“Actually, since the manufacturers have most likely resorted to using artificial flavors and food coloring, you probably have about the same health benefits from those, as if you just ate the sugar straight out of the container.”

Everyone turned to look at the two newcomers, and as the adults all smiled and stepped forward to welcome their friend, a wide eyed Peter lost his grip on both the bag of marshmallows and the ceiling, and fell to the ground in a heap. Before anyone could start panicking though, he was back up and with a kind of chocked off, high pitched scream/gasp, pointed his finger right at Bruce, and exclaimed “Don't move!” Then he ran out of the room.

And while Bruce had mentally prepared himself for just such a reaction, it still left him feeling rather disheartened. A quick glance around at the other people in the room showed three very confused Avengers (they had evidently not expected that reaction out of the boy), one Air force Colonel who was trying very hard not to laugh, and a grinning Tony Stark.

“So, should I be getting you some water to wash your ridiculously expensive shoes down with?”

Bruce asked the billionaire with a dispassionate sigh, but Tony was completely unconcerned.

“Just wait for it.”

They didn't need to wait even a second more after Tony had spoken, as Peter came running back into the room, arms overloaded with books, stacks of papers, and what looked like posters, which he all dumped onto the nearby couch table. Then the teen was suddenly right in front of Bruce and vigorously shaking his hand.

“Oh my god, Dr Banner, this is such an honor. You are like my favorite scientist ever! (Tony's indignant “Hey!” went ignored) I have read every one of your published papers and my friend may have hacked into your old university and found some of your papers that you didn’t publish, and now I realize that that’s not something I should tell you probably, please don’t sue us, but can you please sign everything I own and oh my god I’m shaking your hand and I’m never gonna wash that again ever. And can I get a photo, oh my god Ned is gonna be sooooo jealous!”

All the while Peter had been holding his phone in his other hand, blindly dialed a number and waited for the other person to take the call. Then he pressed the phone excitedly to his ear.

“Ned! Ned! You will never believe who I'm talking to right now! Think of the greatest scientist you know!... Okay, the greatest scientist you know who is currently alive... EXACTLY! (Once again, Tony's “It's like I'm invisible”, was ignored) Dude, I'm looking right at him. I'M SHAKING HIS HAND! … No, I'm not being a creepy fanboy... No, I have not yet let go of his hand...”

Rhodey laughed, Tony was jealously grumbling under his breath, Steve fondly shook his head, Bucky smirked, Natasha examined the impressive pile of things the teenager had brought for Bruce to sign, Peter continued shaking the scientists hand, while staring at him with awe-filled eyes and all but screaming into his phone, and Bruce... Bruce smiled.

- (back to the present) -

It was one of the rare, lazy, late afternoons on a weekday, that found most of the Avengers hanging out on the newly built terrace behind the tower. The strangling hold that the high temperatures of summer had held over New York city for the last few days, was finally ebbing away and Peter had seized the opportunity to take Hope for an extended walk. (Steve had declined Peter's invitation to tag along. Colonel, Bucky and him had risen early as ever, and already run a few miles) He had also somehow managed to ensnare Bruce in a discussion about something that had gone over the collective heads of everyone around (Tony was still stuck in a board meeting that Pepper had dragged him to), and the dark haired scientist had seemingly unwittingly followed the teen and dog out of the tower.

The two super soldiers had curled up together in the porch swing, Bucky carefully keeping track of Arthur's progress, as the little raccoon tried scaling the garden table that held the snack food. Steve with a sketch pad in his lap, drawing the image of Eames the cockatoo, hopping around said table while chanting “Posh tosser, bloody wanker”, and occasionally dropping down a blueberry to Colonel, who was happily waving his tail at the treats.

Sam, for some reason, found his bird's antics endlessly funny, and was filming the whole thing with his phone.

Clint and Laura had spread a brightly colored blanket over the grass and were having a picnic with Nathaniel and Lila, while Natasha was showing Cooper some easy self-defense moves a few feet away.

When Hope's familiar barking and running feet were heard, the assembled group knew that Bruce and Peter had gotten back from their walk. The over eager Pitbull ran out on the terrace, greeting everyone in turn with happy licks and a wagging tail (he jumped first into the laps of the two super soldiers, let himself be scratched behind the ears, then ran right at Sam, nearly forcing the man to lose the grip on his phone when he licked him right across the face, then launched his furry body onto the blanket with Laura, Clint, Lila and Nathaniel, and patiently waited until all had pet him at least once, and finally trotted over to Cooper and Natasha to join in on their play fight.)

This had been expected.

What was not expected was watching Peter come walking out to the terrace, carrying a huge tortoise (about 25 to 30 inches in length), and grinning widely when setting the reptile down on the grass. Bruce was following close behind the teen, his face a curious mix of shell shocked and confused.

Peter straightened up from his crouch and addressed everyone, while Colonel and Arthur (who was riding on the dogs back), came over to examine the new, slowly moving animal.

“Everyone, meet Bruce's new friend, Speedy Gonzales!"

“She is a 33 year old Sulcata Tortoise. Sulcata Tortoises can live up to 70 years and above, and weigh up to 120 pounds. Speedy isn't that big yet, though. She did grow a bit too big for her previous owner, and the guy was too cheap to invest in a bigger terrarium, because she needs hot temperatures to stay healthy. She will be okay to roam freely during the summer, but we will have to turn one of the guest rooms into a heated enclosure for her when it gets colder.”

The still completely baffled looking Dr. Banner turned to face his friends and coworkers (the Barton's and Natasha had come closer to inspect the newest addition to their home).

“...I don't even know how that happened. … We were talking about the latest research on cross-species genetic transfers, and all of a sudden I'm standing in an animal shelter and signing adoption papers for a tortoise. … I didn't even know shelters had tortoises...”

Sam, Bucky and Steve, who had already been victims of Peter's crusade against a pet-less existence, held up their glasses in a silent salute to the doctor. Natasha proudly nodded at Peter's accomplishment, and he respectfully bowed to his Sensei. Eames had landed on Speedy's massive back, and was seemingly taunting Arthur from his perch. The little raccoon shot the bird a nasty look, and climbed up into Lila's embrace. Cooper and Clint both seemed fascinated with the size of the tortoise, while Hope jumped between the father and son to get back rubs. Nathaniel laughed happily as his mother helped him feed a banana to the reptile.

Speedy Gonzales brought honor to her species, by patiently tolerating the chaos all around her, and chomping down on the yellow fruit.

Bonus: The Hulk!

"Uff!"

Spiderman shook himself free of the last remaining dust particles from the pile of debris he had dug himself out of, only a few minutes ago. All around him were the webbed up enormous bodies of the mutated rats. Some of them were twitching against their spidery cocoon, trying to get out of their bindings. Peter had done his best not to kill any of them, knowing that the animals had been victims of the illegal experimentation of the deranged Professor Stollack.

It wasn't everyday that a hoard of wild, three feet tall, rabid rats tried to take over Brooklyn. The whole team had been called in for some extreme pest control.

While Black Widow and Captain America had gone in search of the perpetrator behind this particular madness, Iron Man, Hulk, Falcon, Hawkeye, Thor, the Winter Soldier, Antman, the Wasp and Spiderman had taken to the streets and taken care of the mutated and very dangerous vermin.

Peter really felt sorry for the rats. While they weren't exactly among his favorite animals, they weren't evil. No animal was. And they didn't deserve to be experimented on and used like this, for one madman's twisted plans. He really hoped they could be returned to their original forms, and not have to be mercy killed.

/"Widow and me have taken the Professor and his underlings into custody. Everyone alright? Status report!"/ Came the Captain's voice over the comms that kept the team connected during battles.

/"I'm good, so is Feather-head."/ It was impossible to miss the smirk in Bucky's voice.

/"You won't be good for much longer if you keep it up with the nicknames, Frosty."/ As long as those two still argued, they were okay.

/"I'm fine, though Legolas might need to be checked for rabies. One of those things got a bite out of him."/ Peter would be way more worried, if Tony wasn't laughing as he said it.

/"My pants, guys, don't worry. No skin was breached. Mighty Mouse over there tore a fucking hole in my pants."/ Came Clint's answer.

/"His ass region, to be more specific. If anyone was wondering, Robin Hood is wearing Paw Patrol undies today."/

/"Look, Nathaniel likes the show, okay? How about we move things along?"/

/"Paw Patrol is cool. Call me when you watch it! I will bring Cassie!"/ Scott's joyful voice sounded.

/"Cassie only watches to keep you company, you know? By the way, Antman and I are both fine."/ Trust The Wasp to keep things under control.

/"I do not know this 'Paw Patrol', but I will gladly join you and your son for a viewing, if it is impressive enough for you to decorate yourself with."/ Fighting alongside the God of Thunder would never be not cool.

/"I'm okay, and I'm totally joining you for Paw Patrol. Got a bunch of the rats webbed up. Maybe Bruce can find a way to turn them back to normal. You know, once he has turned back to normal."/ Peter finally chimed in.

/"Speaking of, does anyone have eyes on the Hulk?"/ It was sadly impossible to equip the green guy with an earwig.

Spidey took a careful look around himself.

/"He was with me for most of the fight... Wait! I see him!"/

He had spotted the big guy a little ways away from his position, seemingly crouched over something. The part-time Avenger and full-time vigilante quickly swung his way to the Hulk.

/"Just... be careful, Spidey."/ Steve's cautious warning almost made Peter roll his eyes. He knew the team worried about his easy and unconcerned interactions with Hulk, and he couldn't really fault them. After all, the Hulk was the embodiment of Dr. Banner's uncontrolled anger, and was therefore, dangerous. But Peter's Spidey-sense never went off when he was around the big guy, or rather, it never went off because of the big guy, so Peter didn't worry. He knew though, that Tony was probably already on his way to them, just in case.

He landed beside the hulking giant.

"Hey buddy! You okay? Something wrong?"

The Hulk looked at him, and then slowly turned, so that Peter was able to see what was before him. The teenaged vigilante paled behind the mask.

On the ground before them laid the remains of what must have been a carton box. One of the pieces was large enough to read the handwritten 'Free to a good home', scribbled on it. Some of the carton pieces were drenched in red. And tiny bones could be seen among them.

Hulk's grumbling voice thankfully pulled him away from the grizzly scene.

"The evil mice were eating them... Hulk was too late to save the others."

Then Hulk turned further, and revealed a small, softly mewling kitten in his palm. The giant, green hand, made the little kitten look even tinier than it probably was. And Peter's heart just melted.

"I'm really sorry, bud, but you managed to safe this one! That's great! You are a hero! Do you mind if I took it for a minute? Make sure it isn't hurt anywhere?"

The Hulk grunted his agreement, and with a gentleness few would ever associate with the big guy, handed the little kitten over. Neither of the two turned around when Iron Man landed just a couple of steps behind them.

"Hey there, big guy. Spidey. You both good? You know, because you might want to let the team know that you are both good. So that the team doesn't worry."

Instead of answering his adoptive father, Peter addressed Hulk.

"She looks fine to me. But we might want to let a doctor check up on her. Just to make sure nothing is broken."

He placed the little kitten carefully back into his green friend's big hand, and the little fluff ball immediately curled up and started purring. Peter pat Hulk's shoulder in congratulation.

"She likes you!"

Iron Man had come closer.

"Is that a cat?"

Hulk smiled.

"Hulk likes her, too. She is tiny... Like Bug-boy. Hulk likes Bug-boy."

"You know, big guy, I don't even mind you calling me that. I like you, too."

"No, seriously, where did the cat come from?"

"Puny Banner is a doctor."

"Well, I was thinking more along the line of a veterinarian, but Bruce should be able to tell if anything was wrong with her. Especially with the equipment at the tower. And if all else fails, there is still Helen. She is the best doctor ever."

"Okay, one, Bruce would throw in that he is 'not that kind of doctor', right about now. And two, what is the deal with the cat?"

Hulk grunted.

"Hulk will go now. So that puny Banner can take care of her. Bug-boy tell puny Banner that Hulk is keeping her."

Peter nodded enthusiastically.

"Great! What do you want to name her?"

"Am I invisible to you people? What the hell is the deal with the cat?"

Hulk looked down at the purring kitten in his palm, a thoughtful look on his face.

"Little Smash."

Peter grinned.

"That's a great name!"

"Seriously, am I invisible? Did I die without noticing and am roaming the streets as a ghost now? Were those rats magic? Is this a curse?"

When the Hulk shrank back into his other half, Bruce found himself even more confused than he usually was after a transformation. Beside him, Peter, in his Spiderman suit, was trying to calm down a comically panicking Tony, who was still in his Iron Man armor, and apparently convinced that he had been turned into an astral projection of himself.

He was standing in the middle of a street in Brooklyn (in only his thankfully very stretchy pants), there were big, twitching web cocoons some feet away from them on the ground, and in his hands was a sleeping little kitten, purring up a storm.

Peter paused long enough from reassuring Tony that he was, indeed, both visible and audible, and definitely not a ghost, to quickly address the confused Bruce.

"That's Little Smash! She is Hulk's! He said to take good care of her! Oh, and she might need an x-ray."

Then he was back at pointedly not ignoring Tony.

Bruce looked down at the sleeping kitten in his hands and sighed.

Oh well,... at least she was cute.

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crystalsnowmins · 6 years

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Yoonmin Scenario #25

7k of how to mess up a good prompt. Be the judge of it. MOODBOARD ON FAN ACCOUNT TWITTER. *******

From Tumblr Prompt: Flower Shop!AU, In which Yoongi works in a flower shop for his aunt and he avoids sociality as much as possible until Park Jimin entered his flower shop with a crying, blotched face giving the order of a bouquet of flowers for a dead one. He ends up with a free arrangement, a hug and a phone number.

Yoongi has avoided interacting with people as much as he could, especially the popular snobby ones. He didn’t have any grudge against them, he is just anti-social and have a mid-life crisis. He has friends, don’t get him wrong, he does have friends and they need to be replaced whenever he can find time.

He works in a flower shop because he finds calmness in simple things. For a 22 years old man, his plate is filled with sadness and depression. His parents thought working might help him distract so they asked his aunt to offer him the job. She did, hesitant because she was worried his poor mood would affect the flowers growth. Somehow working for two months, Yoongi has found solace in that flower shop.

He talks to his flowers, tell about his days, complains about his professors, tell about his friends. He is not sure if plants can truly sympathize with him but it feels nice to let out.

He is usually a quiet person and somehow entitled as one of the ‘bad boy’ of university. Apparently, the categories to be in ‘bad boys of university’ are having a stoic expression, looking dead and not interacting with anyone. He has nothing on him to be known as a classic bad boy. He’s just a soft kitten who loves his flower shop and always wants to finish with university so he can go back to work.

His friends laugh whenever a junior would bump into Yoongi and apologise stutteringly as if Yoongi with pull out his tongue. It frustrates him. He is not bad, he is a good person, just antisocial. His reputation is totally ruined and it makes people stay away from him, especially Park Jimin.

Where can he start about Park Jimin.

Well, Park Jimin came into his life like a typical Regina George entry with university doors opening on it’s own and an angelic being entering the hallways with nervousness but determination. He had heads turned towards him, even Yoongi’s. Even the straightest people had their mouth widen at him because he is just so beautiful.

Yoongi’s friends think that he exaggerates a lot about Jimin but what do they know. He has a theory, it involves that Jimin definitely is an angel descended down by the orders of God to bless everyone with his presence. One smile and your whole week will go well.

Sigh, unfortunately, that smile is never directed to him so he always has a shitty week.

As soon as Jimin entered the university, he became the most popular one, being taken under the ‘best looking’ students of the university. They probably filled him on Yoongi being a ‘bad boy’, lying how he gets into fight and sells drugs.

Pfft, Yoongi is a kitten who cannot fight for his life. He looks like he has come out from The Great Depression 1929 and is ready to start a blood bath, but really, he needs petting on his head and a comforting hug to go by. Jin hyung fills that category for him.

Jimin stays away from trouble and that means he doesn’t associate with Yoongi because he’s a ‘bad boy’. It’s a sad life since he entered university.

Park Jimin though, even if he stays with the popular group, he seems like a down to earth guy. He smiles at everyone, a kind and comforting smile. He is touchy, always has a comforting hand on people’s shoulder. He helps students who are weak in studies, he helps professors.

Who does that in this world? Except an angel would. Which is Park Jimin.

Yoongi wishes to talk to him, but he believes he will piss his pants before that happens. So he admires from far, everyone does, so Jimin doesn’t mind if he catches someone looking at him. He would smile and blink his eyes at them.

On top of Jimin being an angel, he comes from a comparatively rich family that means he ranks high in angel community. Yoongi looks like he has been starving himself since the Korean War. He is so ugly in compare to Park Jimin, he is a displeasure to look at, truly. Jin reprimands him for that, says that if he isn’t confident, how will he ever face Jimin?

Ha! Jokes on him, because he will never face Park Jimin.

But life’s a bitch and it likes to fuck up, especially Yoongi who is already a fuck up. The day he has always been dreading for comes in the form of a crying Park Jimin. He has never seen Park Jimin cry.

Yoongi was working in the flower shop, making small corsages for a wedding coming up. He was talking to his flowers, floundering about Park Jimin…he wore a flannel, that probably wasn’t his size because I couldn’t find his hands sticking out. Anyway, he looked good today as well. He still doesn’t know me, because well, I’m invisible to him.

He doesn’t mind being invisible to Park Jimin, that’s better for so many reasons.

But at that time, life laughed at him and sent Park Jimin in his lonely path.

While Yoongi was busy making corsages, the door to the flower shops open with a chime. He looks up with a fake smile only to let it drop when he sees who came in.

Park Jimin.

Park Jimin wearing the same flannel from earlier.

Park Jimin crying.

Park Jimin sniffs loudly as if announcing his presence and he looks around, blinking hard to let his tears fall so he can look properly. He notices a boy, wearing a navy blue apron and holding a white flower in his hand.

“Pl-please help me,” He requests, hiccuping after it.

What is it, angel? You want my kidney? Take it. I have two anyway.

At that moment, Yoongi was ready to bring all the stars from the universe for Jimin if he asked of him.

Yoongi nods, not daring to move towards the boy, although wanting to comfort him.

“What can I help you with?” Yoongi asks with the most soft voice he has ever used. He didn’t even know he could have a soft voice.

“I want an arran-arrangement of flowers,” He tries to speak through his tears. Yoongi nods again, making a move to come closer but not enough.

Who hurt you?

“Is there anything specific?” He asks carefully, not wanting to trigger him further.

Unfortunately, Jimin cries harder than he was and Yoongi can almost picture his life laughing at him, eating popcorn while he watches the scene in 3D.

Yoongi panics, especially gay panic. Because how can this human like angel cry so prettily? Why does Yoongi look like blobfish when he cries? But then he guesses it’s because he is a human and Jimin is an angel.

“Tissue,” Jimin mumbles, crying in his sleeves and wiping his face.

Tissue? What kind of plant is that? Does he mean in texture?

“Can I have a tissue?” Jimin looks up with his bloodshot eyes indicating that he’s been crying for long.

Honestly who hurt him? Is it from his angel community? Because square the fuck up bitch, even though y’all are angels probably, Jimin is the angelest of the angel and with that right, the other angels have no right to make him cry.

Yoongi immediately goes behind his counter to get the tissue box he usually keep. He offers him but Jimin takes the whole box and abuses the usage of tissues. He takes several and blows his nose. In any other circumstance, where Park Jimin wasn’t a literal angel, Yoongi would have been disgusted.

Yoongi goes behind his counter again and pull out the stool he sits on. He offers it to Jimin who immediately takes a seat and keep wiping his face in the tissue.

Honestly, Jin hyung is good at it and he doesn’t know where Jin hyung might be. Yoongi has never dared to talk to Jimin and suddenly life throws him Jimin and he doesn’t know what to do with it. He just wanted to crush on Jimin from far away!

He clears his throat to get attention, which he gets but a small one in which he manages to awkwardly smile. He is on duty and he needs to make 73 corsages and he has done only 33 so far and 40 are still needs to be done before the shop closes. And Jimin being here, crying his eyes out and not giving any order, isn’t helping Yoongi further.

He wants to ask the stool back and start working again but he is weak hearted man and cannot see the love of his life bawling.

“Jimin-ssi,” Yoongi carefully calls out. The said boy looks up with the saddest expression.

Yoongi swears inwardly because anyone who makes Jimin cries should be given a life time imprisonment.

“You know me?” He meekly asks, sniffling.

Yoongi awkwardly smiles, a little hurt that Jimin doesn’t recognize him. What’s new in the neighborhood anyway? He didn’t think Jimin would, the guy never spared him with a single glance. It might be Yoongi’s fault as well, hiding away so he doesn’t get triggered by Jimin’s smile.

“We study in the same university,” He shrugs, trying not to be petty in front of the guy.

Jimin forms a ‘O’ with his mouth and mumbles an apology for not remembering him. Remembering? Yoongi huffs inwardly. More like not knowing he exists on the grounds of university.

For a moment, everything was silent, Jimin wasn’t crying, just playing with the edge of the box in his hand and scratching it. It was quiet until Yoongi opened his mouth and asked, “Anyway, could you tell me what kind of arrangements do you want?” And the damn dam was open again.

Yoongi panic and it’s not even gay panic. He can hear the siren of a police car coming, probably going to arrest him for a lifetime imprisonment because this time he made Jimin cry. Honestly, he shouldn’t have even made that rule.

“Okay, okay,” Yoongi calms him down, at least tries to do that, “I’ll get you a glass of water,” He says and disappears in the backroom, door closing as he leans against it. Anymore wailing, and Yoongi will kill himself.

He hears Jimin cry and feels bad and sad at the same time. Something happened and he doesn’t know anything about it. Earlier in the university, Jimin was a happy puppy, skipping the hallways and laughing loudly with his obnoxious friends. He was all good and made everyone’s day better. Even though no smile was directed in his way, Yoongi’s life was a little bit better because he could hear Jimin’s laugh.

It’s a pleasant laugh, completely opposite to how he is wailing out there. It’s squeaky as if you have stepped on those rubber toys. He remembers the sound because he used to have those shoes that made the same sound when he walked. It was irritating when he had to witness small kids doing it now but Jimin’s laugh…it’s pleasant. It’s breathy and filled with genuine happiness. His face contracts into a complete bliss and if Yoongi had power, he probably could see the halo on Jimin’s head glowing when he is happy. But he’s a normal human being and he only sees his beautiful laugh, mouth wide open but hidden behind his hands and eyes completely disappearing.

Yoongi often think about Jimin’s laugh when he feels sad and depressed, when it’s a gloomy day for him. Suddenly everything seems better with Jimin’s smile and laugh and his whole being. But now, his crying face will be a nightmare.

Yoongi remembers his purpose and quickly fills a paper cup with water. He opens the door again and walks out to the scene of tissues circling Jimin in a heap as the younger abuses the box more. He walks carefully and sit on his feet to look at Jimin carefully. He doesn’t think he has ever been this close to Jimin. He was always maintained a 1m distance.

Up close, and without being biased, Jimin is more beautiful, even crying. What kind of sorcery is this?

Yoongi smiles comfortingly when Jimin sadly looks at him, eyes swollen and filled with tears, cheeks red with constant wiping, lips slicked with…stuffs he doesn’t want to know and nose all snotty. Sigh, still pretty. He offers him the glass which Jimin takes gladly and Yoongi quickly takes away the tissue box which seems lighter than before.

Jimin gulps down the offered water and hand the empty cup back to Yoongi, while he’s still sad and pouting. Yoongi looks at the corsages and sigh, think I have to pull an overnight for this.

“Are you grieving?” Yoongi ask, so he can get started with an arrangement and send Jimin out because this human being’s presence is overwhelming. And Yoongi can’t breathe and he’s so close to hugging the life out of Jimin and pouring out his heart.

Jimin nods while still not looking up.

Grieving, huh.

Yoongi skims around the shelves until he finds what he is looking for. White chrysanthemums, he hums when he collects a bunch of flowers and move around the shop to reach Jimin who is crying, but he has slowed down with the tears.

Yoongi sits on his feet again and shows the flowers to Jimin, who wipes his face and nose but doesn’t look up to ask anything.

“White chrysanthemums, it symbolizes grief,” He explains. He doesn’t have to because he normally doesn’t do it and nor Jimin has asked but he feels like talking to Jimin even with any topic could help him open up a little bit and maybe, not like Yoongi is wishing, because no, but maybe Jimin will acknowledge Yoongi’s effort and notice his undying love for him.

Okay, maybe that’s too much asking.

Jimin reaches his hand to touch the soft petals and he nods in encouragement.

“Can I suggest something?” Yoongi carefully treads.

Jimin nods.

“I know you’re grieving, but what about adding some colors huh?” Yoongi says and that makes Jimin looks up in confusion, red rimmed eyes curiously staring at him. “It will be different, the one you’re grieving for, and I’m sure they are above watching you, they’ll be happy. Nobody wants to die knowing they’ll cause pain to others, yeah?” Jimin is tempted to look up and feel if she is actually watching him, if she actually wants a colorful arrangement.

“You don’t have to, I can just pack-,”

“-okay,” Jimin affirms quietly, fiddling with his fingers, he looks up at Yoongi and nods.

The older boy smiles in appreciation.

“Then how about you tell me something that remind you of…,” He trails off as he doesn’t know the gender of that person.

“Her,” Jimin supplies, sorrowfully.

“Her,” Yoongi confirms.

He gets up and places the white chrysanthemums on the counter and waits for Jimin to speak. When the younger feels a little better and a less sad, he thinks about her.

“She was old, really old,” He starts and look at Yoongi as if waiting for a flower to appear. Yoongi doesn’t know what could symbolize old age.

“That means she lived long?” He smiles at him, to show some comfort. Jimin nods, smiling sadly.

“I could have suggested horehound but we don’t grow those,” He smiles apologetically and sees Jimin face falls at that, “But maybe you can tell me her favorite color?” He asks hopefully, wanting to see that smile on Jimin’s face again.

“She liked flashy color,” He mumbles. “She would get excited around those flashy colors, red, orange, yellow etcetera,” He informs.

Yoongi wonder who died in his family for him to feel so sad. If she was an old person, then was it his grandmother? Was he attached to his grandmother a lot? Anyway, even if he wasn’t, a person death’s is heartbreaking.

While Yoongi skims through his shelves to collect the exact flower he had in mind, he hears Jimin voice fills the silent shop, he smiles because at least Jimin is opening up, speaking up without him insisting.

“She was always cheerful, always wanting to go out despite being old. She liked sunlight a lot,” Jimin smiles at the memory of her.

Yoongi picks up red poinsettia and hums in affirmation. He shows it to Jimin who tilt his head in confusion, “Red poinsettia, symbolizes cheerfulness,” After getting his approval, Yoongi keeps it next to white chrysanthemums.

He urges Jimin to speak more so he can make an arrangement. He doesn’t mind that Jimin takes his time, even though in the starting he wanted Jimin to leave as soon as possible, but he is going to take his time with him because it’s not everyday he can spend time with Jimin.

“She was my best friend,” Jimin almost whispers, suddenly feeling like crying again. Yoongi sympathizes with him, his grandmother was also very close to him, she was the epitome of how every grandmother should be.

Yoongi picks another pot of flower and shows it to Jimin who simply tilts his head for further explanation, “Alstroemeria, symbolizes friendship,” He says, while looking at the pink flower blended with white. Jimin nods, approving of the flower.

“Will it cost a lot?” Jimin asks, looking at the flowers on table. It’s not like he cannot afford it so Yoongi wonders why he is worried about money. “She didn’t like expensive things, she could just smell and tell it’s expensive. I don’t want to disappoint her,” He explains himself, fiddling with himself and Yoongi notices he does that a lot. “I also want more flowers,” He mumbles to himself.

And really if this was Yoongi’s store, he would have sold this store to Jimin without asking money. He is not even playing around.

“Don’t worry, we have discount. It wouldn’t cost much,” He assures him. There’s not fucking discount at this time of year since there’s no festival around the corner. But if Jimin has dilemma, then Yoongi will open his wallet and pay the money for the discount he just simply gave.

Jimin tries to smile and nod at Yoongi’s direction in appreciation.

Yoongi hears Jimin talk about his grandmother a more, a little more relaxed. He would deviate from his true work and tell stories, sometimes smiling or sometimes being sad at the memories. Yoongi would bring him back while showing different flowers and asking his consent.

“She was really affectionate and always looked for receiving it. She kept the family together in some ways,” Jimin shrugs and Yoongi knows it’s personal so he doesn’t make Jimin elaborate himself, “She rubbed the affectionate part on me,” He pouts, more like purses his lips in thought.

In that moment, Yoongi simply looks at his lips and wonders how it would feel to touch it, simply caress the softness and plushiness of his lips. It is always slick with lip balm and moisturizer. Jimin has always taken care of himself, it’s no surprise he’s so pretty day and night. While Yoongi wakes up and just wash his face with water, if he’s feeling good, he’d use a soap for the most. And no wonder he’s ugly in compare to Jimin.

“How about saxifrage, hmm?” Yoongi asks, moving to get the plant.

“S-sexyfrage?” He squeaks from his place on the stool.

Yoongi shakes his head and chuckle as he shows him the plant, a pink colored. “Saxifrage,” He repeats himself properly as Jimin mumbles it to himself, “It represents friendship, many flowers does but it’s different at the same, right?” Jimin just cluelessly nods as Yoongi chats about the flowers. He has no idea of flowers and how many there are and what each symbolizes. It must be so difficult remembering each flowers and it’s symbols, Jimin thinks.

“What flower do you want next?” Yoongi asks, clapping his hands to get Jimin’s attention.

“Uh…She was encouraging. Whenever I’d feel down or not confident, she’d come to me and sit next to me until I feel better, she had her own way to show it I guess,” He shrugs and waits for Yoongi to get a flower.

Yoongi disappears behind the shelves again while he hums and searches for a particular flower. Jimin looks at him between the shelves and thinks he’s really pretty, he wonder how he didn’t know Yoongi studies with him. He makes sure he knows everyone, not really engaging with everyone but he still makes sure he knows everyone studying in the campus. But the name rings in his head and he knows he has heard it somewhere.

“…black eyed Susan,” Yoongi says the last word in his daegu accent, slipping whenever he has to speak in English.

“Hmm?” Jimin asks, distracted by the thoughts of Yoongi.

“Black eyed Susan symbolizes motivation,” He explains and Yoongi looks at the sunflower looking plant. It’s bright and yellow and he’s sure she would love it. So he nods in affirmation.

“Anything for childishness? She used to get her way with everyone around,” Jimin hopefully asks. Yoongi laughs at that and remembers her own grandmother. She used to get her things done by pouting and crying most of the time, emotional blackmailing and telling how she will die tomorrow.

“Don’t all grandmothers?” Yoongi mumbles to himself and Jimin hums, ask if he said something and the older boy shakes his head no.

“It’s really impressive how you know every single flower,” Jimin compliments and smile at Yoongi who looks at him from between the shelves. “You just don’t look like someone who would work here,” Jimin gestures to his outfit and mumbles, “No offense.”

Yoongi looks down at his outfit, faded jeans with more holes than clothe and a white t-shirt, probably way too old and a black leather jacket that he bought from Korean market. To top the marvelous look, he’s wearing a navy blue apron.

“Why because I’m resident’s bad boy?” Yoongi muses, it makes him snort at the label.

“Wha…,” Jimin trails off, not understanding the meaning behind Yoongi’s word. Meanwhile, Yoongi shows his Buttercup flower that would symbolize the childishness that Jimin asked for. The younger boy approves absentmindedly as he follows Yoongi with his tear stained eyes. He wants to know the meaning for resident’s bad boy. When he feels eyes on him, Yoongi turns to Jimin with a sigh and raise his brow.

“Min Yoongi, apparently resident’s bad boy because he doesn’t socialize with people,” Yoongi sarcastically introduces himself although he believes it’s kinda late for introduction since Jimin has been here for half an hour already.

Jimin tilts his head in confusion as he purse his lips in thought, remembering where he heard the name. Yoongi sees three different emotions through Jimin’s face, First was confusion as he thinks about Yoongi’s name, second was realization as he makes his mouth shaped of ‘O’ and third was acceptance but he didn’t seem feared by Yoongi.

“It kinda hurts my ‘bad boy’ heart, ya know?” Yoongi smiles childishly at Jimin, “I’m quite popular, I’m sure your friends must have filled you in on me,” He pouts unconsciously, looking around to his flowers and the ones he kept it on table, it could use some blue in it, Yoongi thinks.

“I’m sorry,” Jimin sheepishly apologise, “I don’t believe in mindless rumors,” He says and shrugs, wiping his snot filled nose. It should disgust Yoongi but he finds the action cute. Oh my god, what the hell is wrong with me?

Yoongi wants to argue that even so he didn’t come to talk to him, he wasn’t obliged, it’s understandable but he didn’t like the fact that his smile were completely thrown away on the way and his stare was not received. As far as Yoongi knows, Jimin interacted with everyone, even if he didn’t know their names. So Yoongi is a bit salty at the fact that it’s going to be a year now and this is the first time Jimin talked to him. He doesn’t even remember him and Yoongi and Jimin have crossed paths or hallways on multiple occasion.

“It’s whatever,” Yoongi waves it off, not wanting to be a victim or anything or seem petty and affection seeker in front of his crush. “Do you want anything more?” He changes the subject.

Jimin sits straight and nods, “Something to let her know I will always miss her?” He meekly day as if he is bothering Yoongi. The older would agree but he doesn’t mind the few moments with Jimin. The younger might as well forget him tomorrow.

“Salvia,” Yoongi answers immediately and he thinks it’s a perfect match to many vibrant colors in the bouquet as of this moment. The violet color of salvia would compliment all the flowers in the arrangement.

“Why do you work here, Yoongi-ssi?” Jimin asks, his voice traveling through the vast area of the flower shop.

“Because it relaxes me,” Yoongi answers and cut the stems of salvia flowers, “I used to smoke, I still do…sometimes but talking with flowers help, helps with filtering bad thoughts,” When Yoongi comes in front of Jimin, he sees his with mouth agape with astonishment, Yoongi almost blush at the attention, “I’m sorry, you are already having a lot in your plate and I’m filling more with my sad life,” He apologises and keeps the salvia flowers on the table.

Jimin doesn’t say anything for a moment, somewhere lost in thought and Yoongi takes the time to stare at him like he always do. Sad Jimin looks beautiful, nonetheless, but it’s not an expression that suits him well. Jimin has a face that suits a happy expression and he may have his bad days but if Yoongi could help, he wouldn’t let Jimin cry or be sad. It just doesn’t suit him.

“Danbi uses to help me with sad days,” Jimin mumbles, suddenly emotional at the thought of it. His eyes fills with tears again as one drops, two drops and three drops then it’s an open dam. He silently cry, sniffling while Yoongi is panicking. His hands itches to touch Jimin and console him but he stays on his spot.

“Danbi is a nice name,” He tries.

“It is!” Jimin wails now, looking up and oh,faintly Yoongi hears his heart shattering at the sight of crying Jimin.

Before consoling Jimin, Yoongi again skims to the darker part of the shop where plants grow in shade. He plucks a few forget-me-nots and smiles to himself. This might help.

When he goes back, Jimin is still wailing to himself as he misses his grandmother. Yoongi thinks-Danbi-it’s a pretty modern name, nothing what he expected from a old aged woman. It’s whimsical to think that such a pretty name is used for a old woman who was born probably before the Korean War.

“Jimin,” He slips away the formality and calls him out who looks up and hiccups in a cute way. Yoongi shows him the delicate looking cloud of color flower. “Danbi means sweet rain, did you know?” Jimin nods at that, wails turning into little sobs, “These flowers grow in plenty of rainfall and it symbolizes a lot of things, you know? It’s called forget me not, no pun intended,” Yoongi immediately follows and he sits on his feet again since Jimin refuses to look up and cry. It makes the younger laugh but then he’s back to crying again.

“I’m really sorry for you loss,” Yoongi whispers, contemplates to keep a hand on his thigh for comfort but he’s kinda afraid of placing a hand on his muscular thighs and not squeeze the fat. But he places it, because he’s thinking with his heart right now.

“Dan..bi,” Jimin hiccups, “She could have li-lived longer,” Yoongi nods at that, he cannot sympathies well but he tries. “One day I’m-I’m coming home and-and-and she’s gone, I did not even get to say a good-bye,” And all of a sudden, Jimin is back to wailing again. It’s an endless cycle, really. Sometimes he’s crying, then talking and then wailing and then sobbing and then talking.

He cries in his hand at the thought of her and Yoongi feels his own eyes watering at the sight. He’s so fucking weak for this guy, it’s not even funny anymore. He wonders how it would feel like to be remembered like this or how Jimin must have been close to his grandmother.

Yoongi is close to his family, no doubt. He has always been. But when he started growing, he started distancing himself because he had this self doubt about himself. He knew his family loved him nonetheless but he never gave himself credit for his existence in their life. And when he came to Seoul, it just so happened that he talked less to his parents, once a week maybe. His grandparents died when he was still young so he doesn’t miss them much. He just doesn’t have anything to cry for, except his sad life.

Jimin wails bring him back to the present, as the younger slouches on the stool. Against the better judgement, Yoongi keeps the flower on ground and he kneels, very slowly he moves in and wrap his arms around Jimin’s shoulder in a awkward hug. When Jimin doesn’t push him away and still cries in his hand, Yoongi moves further in and tighten his holds while he uses one hand to rub his back.

In the next movement, Jimin has his arms wrapped around Yoongi’s shoulders as he cries in his neck about Danbi. And so, on a spring day, a breezy evening, he’s kneeling in front of his crush and hugging him, consoling him while his crush cry about his grandmother.

He let Jimin cry and look outside the glass panes to see the streets bustling with lives. Few notice the inside of the shop and furrow their brows, but pays no heed. In the same moment, a man tries to come inside, the bell chiming above him but then he sees Yoongi being trapped in a sad hug and a boy, sitting in stool, crying like someone has died. Well…

He smiles awkwardly and leaves them to be. All of it doesn’t affect Jimin who’s content with crying in Yoongi’s neck, rubbing his tear stained cheeks in his jacket and his snot on his skin. It should disgust him but he has made it clear how fucking smitten he is.

He hopes Jimin feels better with a hug, he wants to kiss his face until he’s smiling but tough shit. So he takes what he’s getting, a hug. Sometimes, during Yoongi’s hardships, all he wanted was a hug as such and he knew it could have solved so many problems. But he never received one, not heartfelt at least. He’s not salty about it, he’s past that stage. So now he’s hoping Jimin feels his emotions through the hug, the words of comfort that he cannot say but can only show.

Yoongi calms him, pets his hair, rubs his back and whispers, “Shh,” constantly in his ear. He thinks Jimin was really close to his grandmother to be wailing this sadly, as if his whole world has turned upside down in a moment.

The Jimin he saw this morning was the Jimin he saw every morning. Skipping steps and greeting everyone on the way, his laugh resonating through the crowded hall. It would take everyone’s attention, certainly Yoongi’s. He seemed happy today as well, if his grandmother was on deathbed, he didn’t show.

He hears Jimin’s voice telling him something and he focuses back to the bundle of warmth in his arms, body slightly shaking with the intensity of crying. Yoongi can feel all the types of liquid on his neck but he doesn’t push Jimin away.

“…and then we found Danbi under a huge tree, injured and scared. I remember it was raining that time as well, so we kept her name as Danbi,” He feels Jimin tense up in his hold but Yoongi doesn’t do anything about it because hold up, what now? Jimin found his grandmother under a pole, crying and injured?

He feels like he’s missing something here. Damn it! He should have listened to the whole story.

“Yoongi-ssi…?” Jimin calls out for him, pulling back to see what had stopped him to pet his hair. When Yoongi’s eyes zeroes back on Jimin, he can see how close Jimin is, looking sadly into his eyes, yet with confusion. His face his red from crying and lips slicked with spit, tears, perhaps even snot.

“Danbi is an animal, Jimin?” Yoongi calmly ask, because that can’t be it, Danbi cannot be an animal.

“Hmm, a cat,” Jimin confirms, “Why, who did you think Danbi was?” He asks tilting his head. The earring he is wearing, dangles. Yoongi hadn’t noticed it before.

He thinks hard about Jimin’s question, who did you think Danbi was?

Oh, I don’t know…perhaps a human? Perhaps a grandmother? Perhaps anyone but a cat!

“So Danbi is a cat?” Yoongi confirms for the last time. He’s holding onto his patience by fisting Jimin’s t-shirt from behind. He hopes Jimin doesn’t feel it.

Jimin nods, pouting.

“And you’re crying because your cat died?” He asks again, elaborated so that he can understand why Jimin has been wailing. It can’t be because of a cat. When Jimin nods, unsure, Yoongi deadpans, “You’re crying because your cat died,” He states.

“You can’t say like that!” Jimin protests, pushing him away a little so he can sit straight, “Danbi has been with me for twelve years!” And then he’s back to crying because of Yoongi now.

Yoongi stops himself from hitting Jimin because one; he is Yoongi’s crush, two; he’s such a beautiful person and three; he cannot see Jimin cry.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” Yoongi apologises although he still doesn’t understand how someone can wail like a madman when an animal dies. Yoongi never had an animal to look after, to come to home to. It was always his plants and he knew the plants wilt and had to be bought so he prepared himself. But an animal? Never. It was too much hassle to look after an animal. He couldn’t even properly take care of himself, he doesn’t even think to take care of an animal.

Jimin doesn’t say anything, he just, mind Yoongi say, forcefully, pulls the older to hug him, to comfort him. If somebody would have told Yoongi that today, he’d be hugging Jimin, getting to comfort the younger, his crush, then Yoongi would have given the most unimpressed look he can conjure up and turned to leave the bullshit.

But here he is, comforting Jimin, rubbing his back as the younger cries about Danbi, not a grandmother but a cat. He somehow senses he can understand, 12 years of relationship, even if with a cat. He must have made a lot of memories with the animal nonetheless. Somewhere he’s happy Jimin had someone, even an animal, when he was sad, happy, angry and every other emotions.

“I’m sorry, Jiminie,” He let the name slip, mindlessly, “It must be tough for you,” He doesn’t understand but he tries his damn best to comfort the younger. “She’s in a better place, I’m sure she’s glad you took her in and cared for her. You’re such a good person, always caring for others,” He can feel Jimin tighten his arms around him in appreciation.

“You-you think Danbi can forgive fuh-for not being there during her last hours?” Jimin asks, pulling away and wiping his snort. It should really disgust him but fuck, he might be in love.

“Yeah, angel,” Yoongi says, letting the endearment spill, “Sorry…Jimin,” He apologises, “I’m sure she forgives you for that,” He says and wills himself to separate from Jimin, his warmth. This might be the first and last chance for him for all he knows. He picks up the forget-me-nots and stand up, letting Jimin clean himself. Yoongi offers tissue and grims when Jimin abuses it again.

“I’ll arrange these for you, do you want anything else?” He asks, walking over to the counter and going behind it. Jimin shakes his head no and affirms Yoongi to prepare the arrangement of flowers.

He starts arranging, first arranging the white chrysanthemums into a small bouquet and the arranging all the other symbolic flowers around it, mixing with the white chrysanthemums. He wants to let the chrysanthemums be regarded more in the symbolism of grief. After being happy with how it came out, Yoongi chances a glance at Jimin who was already looking at him and blushes away. Yoongi bites his lips to stop smiling.

He trims the ends of the stems and sprays the flowers with the water. He hears Jimin walking towards him, after being clean of body fluids from his face. Yoongi smiles at him as he secures the flower with a rubber band. Then he wraps a brown paper around the arrangement, securing the paper with a ribbon skillfully.

He shows it to Jimin who nods and takes out his wallet. They do their work quietly. Jimin takes the bouquet in hand and astonishingly looks at it. He can’t really remember the names of flowers or what color each of them were, but he remembers the symbolisms added in a bouquet and he is satisfied. He hopes his cat loves it from above.

Yoongi cleans the desk as Jimin looks at the flowers and takes a whiff of it, smiling to himself. Then he just looks at Jimin, who’s rolling the flowers in hand, happy about it.

Jimin looks at him and smiles shyly, then eyes open wide in thought.

“Oh, how much does it cost?” Jimin asks, placing the flowers carefully before he picks up his wallet and open it.

“Don’t worry about it,” Yoongi shrugs, not trying to be cool.

“Oh, no, I can’t,” Jimin says, “Let me pay for it, I was an inconvenience to you,” He pouts and Yoongi gulps, gay panic rising again.

“You we-weren’t,” He stutters, looking away.

“Still, I should pay,” Jimin determinedly say, eyebrows furrowed.

“I told you, don’t worry about it. Just take it. I’m sorry about you cat, I hope you feel better,” He genuinely say.

Jimin smiles and nods, “Thank you.”

It costs like a motherfucker and Jimin would have been able to pay, sure, but Yoongi is hopelessly in love with Jimin and he can give the money for the bouquet from his paycheck, even though Jimin will never return his love. But like…whatever.

“I should go,” He directs his thumb to the door and Yoongi nods, feeling gloomy that Jimin has to leave. It might have been first and last time they would have talked.

“Thank you again, for the flowers…the hug,” He says, almost whispers as he bows down in thankfulness.

“And tissue?” Yoongi teases.

Jimin blushes as he looks on the floorboard to see dirty tissues lying around. He feel bad that he made such a mess and looks at Yoongi with a pout.

“Don’t worry about it, I clean up before I close the store,” He shrug and Jimin nods apologetically. He bows again and turns to leave until he reaches the door and Yoongi’s voice stops him.

“Yeah?” He asks.

Yoongi comes out from behind the counter, he picks up a card looking like thing and walk over to Jimin doubtfully. He does present a card, a pastel card. Jimin takes it confusingly.

“My number is on the back…if-if you wanna talk sometimes,” He shrugs, mouth pinned together as he dances on the ball of his feet.

“Th-thank you,” Jimin nods, clutch his fingers around the card as he looks bashfully at Yoongi.

“Wait a second?” He asks if Jimin who nods assuringly.

Yoongi goes behind the shelves to look for a flower, once he finds it, he cuts the stem of the flower and rush to his desk where Jimin notice him carefully. He cleans the stem of thorns and wraps a foil paper around it to secure the stem. Then he sprinkles water on it and hums to himself.

Yoongi looks up to see Jimin looking at him, head titled. When the younger notice and it’s too late, he just smiles and bite his lips. Yoongi approaches him a shows him a pink rose.

“For you,” Yoongi whispers.

Jimin takes it and rolls the stem around his fingers. He takes a whiff of the flower and notice the natural smell of it. He opens his eyes and notice Yoongi smiling.

“What does it mean?” He asks.

Yoongi blushes then because he didn’t Jimin would ask.

“Uh…um, it, uh,” He stutters and Jimin comes closer as if promoting Yoongi, “It means happiness,” He breathlessly answers.

“Really?” Jimin doubtfully ask, taking a whiff again.

“Ye-yeah, I hope you can overcome this sadness and become happy again,” Yoongi wishes, looking away to the far wall as he can feel his blush working up his neck. Fuck.

“I’m happy now,” Jimin answers, it make Yoongi’s breath hitch as he looks at Jimin who’s sharing the contact.

“O-okay,” He nods.

“I’ll go,” Jimin says and he means it.

Don’t.

“Yeah,” Yoongi moves back to create a distance. Even with surrounded by flowers and Jimin holding a bouquet, Yoongi can only smell the scent of the younger. Sweetness.

“Thank you, Yoongi-ssi,” Jimin thanks him again.

“Hyung is fine,” Yoongi shyly mutters.

“Yoongi-hyung,” Jimin tests on his lips and nods in appreciation. He waves a goodbye at Jimin and leaves the shop, with bells chiming.

Yoongi falls back on stool with his heart going ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum.

And if his friends wonder how Jimin willingly comes to Yoongi and shyly talks to him and calls him hyung, then yes, Yoongi exaggerates his story of how he met Jimin on a spring day.

With every version exaggerated.

#and so I did it #I had plans for it but I think I messed it up #I don’t know what kind of genre this is even #but the moodboard is pretty so take a look #yoonmin #yoonmin au #yoonmin scenario #suji #jimin #yoongi #hoseok #seokjin #taehyung #jungkook #namjoon #bts #bangtan boys #flower shop au #YMSN3

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itssanamana · 7 years

Text

Interpretation

- Starring Mina

Word Count: 1415

Ever since you were little, you’ve been a loud and straightforward person. You knew what you wanted, and you stated it, pursued it, and most of the time, achieved it. Being the friendly, extrovert, person that you are, you naturally knew everyone in your neighbourhood since the age in which you can recall your memories. You knew every uncle, aunt, grandma, grandpa, boy, girl, and even pet that lived on your street. Mina was the girl that you first introduced yourself to since moving to your current home. She would peek out from her bedroom window, watching you and your parents moving boxes and furniture into your home. You would always notice her peeking, so you would often smile and wave back to her, in which she would just quickly disappear from her window. On the very last day of moving in, Mina walked up to you and offered to help you move boxes.

Throughout the years, you gradually learned how Mina behaved, how she acted when she wanted something. She was an extremely shy girl, thus it was hard for others to understand what she was thinking most of the time. However, because you had spent so much time with her over the years, you knew what she was thinking even if she didn’t utter a single sound. Then when junior high and high school started, you noticed that Mina always avoided you whenever you came near. You didn’t understand why this was so, you don’t remember offending her in any way, but you didn’t want her to be uncomfortable so you accepted her behaviour without complaint. In reality, Mina had slowly acquired feelings for you, she didn’t dare display it to you directly. Thus, you didn’t know that she liked you and that was why she avoided you all the time.

During the final year of high school, Mina found a part time job working at the local convenience store. Since she had school most of the weekdays, she worked the night shifts most of the time. And although your neighbourhood was situated in a nice part of town, it could still get pretty scary when it becomes pitch black outside. Mina normally just walked home by herself every night, armed with a flashlight. There weren’t many customers when it got late, only an occasional few, and so she was responsible for locking up the shop after her shift ended.

Sigh… I’m completely swamped in homework this week, I’m so glad I brought everything to the shop, I have so much free time here. Mina thought to herself. She was busy calculating out math solutions to her homework set while she tended to the few customers that were still browsing the aisles. It was a Friday night and so there were a few more customers than usual.

“Uh, excuse me? Mina? Can I pay for my items?” A young woman asked politely, noticing that Mina was still deep in thought, tapping her pencil lightly against her chin.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. Of course you can, let me clear this stuff to the side.” Mina responded as she fumbled around, trying to clear the desk for the lady’s items.

“Hard at work, I see. Lots of homework this week?”

“Yeah, a bit more than usual. No biggie though. Anyways, here you are, the total comes to… $25.78.”

“Credit.”

“Mhm, go ahead.”

“Thank you so much, Mina, don’t overwork yourself!”

“No problem, and I’ll try not to, haha.”

After another hour, all of the customers had finished purchasing their things and began to walk home. Mina was all alone. It sure is dark out. I kind of wish there was still someone in the store with me, it always gets a bit scary whenever I’m alone here. Well, I’m almost done here, only another half hour and then I can leave. At least most of my homework is completed. Sigh… huh? What’s that?

Mina peered outside through the fogged up window, and into the poorly illuminated area right in front of the store. There was a figure. Someone, was out there. Maybe they just want to grab a late night snack? Well, why aren’t they coming in? The figure stood there, the person was wearing a hood over their head and had both of their hands in their pockets. They stood firmly with both feet planted onto the ground, and seemed to stare straight ahead. Straight at Mina. Okay… now this is getting a bit creepy… maybe if I ignore him. Just as Mina took her eyes off of the individual, they moved and circled around to a part of the window where the fog hadn’t covered it up yet. They were still staring at Mina. Okay. I should probably do something about this now. Let’s see, well, I’m not going to just go out there. I could call… (Y/N). But it’s kind of late, is he even still up? It’s worth a try.

Mina then cautiously and slowly reached for her phone, trying to act as if everything was normal. She dialed in your number, one by one, as she held her phone below the counter. Then Mina pretended that she dropped her eraser and bent down under to fetch it.

“Hello?” Mina spoke quietly after you picked up.

“Mina?” You asked, confused, since she hasn’t called you in forever.

“Yeah, hey, uhm, what are you doing right now?”

“Me? I’m at home. Eating grapes, watching TV. Aren’t you at work right now? It’s pretty dark out, be careful when you leave.”

“I’m almost finished, I have like twenty minutes left, but uh, anyways, I don’t mean to sound alarming or anything but there’s a suspicious looking person hanging around the shop…”

“What?”

“They’re just staring at me, they’re not coming in, and I can’t see their face. I don’t know what they want… can you please come right away?”

“I’ll be there. Hang on tight. Act normal.”

You hung up the phone, hopped off your couch and didn’t even bother to put on a jacket before you bolted out the door and straight towards the store. Sure enough, there was a person standing near the large window in front of the store, they turned to look at you but didn’t say or do anything. You tried to avoid eye contact and went straight inside.

“Mina? You here?”

Mina peeked out from behind the counter, looking scared and afraid. You immediately hopped over and kneeled to comfort her.

“It’s okay now, I’m here. I saw the person you were talking about, they didn’t seem like they meant any harm but I’ll stay here with you.”

“Thank you…”

“Hey Mina?” You asked, scratching your face.

“What is it?”

“Did you call anyone else, other than me?”

“No… why?”

“Oh, I was just wondering, since you avoided me for so long now, that I didn’t really think you would still call me out of everyone.”

“Of course I would call you, you’re the one that I-” Mina started before she quickly stopped herself.

“That you?”

Mina blushed and looked away, while you came closer. Your head slowly moved towards hers, and Mina slowly turned back towards you. The two of you paused for a moment as you stared into each other's eyes, then Mina closed her eyes. Wait, does Mina want me to kiss her? What do I do? Well, here goes nothing…

“Ahem, excuse me? Is anyone there?” A loud unfamiliar voice echoed.

It was the person who was hanging out around outside. Mina immediately blinked a few times before she got out from under the counter.

“Yes? Can I help you?” Mina said with a smile.

“I was wondering if you guys have that new spicy noodle that everyone is eating as a challenge?”

“Yeah, of course, it’s down in aisle seven.”

“Thanks so much, I was trying to see if I could find it by looking in through the windows since I didn’t know the shop was still open, until that boy came in just before me. Say, where is he?”

“Uh, I don’t know, he might be in the washroom?” Mina’s voice squeaked a little at the end. The man acknowledged Mina’s answer and strolled down to aisle seven, while Mina finally exhaled and dropped back down to see you crouching under the counter. The two of you stared at each other blankly before you broke out a smile, then a wave of laughter rushed over the two of you.

- itssanamana

#mina #myoui mina #twice #twice scenarios #mina scenarios #twice imagines #mina imagines #short fanfic #kpop fanfiction

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The Damned

The Damned 2013 Rated R Genre: Horror On Netflix

The Damned. A common subject of many a horror movie. Especially ones that come from Spanish origins. Anything coming from the religious context of Spanish Catholicism always seems to have a heavy connection with the ideas of damnation and exorcisms. As such, it’s always a fun time to go on vacation in spooky haunted houses and get trapped with crazy demons that have possessed some good-natured person. But not this one, mi amigos. The Damned does take place in Spain and does include a spooky spooky haunted house, but takes the beginning a different route, starting with a great beginning, but a very sub-par delivery.

We start out with three of our five protags, Ramon, Jill, and Gina, who are filming a news story about a project happening. It really isn’t that important past that moment, so I’m just going to skip over that. We learn that Ramon and Jill have been dating through the summer and that Ramon is Gina’s cameraman for her news reports. As the three go out to get lunch, they’re encountered by Jill’s father, David, and his fiance, Lauren. The two of them followed Jill to Spain to pick her up since she didn’t come home at the scheduled time the week before. Their wedding is in a few days and they refuse to get married until she comes home. Here we learn that Gina is Jill’s aunt on her mother’s side of the family and her and David still get along decently well. Since Jill’s mother died, everyone seems comfortable talking about her mom and dad’s relationship even though her soon to be stepmother is in their presence.

Regardless, David says that they have a flight back tonight that they need to catch but Jill says that she has forgotten her passport up at Gina’s house, nearly a 7 hour drive away. They all load up in the car so they can go get it and try to make their flight. As they travel, the weather takes a turn for the worst and the rain makes the road very difficult terrain, enough so that a police officer pulls them over and tells them that they should head back to the main road because this road has possible landslides. Gina disagrees and they continue going straight for much longer than they had anticipated.

David and Gina switch out driving so that Gina can rest a bit, but David gets distracted looking for a map, effectively getting them stuck in a ditch. Just as they’re ready to get out and start pushing, the landslide that we had so obviously foreshadowed comes ripping down the hill, pushing the care down the side of the small mountain.

Though wrecked, they all manage to come out alive and not mangled to death, but are without cellphone service and have no choice but to follow a trail up to a large house. They begin pounding on the door, yelling in Spanish that they need help and are severely hurt. But when the old man comes to the door, he says that the inn isn’t taking anyone in and that they need to leave. It isn’t until David says that this is his family and they are all hurt that the old man takes an interest, repeating “familia” at them. He allows them in and provides them with towels, but explains that there is no service or landline available for them to use. So they try to get settled in a bit, Jill asking for water. The old man, who we learn is Felipe, escorts her into the kitchen, providing her with a glass of water. His eye catches the necklace of Jesus on the cross and he looks sad and reaches for it, telling her “esto no te protegerá”, “This will not protect you.”

Jill tells Ramon that Felipe creeps her out and what he said to her but he seems to brush it off. David goes with Felipe out into the rain to help him get some firewood and Felipe strictly says for no one else to leave the room. Jill and Ramon, like any teenage protags, ignore this statement and go through the house at Jill’s need to find a restroom. The bathroom they find is entirely filthy, enough so that large cockroaches begin crawling out of the drain and the toilet is almost completely brown, but Jill ignores it and instead shouts at Ramon when he makes spooky noises through the door. But then Jill hears other noises, coming from a pipe next to the tub, a girl crying for help. She drags Ramon in for him to listen as well and they leave to go find who it is.

Felipe and David come back in from the rain and seeing that people are missing from the living room, he goes through the house to go looking for them. Back downstairs, Jill and Ramon sneak into a pantry to avoid Felipe looking for them but they see Felipe open up a hatch in the kitchen and look inside of it with a flashlight, closing it when Gina walks into the room thanking him for allowing them to stay. Honestly that pantry is so noisy, I don’t know how Felipe didn’t hear them go in it and then again didn’t hear them open the hatch but you know, horror movies.

Jill is determined to go down into the basement, but Ramon is extremely reluctant. The first part of the basement that they walk through seems like your typical, if not creepy, basement. It is damp, cold, leaky, and is full of weird things, including a toilet. But when they hear a thump back the direction that they came from, they go through a different hallway and find a large wooden door that is locked, a small hole in it. Looking inside Jill sees a person and asks their name. The girl, Ana Maria, says that Felipe locked her in this basement. Jill, sorry for the girl, tries to get her out, but Felipe comes down the stairs pointing a gun at Jill and Ramon, saying that they’ve seen too much already and if they touch the girl, they will die.

David, with his dad-sense that something is wrong, comes downstairs, hitting Felipe in the head with the blunt of a shovel and tries to help free the girl from the basement. Let’s get serious ya’ll. If a man said to me that my cross wouldn’t protect me and then said that if I touched someone that I would die, I would just let it be. Girl can stay behind that lock. No thank you.

They bring Ana Maria upstairs and sits her in the room with everyone else, tying Felipe up into a chair and telling them that they’re going to ask him questions. Ana Maria seems sweet at first, talking with Lauren and suspiciously understanding her English despite being locked in a basement for what looks like a good while and the man who is her father not knowing any English. Lauren leaves Ana Maria alone in the living room to go and get her some food while Gina goes into the basement with her cell phone to try and get some footage of the room Ana Maria was in, talking about how there are inscriptions on the ceiling and for any of us who watch scary movies, we know what that is about. Another red flag. Cockroaches seem to be a major symbol in the movie, appearing many times in just the first few minutes, again in the room with Ana Marie.

We cut back to Lauren going to get in the fridge, only to be followed by Ana Maria before the little girl runs away from her. We also jump around to Felipe who is now awake and screaming at David in Spanish which David doesn’t understand. He hollers for Jill to come in and translate for him and when Jill comes in the room, she tells her father that Felipe is saying that they’re all going to die.

Lauren goes up the stairs after Ana Maria, checking bedroom door knobs to see if she can find her, but she is startled by a thud and then footsteps. Until she comes to one room, a small child’s, where she hears a squeaking and open the door in time to see a tricycle moving back and forth on its own. Despite this, she enters the room and checks a small door on the far wall for the little girl. Lauren looks at some dolls found in Ana Maria’s room, finding a mirror and moving the curtain away from it. She catches a glimpse of Ana Maria who runs from the room, locking the door behind her, effectively trapping Lauren.

Downstairs, Felipe is sitting in a chair facing toward a window, whispering some sort of prayer through a gag that David put on him. From behind he hears heavy breathing and footsteps, becoming startled and turning his head to find Ana Maria directly beside him. Terrified, he stares at her as she innocently sits in his lap. She reaches for a letter opener sitting on the desk and pets her father’s face saying “Open your eyes, Papa, or I will cut them out.” He does and she rubs the knife over his face as he begs her not to hurt them. And then here comes the demon! He angers Ana Maria and she completely changes, putting down the knife and removing his gag, she leaves him alone in the room. He continues praying the lord’s prayer.

They all reconvene in the living room, Lauren being free from the room and Ramon saying that Felipe’s car is broken. Felipe runs into the room, asking the lord to forgive him as he lunges at Ana Maria, but Ramon shoots him.When he’s dead, they realize that Felipe slashed his own wrists before coming to attack them, ready to die with Ana Maria.

While Ramon and Gina argue about Felipe’s reasoning, Lauren and David have a tender moment in the kitchen. She tells David that he needs to go into town when the storm dies down to get help. We flash back to Ana Maria who is sitting with Jill who asks little possessed child who her doll is, but Ana Maria just shoves the doll into the floor, reaching instead for Jill’s breast and then thigh. She tells Jill that she has a strong body. Now I can think of a couple of different reasons for this. When she reaches for Jill’s breast, she very clearly touches Jesus on the cross. This is likely so that we can see that this doesn’t harm her. Also we are met with the connection of anything inherently sexual being considered a sin in Christian and Catholic religions, so if the little creepy girl is going for your titty, she might be possessed. Especially if she follows up by telling you that you have a strong body. Luckily, Jill seems to actually catch on. Bringing up points like there being no way that they kept her locked in that area for so long.

David says that they’ll go investigate again and Gina again tries to get Ana Maria to talk about her experience but Lauren disagrees with her bothering the little girl. Gina finds something to drink in the kitchen and when she turns around, Ana Maria is standing there with Gina’s cell phone and begins asking her questions to things that no one told her about, including an abortion that Gina had. Ana Maria shows her true self to Gina by making her womb come alive with baby hands moving within it.

Back down in the box they found Ana Maria in, they find markings that they aren’t sure of the meaning and a corpse that seems partially mummified from the moisture. But it’s very present that the person has been dead a long long time. A bracelet found on the body reveals that it was Felipe’s wife and Jill brings up that they think he was living down here in the basement. As they investigate, they find a family photo dated from 1978, meaning Ana Maria would be nearly forty.

Lauren begins screaming from upstairs and when Ramon, David, and Jill find her, there is blood all over the kitchen, Gina is unconscious, and Ana Maria is dead from a slash to the throat. With no evidence of what happened, they all come back to the living room, each of them talking about what they’ve seen and how it all connects to Ana Maria. Lauren thinks that all of them are crazy but David goes to clean up Ana Maria’s body, laying her next to Felipe. Gina, terrified about what’s happening, takes Ramon’s cellphone to try and find signal in the house, Ramon going after her. While hugging her father, Jill sees someone walking around outside, the police officer we saw earlier pointing a gun at them and demanding to know where Felipe is and then forcing them to go into the basement. The officer asks why they let her out, so he is aware of what she is. After a struggle, the police officer tells David about Ana Maria and says he wants to help, saying that one of them is no longer their family.

Upstairs, Gina is shown to be trying to make advances on Ramon, telling him about a time when Ramon watched a girl die before kissing him deeply and getting him to touch her, causing his body to have the same reaction as the poisoned girl, vomiting blood profusely before killing Gina by breaking her neck. Trying to process what just happened, Ramon is sufficiently freaked out when Gina stands back up, coming at him and speaking in a demonic voice. He shoots her on the upstairs balcony, transferring the demon into his own body.

The police officer tells David that they can’t let the demon leave the property and they have to do whatever they can to stop it. Ramon, as the demon, is struggling to get the officer’s car to start, but without the keys it can’t do anything. The officer shoots Ramon in the leg, but the demon flings itself at him, telling him that it will do everything it can to destroy the Morales bloodline. And just as that’s happening, David, Lauren, and Jill find newspapers and a list of names which has Morales on it. They find out that the names are all people who were present at the hanging of Elena, the witch who is also the demon. Elena is referred to as a bruja many times, meaning witch.

While in the kitchen, Jill hears Gina outside, the demon using her corpse as a puppet to attempt to trick Jill. But Jill catches on, backing away as her father runs into the room. Morales tells them to leave, that the demon doesn’t want them, they’re just in the way. But as they escape, Ramon breaks through the glass in the car, attacking them and trying to run them into a lake. Lauren handcuffs Ramon to the car and they start to leave him the car, taking the keys. But the car starts going toward the lake, drowning Ramon in the process. Lauren is now possessed and she begins talking about how David killed his wife, taking her off her life support instead of watching her suffer. Angered, Jill runs back to the house without him.

In the house, they try to trap the witch by putting her in the box, but she harms Morales. Morales tells them to bring her back and he will shoot her and then he will die, leaving her without a host. But the demon kills Morales before that can happen and they have to make a new plan. They lure the demon down to the basement, planning to put the demon down in the box. But the demon takes the form of his dead wife, making David unable to kill the demon, he shoots her, but Jill shoots her, giving the killing blow. They both run into the box, and the demon takes over Jill’s body.Trying to run out the still open door. David is forced to shut Jill in the door, effectively completing the circle and making the same actions of Felipe.

Although a decent bit of film, The Damned is kitschy in that way we can always expect family horror movies to be: Oh I’ll die for you, no don’t leave me, no don’t take her. When going into a movie with emotional connections that deep, that’s just what always ends up happening. And although it’s severely overdone, it never ceases to make you feel bad for the family even if you’re really tired of dealing with their stupidity.

I feel as though a lot of things in this movie could have been very easily avoided early on in the film. They didn’t listen to Felipe try to explain what his daughter was, they didn’t read his books and ask what the hell was going on, and they avoided almost every noticeably creepy thing that the little girl did. Like now look, I’m all against pedophiles and I see why these people thought that Felipe was one, but I’m not about to disregard a man who is telling me that that little girl is going to kill me because I let her out of a box. I’d shove her right back in, get the police, and let them deal with it.

Another problem with the film is that the characters weren’t horribly memorable. There are plenty of movies that I remember the characters for years, either because of their actions or because of what they went through. But the characters in The Damned just seem flat. The father is memorable because we see him at the beginning and the end. We remember the daughter because she completed the plot circle and is now the possessed one in the box. But the rest just don’t have anything to them. Ramon, he was just the summer boyfriend and Jill didn’t even get upset when he died, not the way that you would expect a girlfriend to get upset. Most of the time, it just seemed like she was dragging him along. Gina was… alright. She didn’t have any dimension to her besides her being a budding news anchor. We randomly got some information about an abortion she’d had, but then we were done with her. And finally Lauren. Lauren that we all knew would die the moment she didn’t believe anything they were saying. All she was was the quiet soon-to-be-stepmother who didn’t believe in this demonic stuff.

We also get hinted at the Spanish inquisition. There was so much potential that they had with that and Morales. We could have had foreshadowing with him having a large cross on his uniform when we first meet him. He could have come into the house with some prayers that they would have said in the period. Something that would have made him a much more dependable character overall but all we got was his name in a newspaper and then he died, a mention of how Elena wouldn’t rest until she killed the whole bloodline. Well, she killed him? And she still didn’t stop.

So this movie, although the idea of it is promising, really doesn’t succeed in delivering the goods. The idea of a witch from the Inquisition is a wonderful idea. A father being forced to trap his daughter because she is possessed is a wonderful idea. But in the end, we just repeat the same thing and don’t really go any farther than what is absolutely needed. I give a 3.5 out of 10, only because they had good ideas. Next time, step it up with the backstory.

#The Damned #The Damned 2013 #The Damned Movie #The Damned Netflix #The Damned Review #Shitty Movie Reviews

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