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teddy06writes · 3 years

Note

could we have more sapnap x karl x quackity x reader maybe about how reader joins, or how the relationship is revealed, or angst, also is there a reason that anon asks are turned off? i mean it might just be me also cause i cant switch to anon, ik that hairbrush anon loves this blog and wants to request but they cant cause anon is turned off, (i know hairbrush anon irl so thats how ik this for some background context) sorry if this is rude

anon: “ Your karlnapity fanfics are sooooo good. I was wondering if you could make another one, it could be about literally anything and I’ll read it. Keep up the great work! “

sapnap x karl x quackity x reader

trigger warnings: swearing, mentions of panic attacks

premise: how you joined the Karlnapity poly cue

{also the anon thing was fixed once I got this ask}

“belp” talking

‘blep’ texting

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You didn’t meet them intentionally, far from, actually, you had only met Alex, the first of the boys you’d met, by pure chance.

Well, pure chance, and an asshole who didn’t look where he was going outside A hall.

You had just emerged from your first class of the year, a debate class, with maybe 50 students total, and were immediately slammed into by some jerk who didn’t even stop at first.

You had fallen into someone, who after making sure you were stood up right began to cuss the guy out in Spanish.

“You got something to say to me, dick?” The guy had asked as he turned around.

“Yeah bitch! Why the hell did you push them?”

If you thought this dudes 5′ 9′’ ass wasn’t gonna square up to a huge football player you’d’ve been wrong.

“They were the one who didn’t fucking move, so don’t fucking start with me!”

“Bro you literally slammed into them! You could’ve fucking moved man!” He shoved the guys shoulder, “You didn’t have to take the asshole route, yet we’re still here.”

“Listen Dick, I don’t give a shit, they were in the fucking way.”

“Man your really looking for a fucking fight are you?” He shrugged off his back pack and let it drop to the ground.

The guys laughed, pushing up his sleeves, “I could take your scrawny ass any day, chicca.”

Before he had a chance to blink a fist had been launched toward his face, catching him right in the jaw.

He stumbled back, looking almost as surprised as the guy you’d tripped into, who was looking down at his own fist, clearly in pain.

“Oh you little bitch!” The jock growled, moving to punch him back.

Quickly you scooped up his bag, shoving it into his arms, “We gotta go!!” You shoved the guy, grabbing your saviors hand and tugging him along as you started to run.

As you dodged around campus, trying to lose the yell of the jock behind you the guy who you’d dragged with, offered, “I’m Alex.”

“(y/n),” You slowed to a stop, “I think we lost him.”

Alex nodded, wincing as he examined his knuckles.

You took his hand, checking over it carefully, “It’ll bruise hard, you might not have full dexterity for a while. That’s what you get for punching someone without preparing,” You chuckled, glancing around, “My dorm’s not more than five minutes away, if you don’t have another class to get too, we can go get you some ice.”

“That’d be good.” He winced.

After taking him back to your dorm and getting his hand iced, he disappeared, saying he was late to meet someone, and you rarely saw him again except for your debate class, where you hardly spoke.

~~ You’d met Nick not too long after, though this time, pure chance was more purely your friend George catching you sneaking out of a party you didn’t want to be at.

“Seriously (y/n)? It’s barley even been an hour!” The brit yelled.

“It’s way too loud in there,” You hissed, motioning to the frat house, “I can’t hardly think, let alone stand it.”

“George! Get back in here! Clay challenged someone to a drinking contest and it about to start!” Someone yelled from the house.

“Yeah, in a second Sapnap!” He called before turning back to you, “Stay a little while longer?”

“I don’t want to be here.” You growled, but he was already dragging you back towards the house, saying:

“Come on, it’ll be entertaining if he wins and if not, well, it’ll still be pretty funny.”

Sighing, you allowed yourself to be pulled back inside, following George through to where Clay stood across a counter from a curly dark haired man, and Niki, a woman you’d met a few weeks prior, quietly pouring shots.

“Now the only reason I’m letting you do this Wil, is cause I know you won’t be able to do more than three.” She muttered, sliding the shots between them.

George laughed, “This is gonna be great!”

You sighed, moving to stand back against one of the walls, next to a dirty blonde man, who said, “You don’t look to happy to be here.”

“Not a fan of the noise.” You muttered, rubbing at your forehead.

He nodded, “Makes sense, one of my boyfriends doesn’t like the noise either. I’m Nick.”

“Didn’t George just call you Sapnap? What is with people around here and having weird nicknames?” You shook your head with another sigh, “I’m (y/n).”

“I dunno. Half the people I know at this school have weird nicknames,” He began to point at various people around the room, “Dream, Fundy, Skeppy, Hbomb, Quackity’s around here somewhere. Hell I even know someone who calls himself ‘Technoblade’.”

“Sounds like a prick.” You chuckled.

Nick nodded, “Oh he is.”

You continued to talk for a while, watching as Wilbur tried to out drink Clay, and failing miserably not to laugh when he nearly fell down, totally wasted.

“Hey, uh I think we should head out. I feel bad leaving Kar...” Alex trailed off as he realized you were standing with Nick, “Hey, your uh, (y/n) right?”

“Yeah, Alex, you almost busted your knuckles trying to fight McAllen outside debate with Fenner.” You chuckled.

Nick turned to Alex, “You what?!”

“uhh...” he stuttered nervously.

“You told Karl you fell!”

“In my defense he pushed- no not even- he slammed into (y/n)!” Alex said desperately.

“He did, Alex was just defending me,” Alex grinned at your addition, “But...” his face fell, “This one also is essentially just an angry chihuahua.”

“Dude!”

Nick chuckled, “Their right. You are an angry chihuahua.”

Alex rolled his eyes, glancing at his phone, “We should go, Karl’s texting me angry emojis.”

Nick nodded, “It was nice to meet you (y/n).”

“You too.” You smiled, and then they were gone again.

You didn’t meet Karl for almost a month after that, only encountering the man in the colorful sweater when you had been left sitting alone in the dining hall, after a late night study session.

Niki had left a few minutes earlier, but it was long enough that he’d assumed you’d been sitting alone.

“Oh hey, sorry I’m late!” He had called, just a hair too loud.

You blinked up at the mousy haired boy, confused for a moment, before motioning for him to sit down, “It’s okay.”

The few people still left in the hall barley paid attention, so you stifled a laugh, “I wasn’t waiting for someone, my friend just left actually.”

His face got red, “Oh, I- sorry- I’ll just leave then.”

He started to stand up but you held out a hand, “No- uh- you, can stay. I don’t mind.”

He grinned, “I’m Karl! Karl Jacobs!”

“I’m (y/n). Thank you for trying to save me from mild embarrassment.”

“It was nothin, just don’t think people should have to be alone.”

You giggled, “Knight in shining armor.”

That made Karl grin even more, giggling a bit as he asked, “Whatcha working on?”

“Oh, Niki and I were just studying for finals, it may be a few weeks away but I want to be ready.” You chuckled.

“Man, I’m glad I’m only taking one class this semester.”

“Lucky.” You sighed, tucking the last of your papers into folders and stowing them away in your bag, “No late night cram sessions for you then.”

“Nah, my boyfriends’ll rope me into helping them study.”

“Thats the price you pay.” You chuckled.

He nodded solemnly, “A price I am very willing to pay.”

“They sound like lucky guys.” You smiled wistfully, quietly wondering why all the cute guys you’d been meeting were dating, either other people, or each other.

Karl not noticing the almost bitterness in your voice chirped, “Yup!”

“Come on! They’d love you!” Karl exclaimed.

You’d been becoming friends with Karl over the last few months, and now he was begging you to go and meet his partners.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah!” Karl was practically bouncing up and down, “Your like the best! I want my boys to meet you!”

You groaned, letting your head fall into your hands, “Fine.”

“Yay!” Karl giggled, tugging at your wrist, “Come on!”

You looked up from the table at him. “Right now?”

“Yeah, I was suppose to be meeting them at the library.”

Sighing you stood up, “I hate this.”

He smiled sympathetically, “Sorry.”

You slipped your bag over your shoulder, and followed him out of the dining hall towards the library, trying to ignore the stupid feeling in your stomach at his hand in yours.

Upon reaching the library Karl excitedly dragged you over to a table in the corner where your stomach dropped upon seeing who was sitting there.

“(y/n)?” Alex asked.

You chuckled, “Snapmap and Chihuahua boy, I didn’t realize this Karl was your Karl.”

Karl looked confused, looking back and forth between you and his boyfriends, “You guys know each other?”

“That one talked to me at a party when my friends all but ditched me,” You pointed at Nick, and then too Alex, “That one tried to fight someone who bumped into me.”

“Thats- you know what, I’m not gonna ask.” Karl said, plopping down next to Alex.

You sat down on the opposite side of the table next to Nick, “Karl you text in angry emojis?”

Over the next few weeks Karl continued to drag you along to various study sessions, movie nights and other things you assumed would normally just be the three of them, making you confused heart even more confused.

It was strange that they willingly let you intrude on there dates, and any time you tried to bring it up with Karl he’d just brush it off, and if you mentioned it to Nick or Alex, they’d say something about how they were good with it cause Karl was.

And then one night, you were all piled up on the fire escape of the boys apartment building, Alex had just gotten back from a seminar, and was half curled on Nick’s lap, legs stretch across Karl, who was also leaning against Nick.

You quietly hummed a song you heard Wilbur playing, freezing as Karl tugged on your hand, pulling you closer to lean on him, Nick’s arm stretching just a bit farther to wrap around your waist as well, almost cementing you into the moment.

“I like this.” Karl murmured.

Alex nodded sleepily, and Nick looked at your over Karl’s head, “(y/n), uh- I guess we’ve been meaning to- uh- to ask-”

“He means, do- do you want to join this relationship?” Alex asked, cutting him off.

You blinked, surprised, and Karl quickly started talking in your silence, “You don’t have too, we just figured, you know, we, really like, you and- it- we think you like us-”

Cutting him off, you grabbed the sides of his face, quickly pressing your lips to his, and then pulling away, you leaned over to kiss Nick, and then Alex.

“I knew there was a reason you kept letting me in on your dates!”

#mcyt x reader #mcyt imagines #sapnap x reader #karl jacobs x reader #quackity x reader #sapnap x karl x quackity x reader #karlnapity #karlnapity x reader #teddy06 writes

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avengerscompound · 3 years

Text

Small Gods: Patience - 1

Patience: A Black Widow Fanfic

Patience Masterlist | More Small Gods

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader

Rating: E

Word Count: 1611

Warnings: Language, guns, (smut, angst, and canon typical violence on series)

Synopsis: Every day Natasha prays for more patience to deal with a litany of things from waiting for her target to make a move - to not yelling at Clint for putting empty milk containers back in the fridge.

When her prayers are answered, Natasha finds that having patience is easy, holding on to it is a little harder.

A/N: Reader is a minor god.

IF YOU WISH TO BE TAGGED IN THE REMAINDER OF THIS SERIES, EITHER ADD YOURSELF TO THE TAGLIST OR SEND ME A MESSAGE

Chapter 1

Natasha stood on the edge of the building watching the chaos break out below her. The team was supposed to be infiltrating a new underground crime group to figure out where a drop-off was happening. They’d had men on a street corner no one had managed to clock, and it had just happened to be the one Steve was observing, and they’d spotted him. That had made the whole crew antsy and then they’d wanted to change locations for the meet. That had meant a sudden scramble to relocate everyone, so they could keep monitoring the situation. Tony had nearly been spotted as they did and ended up having to leave the area completely so it looked like another normal New York City Iron Man sighting. To top that off, Sharon’s comms had just stopped working completely and so no one had any idea what the group was actually saying. It had been a series of fuck-ups and she knew she would have to get down into the mess soon the way things were going, but she was waiting to see if Clint could salvage it as he bumbled along the street acting stupid so that he could ‘accidentally bumped into his old friends Sharon’ and get some ears back on the scene.

“God, grant me patience,” she sighed. It was a prayer that had become commonplace for her. She’d use it when she was on an undercover mission where she had to pretend to be much less intelligent than she was. She used it when she helped patch up Clint’s cuts after he’d spent a whole day being incredibly agile and dexterous, only to trip over his doormat and land face-first into a cactus he didn’t even know he owned. She used it when Tony went on one of his rambling stories that she already knew. She used it when she had to watch Steve jump off yet another stupidly high point for no reason other than he had to be their first.

“I’m not sure, Natalia,” a voice coming from way too closer said. “I’m not sure that’s what you actually want.”

She spun around, quickly assuming a defensive position. You stood at the corner of the building, completely relaxed. You had dark sunglasses on and what looked like a faux leather jacket and large black boots. You were leaning against the wall slightly and twirling a lollipop in your mouth, and despite the fact that on just about anyone else she’d think they were trying too hard, you seemed effortlessly cool.

“Who are you?” Natasha snarled.

“Patience,” you said simply.

“Don’t tell me to be patient when you’ve just snuck up on me in the middle of a mission. Tell me what you want, or I’ll send that piece of candy through the back of your throat.”

You laughed and held up your hands. “Okay, killer,” you teased. “Relax. I wasn’t telling you what to do. I was saying that’s who I am.”

Natasha quirked her eyebrow at you. “So your name is Patience, and you sit around waiting for people to pray for patience and you pop out thinking it’s a funny joke? You know how close to death you just came right now? I’m in the middle of something. Go away before you get someone hurt.”

Natasha spun back to look down at Sharon who was now talking to Clint. She saw the quick sleight of hand as they exchanged mic packs.

“Patience isn’t my name,” you laughed.

Natasha rolled her eyes, hoping to cling on to the last remaining patience she had rather than breaking your neck. That would just lead to a lot of paperwork. “You said it was.”

“No,” you said, straightening up and reaching into your inner jacket pocket.

Natasha pulled her gun and pointed at you. “Don’t even think about it.”

You pulled your hand out with a business card pinched between your thumb and index finger. You raised your hands and flicked the card up so it was held between your index and middle finger. “I said I was patience,” you said, taking a few steps toward her. Natasha’s fingers twitched on the trigger finger as she tried to read your intention. “You’ve been praying to me a lot lately. I thought I’d show up. But - you’re obviously not ready yet.” You offered the card to Natasha and she took it without taking her eyes off you. “Now… count to two hundred, and then go down the fire escape. Agent Carter will be fine until then, and that will get you there exactly when you need to be.”

“What?” Natasha asked, now completely confused.

“Just a suggestion,” you answered and casually strode off to the stairwell, leaving Natasha alone on the roof, completely perplexed over what had just happened. She looked down at the business card. Embossed in gold on the glossy black card were your name, address, and phone number. There was no mention of a job or business or even the word patience that you had kept bringing up.

Natasha furrowed her brow and tucked the card into her pocket. She wasn’t a trusting person by nature, but she had enough experience with magic to know not to completely ignore what you said. She counted to two hundred as she paid close attention to what was happening in the street. As she carefully made her way down to the fire escape, there was a commotion and Sharon drew her gun. People scattered as a large van pulled up and armed men spilled out.

Natasha cursed under her breath as the street broke out in utter chaos.

“How did you even get there so fast?” Sharon asked.

Thanks to your warning, Natasha had gotten there at the perfect time to take out most of the gunmen before they’d even shouldered their weapons. In the end, while the plan hadn’t exactly gone how everyone had wanted it, and they still needed to actually find where they were operating from, they had made a lot of arrests, and thanks to Natasha, lots of innocent lives had been saved from being caught in the crossfire.

“There was this woman…” Natasha started, not quite sure how to explain your strange appearance and departure from the rooftop.

“Oohhh…” Clint teased. “Nat got the hots for some hot Chiquita.”

“Gross, Clint,” Natasha snarked. “Don’t be a letch.” Clint held up his hands in surrender and Natasha let out a long breath. “It was weird though.”

“How was it weird?” Steve said, sitting forward in his chair. “Anything we need to worry about?”

Natasha shrugged. “I don’t know - maybe,” she said. “She said she was patience.”

Clint snorted. “You definitely need to find her then,” he teased. Natasha swatted him on the back of the head. “See,” he complained, rubbing his head.

“So her name was Patience?” Steve said, opening up a drop-down screen above the coffee table. “FRIDAY, do we have any record of a Patience as a member of any known criminal organizations.”

“Her name wasn’t Patience,” Natasha said, pulling the card out of her pocket and handing it to Steve. “She said she was patience.”

“What does that mean?” Steve asked, typing the details into the computer.

Natasha shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

Tony chuckled. “I like the idea of anthropomorphic adjectives walking around.”

“Patience is a noun, Tony,” Bruce scolded. “And so is Tony.”

“You know what I mean,” Tony said, waving his hands around. “You can feel patient, you can’t feel Tony.” He paused for a moment. “Not unless you asked nicely.”

“Maybe she’s some kind of god,” Clint said. Everyone turned to him and Natasha raised her eyebrow. Sometimes Clint would say things that were so simple and so profoundly intelligent that she wasn’t sure if he just blindly stumbled into the answer or he was an actual genius.

“Is that a thing?” Sam asked. “Just random gods of emotions?”

Natasha shrugged. “I have no idea. It’s a pity Thor isn’t here, we could ask him. But she did say I’d been praying to her.”

Clint snorted. “Sounds about right.”

“But Thor’s not a real god, is he?” Steve said. “Wasn’t the theory that he’s just an alien that lives a long time and humans just decided he was a god?”

“The dude makes lightning, Cap,” Sam teased. “Maybe he’s not the only place it comes from, but he can definitely create it and control it. Why can’t there be the equivalent for something like patience.”

Clint snatched the card from Steve and shoved it into Natasha’s hands. “I say you call her.”

“You just want Nat to stop smacking you on the back of the head,” Bucky snorted.

“No, I want to see my best friend get laid,” Clint said, folding his arms across his broad chest. “I bet someone who can command patience would be great at sex.”

“And…?” Bucky pressed.

“And I don’t want to get clocked on the back of the head anymore,” Clint muttered.

Everyone laughed and Natasha looked down at the card, spinning it around in her hand.

“You look like you’re considering it, Red,” Tony mused. “What was she like?”

“Cryptic,” Natasha replied. “Cool.”

“Was she hot?” Clint asked.

“I think so,” Natasha said.

“So call her,” Sharon shrugged. “She helped me out. She can’t be all that bad.”

Natasha nodded. “At the very least I might get some answers.”

“And who knows, Nat,” Clint said. “Maybe she’ll be able to teach you a trick or two.”

Natasha bit the inside of her cheek trying not to laugh, and wishing she had a little bit of that patience right now.

// NEXT

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #black widow fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #small gods #patience

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gumnut-logic · 3 years

Text

For His Brothers (complete)

This one has been bugging me for a while. So I finally went back and completed it.

This was started in December last year, so most of it has been posted here before, but I’ve decided to post it in its entirety since I haven’t written any of it since February.

But now it is finished. Yay!

Thanks as always to @tsarinatorment @scribbles97 and @janetm74 for their amazing support throughout. You guys are just sooo kind to me ::hugs you to bits::

I hope you enjoy this.

Warnings: angst, frustrated Gordon, angry John and a pair of idiot older brothers. 5861 words.

-o-o-o-

He reached over and gently brushed away a stray hair from his brother’s forehead.

The room was quiet. Considering the monetary clout the Tracy family sported, it was to be expected. Hidden away from the bustling hospital, this oasis of a room with its pale furnishings, white privacy curtains, the cushioned chairs in place of the usual plastic was a haven.

These comforts were to be valued and Virgil appreciated them even if his brother would have frowned at the extravagance.

But that was Scott.

Always thinking of everything and everyone but himself.

Virgil let his fingers glide through that soft brown hair, the severity of their situation clear by the lack of gel stiffening the strands.

Scott never left the house without every hair perfectly placed, fingernails manicured, skin clean and refreshed. Looking at him, you wouldn’t think this was a man willing to get his hands dirty. But then Scott was never what he seemed.

The hair gel, the spotless clothing, his deportment, it all spoke of a wealthy man who owned sixty sports cars, three yachts and a private plane.

Scott had the plane, sure, the fastest one on the planet. And hell, yeah, he had a fast car and even a motorcycle. He didn’t sport a boat, but then Gordon was the one to stash those and it wasn’t like he wasn’t willing to share…well, most things.

But Scott never had time to just drive his car. The bike was on the Island gathering dust in a corner of One’s hangar. Virgil was pretty sure Scott hadn’t been on a boat that didn’t involve some kind of life-threatening situation in about ten years.

No, Scott was not your average billionaire.

A sigh and Virgil let himself wilt in the chair beside the bed.

Please, Scott.

His brother was pale, his skin almost bloodless. If it wasn’t for that, he could have been asleep. Scott was neat even in slumber. He wasn’t one to sprawl. There was a certain quiet efficiency to everything he did.

Virgil had brought in his brother’s pyjamas. Even helped the nurse dress him. It wasn’t the first time, after all. If Scott had been awake at the time, the protests would have been epic. The man did not like needing help. Did not like showing vulnerability. Did not want any of it.

Virgil had fought him on this far too many times before using soft words and, if necessary, a pile of hard logic to get him to behave. Because there was one weapon Virgil always had up his sleeve. Catching Scott’s eyes, all Virgil had to say was that he needed to do this. Virgil needed to care for his brother. Look after him and see him well.

It cracked Scott’s obstinance every time, because Scott would do anything for his brothers.

Including sacrificing himself.

Virgil let his head drop to his hand and rubbed his face. There was an edge to his thoughts. A hysteria lurking in the corners, lured out by certain possibilities, accompanied by terror.

He couldn’t.

No.

Another sigh and he looked up again, forcing his eyes to land on his brother. The total inability to do anything grated on Virgil’s senses. His everything was to fix things.

He couldn’t fix this.

He reached down and caught his brother’s hand. It was cool, but not cold. The IV sticking out the back of the vein just beneath his skin shifted as Virgil moved and he clutched the tubing gently to his brother’s wrist to prevent stress on the site.

Scott’s fingers were long.

Longer than Virgil’s. Long enough to play the piano better than Virgil had ever been capable. It was Scott’s thing...to be better. Following him in everything due to age had its challenges. Scott was good at what he wanted to be good at.

The fact he had dropped the piano at an early age was just as frustrating as John not singing with his magical voice. Virgil felt like the last bastion of artistic pursuits in the family.

Virgil ran a finger over his brother’s limp digits. No longer playing the piano beyond what long term memory could provide, these fingers were tasked with so much more. The strength behind them controlled Thunderbird One, their dexterity manipulated equipment, their determination reached out to save so many souls.

His brother’s hand blurred and Virgil had to blink hard.

Virgil would follow his big brother anywhere, and to be honest, he had followed him into hell on many an occasion. He had no regrets. Sometimes he considered that perhaps he had been brought into this world to do exactly that. To follow the born leader his brother was. To enable the strategies he envisioned and, in turn, support him in their mutual endeavours.

And to keep him safe.

Virgil wrapped both his hands around Scott’s fingers and dropped his forehead to their cool touch.

God, please.

“Hey, Virg?” The voice was unmistakably Gordon’s, but it lacked vivacity. “Grandma wants you.” The aquanaut took a step into the room. “I can sit with Scott.”

Virgil didn’t answer.

“Virg, please?”

He closed his eyes and held on just a little tighter to his brother’s hand.

The same hand he had failed to catch.

“V-“

“No.” His voice croaked the word, but the emotion came from so deep inside it hurt to cross his lips.

A soft touch to his shoulder and he heard his little brother crouch down beside him.

Virgil expected Gordon to keep trying to persuade him, but instead a soft head of hair leant into his shoulder and an arm reached around his back, pulling him off centre and holding him there.

No words, just Gordon’s soft breathing, slow and strong. Swimmer’s lungs. Olympian. Rescuer.

Thunderbird.

Virgil squeezed his eyes tight and kept his insides in where they belonged.

Gordon began gently stroking Virgil’s arm with the tips of his fingers.

They sat there like that for Virgil didn’t know how long. He kept his eyes closed, his forehead down and his big brother’s hand clutched in his.

“You know he is going to wake up, don’t you?” It was flippant and out of the blue. It shattered Virgil’s carefully tended calm and his head shot up, inadvertently pushing Gordon away.

“We don’t know that.”

“Yes, we do.”

Virgil opened his mouth, but his throat closed up. Only one strangled word made it out and it was little more than a plaintive wail. “How?”

“Because he’s Scott.” The surety in Gordon’s voice tore at the remains of Virgil’s heart. “Scott Tracy. Commander of International Rescue.” Gordon’s lips thinned as his eyes reflected the fluorescent lighting. “Thunderbird One.”

Virgil stared at his little brother a moment. The intensity in those brown eyes screamed belief and determination.

Not unlike Scott, really.

It almost broke Virgil in half.

He looked away, back to his big brother laid out on the white bed, almost funereal in appearance. Virgil’s throat clogged up, fear, distress and grief warring for dominance.

His eyes fixated on Scott’s eyelashes once again and mentally begged them to open, pleaded to see that wise and inspirational blue. For his brother to return to him.

Please don’t leave.

God, please, I can’t do this without you.

“He’s going to be fine, Virgil.” Gordon’s voice again intruded on his stability, shaking the fragile framework his composure was sitting on.

“He trusted me.” The words fell from his lips, his voice wet, his eyes still fixated on his silent brother.

“He always trusts you. We all do.” Gordon’s voice was very much his rescue voice. Soft, reassuring and ever so kind.

Virgil didn’t deserve it.

The powerlines had come out of nowhere. He should have predicted that at least, but instead he had John yelling in his ears and Scott swooping in low with his jetpack, grabbing him by his exo-suit and literally shoving him out of the way. Virgil had spun on one tortured ankle, but the electrical wires had missed him.

They hadn’t missed Scott.

They slapped across his jet pack and vivid white and orange sparks blinded Virgil as he tried to reach for his brother. After-images haunted his sight as Scott’s jet pack died. Virgil reached for his brother, claws extended, but he was clumsy, poorly balanced, and he missed.

Scott fell limp into the dark water below.

And Virgil couldn’t follow.

Then it was all a mad dance to get out the reach of the still flailing powerlines, accompanied by the roar of his own ‘bird swooping into a low hover and his aquanaut brother taking a swan dive off her front hatch into that same dark water.

Virgil hurried to get off the bridge, but found he couldn’t.

He had been on the outside of the structure, rappelling down to secure a car that had almost fallen off the bridge due to the 6.5 quake an hour ago. The bridge was almost empty bar the last of the support personnel who had helped International Rescue evacuate the injured. Virgil had clambered out there simply to clip a restraint onto the car’s chassis to prevent it from falling off the bridge and possibly causing more injury. It should have been a simple job, mere seconds before they moved onto the next site.

The pylon had fallen without warning.

And the powerlines, which weren’t supposed to be there, came with it.

Scott had saved Virgil’s life.

At the cost of his own.

And now Virgil couldn’t even get off the damned bridge due to that same pylon, a tangle in his rappel line, and the very strong possibility he had a broken ankle.

He had to stand there and watch Gordon drag their brother onto the shore and start CPR in the mud.

The aquanaut was joined by Alan and a hovering One almost immediately. Scott was scooped off the planet and the rocket plane tore off into the distance.

He was stuck on that bridge for a good twenty minutes. Unable to reach his ‘bird still hovering until John landed her in a street nearby. Unable to climb off the bridge. He was little more than just another rescuee in need of his brothers.

Full of terror.

John reported on Scott’s status as much as he could and fretted in his own calm way over Virgil. His voice was, as ever, a balm, but the lack of a definitive answer on whether his eldest brother was going to survive kept Virgil’s heart rate in the red.

But then there was the familiar roar of that same brother’s ‘bird and One shot into an abrupt hover, Alan rappelling down and finally scooping Virgil off the side of the bridge.

Scott was still unconscious when Virgil finally made it to the hospital, and his brother had stayed that way ever since.

Three days.

Three long pain-filled days.

Virgil’s ankle had been splinted and he was mobile. Turned out the left strut of his exo-suit had actually snapped. How Scott had managed to shove him with that much force, Virgil had no idea. But it had achieved what his brother had wanted to do. He had saved Virgil, even if he hadn’t managed to save himself.

So quiet. So still.

Gordon shifted beside him, a small sigh passing his lips.

“Thank you, Gordon.” Virgil’s throat clogged again. “For saving him.”

“You don’t need to thank me. We’d all do the same for any of us.”

“You shouldn’t have had to. I should have known those wires were there. I should have moved faster.”

“What are you? Prophetic? John had the plans for that bridge, you had the plans for that bridge. There was no mention of hidden cables in that span. You know it, I know it. There wasn’t a damn thing you could have done. Some stupid idiot didn’t file the proper papers with the proper authorities.”

“I should have scanned the structure more thoroughly.”

“Virgil, it was a bridge, not a damned building. You and Scott located all the injured. You did good.” An exasperated sigh. “This was not your fault.” Gordon straightened. “And if you don’t leave this room and eat something, Grandma is going to have both our hides.”

Virgil didn’t even bother to look at him. “No. I’m staying here.” He had to, because Scott had to wake up.

He had to.

“I have to say, bro, I had to talk very fast to keep Grandma away. Forty-eight hours is ridiculous. You need food and rest.”

“I ate.” The discarded remains of breakfast sat on the sideboard. It had been cardboard and chaff in his mouth. The water had been welcome to wash it down.

And he’d kept it down...mostly.

Gordon glared at him. “More than three mouthfuls. Listen, if you don’t move yourself, John and I are going to move you for your own good.”

Virgil looked up at Gordon in shock. “No.” He had to be here.

“You’re forcing our hand, Virg! I will knock you out myself, if I have to, and I know...I know...Scott would agree.”

“Yes, he does.” It was parched and more breath than voice, but it was Scott.

Virgil spun in his chair as the fingers still wrapped in his hands curled around his. Dopey blue eyes pinned him from the bed. “What the h-hell are you doing, Virgil?”

“Scott!” Something inside broke. A dam, a wall of emotion slammed into him at the sight of that crease between Scott’s eyebrows, the twitch of his lips.

It took everything he had to hold it all in.

“Hey, big bro, you’re with us! How are you feeling?” Gordon was on his feet and practically bouncing. A blink and his little brother had thumbed his comms and was letting their family know.

The figure under the bed clothes shifted and groaned. “Stiff and sore. What the hell happened?”

“You got zapped like a bug, went for a swim, and made Alan fly you to these luxurious accommodations.” Gordon’s arm waved around at the white room.

Scott stared at Gordon a moment before blearily turning to Virgil, his expression pleading an explanation.

Virgil pushed it past the lump in his throat, voice parched. “You were hit by live powerlines and knocked from the sky. Fortunately, you were over water and fairly low. Gordon fished you out and saved your life.”

A blink as those blue eyes absorbed that. “What about you?” And there was memory in those eyes, worry for a younger brother, the drive that pushed Scott to give his everything.

For his brothers.

“I’m good.” Now.

“Bullshit, Virg.” Gordon’s expression was beyond exasperated. “You need rest.”

Lips thinned. “I know what I need, Gordon.”

The hand that was still in his tightened and Virgil was forced to look at Scott. Nothing was said, but everything was communicated.

For his brothers.

Scott would not rest if Virgil did not.

He swallowed his beating heart and with a gentle squeeze of his brother’s hand, Virgil stood up and straightened his shoulders. “I sh-should let the others know you’re awake.”

Virgil was vaguely aware of Scott frowning up at him as he reached for his crutches, but a sudden light-headedness distracted him. Perhaps he should eat something.

“Virg?” Scott’s voice was weak.

“What?” Virgil turned and the world turned with him.

A clatter of plastic chair and Gordon was suddenly in his face. “Hey, there, Virg. Take it slow.” His little brother was frowning as much as Scott, his hand gripping Virgil’s biceps holding him steady.

Virgil got his crutches under his arms. “I’m...good.”

Scott was struggling to sit up.

Gordon let go of Virgil with one hand and grabbed his eldest brother by the shoulder. “Hey, you stay put.”

“Virgil-“

“Virgil is fine, Scott. He is going to go to his rooms to eat and sleep for a good twelve hours even if I have to tie him to his bed.” A thumb to his collar. “John, I need you in here.”

Within seconds, the door opened and their red-haired brother strode in. The moment those turquoise eyes landed on Virgil, his brow creased into a frown, but it flickered as he turned to Scott, relief taking over.

Gordon didn’t give him a chance to say anything

“Johnny, a clear case of Operation Big Bro Tango. You want Scott? I’ll dance with Virg.”

A smirk curved John’s lips. “FAB.”

“What the hell?” That came from Scott.

Virgil had closed his eyes at some point. The world was still going around. The sound of a chair being dragged across the floor and an arm wrapped around his waist. “C’mon, Virg, let’s get you something to eat.”

He didn’t want to eat. He was nauseous and his head hurt and his heart was tied up in a mass of emotion that he could barely keep under control.

“Scott-“

“Scott will be fine. John has him, and I have you.”

“I’m...” But he wasn’t fine and he had to get out of this room before Scott realised it. Before... “I’m good.” That last word scraped over his larynx and left a bloody trail. He forced his eyes open to find a worried Scott staring up at him. John’s hand was on his eldest brother’s shoulder and he was speaking quietly to the man, obviously trying his best to keep Scott where he was. Virgil forced some steel into his spine. “I’m good, Scott. I’m going to get something to eat. Gran...Grandma will probably be here in a moment.” His hand tightened on his crutches and he carefully edged around the chair that had been his constant companion for the last few days.

Gordon hovered.

“Look after yourself, Virgil.” Scott’s voice was desperate.

Virgil didn’t look back. “I’m good. You worry about you.” A haggard breath. “Listen to John.”

He got a grunt for that as Gordon held open the door, urging him through.

A last glance at his big brother, now sitting up in bed, John’s hand still on his shoulder. Virgil turned his back to him and crutched his way through the door.

He made it all of five steps down the corridor before Gordon had to catch him as he fell.

-o-o-o-

“You idiot.”

It was breathless and close. It came from beyond the fog and outside the numb space he was inhabiting. It spoke of a place where pain existed.

Because there was pain in that voice.

“Why did you do this? Why?!”

The voice was familiar and it sparked hurt in his heart.

“Do you honestly think I would risk everything for your life just so you can go and flush it all down the toilet in some self-sacrificing vigil? Virg, why?”

Somewhere there was a thump as something fell beside him. It vibrated slowly through his body. He had a body. He had a hand. Because it was grabbed and held tightly, crushed up against soft skin backed by muscle and bone.

Breath tantalised the hairs on his wrist.

Whispered. “Virg, it wasn’t your fault. John hunted down the person responsible.” A soft snort. “You should have seen him. Our brother can be truly terrifying when he wants to be.” Another sigh across his wrist. A brush of fingers. “I can’t…”

Scott swallowed. Because it was Scott and there was something very significant about that.

“You can’t do this. I can’t…” The voice petered off again.

The hand holding his tightened a little more.

“You’re my brother.” The words came laden with so much emotion Virgil’s heart stuttered and he struggled to focus, to reach out.

His fingers wrapped around those holding them.

“Virgil?” There was sudden hope.

“What the hell do you think you are doing?!”

The new, sharp voice startled Virgil and he flung his eyes open. Blinded by ceiling tiles he groaned and shut them again. Hospital. He was in a damned hospital.

“Virgil?!” A clatter of footsteps hurrying close. Gordon. The new voice was Gordon.

Typical.

“What?” The single word made it past his dry throat.

Another hand landed on his opposite shoulder and he attempted to open his eyes again and found his fish brother smiling down at him. “’Bout time you woke up. Was beginning to wonder if you were trying to compete with electro boy over there.” Gordon waved a hand across the bed to the opposite side.

Virgil turned his head and found a wan Scott Tracy sitting beside his bed, holding his hand. His big brother was a picture of exhaustion.

Several neurons fired in the right sequence and facts aligned themselves into order. “Scott!” Virgil pushed himself up.

“Whoa, Virg! Take it slow.” Strong aquanaut hands caught him as his body protested the sudden change in orientation. “And you, keep your butt plastered to that chair or I’m calling Johnny back in here to kick it. Hell, I might do that anyway. What the hell are you doing out of bed?”

Scott grunted as Gordon shoved pillows behind Virgil’s back and fiddled with the automatic bed controls until Virgil was supported enough to relax.

Scott did not let go of Virgil’s hand.

Virgil didn’t let go of Scott with his eyes. “Are you okay?” His voice was dry and cracked.

“I’m fine, Virgil.” His brother straightened as if to prove the point as Gordon spluttered a scoff. Blue eyes targeted the aquanaut. “I’m fine.” Firm and decisive.

“My god, both of you are idiots.” It was pure frustration this time. “Scott, go back to bed before you collapse just like your idiot brother. If you fold, then he’ll rot beside your bed until he collapses again and the rest of us will be stuck with two sick idiots.” He glared at both of them. “Well, sicker than you already are.” Angry brown eyes flicked to Virgil. “Grandma is going to roast you, Virg. You are so dead. Since when do you not take her medical advice?”

“What?” And now there was a pair of angry blue eyes glaring at him, too. “You ignored Grandma? Are you insane?”

Gordon’s eyebeams zapped his eldest brother where he sat. “You can’t talk, Scott. You’re out of bed. Grandma told you to stay there. One flick to comms and you are toast.”

“Gordon-“

“No. Screw this. You guys might be worried about each other, but we care about you too. I’ve had to pick both of you off the floor just recently and it was not fun! Think about that!” Gordon was yelling. “Do as you are damn well told and get better!”

“Gords?” And Virg was moving, throwing off his covers.

“Didn’t you hear a word I just said?!”

Virgil froze. The anger emanating off his brother was fiery and so out of character, Virgil’s heart skipped a beat.

“Gordon?” And Scott rose unsteadily to his feet.

Those angry eyes whipped around and targeted Scott. “For God’s sake, sit down!”

The door behind Gordon was suddenly shoved open and John barrelled through. Aquamarine eyes caught the scene and Gordon was grabbed from behind before he could launch himself at his brothers.

“Gordon.” John wasn’t stronger than his fish brother, but his presence was enough and Gordon wilted in his arms.

“John, your turn to tango. I’ve had it.” He slipped from his brother’s grip and stormed out.

Virgil remembered to draw a breath, but then his eyes were caught by an aquamarine glare and he knew he was dead.

“Scott, get into bed.” It was said quietly, but with intent. Virgil was not surprised when his eldest brother did exactly as he was told without protest.

He did worry at how pale Scott was and had to fight the urge to climb out of bed and help him, broken ankle or not.

John pinned Virgil with his eyes.

Virgil pulled the covers back over himself and said nothing.

His space brother made sure Scott was comfortable, but didn’t say anything further until the pilot relaxed back onto his pillows. John then moved to the ends of their beds and turned to face both of them.

“I expect better.” He held their eyes a moment longer. “I need to see to Gordon.” Their little brother turned away, his back dismissing them. He flicked an eye to the ceiling. “Eos, monitor please. Alert Grandma as needed.”

“Yes, John.” Virgil startled at the sharp but not unexpected response.

John didn’t spare them anything else before he left.

Virgil’s heart sank through the floor.

-o-o-o-

Gordon was absent for most of the rest of Virgil’s stay in the hospital. Fortunately, that stay wasn’t very long, just one more night and Virgil suspected Grandma had had a word to the doctors to achieve that.

He slept most of it, comforted by the sound of Scott’s breathing. His brother had to stay in a little longer considering his three days of non-responsiveness, but Grandma intervened and sent Virgil home to the Island.

It felt like banishment.

But he also felt like he deserved it for worrying his family so much.

At the time it had seemed the only logical course. He had to stay with Scott.

Just had to.

Stepping out of the situation clarified it for him somewhat and gave him his family’s perspective, ever so clearly.

He vanished into his studio for two days.

Gordon had come home with him, obviously still playing the big brother tango thing that he and John obviously used as some kind of strategy to herd Scott and himself. It was somewhat ridiculous, but he could now see why.

There was more guilt, on top of guilt.

The paint was angry.

On the third day there was a knock on his studio door. “Virgil?”

John.

Virgil closed his eyes and sighed. Scott was returning today and the paint splattered all over the canvas he had been prodding since six in the morning was going nowhere.

There was a lot of blue.

So much blue.

“Virgil?”

He put down his paintbrush and realised there was also a lot of blue on him. He brushed at his shirt, but half of it was dry and the other half just smeared and made it worse.

All blue.

“Virg?”

“Come in.” It was resigned.

The door unlatched and John peered into the room, eyes exploring in that critical way his little brother absorbed everything until they latched onto Virgil. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Virgil grabbed a rag and scrubbed off the wet paint on his hands. His skin crackled where some had dried.

Those eyes fixated on him, drifting down to the ankle and the crutches on the floor.

John sighed. “Virgil...”

The engineer connected the dots and pressed his lips together. “I’m fine. Stop worrying.” To emphasise the point, he dragged over the stool he had been using for most of the morning and planted his butt on it. “See.”

John’s eyes lowered a little, but he didn’t back down. Instead, he shut the door behind him and made his way over to Virgil. Grabbing another stool, he sat down next to him in front of the painting from a blue sculpted hell.

John’s aquamarine eyes both blended and clashed with the colour scheme. “I sense a theme.” It was said lightly, almost an invitation to truce.

“It sucks.” The blue was smeared in streaks over more streaks. It spoke of canted speed and pain. Paint cracked again as Virgil tightened a fist.

It didn’t go unnoticed.

“It wasn’t your fault.” Ever so quiet and calm.

And days worth of frustration and guilt surfaced. “I have the equipment, John. I should have scanned. One little scan and so much hurt could have been avoided.”

“Fine. We will add infrastructure scans to our standard procedure. Name the type and we will do it.”

The simple statement brought Virgil up short.

John raised an eyebrow. “You expected something else?” His expression softened. “No one is blaming you, Virgil. No one but yourself.”

“Scott almost died.”

“But he didn’t.”

“John...” He let his head drop. “I can’t...”

A hand landed on his shoulder. “Virgil, you don’t have to. Scott will be fine.”

Virgil swallowed and turned back to his painting. An absent smear of blue with a thumb. He frowned and pushed himself to his feet. A finger here, another smear there. He grabbed his palette and added some red, still finger painting. White and a touch of Payne’s grey, more blue and more white and for a moment he lost himself in the process.

“It’s Thunderbird One.” It was said quietly, but with awe. “How did you do that?”

Virgil didn’t answer, grabbing a brush and, using the point at the end of the handle, scratched in the casual detail of his big brother’s ‘bird.

Lines he knew ever so well.

A fingernail of red and blue and Scott appeared aboard the facsimile of the rocket plane.

Virgil shuffled backwards on one foot. “I can’t fly her.”

He heard the frown rather than saw it. “Yes, you can.”

“No. No, I’m not Scott. Never Scott.” He turned to face his little brother as the emotions poured onto his face, raw and desperate. “I can’t lose him, John. I can’t.”

Aquamarine eyes widened. “Virgil?”

Realising exactly what he was saying, Virgil turned away and put the paintbrush down and swallowed his fear. “You’re right. I’ll write new procedures. It won’t happen again.” He grabbed a rag and concentrated on scrubbing the paint off his fingers.

But John was having none of it, he grabbed Virgil by the shoulders. “Now you listen to me. You have four brothers. Four, Virgil. If the worst happens. We will work it out.” Those hands tightened. “We. Will. Work. It. Out.” John pulled him into his arms and he was being hugged ever so tight.

John’s shirt was smooth against his cheek.

Virgil closed his eyes.

“I’m sorry.” It made it past his tight throat.

John didn’t respond other than to hold him even tighter.

-o-o-o-

John had him clean up and have a shower. Virgil was tired and arguing required more energy than he had. Thunderbird Five was doing his big bro tango with skill.

Following that, his red-haired brother rounded him up and escorted him, crutches and all, to the kitchen and the sounds of family.

Virgil almost baulked, but a gentle hand in the middle of his back nudged him down the stairs.

“Virgil! Scott’s home!” Alan bounced up to him, nothing but glee-filled relief on his face and the engineer couldn’t help but lift his own mood to match.

The sight of his big brother sitting at the table, pale and wan, managed Virgil a step further in relief, but a step back in worry. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

“And good morning to you, too, Virgil.” Scott shoved a forkful of pancake into his mouth, making a point to lick the maple syrup off his lips. “Besides, look in the mirror.”

Virgil was aware of Alan shooting him a concerned look, but he ignored it.

The room was filled with the wonderful smell of fresh cooked pancakes. A glance into the kitchen itself and Virgil found Gordon at the stove, busily producing the pancakes that Scott was so eagerly consuming.

“It’s lunch time.” It was a redundant statement, and said without thought.

He paid for it appropriately.

“Pancakes for lunch is perfect for an invalid fresh home from the hospital.” Gordon’s tone was sharp and Virgil was forced to realise his fish brother hadn’t yet forgiven him.

His heart sank.

“Sit down, Virgil, before you fall down.” Scott was eyeing him as he shoved another forkful in his mouth.

He got cream on his nose.

Alan immediately pointed it out and cracked up laughing as Scott purposefully attempted to lick his own nose and made a complete idiot of himself in the process.

Anything for his brothers.

Virgil sighed as John pointed him to a seat beside their eldest brother. A short stack of pancakes were procured and placed in front of him, as was some orange juice.

He opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, John shut him down. “No coffee. And don’t think I don’t know that you’ve been sculling the stuff all morning. I’ve seen the free range coffee cup herd in your studio.”

Virgil grunted and glared at the glass.

Condensation reflected his image back at him thousands of times at the microscopic level.

He let the sounds around him merge into the soundscape.

Each brother had his own pitch. His own timbre. Kayo waltzed through at one point, her voice a higher melody amongst the masculine chorus.

Alan’s laughter bounced around the room like someone had dropped a set of cymbals and they were clattering into everything.

Gordon’s tone was unusually sharp and Virgil closed his eyes, knowing it was his fault. His sunshine brother was well into the brass section today.

John was a woodwind. Calm, quiet, melodious. Subtle and sneaking up like a dramatic lead into a surprise.

And Scott…

Virgil’s forehead furrowed.

Scott conducted it all. His warm voice drew it all together and made it work. He was the creator of the symphony that was their family.

Something cold and wet was suddenly smeared on his nose.

What the-?

He opened his eyes to a mixture of white blob and laughing blue.

Somewhere, Alan cracked up again. He must have fallen over, because there was a crash and a squawking Gordon, who in turn began to laugh his ass off.

“That’s a great look, Virg.” Scott was grinning at him.

Beyond Scott, John was smiling ever so fondly.

Virgil turned back to his big brother. “That better be cream.”

His brother’s grin got even wider.

Virgil just stared at him a moment longer before poking out his tongue and casually licking the cream…it was thankfully just vanilla whipped cream…off the end of his nose in one quick swipe.

The room erupted in both awe and horror.

“How the hell did you do that?”

“Ew, gross!”

Even John had a rather weirded out expression on his face.

Only Scott was unfazed, still grinning as if he knew what would happen.

Which he did.

Which was probably why he had done it in the first place.

For his brothers.

Virgil grabbed a napkin and wiped his nose clean properly. He dropped it on the table and then, shifting his chair over a little, let himself slide gently sideways until his head was against Scott’s shoulder. “Glad to have you back.”

Still smiling. “Glad to be here.”

The exclamations of both awe and ew continued until it became a war between the terrible two and who had the longest tongue.

Virgil just let his eyes close and relaxed against his big brother. Eventually an arm crept around him and pulled him a little closer. It felt warm.

It felt safe.

“I’m sorry.” It was a whispered exhalation.

“Nothing to be sorry about.”

Virgil grunted, but was too comfortable to disagree.

Scott was home, and the familiar sounds of his family swelled around him, leaching away the worry and the fear.

It felt safe.

Because Virgil was a brother and obviously, Scott would do anything.

For his brothers.

-o-o-o-

FIN.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Scott Tracy #Virgil Tracy #Gordon Tracy #John Tracy #alan tracy

41 notes · View notes

ribbonetteart · 3 years

Photo

I redesigned Rouge!

A LOT of notes about her redesign below:

Again, much like the Cream redesign, I’d like to start with the disclaimer that I don’t hate Rouge’s current design! I think her current look is cute but I did take some issue with it here and there, and here was the checklist I had in mind when redesigning her:

Put some red on her! Her name is ROUGE

Ditch the jumpsuit. I get the impression that the “sexier” aspects of Rouge make her appear older than she is, so I wanted to try making her look more like she’s 18.

Wing arms!!! There’s nothing wrong with putting the wings on her back but I wanted to emphasize her being a bat.

Give her a new alt outfit. In Sonic Heroes, Rouge got a new outfit that was quickly retired. I wanted to give her a debut outfit and a new outfit that would stick around.

Switch out the heart motif for a diamond motif. I think the heart motif is cute! But I think making diamonds Rouge’s thing is more fitting since she loves jewels more than anything.

Rouge’s Body

The 1st reference sheet is Rouge’s bare body. She’s still got white fur, but her body is gray. I actually came to the decision to give her gray body fur last-minute; I wanted to give her a white belt in her 2nd outfit, but her white midriff made the 2 things blend and I needed some contrast. I drew (ba-dum-tssh) lots of inspiration from Honduran white bats, and thus I gave her a little bat nose and smoky colored wings (I actually wanted a more gray-ish purple wing color, but my scanner gave me this gray instead. the gray-purple is more noticeable in the other reference sheet though).

I gave her a furry body because I thought it was weird that other Sonic character’s bodies had fur and Rouge was just all skin, save for her head. She has chest fur now because I thought it made her look more like a bat and because I’m not that comfortable with an 18 year old baring visible cleavage all the time, so this hit 2 birds with one stone. I kept her arms and legs furless, again, to make her look more like a Honduran white bat. I also wanted some more body diversity within the sonic cast, so I gave Rouge a plumper body and wider legs since she usually uses her legs in combat.

I wanted to keep her skin tone similar to the one she has in Sonic Adventure 2, but I ditched the eye color. I really wanted to put some red on her somewhere since her name is Rouge, and making it her eye color means that she has red on her all the time, so I thought it was perfect. On one final note regarding her body, she’s got visible nails now! Her old, beta name before it was “Rouge” was “Nails”, and I imagine she uses her nails for digging or combat so I made them more prominent.

Rouge’s Clothes

“That Government Spy Rouge the Bat”: SA2 G.U.N. Agent Rouge

Her 1st outfit would be her outfit in her debut appearance while she’s an agent for G.U.N. I still wanted her outfit to look trendy without looking too much like a uniform as she is supposed to be an undercover agent in SA2. The decision to use a blue analogous palette was to make it look even more like a police uniform.

Her gloves are short, half gloves. With arms on her wings, obviously her opera gloves weren’t gonna fit comfortably. The cropped gloves fit more comfortably on her hands without bothering her wings.

Rouge’s uniform is a sleeveless turtleneck and a “skort”, or, shorts with a skirt on it. The skirt flap has a pocket where she stores anything that won’t fit on her utility belt.

She’s also got piercings now! I think they suit her for someone who’s obsessed with jewels.

Her boots aren’t flashy, but they’re a chunky heel with metal soles to pack a harder wallop in her kicks.

Fly in the Freedom: Post SA2 Rouge

With this design comes with a bit of a rewrite. Rouge no longer works under G.U.N., free-lancing or not. After the events of SA2, she’s quit and gone on to do her own thing (however she’s still a grade A thief).

Overall, her new post SA2 look is rather asymmetrical compared to her more uniform look in the 1st design. I thought the asymmetry would convey her new rebellious, independent status and contrast more with the uniform she sported prior to when she took order from G.U.N.

I wanted this design to look more cohesive with team dark. Her Sonic Heroes outfit made her stick out from the other team members as she had a more purple and pink color palette compared to Shadow and Omega’s red, black, and gold. For her palette, I wanted to incorporate more of those colors to really make her look like the leader of Team Dark. The reds are mostly located on her diamond motifs, and the gold on her is on any metal she’s adorning.

Her outfit includes a cropped leather jacket, dark purple-ish black form fitting pants, white knee high boots, and white leather utility belt and cropped fingerless gloves. Since she no longer has a skirt flap or pocket to store extra items, I gave a her a little fanny pack at the back of her belt. I gave her a cropped jacket to make her look a little more rebellious, seeing as her teammates are rebels of their own. The leader of an edgy team has gotta look edgy herself, I figured! The dark make up is also to help with her new, bold and edgy look.I also wanted to show off Rouge’s chest fur and the deep V neck of the jacket does that well!

I thought Rouge’s heart boots were cute, but since I’m replacing her heart motif with diamonds, I wanted to adjust it to fit the diamond motif. She’s now got diamonds at the toe of her boots as well as the sole. I made them wedge heels because I imagine they’re easier to run in.

Inventory

On her utility belt, she’s got a flip phone: good for quick contact and disposal. She also has a few pouches, probably to hold smoke bombs or something. I also wanted her to keep her treasure scope from SA2, so it’s also got a place on her belt.

Other inventory items include her compact, perfect for touching up her make up or finding pesky lasers (which is a spy trope I think? It’s probably not scientifically sound but whatever it helps her find lasers).

And of course, Rouge’s bat bomb! It functions much the same as Rouge’s bombs have throughout the series (Sonic Battle, Sonic 06, Sonic Forces: Speed Battle), I just adjusted its appearance to reflect this redesign.

I also decided while I was at it to take the guns away from Shadow and give them to Rouge; I don’t see why the ultimate life form needs a fire arm when he can shoot powerful concentrated beams of energy from his hands while the secret agent (who is more likely to be equipped with that kind of weapon) would be without it. She has her pea shooter on her leg holster concealed by her boots (Which is why I tried making her boots a bit bigger than her legs as opposed to being tight fitting).

Hair

Finally, Rouge has got some new hairstyles! For her SA2 look, I wanted to keep the trademark Yuji Uekawa spiky hair he tends to draw on his sonic characters, but I definitely wanted to change her hairstyle; I just personally wasn’t a fan of her current style. I wanted something that looked mature and chic, so I gave her a layered bob. It’s also symmetrical to fit the uniform look she’s wearing.

And Rouge gets another haircut for her post SA2 look! It’s much wavier, and she’s got bangs now. For this style, I was inspired by 1. the Finger Waves hairstyle, 2. those little curlicues that agent Honeydew has from Dexter’s Laboratory, and 3. Marilyn Monroe’s curly hair. I wanted to add some elegance to Rouge’s look and I think the curly hair really brings that aspect of her character out.

If you’ve made it to the end of all of this then like holy crap thank you so much for reading all of this and I love you

#Rouge the bat #sonic the hedgehog #sonic redesign #sonic adventure 2 #team dark #character design #my art

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poliel · 3 years

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Surprise Egg 4/13: Congrats

Filbo had just gotten the fire going in the pit for the evening when he glanced up to see Buddy wondering into town. Always happy to see them, he straightened to smile at them as they approached.

“Hey Buddy, how’s it going?”

“Filbo!” Their eyes sparkled with excitement, a wonderful sight after how exhausted they’d been lately. “You’ll neverguess what just happened.”

“You found out where Liz is?” Filbo almost didn’t dare hope for such a thing but if anyone could find her it was Buddy so… maybe.

“Oh uh… no, not yet. I will soon though, I promise.” Yeah, definitely too much to hope for. “But I did find something very cool. Or more like it found me. I’ll show you.” They walked over and sat down on the log bench by the fire.

Filbo sat next to them, close enough that he could see their camera’s screen as they lifted it from where it hung around their neck. It booted back up in seconds, allowing them to navigate to their recently taken photos.

“What is that?” Just a photo of it made Filbo’s fur prickle with unease. It was some kind of bugsnax? But grumpus shaped. And it might’ve just been the angle the photo was taken from but it looked big too.

Buddy flipped back through more, including ones that showed it did indeed have large googly looking eyes like bugsnax. “I’ve decided to call it Snaxsquatch because it’s like Grumpsquatch but a bugsnax. I also got a recording of what it sounds like. Wanna hear?”

Not really but Buddy was clearly very excited about this for some reason and it was nice seeing them happy so… “I guess.”

With a far too excited grin, they switched their camera back off and pulled out their tape recorder. After rewinding it a bit, the pressed play.

“Hello. Can you understand me?” There was a brief pause filled with the sound of Buddy’s camera snapping a few photos before their recorded voice continued. “I’m a journalist and I’m here to do a story on bugsnax. If you can understand me, I’d like a…”

A wet growl interrupted them, making Filbo flinch. Knowing something that could growl like that was on the island somewhere was the opposite of a cool find. And… and that thing had been right near Buddy, close enough that they’d talked to it. Did their bravery know no bounds?

Apparently so as their recorded voice continued without hesitation and full of even more excitement. “Growling works. How about a long growl for ‘no’ and short a one for ‘yes’?”

A short growl answered Buddy followed by an unidentifiable sound. Which was were Buddy stopped the recording. “That’s where it sank into the ground. And when I looked there wasn’t any trace of it, not even a hole for it to have sunk into. So I have no idea where it went or is now. But cool, right? I’m sure it’s the thing Beffica and Gramble saw that night when the spooky message appeared on the town sign, meaning it wasn’t aliens after all.”

“Uh… I don’t know about cool but it’s certainly scary. How much of a threat to Snaxburg do you think it might be?”

“Not at all. It’s friendly.” For how scary it looked and sounded, their nonchalant confidence was surprising even for them.

“How do you know?”

They slipped their recorder back into their back pack’s side pocket as they answered. “I was that close to it because it was dragging me back to town after I passed out in the Sizzling Sands. It even pulled down Shelda’s lean-to to transport me on.”

“Whoa, what? You passed out! Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just…” They trailed off as a look of dawning realization came over their face. “Huh? I’m not sure how I forgot about that but uh…” They looked around for a couple seconds before turning back to look at him again. “I gotta talk to you in private.” All excitement was gone from their voice now, replaced by a chilling seriousness.

“About what?” What could be more important than the fact they’d apparently passed out in the middle of a hot desert and had to be dragged back by a monster? And why didn’t they seem to care?

“Just… something, okay? Now let’s…” They cut off as they stood up, teetering for a moment before he shot up to steady them. They leaned on him slightly as they lifted a paw to press to their forehead. It only lasted a few seconds but it was long enough to almost give Filbo a heart attack.

“Oof, that was… ugh,” they said as they pushed off him to stand under their own weight again. Before Filbo could ask him if they were okay though…

“Whoa Bestie, you okay?” Beffica said as she wondered into the campfire circle.

“Yeah. Don’t worry about me.” They lifted a paw in a weak dismissive gesture towards her.

“You should probably go lie down.” Unsure of what else he could do, Filbo stood ready to steady them again if they needed it. Oh, if only Eggabell were here.

It hadn’t been a commotion really but Cromdo had stepped closer too, looking maybe kind of worried. At that moment, Chandlo wondered in with a “What’s going on? Why’s everyone here look so worried?”

Buddy frowned at him before speaking. “I need to talk to Filbo about something.” They took Filbo’s paw and started leading him back towards the hut the two of them now shared.

As soon as they were in the hut with the door closed, Buddy pulled off their back pack and lowered it to the floor with a grateful sounding sigh. They then unzipped it and took out their camera’s case, placing that on the table before carefully pulling their camera off over their head and into it. They put that back safely in their pack before zipping it up once more. It was a familiar routine of theirs, one that Filbo had seen many times since Buddy had moved in but they did it with much more exaggerated care this time as if they were so exhausted, they could barely move.

“You okay?” Filbo asked as they finally turned to look at him. They’d been acting clearly unwell for a while now but this was different and worse. … If only Eggabell were here, she’d know how to fix it.

They looked at him in silent thought, one paw on the table as they leaned slightly onto it. After several seconds of this they pushed off and walked over to him still standing by the door and… hugged him. They pressed into him with a slight, exhausted sounding purr. “I missed you.”

He hugged them back of course, though he couldn’t quite muster up a purr himself right now. “Uh… I missed you too but… you weren’t gone that long.” They even still been here this morning when Filbo woke up, something that was honestly pretty rare with how busy they were.

“I know. But something happened and… it made me miss you.” That was strange but… okay.

Unsure what to say to that, Filbo just held them for however long they wanted to be held for. Which wasn’t long as they soon gave him one more tight squeeze before pulling back.

They stepped all the way back before speaking. “I finally found out why I’ve been so unwell lately. It’s kind of obvious now that I really think about it.”

“What is it?” And how seriouswas it?

“Um…” They looked away, lifting a paw to nervously rub the back of their neck. “You remember a few months ago when I was in heat and you helped me. And then you asked if I had any contraceptives and I didn’t but told you it would probably be fine anyway because having a hard time conceiving runs in my family? Well turns out it wasn’t fine after all. Whoops.”

“Wait! You mean you’re…” He cut off, unable to say it quite yet because how could they actually be carrying his egg? Yeah sure, it made sense given the whole heat thing and but still. That wasn’t at all news he was prepared for or had ever given any thought to possibly one day receiving or having to give to someone else. Kids were fine and all but never once had the thought occurred to him that he might someday have one of his own.

“I was pregnant but then uh… I laid the egg which is how I found out about it. I passed out afterwards. And that’s when the Snaxsquatch brought me back here.” They reached into their pouch where they’d taken to carrying Sprout. What they pulled out though was undoubtedly a grumpus egg. The faded splotches of colour on it were burnt orange and light blue, confirming its parentage. They tried to hand to Filbo.

He flinched, pulling his paws in close to this chest. “Why are you giving it to me?” Given his track record he should be the last one handling something as important and delicate as an egg.

“Just… because. I need sleep. You can tell the others about it while I take a nap. Or I guess you could keep it a secret for now if you want to. But regardless, we’ll talk about what we’re going to do about it after I get some rest, okay? So just take it for now.” They pushed it towards him again.

He wanted to refuse but… they were clearly beyond exhausted and utterly unwell. The fact that they’d just given birth to the egg not long ago certainly explained why. They’d done it all alone out in the middle of the hot desert too, how awful and scary must that have been? And yet they didn’t complain, they never did about anything. So… trying not to grimace too hard, he accepted it from their paws.

“Thanks.” Then, without further word, they turned and walked over to the bed and collapsed face first onto it. Probably not even five seconds later they were snoring softly.

Never the most dexterous of grumpuses, Filbo’s paws were even more clumsy than usual due to being like strawberries. So very carefully, before he could drop the egg or some potential disaster could befall him and it, he put it into his own pouch. Unlike some he preferred not to carry things in there but… it was meant for carrying eggs and the grumplings that hatched out of them so this was how it should be. … Still felt weird though.

Shaking it off, he went over to the bed to check on Buddy. … Yep, they were out like a light and they certainly deserved and needed the rest. So… with a deep breath he turned and left the hut.

As he walked back towards the campfire, he tried not think about tripping and crushing the egg in his pouch. Would that even crush it though? Eggs were supposed to be pretty sturdy, right? But how sturdy? This was his first time seeing one up close in real life so he had no idea. … And it was his! Oh gosh, he wasn’t ready for this. How was he supposed to…

“Filbo!”

He flinched and looked up at Beffica. She was still standing by the campfire with an air of having been waiting for him to return. Chandlo was with her and Cromdo had perked up from his stand again.

“What’s wrong with Buddy?” she continued. … She was concerned, it was written in her face and in her tone.

“Come on dawg, out with it,” Chandlo said before the silence could stretch for long. “What’s wrong with them? They going to be okay?”

“Oh uh… they’re sleeping. I think they’re going to be okay… well as okay as they can be… maybe. I don’t know.” Ugh, he was doing an awful job at putting anyone at ease but he was worried about Buddy and the egg that had quite literally seemed to have come out of nowhere and… it made it hard to think. He took a couple deep breaths and put on not a smile but a hopefully less freaked out expression because panicking about it wasn’t going to make it better. “The reason they’re so exhausted is because they uh… gave birth to an egg earlier today.”

That was met with surprised silence for several seconds before Chandlo broke it. “You mean they’ve been carrying an egg this whole time? Why didn’t you guys tell anyone?”

“We didn’t know.”

Beffica scoffed. “I thought at least one of you would have some kind of birth control and be smart enough to use it.”

“Well… we didn’t have any and it was kind of… urgent and they’d thought it’d be fine. And we’ve been careful sincethen.” Getting pregnant outside of heat was rare but not impossible so they’d done their best to avoid risking it as much as they could whenever they made love but apparently it hadn’t mattered anyway. “So we had no idea.”

She sighed and shook her head. “Well, let’s see the egg then I guess. Since I assume you have it now, right? Because what else would you be carrying in your pouch?”

Filbo wasn’t sure he wanted to take it out for fear of dropping it but… With a sigh, he reached into his pouch and pulled it out. Beffica snapped a photo of it as Chandlo stepped closer to look at it too.

“It’s a bit small and the colours are faded,” Cromdo said, making Filbo jump a little. He’d approached unnoticed and now stood on the other side of the log bench so he could get a good view of the egg. “That means it was born sooner than it should’ve been. Which with the way Buddy’s been running around, doesn’t surprise me. I’d say get it checked out by a doctor but we don’t got one anymore. So instead, just make sure to keep it as warm as possible. Like if you’re gonna have it outside of your pouch for more than five minutes put it in heated cradle, assuming you can find a way to make one that’s safe. Otherwise make sure someone’s carrying it around all the time, okay? And don’t let Buddy take it up the mountain or whatever.”

“What do you know about taking care of an egg?” Beffica asked pretty much exactly what Filbo was thinking but with far more scorn than was necessary.

“I just know, okay? It ain’t none of your business.” He turned back to look at Filbo again. “And don’t shake the egg neither or drop or anything else rough, got it?”

Under his stern gaze, Filbo carefully put the egg back into his pouch. “Got it. Thanks for the advice.” He’d take any from anyone who was willing to give it.

“You could maybe ask Floofty to examine it,” Chandlo said. “They’re real smart and know a lot about biology stuff even though they’re not a doctor. So they might be able to tell you if it’s okay or not.”

“All right.” It certainly couldn’t hurt.

The three of the followed as he started for the research tent. He’d really rather not ask Floofty for any kind of favor but… they were the only one here who might be able to examine the egg with any degree of accuracy. If only Eggabell were here. … Yeah, ifonly, and if only wishing for her return could actually bring her back to town. Wouldn’t that be nice?

Shaking off the bitterness of that thought as he stepped into Floofty’s part of the research tent, Filbo put on his best attempt at a pleasant expression. “Hey Floofty.”

Still leaning over the table and whatever they were working on they didn’t even turn their head to look at him as they answered. “Greetings.” Indifference was better than disdain but… still uncomfortable.

“We need your help with something,” Beffica cut in as she strode over and put a paw on Floofty’s desk, rattling it a little.

They looked up at her with an annoyed sigh. “What is it?”

“An egg,” Chandlo said. “It’s looking a bit unwell so I thought we could bring it to you and you could look it over, make sure it’s okay and stuff.”

“Ooh, an egg you say?” Triffany was suddenly in on the conversation too as she stepped over into this part of the tent. “Whose is it?”

“Buddy’s and Filbo’s,” Cromdo replied. “Apparently Buddy’s been pregnant this whole time and didn’t know. Unsurprisinglywith the way they’ve been running around it was born early so we need someone to check and see if the grumpling’s still alive inside it or not.”

Triffany grimaced. “Oh dear, yeah with the way they’ve been running around and stuff… I do hope they’re okay. Both Buddy and the grumpling.”

“Well, Buddy’s getting some much-needed rest right now,” Filbo said as he pulled the egg out again. “So Floofty do you think you could…” He held the egg towards them.

“I suppose with the use of Eggabell’s equipment I should at least be able to determine if the grumpling’s alive inside or not. Exactly how healthy it is, I’m not sure I’ll be able to tell, but something’s better than nothing.” They took from him. “Now someone go get me Eggabell’s medical bag.”

“I’ll do it,” Filbo volunteered, immediately turning to run over to Liz and Eggabell’s hut. He needed the distraction and to be moving and since he was keeping the place clean for their eventual return, he knew exactly where the medical bag was.

Standing around while Floofty examined the egg with Eggabell’s limited equipment was nerve-wracking. Was Filbo actually going to have to figure out how to be parent or was this was one big scary false alarm. … Part of him hoped for the latter. … He flinched internally. How could he even think that? Grumplings dying unhatched was always tragic and not something that should be hoped for. So no he didn’t hope that that had happened but… but… he wasn’t ready to be a parent!

Despite his inner turmoil he kept his expression as positive as he could. The one thing he was good at other than messing up was maintaining a positive energy. Like a good leader should. … Except for the fact that no one here respected him as a leader. Which he couldn’t blame them for given everything. But his chances to ever gain that respect from them or anyone else were severally hampered by the fact that he now had an egg and eventually a grumpling to take care unless… He wasn’t hoping for that though.

How did one even care for a grumpling after it hatched? They were mostly just carried around in their parents’ pouches, right? Until they were… whatever age where that wasn’t a thing anymore. What age even was that? And what happened then?

“Congratulations Filbo,” Floofty said as they picked up the egg and turned away from their desk to approach him. “Despite Buddy’s negligence for their own wellbeing, the egg and grumpling inside seem mostly fine as far as I can determine, certainly alive if nothing else. Which admittedly I’m not a doctor nor a proper expert on fetal development but I am fairly confident in my assessment nonetheless.”

As they handed him the egg, he put on a smile. “Thanks.” He slipped it into his pouch.

“You’re welcome. Now take Eggabell’s stuff back to her cabin and shoo, I have work to get back to.” They turned their back and went back to their desk.

Filbo quickly grabbed the medical bag and was out of there.

“Congrats,” Beffica said as she fell in step with him. She even sounded kind of sincere for once.

“Uh… thanks.”

“Yes, congrats,” Triffany added. “I’m sure you and Buddy will be great parents. I almost can’t wait to have a little one running the place. I’m going to go tell Wamby.” And she was off.

“Yeah, congrats dawg,” Chandlo came up on his other side. “What you going to name them?”

Oh no, they were going to have to come up with a name too? How? “Uh… I don’t know. I’m sure Buddy will think of something, I’m really bad with names.”

Before much more than even an hour had passed since he’d even got the news himself, everyone in town had approached Filbo to congratulate him on the egg. Gramble also offered to watch the egg and/or the grumpling if he and Buddy ever needed or wanted a break for a bit. Filbo was tempted to hand him the egg to watch right then and there but… just thanked him with a smile instead. If any of them even suspected how much he was freaking out below the surface, they didn’t say anything.

But when Buddy woke up and they talked about it some more, surely everything would be okay, right? Buddy would know how to handle the situation and thus they’d ease Filbo’s fears and… stuff. So everything was going to be fine.

#my writing #bugsnax #filbuddy #filbo fiddlepie #the journalist #pregnancy #grumpus egg

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lizzieehearts · 3 years

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i know it's late, but here's the discord angst fic myself and @calypsothenerd wrote a while back for daring day. enjoy!

"Daring, you need to look presentable" his father would say

"You are the face of this family Daring, straighten your tie" his mother would say

It was always the same. He was the future face of the charming dynasty, and needed to look like it. He was destined to be apple's prince, after all

But he was sick of this, he was sick of being told to ‘walk upright’ to ‘always smile’ to ‘fix his hair’ why couldn’t he be a normal teenager without worrying about how to look and how to act on every waking minute? He just wanted a normal life, but he knew that shouldn’t happen

He wanted a break. He wanted to be free. He wanted to rebel, though he knew if he did his family would disown him. That was scarier than all this, the fact that if he didn't keep up this charade, his family would leave him. Without this charade, he was worthless, to them at least

So he decided, one thing: he would go for the person that cared the most to try and get himself out of this situation, he just couldn’t take this anymore, so he finally got the courage and knocked on her door, Rosabella came out and immediately frowned because of the sad look on his face

"Daring, what's wrong?" she asked

"Everything" he answered, sliding past her into the empty dorm

She sat down on her bed, tapping the space beside her, telling him to sit. He lay down, his head in her lap

"Show me your demons and ill show you mine" she murmured, nodding at him to begin talking

“It’s my family, I’m supposed to be the perfect child, to be the image of the family, and it sucks, I can’t do normal teenager things, I can’t choose how I want to dress or style my hear, I feel like I’m in cage in a hexing zoo, Bella, I don’t know what to do anymore” he looked up at her, tears almost spilling over the surface

"What about you? What's your deal?" he asked, gulping quickly

"My mom's gone and my dad blames me for it. Treated me like shit because of it. still does. That's why I love it here so much. It's freedom for me, the one place he can't control me" now it was the princess blinking back tears, as she shared her story

“That’s terrible Rosa, I have no idea, but I wish I had your bravery to stand up against my parents”

she couldn't help but scoff.

"When I go home, I'm terrified. Of everything, Everyone. Because all it takes is one mistake and im done for. That isn't bravery, I can assure you that"

"What about when we saved Ever After from the Snow King? What about you sticking by my side when no one else would, after dragon games? What about all that?" Daring could handle negativity directed at himself, but Rosabella? Unacceptable

"All of that we did together, Dare"

At her words, the two of them looked at each other having the same idea

what if we stand up to our parents together?

“Yes Daring, I see you’re finally using that big head of yours for something” she jokes as she playfully nudges him

"But when? When are we both gonna see our parents again, at the same time?" he asked

"Winter break is coming up, you could come over to mine for the holidays?" she offered, implying that she wouldn't be able to go to his

“Sure, I guess, but why can’t you come to mine?”

Rosa took a deep breath

"Before coming to this school, I had never left my castle. Ever. Not even to see family. I hadn't met Briar, and I still haven't met her brothers or parents. The furthest I had gone was midway through the woods behind the castle, that was it. I'd hardly be able to spend the holidays at your's, even with him coming too" she sighed

“But do you think he’d let me go to yours?”

"I'm not sure, but it's more likely"

- - -

After two weeks, many a night spent yelling down a phone, and nights plagued with terrors refusing to subside, winter break and it was official: Daring, the twins and their parents would be spending the holidays at the Beauty's

- - -

The final day before the winter break Rosabella and Daring were hanging out “You still sure about this?” The beauty princess asks

"As sure as I'll ever be" was her prince's response,"after all, we've come this far"

“Let’s do this” she kisses his cheek and goes back to her room to pack

Once the four of them had gotten packed, Rosabella drove herself and the three Charmings to her childhood home, Beauty Castle, as the siblings' parents wouldn't be there until the day after. It was really something, walls of ivory, turrets wrapped in ivy, flowers at every turn. To the girl who had spent her entire childhood here, however, just the sight of it was enough to get her heart pounding and blood boiling. Daring, sensing her tension, immediately grabbed her hand, as the four of them walked through the gates

Darling, being oblivious of what was happening inside her friend’s mind commented “Wow Rosie, your house is amazing”

"Thanks. Your's probably is too" the princess responded, trying to breathe at a normal rate

"Yeah, but it's nothing compared to this" Dexter said, just as oblivious to the princess' discomfort as his sister, "I don't think I'd want to leave"

Daring, noticing the distress on the princess’s face, decided to change the subject “So, Darls, where did mom say we were going this time?”

"I think she said the dining hall" Darling responded

"Great. Let's go!" Rosabella said, a little too enthusiastically, as she led them through her childhood home

They then proceeded to follow Rosabella to the dining hall, where everything was ready for them

"Dad likes to sit at the head of the table, and to have me in his sight, so I'll sit at the opposite end, Dare, you and Dar can sit opposite each other nearest to me, and Dex you can sit beside Dare" Rosabella immediately said as they entered, knowing that if Daring was to get in a fight with his parents, having them beside him was not a good idea

“Yeah, Bell, you’re right” he then sits beside her, right next to the head of the table

Rosabella gave him a smile as his siblings sat down, but that went away as an inescapable presence entered the room

"Dad"

“Hello Sir” The oldest prince said, trying to be kind, despite already having seen the wounds he put on his daughter’s body

"Get away from my daughter. You sit there" he pointed to the same place at the other end of the table, beside where Rosa said he would be sitting.

Daring begrudgingly obliged, not wanting to cause any trouble, but still wanting to protect his princess.

“Pardon me sir, but I think this sitting arrangement is for the best” the prince said in the most educated way possible.

"Stop trying to be smart with me. Either you move or I make you" the stare given to the prince by the beast could've frozen over the room, as it did Daring, before he squeezed his girlfriend's hand and moved.

"Good" the Beast said, nodding and moving to his seat.

The princess glared at her boyfriend like ‘what was that’

"Rosabella! Stop staring like that" the beast snapped, making the princess jump and quietly apologise.

it was then that there was a knock on the door, one that could only be the Charming parents.

“It’s open!” The beast yelled aggressively, clearly already regretting allowing visitors.

Mr and Mrs Charming entered the dining room, and sat beside the twins without a word, sensing the tension in the room.

Mrs Charming coughed and spoke up “Thank you for inviting us” Her husband nodded along.

"It was my daughter's idea, actually" the beast replied, staring down Rosabella in the process, "so you can thank her"

“Then thank you, young lady” the queen turned to The Beauty.

"y- you're welcome, Mrs. Charming" Rosabella spluttered, right before the cook arrived with their meal. Desperate to get away from conversing with the guests, the beast automatically tucked in, prompting the rest to do the same.

And for the rest of the meal neither Rosabella nor her father said a word, for different reasons, she was anxious about standing up against him and him hating having guests over.

It was Daring that piped up first.

"Mom, Dad, there's something I've been meaning to talk to you about"

Both his parents barely gave him a glance, his dad giving a weary "Yes, son?"

“I can’t take it anymore, I’m losing myself to please both of you, the fancy clothes, the expensive hair products, everything, I never wanted any of this, I just wanted to be a normal teenager”

"Daring, don't be silly. You're a Charming, no Charming is normal" his mother's tone was cold as ice.

"well, maybe- maybe i don't want to be a Charming"

Then his father stood up and slammed the table “Daring Charming, whoever put those ideas in your head is not your friend, now sit down and stop with this madness”

"NO, DAD!" Daring yelled, exasperated, "If that's all being a Charming is I don't want it! And how can you? It's not a life I want to live, being this plastic, stylised version of myself. I wanna be me, Dad"

“If that’s what you think, don’t bother coming back home after this” his father spat back.

“C’mon Dexter, Darling, let’s go home, enough of this stupidity”

"Don't go!" Rosabella quickly blurted out, for a reason only her and her friends knew.

"Don't be silly, Rosabella. they may leave if they wish" her father mumbled.

“No actually, I think I’m staying” Darling protested.

"Thank Grimm. Someone with a brain" Mrs Charming breathed.

"I'm not siding with you" Darling huffed, "We got invited here. It would be rude to leave"

Dexter nodded in agreement.

“If any of you stay, you’ll be removed from the family together with your savage brother”

"That's not fair! You did this to him, and if you can't take responsibility for that you're just going to kick him out? What would the rest of the family say?!" Dexter stood, breaking his silence, "And don't say that they would agree, because all five of us know they wouldn't"

“We are just trying to maintain the Charming family name, if you little savage children don’t understand that then you will no longer be a part of this family”

"At least you want to be a part of your family!" Rosa yelled before she could stop herself.

“And what is that supposed to mean, young lady?!” the beast yelled out.

"You ruined my childhood, left me battered and bruised, kept me stuck here with no escape, made me think that I didn't have relatives though really I did and you just never told me about them, didn't raise me right and left it up to the staff and your own son, barely let me eat or sleep, punished me for even the smallest things and for what? To make me feel guilty for coming out of the womb? What do you want me to do? Put on a brave face and say that I love you? When all you did for the first sixteen years of my life was make it a living hell?" rant over, the princess took a deep breath and awaited her father's response.

“GET OUT OF HERE, ALL SIX OF YOU, NOW” The beast roared out, then left the dinning room, slamming the door.

as the slam reverberated through the room, a deep silence echoed with it.

Daring sitting restless, his parents giving him the cold shoulder, his siblings getting the same, Rosabella across from him on the verge of tears, barely holding herself together.

The Charming went back to his original seat at the sight of her, wrapping her up in his arms.

#discord angst #yes it gets a tag shut up #cally tag #n writes #daring charming #ever after high #eah

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a-funny-little-sunflower · 3 years

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Playing in the snow with Ghastly Bespoke at Christmas time.

You and Ghastly have been dating for about 9 months and he finally decided to allow the dead men to meet you. You and Ghastly travel up to a resort in the woods for Christmas. Everyone is excited by the snow, so you go out to play and a snowball fight ends up breaking out. You and Ghastly fall asleep in the snow while being cuddled up to each other and you somehow manage to fall asleep.] grá mo chroí – means My beloved in Irish

It was a beautiful December day in Ireland. The snow was fluttering all around the windows of the car and the freshly fallen snow was only broken by the wheels of the black Bentley as it rushed through the snowy forest. You were on your way to a cabin resort that had been rented out for you, Ghastly and the rest of the Dead Men. You were so happy to be celebrating Christmas with Ghastly. It would be your first Christmas together and you couldn’t wait to meet the rest of the dead men. You had only been introduced to one other dead man so far and that was the suave skeleton detective currently driving you to this resort, Skulduggery Pleasant

It was a funny story of how you and Skulduggery had first met. You and Ghastly had just started dating and Skulduggery decided to see what kind of person you were. You had just gotten home from working in your art studio and as you walked in the front door, you spotted a well-dressed skeleton sitting on your favourite chair.

After staring at it for about a minute, you walked over to it and began inspecting it. Especially the suit. As you were about to touch the hat the skeleton wore, the skeleton suddenly spoke.“Don’t touch the hat.” You jumped back in surprise and let out a small squeal.

The skeleton seemed to be unfazed by this and continued. “Skulduggery Pleasant. I’m here to ask you a few questions about your relationship with Ghastly Bespoke.” You nodded dimly and shakily sat down opposite him. It took you a moment to reply, but you managed. “A-ask anything you like.”

After about an hour of talking to Skulduggery, you started warming up to him. He spoke kindly to you and you relaxed as the conversation continued. Eventually, Ghastly arrived for the date you had arranged. As soon as he laid eyes on Skulduggery, he looked like he was about to punch him. “Skulduggery…” Ghastly growled. A beat of silence passed as Skulduggery’s gaze locked with Ghastly’s before he jumped out the window, leaving you and Ghastly to your date.

After this incident, a glorious friendship had blossomed between you and Skulduggery, hence the reason you were sitting in his car. You were pulled from your reminiscing by someone gently touching your shoulder. You turned your head to see your beloved Ghastly staring at you. “Hey, we’re almost there, how are you feeling?” You smiled over at him and squeezed his hand. “I’m fine Ghastly, just a bit nervous about meeting the rest of the dead men I suppose,” you said.“You have no need be nervous, everyone will love you”. Ghastly said. Skulduggery decided to pitch into the conversation with his usual wit.

“Exactly. I like you so that means that you are a woman of a high standard.” You laughed at his comment before once again staring outside to the snow fluttering all around you. “We’re about 20 minutes away from the resort, so it won’t be long until you can stretch your legs. “You nodded in silent confirmation before continuing to stare mindlessly out the window. Your mindless stare became intrigued when the resort came into view. It was large, and its roof was covered in snow. Smoke was billowing out of its chimney and as you got out of the car, you could see the distinct outline of a Christmas tree through the window. You felt Ghastly put his arm around your waist as he led you towards the resort.

As you walked through the door of the resort, the smell of burning Christmas cookies filled your nostrils and a few seconds later the insistent beep of a fire alarm sounded from the kitchen. You and Ghastly shared an amused look before a man with well-toned muscles sprinted out of the kitchen waving a towel over his head like a maniac. “Good God Vex can’t you make one meal at Christmas time without burning it?” Ghastly said in a teasing tone.

The man known as Vex had his back to you as he continued waving the towel and soon enough, the smoke disappeared from the room. After the atmosphere was cleared, Dexter turned to you two. His eyes landed on Ghastly first and he had an annoyed expression on his face. However, when his eyes landed on you, his face had surprise and confusion written all over it. “Who the hell is that?” he asked. A tall man with a knowing look in his eyes entered the room “That is Ghastly girlfriend, so I wouldn’t be too rude to her in case you scare her off.” The man walked towards you and offered his hand. “Sacrean Rue, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” He said with a smile. Skulduggery voice echoed from behind you. “If Vex isn’t allowed to use rudeness to drive her away, you aren’t to flirt with her, that’ll have her sprinting away in fear.” Sacrean rolled his eyes and said, “I know she’s already spoken for, even if I tried to flirt with her, I’m pretty sure Ghastly here would have my teeth knocked out before I could even finish a decent pick-up line.”

“None of your pickup lines are decent, Sacrean.” Ghastly quipped before turning to you. “Sweetheart you wanna go get settled in now? If you unpack fast enough, I’m fairly sure we could get out to the snow before it gets dark.” That brought a smile to your face and as you turned to retrieve your bags, you saw that Skulduggery was already holding them out for you. You take your bags from him and he says, “You’re upstairs, at the end of the hall, call if you need help. Ghastly and I are going to intimidate the rest of the group into not bugging you with questions about your relationship.”

You look at Ghastly with raised eyebrows, but his only reply is a shrug of his muscular shoulders before walking off, Skulduggery at his heels. Vex lets out a sigh. “The worst thing is that they aren’t even joking about the whole intimidation thing.” He shakes his head. “C’mon Sacrean, you’re gonna help me try to salvage whatever is left of those Christmas cookies.” Sacrean gives him an exasperated look before saying, “The only thing left of those cookies is ash”. Regardless, he still follows Vex into the kitchen.

You turn to your bags. Although you did try to pack light, you know you’re gonna have trouble getting them up the stairs. Against your better judgement, you decide to try and carry everything up the stairs in the one go, and by some Christmas miracle, you managed to get to the top of the staircase without collapsing. You let your bags fall from your shoulders before moaning with pain.

That was difficult.

“Are you alright? You turn your head to the soft voice coming from your left. It’s a tall man with dark hair and you must admit, he looks like a mixture between a funeral director and a vampire. You give him a tired but kind smile. “I’m alright, these bags are just a tad too heavy for me, but I only have to get to the bottom of the hall so no point complaining. The man glances at your luggage before striding toward you and lifting your bags with practised ease. “Allow me to help you.” You are surprised by this sudden act of hospitality but none the less you thank him and begin walking toward your room. “So does the staircase maiden have a name?” He asks. “Oh! Where are my manners, I’m Y/N.” He nods before saying, “Anton Shudder. I believe you are Ghastly’s partner then?”

You give a little nod before arriving at your door. “This is me! Thank you so much for your help, Anton.” You smile at him before taking your bags from him and stepping inside your room, remembering to half-close the door behind you for privacy. The room had a comfy looking king size bed with curtains around it, a desk, a wardrobe, a chest of drawers, but the most elegant thing in the room would have to be the fireplace. It was made expertly from marble and it was just begging to be lit. You were too entranced in inspecting the room that you didn’t notice Ghastly stealthily enter. You only noticed him when he wrapped his arms wrapped around your waist and put his face was in the crook of your neck.

“Enjoying yourself darling?” His sudden appearance had made you jump and the bag in your hand dropped to the floor on instinct. “Easy on sweetheart, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He said softly. You turned around to face him and couldn’t help smiling when you saw his face and his soft expression. “You could never scare me.” You said as you wrapped your arms lovingly around his neck. This made him laugh before saying, “Well clearly I just did.” You smiled at him as you pressed your foreheads together. You stayed like that for a while. Holding each other. Staring into each other’s eyes. It was as if time had stopped. However, this peacefulness was interrupted by a banging at the door and a voice shouting, “Where’s the lucky lady!?” Ghastly’s reaction to this was to shut his eyes and groan in annoyance. “Go away, Larkin. It’s not the time.” The voice replied, “Why? Are you doing the mattress mambo? If you are, make yourselves decent cause I’m coming in!”

The door burst open and two men burst in. One man had beautiful golden eyes and the other had a large comedic smile on his face. The man with the cheeky grin stepped forward to introduce himself first. He offered his hand, saying “Hello, I’m Larkin!” You decided to take the man’s offer of a handshake and when you did, the sound of a whoopee cushion deflating filled the room, and Larkin's smile grew impossibly wider. “Whoopee cushion in the hand trick never gets old.” The man second man rolled his eyes at Larkin's behaviour, before stepping forward to introduce himself. He took your hand and kissed it. “Erskine Ravel my dear. A pleasure to finally meet you.” He said as he glanced up at you with those gorgeous golden eyes. From behind you, you heard Ghastly growl and you felt him put his arms around you from behind.

“Ravel, I thought we already had a conversation about this behaviour?” Ghastly said through gritted teeth. Ravel’s eyes met Ghastly’s and there was a standoff for a few moments. A standoff that Ghastly won. Ravel shook his head and said, “No need to turn all alpha male on me Ghastly, I’m dating Hopeless remember?” This didn’t convince Ghastly of anything and he pulled you to his chest.

“Hasn’t stopped you from flirting with every living thing to cross your path though has it?” Ghastly said his tone challenging. You sensed a fight coming and it seemed that Larkin did too because he was quick to jump into action. Larkin took hold of Ravel’s shoulder and began leading him out of the room. “It was nice seeing you two. Dinner will be in about an hour.” After Larkin managed to drag Ravel out, he shut the door and all that could be heard was the sound of retreating footsteps.

You turned to look at Ghastly whose muscles were still tense from bracing himself to throw a punch. You took his hand and turned his face to look at you. “Hey there gorgeous, we’ve got an hour to spare before dinner, what do you fancy doing?” He looked at you for a moment before a playful grin appeared on his face. “To be honest, I’m exhausted, and I fancy a nap.” A soft smile appeared on your face before saying, “Fancy some kisses with that? It would be a reward for not punching Ravel in the face.” He pretended to think about your offer for a few seconds before saying “That seems fair enough, and if you were wondering, I would have aimed to break his jaw.” You couldn’t help but laugh at this as you pulled him toward the bed. You kicked off your shoes and got under the covers for cuddles and kisses.

---------------------------

You were roused from sleep by Skulduggery softly shaking your shoulder. You rubbed your eyes and attempted to stretch but couldn’t because of Ghastly’s muscular arms keeping you in an embrace. When you looked up at Skulduggery questioningly it prompted him to say, “Dinner’s ready.” You nodded in confirmation and watched him walk out of the room. You turned to Ghastly to wake him up but hesitated. You longed to just lay here with him all day, but you knew that he would be disappointed if he wasted the day sleeping. To soften the blow of having to end cuddle time, you decided to give him his favourite wake up call. Butterfly kisses. You leaned forward and started placing soft kisses on his eyes. Eventually, he was roused from sleep and when he saw your face, he gave you a soft sleepy smile. He stared into your eyes for a moment before saying, “What did I deserve to get such a wonderful wake-up call?” You couldn’t help but laugh at him, every time you woke up beside him, he looked at you like you could create galaxies with a wave of your hand.

“Dinner’s ready my dear, we have to get up.” Ghastly groaned at this before rolling onto his side and put his arm over his face. “Do we have to? I just wanna stay here and sleep.” You rolled your eyes at him and decided that maybe you could tempt him. “Well if you don’t wanna come down I guess that I’ll have to play in the snow all by myself.” This caused him to take his arm away from his face and turn to you. “You wouldn’t dare…” A small smile appeared on your face. “Oh, but I would my dear.”Ghastly let out a breathy laugh before saying, “Alright, alright, I’m up.” He stretched out fully before pushing himself off the bed. You watched him for a moment before getting up and combing your hands through your hair in an attempt to make it look it presentable. You grabbed Ghastly’s hand and started walking down to the kitchen.

When you got downstairs, you were met with Sacrean eating mince pies in the living room while scrolling on his phone. You give a little knock to the doorframe to let him know about your presence and he looks at you like a deer in the headlights. He gulps down the rest of his pie and lets out a guilty chuckle. “Eh…. Nice nap…?” Ghastly shook his head at him and as he opened his mouth to speak, a snowball hit him right at the back of his head. You both span around to see Skulduggery standing there. There was a silent standoff for a moment before Skulduggery turned on his heel and sprinted out of the front door.

There was a sudden flurry of movement as Ghastly tore outside after Skulduggery and Sacrean let out what sounded like a war cry before darting outside after them. The war cries that Sacrean had uttered had everyone in the house responding to it because, in a matter of moments, every dead man was hastily pulling on coats and darting outside. You stood there in a state of shock and awe at the pure speed at which the dead men had run out of the house. You could hear the sounds of an all-out snowball war being waged. You could see snowballs being launched at fantastic speeds, then you heard it. Ghastly’s voice. “Y/N! Get out here! They’re pairing up out here and I need to have the best-looking partner!” Vex’s voice rang out, “Ghastly I don’t want to be your partner!” A chorus of laughter rang out as you sprinted out of the resort to meet Ghastly.

As soon as you got outside, you saw a scene of utter chaos unfolding. It seemed that people were already starting to form alliances. Larkin, Hopeless and Ravel were all on the one team, Anton, Vex and Sacrean were on another and Skulduggery was standing in the middle of it all. He looked to be on a team that consisted only of himself. But…. Where was Ghastly…? Out of nowhere, you felt someone grab your waist and haul your body backwords. At first, you thrashed and fought out of instinct but when you managed to crane your neck enough to see the face of whoever it was that had grabbed you, you saw a familiar scarred face. You locked eyes and you immediately relaxed in his arms. You allowed him to drag you back as you watched the chaotic scene of the snowball war unfold. Eventually, you felt Ghastly to bring you both to a stop and he pulled you behind a wall of snow that he had created. You both crouched behind it and began to create a game plan.

After a few minutes, you had a plan of attack. Ghastly run out and use his elemental power to manipulate the snow and air around him, and you would use your shield discipline to protect him. You pressed a kiss to his lips for a moment before he sprinted out and raised utter havoc, you kept your shield eyes on him as he caused snowballs to destroy every other dead man. Ravel was the first to get a face full. Probably revenge from earlier. The next two to go were Hopeless and Sacrean. Hopeless’ was thrown onto his back after Ghastly manipulated the snow from underneath him.

Ghastly’s next target was Larkin, who sensed he was next, and shape-shifted into you and begged for mercy. Ghastly took great pleasure in pelting him with snow. The remaining dead men – Anton and Vex- were doing their best to defend themselves but your shield held strong. Ghastly showed an evil grin and made a wave of snowballs appear behind. The look of utter terror on their faces would have you howling with laughter for weeks. You were mentally celebrating Ghastly’s victory before you realised. Someone was missing…. Skulduggery…

“Don’t move an inch.” Said a silky voice from behind you. You shuddered involuntarily. “Take down the shield protecting him…or else.” It was quite scary to hear Skulduggery talk like this, but you refused to show fear. “Never. This is my grá mo chroí we’re talking about.” There was a deadly silence between the pair of you as you stared out across the snowy ground. “If that’s how it is…” Suddenly his voice turned from a silky whisper to a powerful booming tone that could rival thunder. “GHASTLY BESPOKE OF THE DEAD MEN” He spoke as if he were addressing an enemy on the battlefield. “SURRENDER NOW AND I MAY STILL GRANT MERCY UPON THOSE WHO ARE AT MY FEET” Ghastly looked confused, what did he mean, at his feet? He was nowhere near him, then it hit him. You. He caught sight of your hair, just barely in view behind the snow barrier.

“Let her go Skulduggery!” Ghastly seemed to be leaning into this role of heroic knight about attempting to defeat the dark lord, and from how it seemed, you were the unwilling damsel in distress. “NOT UNTIL YOU SURRENDER! THIS IS YOUR LAST CHANCE BEFORE SHE DIES!” Shouts of “Don’t do it!” and “He’s bluffing!”, were made by the dead men, you even thought you heard Larkin shout “Wouldn’t someone think of the children?” Skulduggery raised a gloved hand threateningly. “Last chance, your love or your life. Decide now.” You and Ghastly shared a look, and you could see in his eyes that he was readying himself for an attack, the last stand of a dead man. In a sudden flurry of movement, Ghastly lunged forward with his elemental discipline flaring and ready to protect you, but in that same moment, Skulduggery pressed down on the back of your neck and hit a pressure point.

This pressure on your neck caused your entire body to feel weak, and for the shield around Ghastly to cave in, leaving him without your protection. You desperately tried to warn him, but your voice had abandoned you, and there was stopping him or warning him of the incoming snowball from the left. You watch, almost in slow motion, as the snowball hit him square in the jaw, with enough force to knock him flat. For a moment, there was a shocked silence from everyone, before a chorus of empathetic groans echoed from the rest of the dead men. In all the excitement, Skulduggery had loosened his grip on you, and you immediately seized the moment and lunged for your fallen protector.

You turned him onto his back, placed your hands on his face, and began to tenderly rub your thumbs across his scarred cheeks. “Ghastly, my darling, are you alright?” You were genuinely concerned as the snowball had hit him with great force, and for a moment, you thought he had been too hard. But you were soon relieved of any worries when his eyelids fluttered open and you were greeted by his loving smile. “I’m just wondering now that you’re here.” You couldn’t help the loving smile from breaking out on your face, you could never stay angry at your love for long.

“Alright fellas let’s get inside and leave these love birds to themselves, I don’t wanna know what they do in their spare time.” There was a trickle of laughter that floated around in the air for a moment as the dead men made their way inside to the warm cabin, but neither you nor Ghastly made a move to join them. Instead, you flopped onto your back beside him and cuddled up against him, closing your eyes as you rest your head on his chest, and to your surprise, it was surprisingly comfortable. So comfortable, that you barely felt the first snowflakes descending from the sky onto your embracing forms as you drifted off to the land of dreams, with Ghastly not far behind. ---------------------- When you awoke once again for the second time that day, the sky was dark, the stars were shining and both you and Ghastly were still in an unmoving embrace, but now you were also enveloped by a thick coating of snow, so thick you could barely move, and the flurrying snowflakes all around made it difficult to see the cabin. As you turned your head, you saw that Ghastly was still sleeping. And from the looks of it, he wasn’t going to budge by his own accord unless you put a stop to this madness.

So, with a herculean effort, you managed to shove away the snow that had previously entrapped you, and although your entire body felt brittle and stiff, still you persevered. You managed to get onto your knees and get some leverage against the cold ground. You allowed yourself a moment to stare lovingly at Ghastly before you placed your freezing hand on his shoulder and started to shake him awake. “Ghastly. Ghastly! Ghastly Bespoke! Wake up! Wake up!”

He awoke with a startled breath and a panicked look on his face. His eyes darted around, look for any sign of danger that could have warranted such a frightening wake-up call. “Wha- What's wrong?” You felt a pang of guilt for waking him so rudely, but it was necessary, there was no time for butterfly kisses now. “Ghastly, we’ve been out in the snow for hours! Just look how dark it is already, we need to get inside!” Your tone must have been urgent enough for Ghastly to take heed because before you knew it, you on your feet and walking towards the cabin.“I can’t believe we slept out there” he chuckled, he seemed to be amazed at the fact that you both managed to ignore the cold in favour of finishing your nap from earlier. “Well to be fair, we were wrapped up in each other’s arms, so that explains how we stayed in the one spot for so long.”

“Hmmm” Ghastly replied, “Well if anybody in that cabin has got any sense, they will have lit a fire for us.” You shivered in anticipation at the thought of sitting by a warm fire, heaven knows you needed it after that little snowy stunt back there. “Oh God, Ghastly don’t get my hopes up.” Ghastly let out his signature sweet laugh at this, it sounded smooth and warm like melted chocolate, and you shuddered at the sound of it.

“Sorry darling, didn’t mean to be cruel.” Ghastly pushed open the cabin door and stood to the side, waiting for you to enter first. “Beauty before bravery, darling” You flushed a tad at his remark and cheeky smile but entered first none the less. He shut the door after you and followed your lead to the bedroom. As you walked, you prayed to every deity you could think of that the fire would be lit, and fortunately for you, your prayers had been answered.

Waiting for you in your bedroom was a crackling fire, as well as some thick woollen blankets that were sitting at bottom of the bed. You quickly lunged for them, alongside some pillows, and brought them to the front of the fireplace, where you began creating a nest that would be large enough for both Ghastly and you. Ghastly managed to coax you to get changed before you settled yourself, and you were sure you had never gotten changed faster because before you knew it, the pair of you were cuddled in front of the fire.

The fire crackled like a sweet melody and you could feel yourself drifting off, but you were fighting it valiantly because you wanted to appreciate this moment with your sweetheart. Ghastly seemed to sense this and cuddled into it, almost as if he were trying to envelop you.

Ghastly gently nuzzled his head into your neck softly, and you could feel his gentle breath fanning your neck, it was a comforting feeling. “Darling close your eyes. Enjoy the fire and relax. I’ll be here when you wake up.” You couldn’t stop your eyelids from starting to slide closed. “There we go sweetheart, shut your eyes and sleep.”Your eyes shut completely and the last thing you remember before drifting off completely was the warmth of the fire and Ghastly pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.

#ghastly bespoke #Ghastly Bespoke x reader #skulduggary pleasant

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imaginedhaven · 4 years

Text

Rules of Engagement: Chapter Four

Link to Masterpost

Late at night on the eve of the princess’ twentieth birthday, Celaena Sardothien slipped into the alleys of Orynth once more. She had been avoiding the streets at night of late after her run-in with the Fae warrior the last time she had slipped out, but she couldn’t wait until he decided to leave town. She had to act, lest the trail grow cold again.

This time, rather than moving through the alleyways, she was crawling over the roofs of the city to reach her destination. After her previous visit to the warehouse, she was taking no chances. Besides, the guards were so focused on the roads and alleys that as long as she kept relatively close to the surfaces to which she clung she actually had a greater chance of passing unnoticed.

Finally she reached the roof of the warehouse, and tugged on the hood of her cloak to make sure her face remained concealed as she glanced around to make sure she hadn’t been followed. A hawk watching from the roof across the alley was her only companion, and she was about to slip down to the alley below when she froze.

Hawks didn’t hunt this late at night. It was him.

With a fierce glare in the hawk’s direction she gestured down into the alley before climbing down herself. A twitch of her own cloak hid the soft glow of the Fae male’s shift from anyone who was nearby. “What are you doing?” she hissed. “If you’re trying to get me killed, I guarantee there are easier ways.”

Her glare was met with a cold smirk. “I only wished to see what could draw you from the p—”

Quickly, she leapt forward and cut him off with a hand over his mouth. “Not. Here.”

Celaena hissed as the male bit her hand in reply. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t call the guard,” he growled.

Pretending she was taking a moment to think, Celaena glanced into the window of the warehouse. The room that had once served as the spy’s office was empty. Abandoned. She had stayed away too long, and it was all this male’s rutting fault. Not only had he ruined her hunt tonight, he was threatening to end it forever. There was only one move left to make.

“Come with me,” she said, “and I’ll tell you everything.”

The male lifted a single eyebrow. “You expect to be able to sneak back into the palace like that, tonight of all nights,” he deadpanned.

“I’ve snuck into far more difficult places, for your information,” she replied breezily. “But no. We’re not going to the palace. You’ll have to trust me, as I’m choosing to trust you.” She wasn’t, of course, but she thought it sounded nice enough.

Before he could respond to her she was clambering back up to the roof, forcing him to either follow her or end the conversation. As she hauled herself onto the roof she looked to her left and saw that he had already hoisted himself up effortlessly, and she growled quietly at the reminder of his superior speed, strength, and dexterity. “This way. Stay low.”

His amused reply was quiet and yet full of unvoiced laughter. “This would be so much easier if you would just—”

“Hush,” she snarled as she led them toward the outskirts of the city. “Later.”

Mercifully, the male remained silent until they reached their destination.

Though it had been untouched since that day almost two years prior, she still paid for the apartment on the outskirts of town that she had once shared. It would be safe enough for her purposes, though the surroundings would make her explanation that much harder.

A quick check around the perimeter revealed that, as she had expected, no one had been near the apartment in weeks. She quickly ushered the warrior into the apartment and closed the door, only then pulling back the hood of her cloak. “I’m sure you have questions,” she said smoothly. “Before you begin, you should know that there’s only so much it’s safe to discuss, even here.”

“My question,” the male sneered as he lifted his own hood to reveal his now-cropped silver hair, “is how a sheltered little princess such as yourself came to be sneaking around your own city, Aelin.”

She hissed at him. “My name is Celaena, and for as long as we’re here you won’t call me anything else. Am I clear?”

Rowan—for the cat was decidedly out of the bag now, she might as well acknowledge the warrior’s identity—smirked in reply as he crossed his arms in front of that impossibly broad chest. “Perhaps you should explain yourself first. Then I’ll decide what I’m going to do with you.”

Rather than reply immediately, Celaena took a moment to hang her cloak and inspect her surroundings. The apartment was exactly as she had left it, though it was significantly more dusty from disuse. A small desk in the corner still had paper left out from where Sam had written his final report to the master he had tried so desperately to escape. She had taken her own clothes from the dresser, but if she opened it she knew his clothes would be exactly as they had been when she had unpacked them herself, abandoning the last traces of the journey they would never take.

She had placed a simple rug by the bed, but if she lifted it she knew the floor would still be stained from where he had breathed his last.

It had been a bad idea to come here, she realized. But as difficult as it would be, it was still safer than revealing any of this information within the palace walls. If any of this were heard by the wrong ears…

Better not to think about that. Instead, she took one more moment to gather her thoughts and then turned to face the male she had brought into what had once been a second home to her. With a deep breath, she began.

“His name was Sam.”

~*~*~

Aelin had intended to only summarize her time as Celaena Sardothien. To provide just enough detail to make Rowan less likely to hand her over to her own guard, without leaving her open to his probable derision and scorn. But the location must have gotten to her, or perhaps she was aching to fill the void he had called attention to after their last fight, for she quickly realized she was telling him everything.

She spoke of how as a girl of sixteen, headstrong and rebellious, she had slipped away from her guards and into the city. How she had run into a boy there, tall and strong with dark hair and beautiful brown eyes. A merchant’s son, he had said at first, there on business from Adarlan. He had recognized her immediately, of course, and hadn’t thought much of her either at their first meeting.

She told Rowan about their second meeting, how she had snuck away to see the boy again and witnessed him killing his target. How he had frozen, fully expecting her to call the guard but unwilling to have the blood of a princess on his hands. But she hadn’t called the guard. No, she helped him clean up after himself instead, saving her questions until the scene was safe.

He had confessed everything, then. What he actually did, and who he worked for. He had clearly expected her to be scared off, had been packing his things as he told her. What he had not expected was for her to kiss his cheek and ask him to teach her his craft, in case she ever needed to protect herself.

She spoke of training with Sam, how he had taught her to use a knife, how she kept her skills sharp by drilling with her most trusted guardsmen when she had the chance. She spoke of walking the streets at night with Sam learning how to trace a man’s movements without being seen, how to watch her own back as well as his. She spoke of how he had helped her create a new identity, Celaena Sardothien, who could walk about town with him.

She spoke of kissing Sam for the first time, just a week after her seventeenth birthday. She told Rowan how startled he had been, how he had sent her away and lost himself in the city for a full week before she could find him again. How she had finally worn down all of his excuses and arguments until he kissed her back.

She spoke until her voice was hoarse, telling him of their plans to run away together shortly after she turned eighteen, to find a place where she wasn’t Princess Aelin Ashryver Galathynius and he wasn’t bound to the King of Assassins in Adarlan. She told him how they had quietly packed their things, preparing to leave in the middle of the night once he finished his last job.

Finally, she reached the hardest part of her tale, and she took a shuddering breath before pulling back the carpet beside the bed. “I came here the night we were supposed to leave together,” she continued. “When I got here, the door was left open and I heard two men arguing. Neither of them sounded like Sam, or anyone he’d had dealings with before. I made a sound, like I was on my way home to one of the other apartments, and I heard them leave through the window. When I was sure it was safe, I came in. Sam was…”

Her voice gave out then, and she traced a fingertip along the edge of the stain on the floor. Rowan was blessedly silent, as he had been throughout her tale, and it gave her a moment to compose herself. “He can’t have been dead long, if the men were still here when I arrived. But there was nothing anyone could do by the time I found him. I… almost lost control that night,” she admitted. “It would’ve been quite the story, I suppose, since there was no reason for me to be here in the first place. But I didn’t. I couldn’t, not if I was going to find who did this to him.”

“Is this why you’ve been slipping out at night?” Rowan asked, voice quiet.

Aelin nodded. “I found the two men quickly enough. They were just grunts, ordered to do a job based on the reports of a spy. I’ve been trailing the spy ever since. I need proof of who gave the order before I can act, because if I’m right… if I’m right it was his former employer, and it would upset the balance of the underworld in Adarlan. Especially if it came out that Celaena Sardothien is just a name, nothing more.”

With one more glance at the old stains on the floor, Aelin covered them again with the rug before standing once more and stepping back. “Sam was possibly my worst mistake,” she admitted quietly. “I’ve had a lot of time to think about it. I was willing to leave my duty to my country and my people, all for a boy who killed people for a living. If it ever came out I’m not sure Darrow would ever let me near the throne. He’d cast me away for abandoning my people. Maybe rightly so. But I don’t regret what I did, not any of it. Because of him, I’m more committed than ever to doing what I must for Terrasen. I learned how to do what must be done, and I learned that love is both a great asset and a profound weakness. Perhaps most importantly, I learned to think before acting, and to make sure that my actions affect the root of my problems rather than the symptoms. It’s a lesson I’m still learning,” she admitted.

When Aelin turned to face Rowan he was silent, pine-green eyes narrowed in thought. He had sat at the desk at some point during her tale, the furniture slightly too small for his tall and broad frame. As she watched, his gaze dropped to his left hand, tracing along the swirls of the tattoo that marked his skin. “So now you know,” she said. “What are you going to do?”

“Nothing,” he replied, looking back up at her.

“Nothing?” she repeated, startled. “Whyever not? What I’ve told you—”

“Is the story of a pain I find all too familiar,” he interrupted, eyes blazing in the dim light.

“I don’t understand,” she admitted as he stood. When his hand went to the ties of his shirt, she lifted her eyebrows. “And I hardly think this is the time—”

The words died on her lips as Rowan’s shirt came off, revealing once more the full design of the tattoo she had only glimpsed in the dim lighting of his rooms before. Artistic renditions of characters in the Old Language cascaded from his left temple and down his face, and the swirling marks she had noted over his shoulder and arm were further characters she couldn’t quite read with her own limited knowledge of the language. “It’s been two hundred three years, ten months, and twenty-eight days since my own actions cost me my mate and the child we would have shared,” he finally revealed. “Her name was Lyria, and these marks tell her story.”

And then it was Aelin’s turn to sit and listen, as Rowan told her a tale of a young male too eager to please his queen and a mate who had begged him to stay. She watched silver line his eyes as he confessed that he was so intent on gaining his queen’s favor that he had marched off to war, failing to scent the life within his mate when he had held her for the last time. He told her how his queen’s enemies had slipped around their ranks, taking a mountain pass that led them by his home, and how he had flown to meet them but arrived too late.

“That’s why you were so upset with me earlier,” she realized. “You didn’t really start in on me until I mentioned the times you left.”

Rowan nodded. “None of this would have happened to her if I’d only stayed when she’d asked it of me. It’s a shame I will carry with me the rest of my life. I… was not myself for a long time, after. I still don’t know if I truly am,” he admitted. “Maybe I never will be again.”

“Perhaps we have more in common than we realized,” Aelin acknowledged. “Sam wasn’t my mate, but… his death changed me, too. For what it’s worth, I don’t think anyone can expect you to be who you were before you lost her. The question you need to ask yourself is whether or not you’re happy with who you are now, and what you can do to try to find peace.”

Rowan snorted. “Wise words, for someone on a quest for revenge. I did the same thing, a long time ago, and I can tell you it won’t bring you the peace you seek.”

Aelin scowled at him. Are you seriously telling me you would have listened to your own advice? she thought.

He shrugged in reply. Probably not, his posture seemed to say. But that doesn’t mean you need to make my mistakes.

They sat in silence for a few moments longer, Aelin finding that she didn’t quite have the words to say to this male who quite possibly understood her better than she could have possibly imagined. She had seen a determination in his gait and a steel-cold glint to his eyes that she had recognized within herself, of course, and she had become more than familiar with the heat of his temper, but to know that this brokenness, these jagged edges of their souls, was yet another thing shared between them? That was an entirely different matter.

Perhaps, she realized as she traced the lines of his tattoo with her eyes once more, no words were required at all. Perhaps they had already bared their souls enough to find, if not peace, at least some measure of understanding.

Perhaps, for now, that was all either of them needed.

~*~*~

As they walked back to the palace, the silence between Rowan and Aelin settled into something more comfortable. The Fae warrior matched her pace effortlessly, silver hair gleaming in the predawn light as they strode through the streets.

By the time they reached the eastern gates the sun had begun to rise, the reddish hues highlighting the gold of her hair and the tan of his skin. “You can take the day off today,” he said quietly. “But don’t think any of this means you’ll have an easy time of it tomorrow. You still need to learn to control your shift, if you hope to survive anything you’re trying to achieve.”

“Why did you follow me tonight?” Aelin asked.

Rowan stopped, and turned to face her. “Curiosity, at first,” he admitted. “After all, what could a princess be sneaking out of her home for that she couldn’t do openly? Especially a princess in a situation such as yourself. Whatever it was had to be risky, and part of my task is to make sure you actually survive your training.”

Aelin snorted. “Somehow I doubt that was part of my aunt’s command to you.”

“It’s implied in being assigned as your trainer.”

“And yet blood oaths don’t leave much room for implications,” she drawled, crossing her arms. “So that means you cared, at least a little.”

“Don’t press your luck,” he growled, though his green eyes were softer than she’d seen them before. “With the distance currently between us, my interpretation of her commands is largely at my discretion as long as I don’t directly violate the command. I take it as a point of personal pride that none of my students have gotten themselves killed while I was training them. It’s more than some can say.”

“If you say so,” Aelin grinned. “But if you ask me—”

“Keep going and you’ll be running twice as far tomorrow,” Rowan interjected, crossing his arms with a smirk. “You would do well to remember who’s in charge here.”

Aelin sighed and leaned against the wall they had stopped beside, inspecting his face as she lost herself in thought for a moment. What will you do now? she wondered. Now that you know what I’ve been up to, will you try to stop me?

Rowan met her gaze. Of course not, he seemed to reply. I don’t think what you’re doing will help you the way you want it to, but I have no reason to stop you.

Aelin blinked, startled by the determination she saw in him. You may not stop me, but are you going to keep following me?

He quirked an eyebrow in response. Of course I am. You’ll get yourself killed if you keep this up, one way or another, and a warrior—even a foreign one—can go where a princess dares not tread.

Aelin was surprised enough by that to speak aloud. “You would help me?” she asked. “Even though you disapprove?”

Rowan grinned, expression as fierce as the hawk he could become. “It’s what I was sent to do. To aid you, to whatever end.”

Before Aelin could respond in any way, Rowan was striding in the direction of the training grounds. She watched him leave in stunned silence, staring after him as he left his cloak by the stables and rolled his shoulders in preparation for training with her guard.

She was still staring at the corner around which he had disappeared when Aedion found her a few minutes later. “I saw Whitethorn drilling with the men,” he said by way of greeting. “He give you the day off after that fight you had the other day?”

Aelin nodded absently, knowing that explanation would be far easier than attempting to explain the truth of the matter to her cousin. “That, and the festivities tonight. It wouldn’t do if I had a black eye on my own birthday, would it?”

Aedion laughed. “While we do have healers, I suppose you’re right. Speaking of your birthday, is there a reason you’re dressed in black? I know we’ll be mourning the loss of your independence soon enough, but you’re not betrothed yet.”

“Are you suggesting that he would have a reason to say no?” she asked breezily as she waved a hand at her own figure. “To this, no less?” As her cousin sputtered in response, she grinned. “I’ll wear something much more celebratory tonight, don’t you fret. I do have a prince to woo, after all.”

“He wanted to meet with you after breakfast,” Aedion remarked, tying back his golden hair in preparation for training with his men. “Prince Dorian, that is. I told him you would likely be training your magic, but feel free to correct me. He was visiting the library, last I heard.”

“I suppose I should make time for literature, as I suddenly find my morning quite open,” she grinned. “I’ll change into something more appropriate and then head to the library myself.” She hadn’t slept, of course, and a short nap sounded far better than even spending time in one of her favorite places, but she had a mission and she was more determined than ever to succeed. “I’ll see you later, cousin?”

“Of course,” he replied before wandering off in the same direction Rowan had.

As Aelin began the long walk back to her own rooms, she couldn’t keep the smile off of her face. Anyone who saw her would simply assume it was because of the impending celebrations for her birthday, but she knew better. In one night, she had drastically improved the working relationship between herself and Rowan, and one day she might even be able to call him a friend. If she could forge a connection between herself and someone as unapproachable as the Fae warrior had been, surely she could convince Prince Dorian that it was in their mutual best interest to wed.

Perhaps everything would work out for the best, after all.

~*~*~

Aelin took a deep breath as she stood before her closet, less than an hour before she was expected to arrive at her own birthday celebration.

She should have been dressed already, most likely, but after a long morning sorting through histories in the library she had rested for longer than she’d intended. And so she stood before her collection of gowns, completely bared, when she should have been putting the final touches on her appearance.

It had been worth it, though. What had started as a light debate had led into searching through the library’s shelves with Prince Dorian for the oldest books and scrolls they could find. She had known, of course, that her kingdom was home to some of the most valued knowledge in existence, but even she hadn’t known just how old some of the works were.

With a small smile for the day’s successes, Aelin returned her attention to her wardrobe. Regent Darrow would likely expect her to show up in something demure, likely in Terrasen’s green and silver. Turquoise and gold to match her eyes would also be on his list of approved selections. But tonight wasn’t about his choices, it was about her own, and so she moved further into her closet and smiled as she found the perfect gown.

As her door opened Aelin grabbed a robe, quickly wrapping it around herself before relaxing at the sound of Lysandra’s voice. “It’s good to see you’re awake, at least,” her friend laughed. “It’s a better start than I was afraid I would get.”

Aelin smiled as she pulled her selected gown out of the closet. “I’m glad your expectations were so low,” she said with a grin. “It means it’ll be easy to impress you.”

Lysandra smiled back as she fully swept into the room, closing the door behind her. She had adopted one of her preferred forms for the evening, Aelin noticed, chestnut curls as perfect as ever and artfully tumbling down her back over a gown the deep burgundy shade of a fine wine. “It’s not me you need to worry about impressing,” she replied, “unless your dear Regent has changed his mind about the qualifications for your suitors.”

“You say that,” Aelin began as she laid out her choice of attire for the evening, “but you know I would never stand in my dear cousin’s way. Has he finally plucked up the nerve to speak to you properly? I know the last time he tried he was looking over his shoulder for days.”

While Aelin would tease Aedion within an inch of his life over his attempts to win Lysandra over, deep down she understood his struggle. Like her, he had Fae blood in his lineage, and while he couldn’t shift forms like Aelin could and he possessed no magic, it had left its mark on him regardless. As with most who had Fae lineage, he was stronger and faster than most humans. She also suspected he possessed the enhanced senses that some spoke of, though Aedion himself had never confirmed this. Most profoundly, though, her cousin apparently had enough Fae blood—or perhaps that part of him was dominant enough—that he had recognized his mate the first time he met Lysandra, the same way Rowan had described the pull toward his now-deceased mate.

While Aedion’s instincts had told him immediately that Lysandra was his mate, as a human Lysandra had no such instincts. While Aelin hadn’t been present for their first proper conversation together, she had heard that her friend had shifted into a ghost leopard and run him off for what Lysandra described as territorial Fae behavior and what Aedion described as perfectly normal conversation. After that, she had informed him in no uncertain terms that mate or no, he would have to earn her trust and affection as anyone else would.

Aelin sighed quietly as she combed through her shortened golden waves. While she absolutely did not envy her cousin the task before him, sometimes she wondered what it would be like to look at someone and just know they were meant to be. It was possible that her own Fae lineage was dilute enough that she would never know. She did know that while she had loved Sam dearly he hadn’t been her mate, not the way Lysandra was Aedion’s and Lyria had been Rowan’s.

Perhaps it was for the best, though. Darrow had shown no signs of budging from his requirement that she marry, and that would only grow complicated if she had an unknown mate to worry about. Her life was complicated enough as it was, she decided. Better to focus on what she could control.

With that in mind, she turned back to Lysandra as her friend finished ranting about whatever Aedion had done that day. “I’m glad you came by,” she said quietly. “I’ll need your help, if I’m going to make the impression I intend to tonight.”

Lysandra’s eyes, today a particularly green shade of hazel, gleamed at the promise of a challenge. “Tell me what you’re looking for.”

As Aelin outlined her plan for the evening, she allowed her mind to wander back to her last shift. She had no intention of asking Rowan to bite her every time she needed to shift, but if she could remember those moments after, when she had recognized the threat and reacted on instinct…

In her mind’s eye Aelin came up to a veil inside herself. A bright light awaited her on the other side, as did the warmth of her flames. She had spent so long shoving this part of herself away, lest the fire burn without her control. It was a risk to let it out tonight, but there were few places safer to show her own strength than at a feast in her own honor. The guest list had been carefully screened by Aedion and his men, and she was positive Rowan would show up at least to say he had put in an appearance. If he deemed it a risk, she knew he would stay and ensure she didn’t burn the entire castle to the ground.

With those reassurances fresh in her mind, Aelin tore a hole through that veil. A flash of light and pain was her reward, but as she felt her features shift she began to smile.

She was Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, Crown Princess of Terrasen and Heir of Fire, and she would not be afraid.

#rules of engagement #rowaelin #haven writes

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sadsentinel · 3 years

Text

i had to really throw down with my writer’s block to get this done but here it is (i hope it isn’t terrible!) ice skating with vergil! :’)

I’d never been ice skating before. Truth be told, I wasn’t nervous. I was excited.

A light dusting of snow had coated the ground, and the clouds overhead looked ready to burst any second now. With any luck, by the time we headed home, there would be plenty of snowfall to watch through the window, with a mug of hot cocoa in hand.

I smiled, eager to get started. Vergil didn’t seem quite as happy to be here as I was. He hadn’t cared much to go with me, but I’d insisted. I can’t go by myself, I’d said. That would just be weird.

He hadn’t understood why, but he knew it was important to me, so he’d relented. In his heavy, navy blue coat, he strode beside me, casting a hard glance over the ice rink. His icy stare was even colder than the air around us; the commanding look in his eyes sent a rush of adrenaline through my system each time we looked at each other.

He took my hand in his, giving it a tight squeeze. He didn’t show it on the outside, but he didn’t like crowds, and the rink was packed today. It looked like the last day of good skating weather before the holidays. I offered him a reassuring smile. His gaze softened for a moment, but as soon as he looked back towards the ice, that harsh veneer was back in place. He looked as stone cold as ever. But that was only a façade; at least to me. He was distant and impersonal to the rest of the world, but for me, he was less reserved. To me, he was kind.

“I can’t say I understand why you wanted to do this.” We crunched through the snow until we found an unoccupied bench. We sat down, luckily away from the bulk of the crowd, and began to lace our skates. I gave him a playful nudge.

“Because it’s fun. Don’t you ever want to get in the spirit of the season?” As soon as I said the words, I knew his answer.

“I don’t particularly care much for the holidays.” He tied his laces in a tight knot, then with grace, stood and held out a hand for me. “But you enjoy it. So here I am.” The gravel of his voice, along with the tenuous sentiment he’d offered, warmed my heart. These moments with him were rare, but they were becoming more common. It had been hard for him to admit he cared about me, and even harder to admit it to himself. But once he had, everything had fallen into place.

I smiled in thanks and accepted his gloved hand, getting to my feet uncertainly. I stumbled, but quick as a flash, his other hand was around my arm to steady me. He searched my wide eyes for some sign that I was alright. He might’ve been stoic towards everyone else, but there was a subtle science to the way we communicated. It was wordless, innate. I gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

He led me onto the ice, where I lost my balance and nearly fell immediately. In an instant, his hands were wrapped around my waist to steady me. He held us both perfectly, with unnatural grace and ease.

“Are you sure you’ve never been skating before?” I leaned into his chest and held on tight. I was not interested in slipping and crashing into the ice. He kept his arm firmly around my waist and began leading me around the edge of the rink.

“Never.”

“How are you so good at it?” The dexterity with which he glided was inhuman. I held on for dear life, knowing I’d fall without him.

“Suppose I’m naturally talented.” The faint hint of a smile appeared on his lips, but was gone as soon as it had appeared. I’d learned to pay close attention to him, otherwise I would miss those rare expressions of happiness.

Out of nowhere, Vergil spun me into an elegant twirl. Despite my lack of skill, the maneuver felt effortless on my part. As he pulled me close again, his hands found their place around my waist, steadying me.

He had a habit of making things feel uncomplicated, easy. Like I was walking on air, while he did the burdensome parts with a stalwart deftness. And it was so easy for him. He was strong, and had been since I’d met him. Everything he did had an unwavering resoluteness to it. I was positive there was nothing he couldn’t do.

He glided across the ice, holding me close against him. Even now, he did all the work. I was simply along for the ride. Grateful to be this close, overjoyed that fate had led the two of us together this way.

I leaned my head into his chest and shut my eyes. This was perfect; exactly what I’d wanted. Every moment with him had been just like this. Quiet, but a soothing kind of quiet. It was… tranquil.

“I’m happy you decided to come with me,” I whispered.

“The honor is mine,” he responded, his voice as soft as velvet. It wasn’t often he showed this side of himself, even to me. The gentle, compassionate side. More often than not, I got the I’d-go-to-hell-and-back-for-you side. For him, that was an average day. But the sentiment still counted in my eyes.

We swayed together along the ice until I finally began to grow tired. He could do this all day, I was sure; it was barely an exercise for him. But after several near tumbles, my legs felt like jelly and I wanted to go home.

I looked up at the thick grey clouds overhead. They’d grown even darker, and nearly blocked all the sun’s rays. A light flurry of snow had begun to fall. That thinned the crowd considerably; anyone with any sense would be going home to drink hot chocolate and put their PJs on. And right about now, that sounded excellent.

“Maybe we should—” I lost my balance and collided with the ground that time. Vergil had managed to catch me every other time, but I’d finally smacked into the ice. Really, it had been inevitable, and I knew that.

But I didn’t expect it to hurt this much.

“Are you hurt?” He was kneeling beside me in an instant, concern glazing over his eyes. I’d never seen him look afraid before, but as he searched my eyes, I saw a brief terror in his.

“I’m okay… I think.” He helped me to my feet and held me steady while I regained my balance. The moment he let go, I stumbled again. His arms were around me with blistering speed. “Okay, maybe not. Ow.” I glanced down at my ankle. It looked fine, but it didn’t feel fine. I leaned into him for support and he led me to the edge of the ice as carefully as he could manage. He helped me onto a bench and kneeled to inspect my ankle.

I grimaced as he gently unlaced my skate and pulled it off. His hands were nimble, his fingers tender against my skin. Despite my pain, I felt better at his touch.

“It’s sprained,” he said simply. He met my eyes, his icy gaze gone. Instead, he gazed up at me with soft, pale eyes.

“Great.” I sighed. He tilted his head slightly and took my hand in his.

“I’ll care for you.” I knew he would, but the clemency in his face when he looked at me…

He helped me put my boots back on before scooping me into his arms. I let loose a yelp of surprise, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“I can still walk, you know. A little. Maybe.”

“You shouldn’t.” His eyes were trained straight ahead as he walked, his lithe, muscular arms tight around my body.

I shut my eyes, for just a moment, and then we were home. He led me to our bedroom and helped me change into more comfortable clothing—his eyes lingering a moment longer than necessary—before helping me back to the couch, where he spread a thick blanket over me.

He spared the barest hint of a smile and walked over to the small fireplace across the room. After a moment, a blazing fire filled the hearth, heating the room quickly. The prickling cold melted away from my bones and I pulled the blanket over my shoulders.

“I’ll… leave you to rest.” Vergil glanced at me and began to turn, but I stopped him.

“Wait.” I reached one hand out for him and he was by my side in an instant, kneeling next to me with my hand wrapped firmly in both of his. “Stay with me,” I whispered. He hesitated for a moment before removing his heavy coat and tossing it aside. I moved over to allow him some room and he climbed underneath the blanket with me. Right away, I felt ten degrees warmer.

I laid my head on his chest and threw my arm over his side.

“I love you,” I whispered. He ran his fingers through my hair, then down along my back.

“I love you too.”

#vergil #devil may cry #fanfiction #one shot #fluff #writeblr #stuff i write #mine

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soundwavereporting · 4 years

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Is it alright if I requested deadceptor with “It’s a real shame nobody asked for your opinion" in the context of some rude bar patrons? (if not, feel free to use creative liberty if you'd prefer to) Thank you for accepting requests!

I’m still doing these! This one is long enough that I’m posting it as it’s own thing, rather than a part of that prompt-fill fic.

ao3 link in source!

93. “It’s a real shame nobody asked for your opinion" Deadceptor + rude bar patron

Astrotrain’s return was preceded by the biggest dust storm post-war Cybertron had ever seen, and uncomfortably dry winds continued to pummel Iacon with grit as Dead End worked.

He had already spent a good part of the morning scraping piles of sandy debris away from the front entrance to Maccadam’s before it opened. His engine hitched—some of the dust had found its way down his intake, and he had no doubt that the spaces between his plating and protoform were absolutely packed with dust.

Inside Maccadam’s, Perceptor was attempting to repair the jukebox. While Dead End had been in the back grabbing more subspace-filtered engex, Soundwave and the Tetrahexan had gotten into a fight the night before last, ending with the latter bot’s horns skewering the machine.

Until then, they had done a pretty good job enforcing the ‘no fighting’ rule—and Dead End was pleased to know that he proved an effective deterrent if Perceptor’s matter-of-fact reminder didn’t do the trick.

The door mostly cleared, Dead End stepped inside Maccadam’s. Perceptor was still working on the jukebox, which was now operational, but played only one song.

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself.”

Dead End crouched beside Perceptor. When he was certain the Autobot had registered his presence, Dead End reached out and placed a hand on Perceptor’s frame. It came away dusty, leaving a faint imprint on Perceptor’s armor.

“You ready to open?” Dead End asked.

“As soon as you are.” Perceptor replaced the jukebox panel and stood. “Soundwave has requested we hire him to curate the bar’s entertainment.”

“You’re not seriously considering saying yes?” The thought of Soundwave, ever-present, playing his obnoxious songs, watching knowingly as Dead End and Perceptor cleaned up after closing…Dead End grimaced. “Aren’t he and Hot Rod trying to take over Cybertron or something?”

“They are attempting to organize a new ruling body,” Perceptor said. “Which is why I told him no.”

“Good.” Dead End listened to Hot Rod slightly more than he listened to Soundwave, and to hear the bot speak—he was doing the equivalent of fighting a legion of Air Hammers armed with nothing more than acid pellets and witty banter. Dead End hadn’t participated in any of the protests that were taking place outside the newly rebuilt Imperium, but then, he had never been one for politics.

Politics were for bots like Soundwave and Hot Rod, who’d been sparked with either the charisma or the bolt-headed stubbornness to make a difference. It didn’t matter who won—if Optimus got his way or Hot Rod and Soundwave did, chances were, Dead End would still be here.

He wondered if Perceptor believed the same thing.

“Astrotrain messaged me earlier today,” Perceptor said. “He told me he had met someone who could track the Insecticons and was transporting him here.”

“I thought he was supposed to be keeping Megatron X prisoner,” Dead End muttered. “Not working as an multiversal space bus.”

Perceptor shrugged. “I am sure he will explain when he arrives.”

“Yeah.” There was already a line forming outside the bar—mostly the early afternoon regulars, but there were a few new bots. Probably here early because the dust storm had prevented them from working. Dead End gave the place a final once-over, then went to unlock the door. “He’ll probably dump the poor idiot into the Argon Sea.”

“Not if he does it to you first.”

“Ugh.” Dead End stepped aside to let in the dust-covered bots who’d been waiting outside, and immediately regretted bothering to clean the place last night.

He spent the next hour taking orders and helping Perceptor make the drinks—rather, watching Perceptor and his dexterous scientist hands make drinks so quickly and smoothly Dead End couldn’t do much but watch.

Just as the sun had begun to peek through the oppressive dust clouds, the door opened, and a stranger walked in.

Dead End would never admit it to anyone else—he barely admitted it to himself—but over the last few months, he had become attuned to Perceptor. He had begun to notice the other bot’s small, unconscious moments; the way his back straightened incrementally whenever a ranking Autobot walked into Maccadam’s, the tilt of his head whenever he was trying to figure something out.

Now, he was on edge. His grip on a bottle of subspace-filtered engex tightened, so much so that Dead End feared he might crush it.

He looked up.

The bot was dressed like a Senator—with a woven cloak, and head covering clearly based off of organic fashions, he looked more suited to an evening in the Grand Imperium than a Maccadam’s.

Almost instinctively, Dead End came to stand beside Perceptor. He was trying to loom, but considering he was shorter than Perceptor, Dead End wasn’t sure the effect was entirely accurate.

“I’m lookin’ for Optimus Prime.”

Dead End wondered if he had just imagined the blank spaces of Perceptor’s optics narrowing.

The stranger’s hand had been lingering on the holsters strapped to his waist, but without waiting for a reply, he lifted a hand—the universal gesture for ordering a drink, Dead End had learned.

“Don’t even think about it,” Perceptor said. Dead End looked down. The stranger’s free hand had been inching towards the revolver.

“Weapons are allowed in this joint, aren’t they?” He jerked his head in the direction of a group of heavily-armed bots who were no longer pretending not to stare. “Where’s Maccadam?”

“You looking for Maccadam or Optimus Prime?” Dead End snapped.

“I’m not talkin’ to you, ‘con.”

“Dead End is as welcome here as you are,” Perceptor said evenly, and slid the drink over the counter.

It sat untouched.

The stranger’s free hand twitched.

He shot three glasses before Dead End’s body caught up with his processor.

He sprang into action. Ignoring Perceptor’s shout, he vaulted over the counter to tackle the stranger, who stood unmoved by Dead End’s actions. What he did do was grab Dead End and slam him onto the nearest table. It cracked under the sudden pressure, and Dead End felt his spinal struts protest.

“I’m not asking again.”

Dead End kicked him in the face. The stranger stumbled back, giving him enough of an opening to sit up and rummage through his subspace for his weapon. A blast hit his hand—at this range, it wasn’t enough to destroy his hand completely, but it was enough to burn completely through his plating.

“Come here.”

He grabbed Dead End by the foot, dragging him out of the bar. Dead End struggled to orient himself, catching a glance of Perceptor reaching under the bar for his own rifle.

Dead End groaned as fresh grit and dust worked its way under his plating as he was tossed unceremoniously onto the ground.

“Optimus Prime. Where is he?”

“How should I know?” Dead End snarled. Pit. With the amount of dust getting into the circuitry, his hand would need more than some nanites. “You’ve got some nerve, coming into Maccadam’s and—”

“It’s a real shame I never asked for your opinion.” Dead End jerked his injured hand away as the stranger moved to grab it. “Talk. Or my next shot will be aimed at your spark.”

Dead End saw the impact of a shot hitting the bot’s shoulder. The stranger stumbled back, more surprised than injured, Dead End thought.

“I wouldn’t count on that.”

“Try me.”

“I have shot a hand off a Phase-Sixer,” Perceptor said. “Do you really want to question my competence with a weapon?”

The bot hesitated. The hole in his shoulder smoked.

“You win this one.” His optics narrowed. “But I’ll be back.”

“Don’t bother.”

Dead End didn’t look away until the bot was out of sight. He groaned and sat up.

“It appears to be superficial damage,” Perceptor said.

“Yeah, but it hurts.” Dead End gave in and deactivated the nerve sensors in his hands. He moved to get to his feet. Obligingly, Perceptor held out a hand. Dead End accepted, cradling his injured hand against his side. “You gonna help me fix it?”

“Of course.” Perceptor intertwined his fingers in Dead End’s. “I can’t have you capable of holding only one of my hands.”

Dead End snorted. “Who was that guy, anyway?”

“I am reasonably sure of his identity,” Perceptor said. “But I would like to confirm it independently. Shall we go back?”

Dead End smiled. “Yeah.”

#anon #asks #deadceptor #cyberverse spoilers #wild wheel #wildwheel #dead end #perceptor

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halequeenjas · 3 years

Text

What the Howl || Harsh & Jasmine

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @notsoharsh & @halequeenjas SUMMARY: Jasmine hears through the grapevine that Harsh is a hunter. She hires him to take out the Cù-sìth occupying the backyard of one of her listings. CONTENT: Gun use

Living in White Crest, having contacts with a wide variety of skill sets was a must. Jasmine knew as much. While she could kick a ghost out of just about anywhere, monsters were decidedly not her thing. She was still super human even with her abilities. There was no accelerated healing or added strength to make her more likely to survive an encounter with a beast. When she saw this wolf-like animal roaming around the yard of the estate she was trying to sell, she knew she’d have to get rid of it quickly. She couldn’t even safely show the property with it there. Thankfully, this Harsh guy seemed confident he could take care of the beast and she’d pay him generously for it. All the doors were secure as she waited for his arrival. Once she heard a knock on the door, she jumped up a bit startled by the sound, and glanced out the peephole. Thankfully, it was just her hunter and not the monster getting smart on her. She opened the door and ushered him in. “Hey,” she greeted, “I appreciate you coming out and helping with this problem. I may be good at many things, but beasts aren’t one of them.”

Someday Harsh would learn to not do the first stupid thing that popped into his head. Today probably wasn’t going to be that day. On the one hand, the more people thought he was a hunter, the less that might show up at his door with stakes in hand. But on the other, even hours of googling had only given him the slightest idea of what he was about to go up against. Green Dog hadn’t gotten him very far, but it hadn’t shown up on any weird werewolf hunting forums, which were mostly just trolls and conspiracy nuts anyway. So maybe it was something else. He had stocked up on silver bullets anyway and grabbed a few wicked looking knives for good measure. Hunters always had tons of those. The fact that the cashier hadn’t looked at him twice told him a lot about White Crest that he probably should’ve already known. The property was for sale. Huh. Harsh grinned even as he half waited for the invisible push to keep him from crossing the threshold. It didn’t come. That was good to know. “Yeah, no problem. I like doing what I can. Now, fair warning, I wasn’t able to find much on your wolf, but I think what I’ve got should cover most things. You’ll probably want to hang back, just in case things get rough.”

Between the weapons packed on him and his build, Harsh definitely looked the part of hunter. Whether he was a good one had yet to be determined. Even so, Jasmine led him towards the back of the house where the expansive backyard was. Minus the creepy wolf, it was quite the setup with an outdoor bar and kitchen, lush foliage, and plenty of space to run around. It was a dream backyard that plenty of people would pay a pretty penny for, but she could not in good conscience sell it knowing it was unsafe. The fact he wasn’t able to find much on the wolf wasn’t promising, but at least he had that whole strength and dexterity thing going for him. At least, she hoped he did. Calling the police and animal control to collect a dead body was not high on her to do list. “You’ve got quite the arsenal there. I don’t think Mr. Wolfy over there will know what him… or her. I don’t really care I just want it gone.” She gave a firm nod and said, “You don’t have to tell me to hang back twice. I’ll keep an eye out from the balcony.” Odds were the wolf couldn’t fly or leap quite that high. It still felt odd sending someone into danger, so she added, “Shout if you need anything.”

“Got it.” Hopefully one of these things would do the trick. Harsh pulled the gun from his bag, loading it up with silver bullets as he headed toward the back door. Maybe just one shot would be enough. Whatever this thing was, maybe it wouldn’t like silver. At least he wasn’t trembling when he gripped the door knob. So many years of faking, he always looked confident at the very least. That was probably good for a hunter. They probably never looked like they were about to go off to face certain death. He threw open the door. The monster… whatever it was, looked like it was just standing there. It was definitely green. And big. And wolfy. But not a werewolf. Harsh could tell that much at least. The beast looked at him with curious eyes. If he was more patient, maybe he could reason with it. Patience had never been one of Harsh’s virtues, so he lifted the gun and fired. Then the beast began to howl.

Jasmine had shuffled up to the balcony to keep eyes on the situation. While she was sure what the hell she could possibly do if things went south, she still had an iron bar firmly in her hand anyway. Better safe than sorry they always said. She jumped slightly at the ringing sound of gunfire and let out a small gasp. Neither of which could be heard over the loud bang or the howling of Shrek the werewolf over here. Since when were monster wolves green anyway? So far, the situation still seemed to be under control so she watched from the balcony and hoped with everything in her that was where she could stay.

It had probably been a few decades since Harsh had last fired a gun. Or that was at least the reason he was going to go with when he missed. His second shot was a little more on target, catching one of the beast’s legs. The creature let out a pained bark, far louder than any wolf had any right to be. Harsh winced, throwing his free hand up over one ear. Shit. This thing was seeming less and less like a werewolf. What the hell was he supposed to do? Maybe it would still die if he just shot it enough times. But the creature didn’t look like it was too interested in letting him. With an oddly silent snarl, it charged. Harsh swore under his breath as he leaped out of the way, firing again. A direct hit, the bullet biting into the beast’s chest. It staggered, letting out another ear splitting cry. But it didn’t go down. As Harsh watched with widening eyes, it looked like it was already shaking off the first hit. Shit. That was so not good for him. He cast a glance back to the house, Jasmine was still in there, maybe she could grab him something else. Catching sight of her, he gave her a slightly panicked look. “Uh, I don’t think it’s a werewolf--” was all he had time to say before the beast charged again.

The loud bangs of gunshots left her ears ringing and the wolf relatively unbothered. Injured, yes, but now seemingly pissed off. Great. Jasmine was beginning to wonder if this guy had any idea what the hell he was doing. She didn’t even deal with real monsters and she could tell this big bad green wolf over here wasn’t a werewolf. It wasn’t even a full moon. Why would the assumption had been werewolf? This was decidedly not good, the wolf was charging Harsh and he kept shooting at it. Enough bullet wounds should be enough to kill it she hoped. Outside of the fact she was supposed to stay away from them, Jasmine knew little else about beasts. Her recreational reading was reserved for trashy romance novels and ghost-related research. “Uhm, duh,” she called out from the balcony wondering if he needed anything. She was not about to go down there and get charged by that thing. She already had a broken arm. The last thing she needed was claw marks ruining her near-flawless complexion. She threw her hands up over her ears again as it let out another deafening howl and she could feel her heart rate creeping up. Terror was evident on her face as she watched the scene play out before he. “Watch out,” she screamed. Her hands were shaking, but she needed to do something. The wolf was nearly on top of Harsh as she leaned over the railing of the balcony. For a moment, she was frozen in panic as the iron rod she had been holding fell out of her hand and onto the wolf seemingly distracting it from Harsh.

Shit shit shit. Why had he just gone straight for the silver bullets? This thing definitely wasn’t a werewolf. But it was still wolfy. And shouldn’t shooting something at least slow it down? Harsh cursed as he tried to throw himself out of the way, throwing up his hands. If the gun didn’t do it maybe he could punch the stupid thing to death. Hunters did that, right? But then the wolf stopped. The creature skidded to a halt, letting out a deafening yelp of pain. That was something. What did that? Harsh looked over frantically, watching as the creature shook, throwing a metal rod from its back. Huh. There wasn’t time to think. Harsh rushed forward, snatching the iron rod as it fell. “You don’t like this, huh?” He bashed the beast across the snout with the iron. Something crunched as it let out a piteous howl and staggered backward. Harsh found himself grinning as he straightened up. “Arlight, now we’re talking. You’re not all that wolfy, are you?” He twirled the rod in his hand. Iron… he was going to have to google that when he got home. But for now, there was a monster to put out of his misery. It was out of it, still shaking its head. Harsh readied himself, iron rod held tight as he whistled. “Hey, over here, greenie.” Blood was dripping from the creature’s mangled snout as it hissed, one claw dragging through the dirt before it charged. Maybe it was a little too showy, but wasn’t that what hunters were supposed to do? They acted like such bigshots, treated themselves like real life superheroes. And Harsh had never really been able to resist the urge to show off. So he rushed forward as the beast charged, dropping at the last second as the beast ran right over him. He rammed the rod up, right into the beast’s chest, driving it in as hard as he can. The beast let out one last, mournful howl before it went still. With a great shove, Harsh forced the creature off, staying where he was, taking a few unnecessary breaths. Had to make it look real. Managing a grin, he looked up to Jasmine, lifting a hand. “I think I got it.”

Every howl left her heartbeat racing faster and faster until the iron rod fell onto the wolf causing it to yelp in pain. A new development that Jasmine hadn’t quite expected, but Harsh got his hands on the rod which would surely only help his fight. It appeared this thing also didn’t like iron. Was it a ghost wolf? No, Harsh wouldn’t have been able to seen it if it had in fact been spectral. Other creatures could have iron sensitivities too she supposed. That happened to be some dumb luck and she felt the terror melting away as she watched Harsh fight. Okay, this guy knew what he was doing. She held her breath as she watched the finally moments of their showdown. The bar collided with the wolf’s face. The way Harsh seemed to move quickly. She’d held in a gasp as the wolf charged him and he managed to move out of the way just in time to let it collide with an iron rod. The pitiful howl resonated in the yard and sent a chill down her spine, but it was over now. Once the relief set in, she was able to offer up a small round of applause. “Clearly, you know what you’re doing. Sorry for any doubt on my end.” She made her way back down to the first floor and let him back into the house. “That was intense… and impressive.” She gave him a smile as she got her checkbook out. “I don’t think I caught your last name before-- Who should I make the check out to?”

“Hey, I don’t mind. I looked kind of stupid for a minute there,” Harsh said, with an easy laugh at himself. “I went at it with the wrong equipment. But hey, live and learn.” At least now he could deal with these things easily if he ever ran into another one. He still wasn’t quite sure what it was, but if iron did the trick, maybe it was a ghost or a fairy… or some third thing he had never even heard about. That was always a possibility. Even with how long he had been around, there was plenty to the supernatural world that he had never really experienced. And getting paid certainly didn’t hurt. “Harsh Mishra. And thanks. If I ever have any ghost issues come up, I’ll make sure to send them your way.”

“You said it, not me,” Jasmine joked as she fished her checkbook out of her purse. Not surprisingly he had been a good fighter, most hunters were. He was right about the equipment though. Still, for not knowing what hell kind of wolf it was, that had been relatively quick and easy. “Harsh Mishra,” she said more to herself as she filled out the check, “Please do, I’m kind of the best in town.” Or definitely. It felt more like a definitely considering the other exorcists she knew. She handed him his check and offered niceties as he made his way home. Or to hunt more monsters. She didn’t really know what hunters did with their free time, but she did know she’d have his number on speed dial. Just in case.

#wickedswriting #what the howl #gun use tw #harsh

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thorne93 · 4 years

Text

Inside the Criminal Mind (Part 27)

Prompt: You’re married to Dr. Spencer Reid of the BAU, and are a distinguished doctor yourself on the team. You’re sent down to Miami, Florida for teaching and as a side request from the FBI, to investigate a string of missing persons. When you think you’ve figured out who the unsub is, your life becomes more complicated than you ever could’ve imagined.

Word Count: 1963

Warnings: (throughout the fic –>) death, blood, gore, killings, language, disturbing mental notions, mentions of rapes/murder/etc (You know, Dexter and Criminal Minds related business)

Notes: Thank you so much to @arrow-guy, @carryonmyswansong, and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo - without each of you, I couldn’t have finished, written, or properly navigated this story. Each of you helped me fish out details that were incredibly important to me. Beta’d by @carryonmyswansong and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo… Aesthetic by @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo

This is a crossover of Criminal Minds x Dexter. First time writing Dexter.

Also, the timeline is after Season 1 of Dexter, but during season 14-ish of Criminal minds into Season 15. Enjoy!!!

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

You and the team had gotten nothing else done the next morning, thankfully. They tried. Garcia hadn’t found any new information for anyone. Once they let everyone go at noon, you and Dex headed to the marina with the equipment. You got loaded on the boat with fishing gear, cleaning gear, and a picnic lunch.

“So get this,” Dexter started as you began to open the cleaning supplies kit.

“Hmm?”

“Harry was seeing my mom,” he blurted out.

You stopped grabbing stuff to look up at him. “Your adoptive father was dating your biological mother?”

“It appears that way.”

“How did you find this out?” you asked, going back to working after handing him a rag.

“I was listening to some old recordings of my mom. It turns out she was a confidential informant.”

“So that’s how your father knew her,” you gathered.

“Right. But now I’m starting to question everything. Harry’s teachings. Was he using her? Was he using me? Was I just a means to an end? Did he know I’d ultimately wind up killing my mother’s killers? I had emotional problems as a kid because of what happened to my mom.

Harry said he was trying to help me, but we only talked about his rules. I spent so much time trying to live up to his expectations because I thought he had my best interests in mind.”

“Dex, I’m gonna say this, and I don’t want you to take it the wrong way but…” You sat down, so that he was facing you. “I care a lot about you, and I know you put Harry on a pedestal because you think he saved you from prison, but the truth of the matter is… Harry didn’t do what was best for you. There was no guarantee you’d end up a killer. From what you’ve told me, you were a curious little boy who had an incredibly traumatic past, and instead of dealing with it, getting you help, Harry made you into what you are today.”

“So you think he was wrong,” he said, no accusation or malice in his voice.

“I do,” you firmly but softly stated. “Regardless of why he did it, too, the result is the same. You have your Dark Passenger.”

He began to look lost, erratic, even. “But I've built everything in my life on what Harry said I was supposed to be. My job, my girlfriend. It's all what Harry told me I needed.”

“Maybe he was wrong though. You can’t go back and undo his teachings, but maybe you could start living by your own.”

“What? You’re saying just give up the code? Just live life to some other standard?”

You shrugged indifferently. “Maybe it’s time to start looking at what you need, rather than what Harry groomed you for.”

“But this is all I know,” he said hopelessly with a trickle of sadness. “I wouldn’t even know where to begin. What would I do with my...urges?”

“Quiet them. We’ve already discussed how more than anything else, they’re an addiction. Something you can control. Maybe start with that first, and see where life leads you.”

“You’re something, you know that? You come to me, asking me to teach you how to use my urges, just for you turn around and tell me to turn them off.”

You smirked proudly as you got up and began wiping down the boat again. “What can I say?”

For the next thirty minutes, you and Dexter meticulously cleaned the boat. You took the right half, he took the left half. Every inch was cleaned and scrubbed.

“So how are the narcotics anonymous meetings going?” you inquired when you two sat down and started to eat lunch. You stared out over the water, soaking up the sun, relishing the heat and feeling free out here.

“It’s pointless... I get nothing out of it. But it helps Rita think I’m being normal. Of course, her mother hates me, thinks I’m going to end up like Rita’s ex.”

“Right,” you agreed, nodding.

“How are you and Spencer? I can tell he’s not my biggest fan, but what about you two? You making it all work?” he asked, nothing but sincerity in his voice.

“Actually, uh, I was going to talk to you about that… I’m still worried Spencer might leave me.”

He seemed a little alarmed so you assuaged that worry.

“Not that I think he’ll turn either of us in, not like that. He wouldn’t go through all of this just to turn around and sabotage it…” You shook your head. “No, I’m still worried that between his revelation of me, this investigation, and JJ’s confession… I’m just worried he may start to want her again, if he doesn’t still. I know he’s helping us, helping me, and he doesn’t have to, but… I know how hard this has to be for him. I’ve gone from his wife to a serial killer. He’s torn between wanting to protect me from the justice system and turning me in to it. I can understand where he's coming from because when he was in prison, he killed some guys. It was hard for me to hear it, but I sympathized easily. I just think he’s having a harder time…”

“Why?”

“Well, he killed two guys that were just drug mules. They killed his friend in prison just because they could and they knew it would hurt him. So he retaliated. It was personal. Spence can’t come from a place this cold like you and I can. He can’t come from a place where we spot a stranger and say we want to rid the world of them.”

“Can’t say I blame him, most people can’t.”

“I know. I mean, our job is to think that way. His entire livelihood has been built around putting people like me away. Now, he has to say he’s married to me. It just makes me feel like maybe he regrets marrying me.”

“I think if he did, he would’ve divorced you by now, or turned you in, or something,” he tried to assure you.

“Maybe, or he’s just waiting until I’m caught. Then he can pretend like he didn’t know, and he can divorce me easily. Otherwise, we’d have to make something up to our team if we got divorced.”

“Have you talked to him about this?”

“No. he’ll just tell me I’m paranoid about JJ...”

“Well… are you? I mean, are you just being paranoid for no reason?”

“Maybe. He swears he doesn’t love her, or feel anything, and he probably doesn’t. That doesn’t make me feel any safer or better about Spencer though. Even with JJ not in the picture…” You sighed, realizing you were rambling.

“What is it?” Dexter gently urged.

“What if he just leaves because he doesn’t love me any more? Because I am who I am?”

He pressed his lips together in a thin line. “You were honest with me, so now I’m going to be brutally honest with you.”

You braced yourself, fearing the worst from your friend.

“You sought me out, knowing full well what might happen if we took your curiosity all the way. You knew that the moment you killed someone outside of your job, it would change your entire life, everything about it. You knew it, and I told it to you repeatedly.”

You nodded, knowing he was right, listening.

“So now, you can’t really be upset with him for having normal responses and reactions. This fear you’re having, of him leaving? It’s a side effect of him being involved, of him knowing the truth. That fear is probably always going to be there, unless of course he somehow proves beyond a shadow of a doubt that he won’t leave, but that’s impossible.”

“But that’s what I want,” you retorted. “I just want him to say that he forgives me, that he understands why I did what I did, and he won’t leave me for it. I’m just worried with all this extra stress the investigation has caused, so close to him finding out, it’ll push him away.”

“If it does… it does. There’s nothing you can do to stop it, unfortunately. It’s better to live your life blissfully ignorant, than to go about every day worrying that today is the day something might go wrong.”

“That’s poetic, did you read that somewhere?” you sarcastically responded.

“I’m serious. Would you rather live wondering every morning you wake up, ‘Oh, is today the day he decides to leave me?’ Or would you rather just live it happily? Personally, I’d take the happy memories over ones that would be clouded by fear. Aside from waiting to tell you about JJ, you’ve never mentioned Spencer as someone who is flakey, flighty, or a liar. I’d say, if he’s willing to do all this work to keep you from being put in prison, he’s in it for the long haul.”

His words actually made sense and seemed to warm you up.

“You think so?”

“Yeah. Besides, you’d have to be crazy to try and divorce a serial killer right?”

You shook your head and made a face before throwing a cleaning bottle at him. “You’re such an ass!”

The two of you laughed before talking about things that had nothing to do with the case or killing or your shaky marriage. It was nice to escape for a bit. You caught up about Debra, she was dating some new guy apparently. Rita and Dexter seemed fine but apparently she was uncomfortable with a woman sponsor.

As the sun was starting to get much lower in the sky, you and Dexter decided to pack things up and call it a day. The boat should have been completely clear of everything by then. Dexter started the boat and began to make towards the shore, which would probably take about ten minutes. He wanted to be sure that you all wouldn’t be disturbed.

“It’s been hard, you know?” you suddenly said as you leaned back in the seat behind him, admiring the gorgeous view of the horizon. “Being an agent… I have to still know more than everyone in the room, and yet I can’t know too much or it’s suspicious and leads them back to you or me. Every day is getting harder and harder.” Your voice dropped slightly, hope dwindling out of your tone.

“You just have to lie, that’s all.”

“I know, that’s the hardest part for me.”

Dexter couldn’t help himself but laugh. “I like how the killing is the easy part, but the lying is the hard part.”

“Well the people I’m lying to are friends, Dex. They’re practically family. I’ve prided myself on being honest and trustworthy and forthright my entire life. Now all that’s a farce.”

“I know,” he finally said with some sympathy and a low voice. “I bet it’s hard. Lying comes naturally for me because Harry told me to basically say the opposite of what I was thinking or feeling at all times. I was raised to be a liar to protect myself. I can’t imagine switching gears now.”

You let a soft smile touch your lips. This was the side Spence needed to see, the whole world needed to see. The fun, caring, gentle side of Dexter.

“I never thought I’d see the day where I am best friends with a Fed, and two of them are keeping my secrets,” Dexter noted with a smirk. “Kind of a crazy world, huh?”

“Yeah, I never thought I’d befriend an unsub, let alone want to protect him,” you informed, getting up and standing next to him. You nudged his shoulder and he glanced at you, the two of you exchanging a fond smile.

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

Tagging:

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#inside the criminal mind #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid #dexter #dexter morgan #dexter fic

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hockeytrashgoblin · 4 years

Text

High ~Part 12

A/N: This is the last part of this tonight but just wait because I have some other things to post too lmao. I have so much I’m so sorry I’m such a goblin that hordes writing like this when I get sad.

It was about a month later and things had gone a little more normal. Ema was still allowed to come see Gray but Brian stayed at Auston's. I knew Ema had nothing to do with it. She'd never do anything to risk never seeing Grayson again, she loved him too much.

As Mitch expected Freddie had a long talk with Auston. Mitch also had a talk with Auston and so did Ema. The general consensus was that he stuck up for me with his dad and that he didn't think of how a signed jersey would come across. He was dumb. We knew this.

Mitch and I had given the shirt to a little boy in the hospital with brain cancer. He was really small for being 6 because of the chemo on top of him being small anyway so the toddler jersey fit him perfectly. He had loved the gift and I felt a lot of satisfaction in giving it to him and brightening up the little guy's day.

Everything was getting back to normal just in time to be wrecked again by two new babies. I was thinking a lot about how things were gonna change with more kids as Mitch and Grayson were sleeping on me. We had started taking family naps because my boys liked to feel the babies move around. So there I was, the first one awake, sandwiched by Mitch on my right and Gray on the left. It was my favourite spot to be these days.

I felt Mitch stir beside me and blink awake. He smiled wide and put his hand on my tummy where a baby was moving.

"Morning sunshine." I said running my hand through his hair.

"Mornin baby."

"You feel the babies?"

"Yeah there's one right beside me. Kicking me in the head. I love it. I love you. I can't wait to meet them."

"You're so sweet baby. I love you too."

"Oh year clear your schedule tonight babe. We're going on a date."

"Well I waaaas going to watch a beach bargain hunt marathon but I suppose I can do that another night."

"Sorry to disrupt your big plans love but this is worth it I promise. I want to go out with you again before the babies get here."

"Don't be sorry lovey. I'd love to go on a date with you. How fancy do I need to get?"

"You can wear whatever you want. I'm gonna be in a button down shirt with some nice jeans. You wear what you like. We'll be outside for a bit though so keep that in mind."

"Mitchy it's April!"

"Yeah but the snow is gone. It'll be only a little cold."

"I'm still on board babe you don't need to convince me."

"Okay good." He gave me a kiss and we just cuddled together for a while. Mitch was happy to just lay there for hours with his hands on my belly. It was really sweet. Eventually Grayson woke up though so cuddle time was over.

"Hi baby."

"Hey little man, how was the nap?"

"It was good daddy. The baby kicked me."

"Do you want to make a fun craft with me today?" I asked him trying to tame his wild hair.

"Yeah! What kind of craft?"

"A new one. We haven't done this one before."

"Let's go right now!" He said jumping on the bed.

"Okay honey let's go."

I got up with no help from Mitch who was dying laughing watching me struggle with my giant tummy. I brought Gray downstairs and started getting the supplies out. Once I was done I put Grayson in his booster seat so he could reach the table and I sat beside him.

"What are we doing mommy?"

"Well grandma made some little ocean onesies for the babies and I thought we could colour them in together. There's four so pick two that you want to do."

"I want the poptopus."

"That's octopus love. Octopus."

"Octopus. I forgot." He said giggling making me smile.

"Which other one do you want to do?"

"I want to do free Willy!"

"Okay so you get octopus and the whale, and I get jellyfish and the seahorse?"

"Yes!"

"Okay here are the markers. It's just like your colouring books. Do whatever you want. Sound good?"

"Yeah!"

We coloured together for a long time. Mitch had left for practice so it was just me and my boy drawing together with some music in the background. I had finished my jellyfish and gray was done with the orca. He wanted free willy to look like free willy so he was only one colour.

"Are you colouring one special for each one?"

"Octopus is for Marly."

"So Willy is for baby brother?"

"Yup. What's his name gonna be?"

"We haven't decided yet. It's a big job naming a person ya know."

"How come?"

"It's just that they'll have their names forever. You want it to be a good one."

"Oh okay." He was quiet for a while before he asked, "When will the babies get here?"

"In a little while. Pretty soon actually. The doctor thinks they're going to come early even."

"I hope so. I can't wait."

"Me neither Gray. I'm very excited to meet them."

We kept colouring until Mitch came back home with William.

"Hey guys what's going on?"

"Uncle Willy!! We're colouring for the babies, look!"

"Wow Gray you've done a really great job!"

"Thanks."

"Are you ready to come stay with me tonight?"

"Yeah!"

"We can eat pizza and ice cream and watch movies while mommy and daddy have boring adult time. Sound like a plan?"

"It's a plan!" He said giving William high ten.

"I think Mitchy packed a bag already." I said getting up. Mitch and Gray went upstairs to get him ready.

"Jeeez babes you're giant!"

"Thanks William I really needed that today." I said punching his shoulder.

"I'm just kidding (y/n)."

"The doctor thinks the babies are gonna be huge."

"Not good news for you."

"Meh I'm not too concerned. My body is built to do it."

"You excited for your last date for a while?"

"I am excited yeah. I don't know what we're doing or what I'm going to wear. I dont even know if I have anything nice that still fits. Aw man I'm gonna look like a slob for Mitchy." I whined.

"No you won't. You'll look beautiful and you'll have an amazing time. I promise you."

"I hope so. I've been really nervous lately about that. I feel like I've let myself go and Mitch is going to think I'm ugly and gross."

"Hun, you don't have to worry about that at all. He talks about you constantly. About how beautiful you are and about how he loves you more every day."

"That's crazy."

"He really loves you."

"I love him too. So much. Will I never thought I'd be so in love with someone."

"I'm happy for you." He gave me a hug as the boys came back in. "You ready to go little man?"

"Yeah let's go."

"Can I have a hug bye love?"

"Of course mommy." He ran over and hugged me tight. He gave me a kiss on the cheek and then patted my belly. "Bye bye babies."

"Bye Grayson."

"Love you mommy. Love you daddy." He said going to give Mitch a hug and kiss too.

"Bye buddy. We'll see you tomorrow morning okay?"

"Okay. Bye daddy. Bye mommy." He said dragging William towards the door. I started cleaning up our craft supplies and I heard Mitch talking to William.

"He needs to be in bed by 8:30. That's giving him an extra hour and a half after bedtime. If you feed him after 6 give him something a little healthy. (Y/n/n) prefers it. Also if anything happens call, we'll answer-"

"Marner, we're good. You guys enjoy your night. Good luck man."

"I hope it goes well."

"It will. You've got this." They were quiet for a minute before William spoke again. "Bye (y/n) have fun!"

"Bye boys! See you tomorrow."

I heard the door close and Mitch can in. He stood in the doorway for a minute watching before coming in and wrapping his arms around me from behind. Not an easy task with my giant tummy but he managed. He gave me a kiss on the cheek and I smiled leaning back against him.

"What did you guys do today?"

"We drew these for the babies." I said laying them out. "I just need to put them in the dryer to lock in the markers because I can't be bothered to iron them. Then they'll be baby ready."

"These are so cute."

"Gray made that one for Marly and this one for baby boy."

"Who are yours for?"

"Either one, I don't really care. I think I'm going to bring his to the hospital as babies first outfits. With the hats he picked out."

"I like that idea."

"Just another little thing that can really make Gray know he's part of this too."

"I love it. You're so thoughtful in everything you do. I just can't believe how lovely you are."

"Mitchy stoop."

"Never." He turned me around and gave me one kiss which led into multiple kisses. "Okay no time for this right now. We need to go get dressed for our date."

"Okay." I gave him one last kiss and we made our way up into the big closet. I started looking through my clothes that still fit while Mitch got dressed in the room. He came in looking hot as ever and it made me feel even more nervous.

"What's wrong babe? You look sad."

"I'm gonna look ugly and embarrass you." I said sadly as a tear slipped out.

"Hey love, no you won't. I think you look absolutely gorgeous."

"Even with a giant bump?"

"Especially with the giant bump." He kissed my forehead and started looking through my clothes. "How about the blue dress you wore for the maternity pictures last week? That'll still fit right?"

"I hope so. Thank you Mitchy."

"You're welcome baby. Now get dressed and we'll be out of here."

I was lucky that the dress still fit. I was also lucky Mitch didn't get a car that was low to the ground because there'd be no way I'd get out of that. We drove a little ways to a nice restaurant we liked. The dinner wasn't very eventful. We talked a lot about hockey, a lot about Gray and how we're going to still give him attention with the babies. We talked about ourselves too and how we felt which was a nice change. After dinner we were walking around a small park near the arena talking more about the babies.

"We really need to decide a name lovey. It's getting so close."

"It's not that close. May 26th is still pretty far yet."

"Baby please be serious."

"I'm still really liking Dexter."

"I've been thinking about Dexter a lot too. Pretty much as soon as you said it I loved it."

"So let's call him Dexter. Dexter Joseph Marner. It's perfect."

"It is perfect. I love it. Baby Dexter and baby Marly. So precious."

"I'm glad we decided." He said swinging our hands. "Let's go inside and warm up a bit."

"Are we allowed?" I hadn't even noticed that we were at the arena until he was opening the door.

"Course we are. Come on."

"Where are we going Mitchy?"

"To the family room, come on." He dragged me all through the arena until we got there. Once we did he stood with me in the middle of the room.

"What's going on Mitchy?" I asked smiling at him softly.

"This is where I first met you. Where I first laid eyes on you. I heard you laughing and joking with Willy and my heart beat faster. I didn't ever even let myself get my hopes up that you'd ever have feelings for me. Then you got with Auston and I hated how you got so quiet and hidden away. Then you guys were off and you were your normal self again. Then you were back on and it hurt so bad seeing you taken by someone who really didn't appreciate you at all."

"Mitchy I'm sorry-"

"Babe let me finish please?"

"Okay sorry go ahead." I said giggling making him laugh and kiss me quick.

"Anyway then you guys were off again and you had little Gray in your belly. I wanted to be around constantly for both of you as whatever you needed. Then I kissed you and you kissed me and it all just blossomed into this amazing beautiful relationship. And now we're making our family bigger. I've never been happier than I am now."

"I never thought I'd be this happy Mitch. I mean that."

"I'm so in love with this family we're making. And I'm so in love with the way our life together is going. And most of all I am so, so, so in love with you (y/n)."

"Mitchy you're going to make me cry. I love you." I kissed him again and wiped my eyes when we broke apart.

"I guess there's just one more sappy sentimental thing left that I need to say." He lowered himself down to one knee and I started crying.

"Mitchy."

"(Y/n), you're my best friend in the whole world, the love of my life, and the mother of my children." He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a box.

"Mitchy. Oh my God." I wiped my eyes and laughed as he opened the velvet box.

"Will you now please, please, please be my wife?"

"Yes. Yes! Mitchy of course! Yes!" He slid the ring on my finger while I cried into my hand. "God I love you more than I could ever express."

"I love you." He smiled and kissed me. It didn't work out great since we were both smiling and crying but it was the best feeling in the world. "I'm so glad you said yes."

"You thought I'd say no?!" I asked shocked.

"Well I thought you'd say yes because you've said you want to spend your life with me but we never talked about getting married."

"Lovey I would never think twice about promising myself to you forever in front of everyone. You're it Mitchy."

"I'm so happy."

"Me too."

"Let's head home. As sweet as this moment is, I really want to go home and spend the night with you. But first. I want to take a picture of you."

"But Mitch I look like a mess, I've been crying."

"Just cover your face with your left hand then. I think you've never glowed brighter the whole time I've known you. You're beautiful.

"Fine take the picture."

He did and he posted it on our way back to the car. I got a notification from Instagram and opened it to find me with a caption that said. 'April 29th 2020 she said yes'. It was simple but it was perfect and I told him that much. As we drove home I was floating so high in the clouds I didn't think I'd ever come down.

#hockey #hockey story #hockey imagines #maple leafs #maple leaf imagine #leafs #mitch marner #mitch x reader

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neitherthehoneynorthebee · 4 years

Text

Choices - An SP Fanfic

So, I tried writing in a different style, and ended up with a short Skulduggery Pleasant fanfic. I probably won’t post this to ao3 - or if I do it will be a more edited version - but I thought I’d post it here anyway. I’m not sure about the second person perspective, honestly, but nevermind. If you want to check out my other fics I’m Alexander_Writes on ao3.

916 Words. Second Person. Reference to Larrikin/Dexter Vex.

It is time to pack your bags and move away from the window. This is what you wanted, after all, isn’t it? You cancelled the lease on your old little apartment you were planning to share with him. You looked at the train timetables perhaps fifteen times – I saw you. You even washed all of your clothes – or all the ones you wish to keep, leaving your armour – and piled your favourite books together to be sorted through and discarded if necessary. So come on. Move yourself. It’s dark now, anyway. Cold. Your fingers are bleached from the chill, I can see them.

Alright. Why don’t you want to commit? Don’t you know that you already made a commitment when you told your friends that you were leaving? That should have been it. That should have been all you needed to do to boost yourself into action. Don’t be idiotic. Don’t procrastinate this like you have procrastinated everything, after the war. Don’t be weak. You’ve faced famine and plague and bereavement and torture and survived.

Oh. So you don’t want to leave him, then? That’s rather endearing of you, I suppose, but mostly foolish. He’s dead, or have you forgotten? He already left you, you can’t leave him. Or, if he is still with you, he will remain so surely, however far you stray from Ireland and us. His grave is in Wales, after all, not your homeland.

I’m telling you this for your own good, you know. It’s important. You can’t continue living like this without something breaking – will it be you, or them? Another harsh word, another late night drinking turned to fist fights, another day of misery? Will that be enough to push your comrades away? Or will they let you leach all energy off them, until you are the only one left feeling alive? You can’t do that to me, I have nothing left to give but hate and anger. And I tell you this for free, considering how long we’ve known each other – you do not want to end up like me. You already knew that? Good.

So get up. Come on.

What do you want me to say? Should I remind you of your travels in Britain during the war, where you met Gracious and Donegan? Should I make you recall how much you loved riding through the desert in the Uniter States? Or remind you of the jungles and forests and palaces on the other side of the world that you haven’t visited yet. Come on, I’m trying here, I don’t normally do that sort of thing. It’s the turn of the century, you can do anything now. Look at me when I talk to you. I haven’t spoken nonstop since … yes, alright, last week, but that was a special case. I don’t bless just anyone with my sage advice.

You’re a good man, Dexter Vex, but you’re carrying the ignored horrors of three lifetimes and something needs to be done. Ghastly can’t help you – he’s mourning his mother and his comrades as much as you are. Erskine is off with Corrival, and he lost Hopeless before he told them that he loved them. At least you had the courage to tell Larrikin how you felt. And I can’t help, don’t you see? I’m more broken than you are, even if I don’t show it much.

If I could have saved Larrikin, I would have. He was the best of us, the most cheerful, the one with the least blood on his hands. He was the one who stood beside me as I killed Mevolent. He healed so many people, saved all of our lives – even mine – more times than anyone could count. He was good. I don’t usually like good people, but he was the exception to most things, wasn’t he?

But I couldn’t have saved him, and neither could you. I know he died to save you but that does not mean you should carry his passing worse than any of us. My wife died for me, in a way, and though I mourn Augustus I know that she would not blame what happened on me.

Serpine is to blame.

Of course, if you decide to renege on your travelling plans, you can always come with me. I’m going to kill Serpine. You knew this, don’t look surprised. It’s going to contravene the Truce of course, so perhaps you wouldn’t want to help, but it’ll be worth it. That man is walking the streets of Dublin, while our comrades and lovers and family are in the ground. He doesn’t deserve that, and I won’t allow him to have it. There should no peace for someone like him.

I’ll even take the blame if they find us out after the fact. No point you going down with me, you have a life to live after this. But I could do with the help of someone I can trust, especially an energy-thrower. My detective partner just went off and got himself shot like an idiot. There’s a position vacant. Not that my previous partner would have willingly aided murder. But no matter. But you don’t have such scruples, surely? He murdered Larrikin. His troops killed Hopeless, in a way. He killed my wife and child and turned me into this. He tortured Erskine. I don’t really need to list him offences to you, do I?

So, Dexter. What are you going to choose? Will you stay, or go?

#skulduggery pleasant #dexter vex #fanfiction #fyodor writes #the dead men #larrikin #larrikin/dexter vex #second person pov #(hopefully) somewhat sinister #post war with mevolent #dialogue? monologue?#tw torture reference #reference to murder because this is skulduggery pleasant we're talking about #all feedback appreciated

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ericsonclan · 4 years

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The Playground Across the Street

Summary: Violet meets up with Prisha and Prisha introduces her to someone special.

Read on A03:

Violet made her way down the sidewalk, curious as to where exactly she was heading. Prisha had told her to meet her for lunch and dropped a pin revealing her current location though. As far as Violet could tell, there weren’t any restaurants on the street she was being guided to. There was a school, a laundromat, a retirement home… what exactly did Prisha have planned? Whatever it was, knowing Prisha the location was no accident. Violet knew she’d get answers soon enough.

She spotted Prisha as soon as she rounded the corner. Her girlfriend was wearing a fitted brown winter coat, a scarf tucked elegantly round her neck. Violet felt self-conscious for a moment about her hoodie and sweatpants, but quickly brushed away the thought. Prisha never seemed to care about things like that. Walking over, Violet stood beside Prisha, awkwardly clearing her throat to signal her presence.

Prisha jumped as though shaken from a stupor. She turned to Violet with a soft smile. “Vi, you’re here,” Her hand reached out, effortlessly intertwining with Violet’s. “Sorry for the air of mystery surrounding this date. I suppose I feared I’d lose my nerve somewhere along the way so I kept my motives vague,”

Violet shrugged. “It’s no big deal,” Her eyebrow quirked as she noticed Prisha’s expression did not agree with that statement. “Is it?”

Prisha shook her head. “Perhaps, it shouldn’t be, but it is to me. We’ll go to lunch shortly, but there’s someone I wanted you to meet first,”

She gestured across the street towards the raucous schoolyard where students were laughing and playing on the playground equipment. “Do you see that boy over there, climbing across the monkey bars? That’s my little brother Sanjay,” Violet squinted, trying to spot the kid she was talking about. There he was, zooming across the monkey bars with the excited dexterity of a child who’d been waiting for recess all day. It was too far away to see him very clearly, but even from here she could recognize the resemblance. He shared the same strong nose and jawline as Prisha. He looked like he’d fit right in with Tenn and Willy on their mad dashes through the restaurant.

Prisha’s eyes were locked on her brother. Violet turned from watching him to study her. She hadn’t seen Prisha quite like this before: melancholy and almost fragile. Every day she worked behind the bar she seemed to exude enough confidence to set any troublemakers in their place, but standing here on this empty sidewalk she looked lost. It was as if the wrong question would crack the cool façade she often wrapped herself in. Violet ran her calloused thumb up and down the side of Prisha’s hand, hoping the touch would provide some sort of comfort. Finally, Prisha found her voice again, though her tone was softer than usual. “I told you what happened when I came out to my parents,”

Violet nodded. They’d kicked her out a week later.

Prisha’s eyes were glassy. “I was determined that their rejection wouldn’t break me. If they couldn’t accept me as I was, then I would forge my own path without them. And that’s what I did for years: working any jobs I could find, taking night classes, saving every penny I could so I would never have to crawl back to them in hopes of falling on their good graces,” A tear slipped from Prisha’s eye, quickly trailing down her cheek. “But Sanjay didn’t abandon me. I was the one who abandoned him,”

Violet squeezed Prisha’s hand, trying to help ground her. “That’s not on you. You said your parents wouldn’t let you visit, not unless you took back what you said,”

Prisha shook her head. “I should have tried. Sanjay was only eight when I left. Now look at him. He’ll be thirteen next March,”

The girls were silent as they continued watching the children play. Sanjay seemed to be well-liked. He had a pack of friends that followed him and joined in each activity he undertook from four square to jump rope to basketball. Violet noticed Prisha occasionally smile despite the tears. She was proud of her brother. It wasn’t fair that she had to stay separated from him simply because of her parents’ bigotry. Violet wished she could change things, but she was utterly powerless to accomplish anything. All she could do was stand here beside her girlfriend and hope things would be OK.

Prisha bit her lip, her eyes drifting down to the ground. The toe of her boot absentmindedly scuffed at a fallen leaf. “Sometimes I wonder if things would be different if I had held out longer. Perhaps then the separation wouldn’t be as absolute. I could have stayed silent, kept my true feelings a secret. Maybe Sanjay would remember me then as more than just the sister who vanished from his life without a trace,”

Violet thought back to her own home life. There had never really been a good moment to come out. There hadn’t been many good moments at all. Her parents hadn’t picked up on her orientation either. More often than not her dad was drunk and her mom was outside of the house most of every day working multiple jobs. She’d approached the issue as she had everything else at home: hiding away in hopes that she could slip through that period of her life with as little shit as possible. She was glad she was free. But she was proud of Prisha in a different sense. With everything to lose she’d put it all on the line to let her family know who she really was, and despite being rejected she still stayed true to herself. Violet admired her bravery more than she could adequately express.

She cleared her throat though, wanting to at least say something. “Even if Sanjay doesn’t know why you left, that doesn’t mean he thinks you’re a bad sister. Kids’ brains are weird; who knows what sort of crazy theories he’s come up with? And once he’s old enough to do things on his own, I wouldn’t be surprised if he tried to reach out to you himself. It’s not that hard with social media. Besides, you still live in the area. That’s why you never moved that far away, right?”

Prisha looked rather surprised at the statement, but slowly nodded. “I suppose that’s right. I never really thought of it that coherently, but perhaps there’s still part of me that’s holding out hope,”

The school bell rang. They watched as the children reluctantly ran across the schoolyard and toward the building, forced to start their lessons once more.

Violet felt a hand slip round her back. Her eyes widened in surprise as Prisha pulled her into a tight hug. She quickly accepted it though, her own arms curling round to pull Prisha closer. Her heart raced as she felt Prisha’s breath tickling her ear.

“Thank you, Violet. For letting me show you this and for understanding. You’re so precious to me,”

Violet buried her head in the crook of Prisha’s neck, too overwhelmed to form a reply. She knew Prisha understood though. She could hear the smile entering Prisha's voice as she chuckled. “It’s cold, isn’t it? We should head to lunch. There’s a charming bistro just a few blocks from here,”

“Do they serve chicken nuggets?”

“Would you rather we find a McDonald’s?” Prisha’s tone was teasing, but Violet knew she’d change their plans if needed.

“Nah. I can try something new,” Violet linked her arm with Prisha’s, slipping her hand into her girlfriend’s coat pocket. “Let’s go,”

They headed down the street arm in arm. They couldn’t change their pasts, but their futures were brighter together.

#twdg #twdg privet #twdg prisha #twdg violet #fanfic #ericson's diner au

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