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lambourngb · 4 years

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This Hard Lie

Fic prompt: “Just trust me.”

THIS HARD LIE follows THIS HARD TOWN an AU that explores what Michael’s life might change if Alex hadn’t joined the Air Force. It’s not necessarily an easy rosy life . This part includes the following warnings : Kyle/Michael, sexual content, a homophobic slur directed at Michael by an OC, Michael’s cynicism about the US military and some more plot musings. This is finished in full on AO3.

***

[UNDER the cut because it starts NSFW]

There was something intensely meditative about sucking cock for Michael.

Opening his mouth wide past comfort into an ache of effort, the firm press on his palate mixing with the surge of salt on his tongue, the mess of saliva and pre-cum smearing sloppily over his face as he dropped into a state where listening to his partner’s enjoyment was the only thing that registered. The world slipped away as he took measured breaths, his mind finally quiet, until all that was left was Michael being good.

Michael could just be a vessel to fill with pleasure instead of pain.

Normally skating his hand down to gently squeeze and massage his partner’s testicles was enough to get that hitched-curse and uncontrolled jerk in his mouth that signaled an impending orgasm. The draw and shiver of warm pliant skin before the warm, thick release in his mouth, except that was not happening.

After a firm swipe of his tongue against the slit, rubbing against the edge of the frenulum, another foolproof trick in his experience that garnered nothing more than a sigh and an absent clutch of the hand on the back of his neck, Michael pulled away abruptly to stare up at Kyle Valenti’s face.

“Wait, why’d you stop?”

Michael wiped his mouth with the back of his hand rocking back on his heels, his voice rough from his activities, “‘Cause you don’t seem to be into this? Which I gotta admit, that’s a mood killer for me and slightly hurtful to my pride.”

Instead of arguing with Michael over his observation, Kyle sighed guilty and shifted to pull up his lightweight shorts over his erection, signalling the close of the encounter. “Sorry, you know you’re great at that, it’s me. My brain,” he gestured to his head with a twirling motion with his long-skilled surgeon hands.

Michael couldn’t help but follow the motion with interest, he had always been a sucker for a set of strong, confident hands.

Alex had hands like that.

Fuck, Michael pushed that thought away like he did every time it slipped in uninvited and collapsed next to Kyle on his expensive leather couch. It’s been two years since Michael’s last glimpse of Alex, no contact from him outside of the impersonal birthday and holiday cards that had begun after Michael mailed his ‘I’m sorry I dropped in your life’ letter. They’ve officially been apart longer than they were together and still Michael couldn’t stop thinking of Alex daily.

Perhaps Kyle wasn’t the only one distracted tonight.

“Listen, I won’t bore you with the details and break our agreement here,” Kyle continued, knocking his shoulder against Michael’s. “I can still do you here-”

“‘Do me’, so romantic, Valenti. I think I’ll pass on getting a disinterested handjob, thanks.” Michael rolled his eyes at the offer and reached for the bottle of water from the coffee table to swish around his mouth before swallowing for effect.

It was Kyle’s turn to roll his eyes but fondly. “I could give you an absent-minded blowjob instead?”

Their eyes met. Kyle lifted his well-groomed eyebrow as Michael pretended to be seriously tempted with a stroke of his stubbled jaw in turn before they both broke and started to laugh helplessly.

If someone had told a seventeen-year-old Michael that one day he would be laughing with Kyle Valenti in his high-end, ultra modern condo after a failed conclusion to a ‘U up?’ text, well he probably would have been interested in the type of pharmaceutical high that would have made that possible. Hell, the Michael of a year ago wouldn’t have believed it either but that was before he met the post-med school Kyle that returned home to Roswell.

It had started one night at the Wild Pony, where Michael frequented more and more for the scraps of news about Alex from Maria. A practice she did her best to discourage, repeating her policy of ‘I don’t play messenger between exes’, which had given Michael hope that maybe Alex had asked about him. He had been one beer in, contemplating a second when Jake Frederick’s sneer had interrupted.

“I hear they’re finally opening a place that caters just for the fags in town.”

That word, not unfamiliar to Michael in Roswell, brought his shoulders up to his ears. Its ugliness brought back so many memories of how it was whispered, spat, scrawled, or just strongly implied whenever Michael and Alex had ventured outside the safety zone of the Crashdown or their own four walls. The Wild Pony once Maria had bought it was eventually added to the list, though some patrons still thought otherwise.

On cue, Maria’s voice barked from behind the bar, “Jake, you use that word again in here and you’re banned for life!”

There was a titter of amusement as Jake’s crowd of admirers teased him for the call out, before an artificial apology was offered in return. After a moment though, Michael could hear him perfectly well pick up his conversation, “it’ll be wall to wall fake wigs and limp wrists there, probably playing nothin’ but Alex Manes’s shitty music.”

The laughter echoed, and Michael started to reach for his wallet to pay for his beer. It was clear that tonight’s entertainment was focused on Michael. He thought at this point, without Jesse Manes drumming up hate for his son, that these bullies would finally move on to something new. Unimaginative pricks.

“Hey Guerin, you off to join your people at that gay bar?” Jake called, noticing Michael’s departure. “Gonna find yourself someone new to ruin now that your boy left you?”

Closing his eyes as he swept his hat over his curls, Michael said a silent apology to 17-year-old Alex for breaking his promise on violence. He turned, noting a few new faces gathered at the table, probably guys from the base with their short haircuts, along with a silent Wyatt Long. For all of Wyatt’s racist blustering, Michael knew he had a queer cousin in Austin. Still, Michael pasted a bright and fake smile, “those are my people at Planet 7, Jake, but how many times do I have to tell you? I’m not gay.”

“My mistake, buddy. Must have been all the cocksucking you do that threw me off.”

Michael laughed harshly, ignoring the movement in his peripheral, and stepped closer, his smile growing darker, “I’m bisexual, which means, not only will I feed you my dick, Jakey, but I’ll give it to your sister too. Just not at the same time. Unless you’re into that sort of thing? You look like your parents were into it…”

The slam of chairs falling backward as Jake jumped to his feet at the insult. After that it was more blurs of movement, jostling, and chaos as Maria shouted in the background about the police while Michael traded punches indiscriminately. At one point he realized he had help against his back, as the fight spilled outside into the cold, raw New Mexico night.

Dark spiked hair, a nice set of shoulders that gave Michael an inch or two of height advantage was all he could register in the melee. It wasn’t until the breaking of glass that was shortly echoed by the boom of a shotgun that the fight dropped into stillness and Michael recognized his unsolicited ally as Kyle Valenti.

Maria stood next to the door of the Wild Pony as a lone siren picked up in the background, “All right you assholes, you’re all out of here. Drop your weapons and fucking leave before I have the sheriff lock all of you up!”

“Gotta admit, you’re kind of the last person I expected to be fighting a bigot,” Michael commented, dabbing at a fiercely bleeding cut on his eyebrow. “Kinda remember it the other way around in high school.”

Kyle smiled humorlessly as he caught his breath, grabbing Michael’s shoulder to pull him away from the bar toward the parking lot as the sirens picked up volume. “Well, I remember you as being some sort of secret genius in high school. Taking on five guys seems kind of dumb.”

“It was just four guys, Wyatt wasn’t gonna involve himself or else Maria would have called his uncle and aunt on him.”

“Oh well, if it was just four guys, I should have stayed at the bar, I wasn’t finished with my drink yet,” Kyle quipped sarcastically, as he kept pulling Michael through the parked cars. “You’re welcome by the way.”

“Fuck off, I didn’t ask for help-” He shook off Kyle’s hand, his previous pliancy in following Kyle at an end as he bristled with indignation. Whatever strange amnesia over what a dick Kyle Valenti was in general and to Alex in particular passed at the prod for gratitude. “And my damn truck is over there-”

“Can you even see out of that eye? Yeah, I didn’t think so,” Kyle answered for him and dug out a pair of keys from his pocket as an expensive sounding unlocking chirp echoed. Of course. The dark blue BMW in the sea of modest pick up trucks and domestic sedans was his. At least it wasn’t the bright red Camaro from graduation, that car had too many associations with it for Michael. The hatch popped open on the X1, Kyle leaned in to pull out a towel to toss to Michael. “I’ve got my bag here and I could use the practice in sutures, so?”

Normally the idea of a doctor touching him at all was enough to instill a mix of dread and panic, but Michael didn’t see anything in Kyle’s face other than genuine concern mixed with exasperation. The open air of the parking lot with police on the way seemed like a bad idea. “All right, free medical care is hard to turn down, but I don’t want your dad arresting me, so can we-”

“Your place, it is.” And then as they drove in silence, with Michael still holding the towel against his cut, Kyle spoke gently in the dark. “I was a dick in high school, I was even a dick in college. But then some things changed for me, um, so I’m glad Roswell is getting a gay bar.”

“No, no, high school homophobe does not come out as gay, not happening, no way-”

“No not gay,” Kyle cut his eyes over to the passenger seat, giving Michael a quick up-and-down appraisal. “Just learned the package isn’t really that important to me. I like sex. Med school was a small pool of sleep-deprived, competitive people and I stopped caring if they had a dick or not. I also learned a lot about anatomy.”

The appraising look, the hint of good-natured humor in Kyle’s eyes, and his suggestive words were all enough to push Michael to grunt, “changed my mind, your place instead.” He never took anyone back to his Airstream as a rule.

And that was the beginning of Michael’s almost-friends, only-benefits relationship with Kyle Valenti. It revolved around those unsaid rules from the first night, only at Kyle’s condo, and rarely did they engage in anything more substantive than talk about sports or the general stupidity of Roswell. The sex was easy, the conversation stayed light enough to fill the gaps of loneliness, and if Michael had been a different species, he might have considered it the start of something more permanent.

If only Max had been wrong. If only Michael hadn’t fallen in love with Alex as a teenager. The first year after Alex left had been devoted to trying to make it on his own financially and getting the down payment together for the Airstream. The next year he had tortured himself with believing that now that Alex was successful, he’d come back to Roswell, to him. Then after Isobel’s wedding and that trip east, Michael had to accept the truth.

Dating in the years since, women and the occasional out man, had changed nothing for Michael. It was still Alex filling his every odd thought, and especially his fantasies at night. Doomed indeed as Max warned him, to drift through life enjoying the surface companionship of others but never anything more.

The reminder of what he did have currently, good sex and the ability to laugh with someone, loosened some of the private rules that Michael had had kept to with Kyle. “So, I mean, you don’t have to, but if you want to talk about what’s on your mind, you can.” Michael tipped his head back against the couch to meet Kyle’s surprised expression. “It would make me feel better about my sexual prowess, okay? You nodding off during a blowjob hurts man.”

“Well, as long as it makes you feel better,” Kyle teased sarcastically before accepting the offer made. “I was thinking about my dad.”

“Kinky, but gross, dude.”

“Ha ha, funny.”

“Sorry, sorry, that was wide open.” Michael nudged his shoulder more seriously, “what about your dad?”

“He’s been acting weird lately. I actually thought he was drinking again,” Kyle waived his hand restlessly, “it’s an open secret my dad has been on and off the wagon. Most cops have a close relationship with booze.”

The Roswell circle of repeated gossipry was wide enough to reach Sanders, customers often needing to make some sort of conversation as they waited, so Michael was pretty familiar with the rumors about Jim Valenti. Most of them he ignored, like the infidelity whispers, because he could still remember the man showing up to Mimi Deluca’s house to offer Alex that first steady job in the face of Jesse’s smear campaign. An act that Jesse had retaliated by sponsoring a challenger to the next year’s sheriff’s race.

For a police officer, Michael cut Jim Valenti some slack in the character department. He also wasn’t a bad boss according to Max, though his brother’s opinion didn’t sway Michael as far as Jim’s act of kindness to Alex had.

“You said you thought he was drinking again, but he’s not?”

“Well, my other suspicion was he was cheating on my mom.” Kyle met Michael’s concerned glance with a tired, dark smile. “Yeah, not a great thought to have, but he’s been disappearing a lot. Acting paranoid too, he always carries but I noticed he kept his sidearm on him during Sunday dinner. Like he’s afraid someone is going to show up and attack him.”

“You think he was cheating with someone else who was married?”

“I can’t really figure out what’s going on with him, other than he’s lying. But I followed him today, and he didn’t go to work, he drove a hundred miles north.”

Michael blinked in reluctant admiration, “I guess you pick up stuff with two cops as parents.” He racked his brain for something more to say, but his conversational skills had never been gifted to begin with outside of charming someone into bed. “Um, in my experience, cheaters stay close to home. Like coworker, favorite waitress, etc. it’s definitely weird for your dad to drive that far for a little something on the side.”

“That’s the thing, he’s all secretive but it's over something nostalgic. I followed him to some old prison my grandfather worked at in the 60s called Caulfield. It’s been shut down for years. I can’t figure it out, and short of asking him directly I doubt I will.” Kyle shook his head again before inching closer to Michael on the couch, with a slow growing knowing smile, “So now you know where my head was when-“

“When I was trying to give you head?” Michael snarked playfully, picking up the change in mood easily. Apparently talking it out loud had released whatever mental block Kyle had been struggling with before. The moment reminded him of how he used to hold Alex at night, listening to him vent over the various customers in his day before he was able to wind down enough to enjoy any intimate touch.

Fuck. He was thinking about Alex again.

This time he let Kyle pulling him into a kiss distract him fully from the renewed spiral of remembrance. His body warmed slowly as Michael shut down his brain from wandering east again to Nashville.

***

“Your soul and your heart have been in such opposition,” Mimi murmured, holding Michael’s palm between hers as she gave him a reading at the Wild Pony. It was his way of distracting her while Maria gently soothed two customers that had received a deep lecture about the sins on their souls from her mother. To be fair, Michael could tell from their demeanor and close cut hair that each of them had served or were actively serving in the military, so Mimi Deluca probably wasn’t too far wrong from the mark with her lecture. “I know you’re a traveler, child, but this pull north and east could tear you in two.”

“My heart hasn’t been mine for a while,” Michael replied truthfully. Once he and Alex had moved in with one another, the small family of outcasts with Alex, Maria and Mimi had expanded to include him for a while. And once upon a time it had boasted more members like Rosa and Liz, but his sister’s actions had trimmed those branches in one way or another.

“That’s the east, and while it travels ever closer to you, you’ll never get that back. But north though, if you follow that path, perhaps your soul will find peace.”

“Not sure what I’d do with peace.”

“Maybe pay your bar tab once in a while?” Maria injected as she moved back behind the bar with a gentle hand on her mother’s shoulder. “And not starting a fight in my bar would also be a good start.”

“Come on, Deluca, I have been a very good boy since that last go-around Jake. I swear that kid is a closet case with how badly he seems to want me to lay hands on him,” Michael protested weakly. Truly he had only bent his old promise to Alex a handful of times in the last year and all of them because the Fredrickson kid had brought up Alex in some way. The comments about his job, clothes, and cheap taste in booze could all be ignored, but one word about Alex’s music or success and the gloves came off.

“Maria! Don’t be so mean to Michael, his people aren’t designed to live like this, divided in two.”

Despite the chill from Mimi’s words, Michael knew that Maria didn’t take her mother’s talk too seriously with how often she peppered her premonitions with nineties alien blockbuster movies. She always interpreted her mother’s words as being a romantic metaphor about a lost love.

Suddenly Mimi straightened, looking over Michael’s shoulder. “I guess good can come from evil dying.”

In the mirror over the bar, he caught sight of what Mimi saw. A grip closed over his heart, squeezing it until the fluttering motion ceased under the force as he watched Alex Manes move confidently through the crowd toward the front where Michael was with Maria. His head was shaved close up the back of his head, leaving a long, silky dark fringe over one eye and his face was bare of makeup and piercings. The black shirt sporting long sleeves made of crisscrossed fabric over a pair of tight black jeans looked more at home on Rodeo Drive than Roswell but the completely indifferent look on Alex’s face showed he didn’t care about fitting in to the locals bar.

Fuck it was so quintessentially Alex’s attitude from high school, before the shed, that Michael was having trouble remembering it had been at least six years.

“Alex Manes, in my bar!” Maria squealed, vaulting herself over the bar in one smooth motion to cross the distance to throw herself into his arms.

Michael’s mouth was dry as he picked up his drink to take a sip, feeling awkward and out of place. Should he offer his hand to shake? A hug? Could he pretend to be European and kiss Alex’s cheeks? What were the rules on an ex that he traded Hallmark cards with now?

A soft cool touch pulling him back from his spiraling thoughts to look up into Mimi Deluca’s clear and focused gaze, “he sings in the wrong key every night, but you know his song. You’re a good boy, you’re not rotten inside like your sister.”

Before he could do more than blink, Alex was suddenly next to them, looking at Mimi’s hand covering his curiously before smiling at Michael. “I would have thought you’d be tired of this place, after all those nights waiting for me to finish my shift?”

“Alex,” Michael took a deep breath, floundering for something more than the obvious, “you’re here. In Roswell.”

“It wasn’t really my idea,” Alex admitted gently, before taking a seat next to him. He reached smoothly for Michael’s glass to steal a drink from before making a face. “Oh man, it’s been a long time since I’ve had Crown Royal.” He fished out an expensive wallet to pull a crisp hundred dollar bill from a stack to lay on the bar, “Maria, please rescue him from this with some good tequila.”

Mimi gave Michael a significant look of encouragement before interjecting, “Maria, honey you should let these two get reacquainted, Alex isn’t going anywhere for a while. Jesse is dying, but he’s not dying today or even tomorrow.”

Michael jerked his head toward Alex, “that’s why you’re here? It’s your dad?”

A small smile of satisfaction twitched over Alex’s mouth before he nodded in confirmation, “Brain tumor. Doctor says he might have a month, maybe less. I’m only here because my brother threatened to go to the press if I didn’t show and my agent is worried about how that would look.”

“Oh.” Michael picked up his fresh drink, a high end alcohol he could have never dreamed of ordering for himself, out of a need to do something with his hands to keep from reaching out to touch Alex. “If I said that sucks for you that he’s dying, I’d be lying, but I’m glad you’re here.”

“Yeah, it’s good to see you too, Michael.” Alex clinked his glass against Michael’s softly, “I’ve been back for a couple of days, this was the first time I could get away actually. The movies all lied you know, cancer isn’t this quiet death. My dad is ranting and raving all night long, about aliens, about being murdered, about all sorts of random shit about Roswell and the crash and hands that kill. Your name has kept coming up too. I should record it and put it on youtube, make him famous too.”

***

#guerinweek20 #mgweek20 #malex #malex fic #guerenti #the lost decade #au after the shed #there will be a happy ending #angst first #pining idiots in love #roswell new mexico

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coffeeandcalligraphy · 4 years

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Teeth Marks, Empty Nest, Picking Ritual | Writing Update

Hey People of Earth!

It’s been a hot minute since I last wrote a Moth Work writing update, and so here we are again for the final countdown! Today’s post will be covering everything related to chapter 12, 13, and 14. Let’s start with Teeth Marks, which I wrote probably sometime in February.

Teeth Marks marks the third part of Moth Work, called Wings, and the first chapter back in Harrison’s POV. I honestly can’t remember much of the writing process as it’s been a while, so let’s dive straight into the scene breakdown!

Scene A:

We start in the doorway of Eliza’s apartment where Harrison stands shook because a) his boi Lonan has answered it (scandal) and his mother, who he has been estranged from for the last four years, is also in this apartment (EXTRA scandal). Eliza ushers Harrison inside (and this is probably the only *nice* interaction they ever have, spoiler alert!)

Harrison is very shook, and also a little angry, and also a little confused! He doesn’t know why his mother is here, and doesn't understand why Lonan wouldn’t contact him to tell him she is here.

Him and Eliza get into a bit of a scuffle where Eliza is protective of Lonan and is like “who are you mate” and Harrison’s like hahahHA pardON. This leads to Lonan kicking them both out even tho this ain’t even his house!

Scene B:

We now move to the stairwell right outside Eliza’s apartment where she and Harrison have been sitting in awkward silence! Harrison notices she’s wearing his guardian angel necklace (which Lonan mistakenly took back in chapter 6).

This scene is instrumental in setting up how these two interact, which in short, is not! fun! for! either! They try to be civil but can’t help but be protective over Lonan for different reasons. Eliza because they are now sort of in a relationship, and Harrison because hahaha he’s been there, and also because Eliza is Lonan’s father’s ex! Why!

Lonan interrupts this conversation and him and Harrison have a lil private moment even tho Eliza is standing right there aahaha. Eliza leaves which prompts Lonan to go after her, and we end with Harrison all alone in the stairwell like a proper sad boi.

Excerpts:

I previously wrote some mean things about this chapter and am editing it out cuz we tryna be positive! Here’s some tender romance because why not! For context, Harrison has asked Eliza how much she knows about the nature of the boys’ relationship (she knows nothing!!)

He could tell her the truth. About the polaroids left back in Boston. What it felt like to kiss him underwater. What it felt like to dance with him, his clumsy instep. What it felt like to trace each notch of his ribs in the off moments he’d sleep and how wonderful it was, to touch the places his hunger would go.

Some more romance because yesss:

He pretends they’re alone at the cabin, somewhere on the water, sharing a sleeve of crackers, looking at the moon like it’s the other’s iris, somewhere where constellations read less like hieroglyphics and more like sonnets.

Let us move onto chapter 13, Empty Nest!

Scene A:

Harrison sits alone at the dinner table watching a TV show in a language he doesn’t speak. His mother interrupts this *chillin* and they get into a heated conversation.

This ends badly for Harrison, to which Lonan (who is presumably arguing with Eliza in her bedroom) comforts him and yeets the two of them outta that apartment! Knight in shining armour babyyyy

Scene B:

Lonan takes Harrison to chapter nine’s beautiful place (the cove).

They chat about their (fallen) relationship and Lonan + Eliza’s relationship that is apparently now flourishing (hahah it actually isn’t)

This turns romantical very fast!!! I am guilty of self-indulgence!!

Excerpts:

EDIT: I originally had an edit in here saying I didn’t have the mental spoons to edit this chapter which is why I wouldn’t share a lot of excerpts! This was very true haha, as I was amidst the worst mental health week I’ve had in years, but guess! who! tried! to! edit! anyway! This obviously was not the best idea and I pushed myself too hard. This led to me doing some crying and beyond that, a decision to take a few days off of writing (despite the fact that I didn’t want to). I’m feeling great now which I’m so grateful for, but just a note! Anyhow!!

This excerpt makes me laugh because it gives me “lonely man sitting on his porch in the prairies” vibe:

No one eats together. Lonan and Suzanna have already taken their pick, and Eliza eats in her room. Harrison hasn’t seen Lonan since he followed Eliza’s empty trail back into the apartment, and he hears him now, between the drone of infomercials and advertisements on the Spanish TV station he doesn’t even understand. Coming from her room, he can picture him, the way Lonan argues, competitive like he’s trying to win something. Suzanna sits on the balcony, maybe hiding a smoke, or something more ridiculous, new age, like an essential oil pen. Ribbons of grey luminescing in the neon lights. Maybe it’s more accurate to say Harrison eats alone.

This is the excerpt that I had a breakdown editing lmaooo I think it’s cute tho!!

Somewhere better is a beach. Hidden in a cove, the stones arched over seafoam. In the moonlight, sand glitters, water trills, a night owl in the distance wails. Lonan leads him to the cove’s heart, a bullet of clearing that reveals constellations neither recognize. Lonan’s brought a basket with him, unfolds the checked blanket across the shore. Harrison sits first, and observes as Lonan travels the cove’s perimeter, collecting driftwood as he goes. He stacks them into a pyramid at the shore’s lip, pulls out a lighter.

He starts the fire easily, cups the flame like it’s a jittering organism, coaxes it until it expands. The flame tints his jaw gold, glares in his eyes so they look like blue fire. The night halos around Lonan, burnishes the cove walls, turns the sand into a mirage. As Lonan nurses the fire, Harrison traces his face, the violet impasto around his eye. Lonan has always looked like a masterpiece to him, damp black hair that almost looks navy blue, a smile so subtle, it’s almost acquired. He holds the fire so it toasts his chin, his focus a delicate, paternal thing.

Picking Ritual is chapter 14 of the book! I wrote this during reading break, and it’s one of my faves a) because of the title and b) because Harrison and Eliza FIGHT (I’m here for the tea).

Scene A:

Lonan and Harrison get back from their self-care-gone-romantical escapade to drunk Eliza creepily sitting in the dark!! Harrison’s mother has left, which Eliza uses as cruel ammo (don’t we love her)!

This is where we really get to see Eliza’s other side as she gets gaslighty as a response to Harrison’s very true callouts

Scene B:

Later, Eliza may or may not purposefully leave her bedroom door open while mildly unholy matters occur that’s all I’m gonna say about that!!!

Scene C:

Eliza leaves her room to “get some orange juice” (she’s trying to get a rise out of Harrison, which works). They roast each other endlessly until Harrison asks her to play a game with him.

Scene D:

This game is a game of cards, which is actually Harrison choosing four cards (king of spades = Lonan’s father, queen of hearts = Eliza, the joker = Lonan, and a jack = Harrison) so he can learn more about each one he chooses for her.

This is where the chapter title comes from!

Excerpts:

The following is a self-roast because my house does all the following (besides magnets on ALL four corners of dishcloths, there’s currently just one. ;) Lonan in this scene is Fiona in that scene in Shrek 2 where Shrek and King Harold are arguing over dinner (CW: there’s a description here that could be potentially triggering for self-harm!).

Suzanna is gone when they get back to Eliza’s apartment. No jacket on the coat hook. No shoes on Eliza’s straw-woven welcome mat. The kitchen has been picked over, each plate, fork, back in its strangely correct place. Eliza keeps her cutlery in jars, and her pans in the oven, her dish cloths magnetted to the fridge by all four corners, a pristineness that feels chemical.

Just as he’s about to comment on it, a light from the living area flicks on, and underneath sits Eliza, paging through a book in the dark. Spots like wine stains on her cheeks shine glassy under the harsh lightbulb.

“She has a place twenty minutes from here. By the public gardens,” she says, running her fingernail against the ribbed spine of the hardcover. Harrison can’t make out the title. When he stares blankly at her, examining the patches on her skin until he’s memorized of their surface area, she clears her throat and shuts the book. “Your mother?”

“I know,” he says.

“That your mother has a place twenty minutes from here?”

“That you were referring to my mother.”

“So you didn’t know?”

ugh I love Harrison and Eliza arguing it’s my fave dynamic:

Eliza stands, and smooths the silk of her night dress, though one crease continues to bunch. She folds her hand into a fist, and brings it to her mouth, biting on her knuckles as she paces. Harrison and Lonan watch her, and Lonan’s about to step toward her when she nods and directs her gaze straight at Harrison. “Did that upset you?” she asks, peeling a sliver of skin up between her teeth, letting it snap back. “The way I spoke of your mother.”

“I don’t care about anything you have to say.”

Oof oof tensions be RISING:

Lonan knocks on Eliza’s door a half hour later and doesn’t come back out. Harrison watches the shut door like he can break through it from the couch, how heavy it sits in its frame like they’ve taken turns smearing caulking in its seams.

The nightglow decolours his chin, his eyes, and he stares at the stars as he did an hour ago with Lonan. He touches his lips, hoping something divine will reappear on his fingers, something divine enough to anoint himself with. Nothing does, of course, but he tries, dappling each groove of his mouth.

Here’s some Eliza being Eliza :)

He should tell her to buy some curtains. The sliding door’s glass opens to her balcony where his mother stood, pouring onto the busy street below her apartment complex. He can almost perfectly replicate the image of his mother with just his fingertip, a familiarity of her unknown, but unconsciously memorized by him. Suzanna has traded her only pair of shoes—a dingy set of floral flip-flops—for boots with silver zippers, steel toes, heels perfected by a designer she has a connection to. He thinks of his mother with sour precision, a sugary glumness that makes his mouth heavy.

He still wears the angel Lonan re-fastened around his neck and examines it against the belly of the two-seater Lonan once slept on.

She’s lost a stone from where he threw it, almost unnoticeably in the corner where her wings meet her back. He runs his finger over the empty spot, a nearly undetectable groove, and wonders how difficult it would be to find it in the tooth of Eliza’s hardwood.

Just as he’s prepared to get up and find out, the heavy door jars open. Wider than he’s expecting, so he can see Lonan from the couch. Arranged against a pillow, his hair disappearing into the dark wood of Eliza’s bedhead. His eyes closed, a tremor that rocks through his forehead every few seconds. And then quickly, Eliza shuffling through the opening. She wears a kimono patterned with koi fish, the fabric rustling against her bare thighs as she enters the kitchen.

Harrison watches her through his eyelashes, her half-up hairdo falling toward her face, the flash of skin pale, like the peel of the moon.

She grabs a glass he washed and fills it from the sink. Once a bulb forms across the surface, she tips it to her lips, and swallows deliberately.

Harrison watches as she checks the sink for unwashed dishes she knows aren’t there. As she adjusts a placement on her table that doesn’t need adjusting. As she spins herself on her toes around the kitchen island, her kimono splaying so he sees flashes of her thighs again. She dances like this back to her bedroom, where she sets her water glass on the dresser, and keeps the door wide open.

I can’t not share this part I apologize there is some spice but also Harrison’s iconic Gay (TM) takedown at the end brings me so much joy:

Eliza exits the room a half hour later, except this time, doesn’t dance. Still, she steps carefully, her toes taut as she patters against the floorboards. Harrison watches her with his arms crossed, and stays like that, even when they make eye contact.

She startles and re-adjusts her kimono, so the clip of her skin disappears. She’s combed her hair since she and Lonan finished, and it sits gauzy over her forehead.

“Have you ever thought of buying a deadbolt?” he says, watching carefully as she turns and grabs a glass from a cabinet.

The refrigerator thrills when she opens it, a wash of gaudy tungsten yellowing her face. She sucks on her lip as she pulls out a bottle of orange juice, glugging a cupful into her mouth first, and then into a glass.

“A deadbolt,” she says, a lightness in her voice—false innocence. “Why?”

“I’ve heard good things. Security. Privacy. You live alone, don’t you?”

She juts the orange juice to her lip fast, her chin bucking like she’s taking a shot. “I do.”

“You’re planning on keeping it that way?”

Eliza drains the last of the orange juice and rests the glass in the sink. She flicks on the tap so a stream splashes into its mouth like somersaults, diluting the juice until the glass cleans.

“There must be someone,” Harrison elaborates. He shifts, so his legs hang off the couch’s edge. The hardwood is cold, and for a moment, he feels like he’s stepping on water. “You’re seeing people, aren’t you? You live in Las Vegas. Good job. Decent apartment.”

Eliza shakes off the wet glass and sets it on the drying rack. “Are you interested?”

“I’m gay, but thanks. How does that work, anyway? Dating you. Would I send in an application? Self-addressed stamped envelope and all? Email?”

ugh more iconic Harrison I love him:

Harrison’s eyes focus on the lip balm and he imagines Lonan putting it there, his finger moving across her mouth and then down, like an anointment. “Isn’t that such a coincidence, then? You’re so selective, yet you manage to date two members of the same family.”

Her smile fades. Eliza clucks her tongue and wipes her mouth quickly with the back of her hand. Thoughtlessly, she refills the clean glass with more orange juice, and only realizes her mistake after the liquid sits precisely at the rim of the cup.

“Shit,” she says, wringing her hand out. “Shit.”

“I’ll drink it,” he says, and is already up and at the kitchen island before she puts another hand on the glass. Eliza almost scowls, but chews on her gums when she catches herself. She slides the glass across the granite, and a blip of orange juice jitters onto the surface. Harrison dabs his pinky in it and sucks it into his mouth. “I want to ask you a favour.”

“I’m not doing anything for you.”

He puts a hand against the fridge before she can move past him, and Eliza sighs, weaves her arms haughtily over her chest. “Cards.” The fridge rumbles to life under his fingertips, and Eliza jumps. “Play a game with me,” he says.

Sharing because of Harrison’s roast at the end, it’s really just one of those days:

Eliza’s a good shuffler. Easily, she dices the cards, the hard split of their edges when he usually shuffles almost non-existent. He’s only ever met one other person who can shuffle like her—his mother.

Harrison sips the orange juice as she shuffles the deck. In all truth, he doesn’t need the cards to be shuffled—he knows exactly which ones he needs. But her ease intrigues him, and he can’t help but feel mesmerized with each flitter of the deck.

“Where did you learn how to do that?” he asks after another long pull of juice.

She cuts the deck and continues. “My father.”

“I didn’t know you had parents.”

“I didn’t know your mother had children.”

“I don’t think she knows either.”

Eliza rests the shuffled deck onto the countertop and nudges it toward him. He hasn’t told her what game they’re going to play, and as Harrison searches for his necessary cards, the prickle of her gaze deadens. He keeps at task, combing each card and pulling out the needed.

“I would’ve liked to know.” Eliza says this nimbly. “You look like her.”

Another pick. “Every son wants to look like their mother. What a dream.”

“I meant that as a good thing.”

“And I meant what I said as a bad thing.”

What a way to end this update lol!

I’ll be back soon with an update for the final chapter in this book! I hope y’all have been okay in these times, I know it’s not easy. Let me know what you’re working on!

--Rachel

#writing #amwriting #writeblr #writerblr #writingupdates #mothwork #fostered

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duchessfics · 5 years

Text

Something in the Air

Lana x Fem!Reader

Warning(s): There is a derogatory term towards lesbians used once, but it’s very minor and not brought up again.

Summary: You and your colleague Lana Winters go out for a walk on a cool, autumn day. And as you are out, you accidentally reveal your secret crush on her.

Word Count: 1296

A/n: This is my second fall-themed piece although it’s a little shorter this time. I chose the sentence prompts from @forever-rogue‘s post “Halloween and Autumn Dialogue Prompts” (Here is a link)

The two prompts I chose were:

72. “You’re beautiful. uh, u-um i mean the weather. It’s beautiful. Not that you’re not beautiful, because you are. I’m just gonna shut up.”

76. “You have bits of leaves all over in your hair! Let me help you.”

I hope you enjoy!

You punch your card into the time clock, rolling your shoulders back and trying to leave the stress of your work behind you as your lunch break begins. But before leaving the office building, you make your way over to the private office of Miss Lana Winters. It isn’t easy to be one of the only women present at this publishing house. Your parents wanted you to become a teacher or secretary, but you had your mind set on writing and editing. So, you went for it and this job is one of the most rewarding achievements you have experienced. However, there are also times when being the only woman present can feel like you are misunderstood by men pigeonholing all women into certain categories.

But Lana is like a beacon of light in the sea of dark business suits you are surrounded by. As soon as she was hired, you made an effort to connect with her. And she seemed to take a liking to you too, accepting your offers of going on walks or out to lunch on your break. As you get to know her better and spend more time with her, you don’t miss the passing whispered rumors of you both going out again and acting like “dykes.” Hearing that makes you panic since you lost your last job because of this, so you keep cautious, not wanting this relationship to harm either of your careers.

You peek your head into her office to see her chin resting on one of her hands, her brows furrowed as she reads over something on her desk. God she is so beautiful. “Miss Winters?” You softly say, not wanting to startle her. She looks up, her red lips curving into a smile and she replies, “Yes?” You smile back and say, “I just clocked out for lunch and with the weather being so nice I thought you may want to go out for some fresh air?” She sets aside whatever she is reading and murmurs, “I would love to.” So, you both take your coats and purses before heading out to Central Park a couple blocks away.

As you begin to walk, you’re glad you brought your coat and cross your arms to keep the cool, autumn wind from blowing through your clothes. But the sun still shines and there’s not a cloud in the sky. Once you make it to the park, you buy a hot dog from a vendor and Lana does the same before you both sit on a nearby bench. You both begin to eat, and you keep quiet, not wanting to disturb this peaceful moment. Lana breaks the silence first asking, “How has your day been?” You make sure to swallow before shrugging your shoulders and replying, “It’s been alright. We are all busy reading and editing this project that’s due tomorrow, so tensions have been a little high. But it’s nothing I can’t handle.” Her warm brown eyes watch you closely and she murmurs, “I bet.” Your face flushes at the compliment and you look down to your half-eaten meal as you ask, “And how has your day been, Miss Winters?” She chuckles and softly says your name, making you return to her gaze.

“You don’t need to call me Miss Winters, honey. You can call me Lana.” You bite your lip, knowing that even baby steps will lead you to her realizing your crush. But you decide to proceed anyways and reply with a smile, “Sorry, I am a creature of habit. How has your day been, Lana?” She lets out a soft sigh, but smiles and murmurs, “I have been a little more busy than usual. But my day is going better now that I’m out here with you.” Your eyes widen and you can’t help the grin on your face. Maybe there is something there after all. After glancing at your watch you tell her, “I still have some time before I have to go back. Maybe we could walk around a bit?” Her cheeks turn a rosy pink as she replies, “Sure.” So, you throw away your hot dog trays and begin to walk down one of the numerous paths within Central Park.

You keep close to Lana, relishing in her sweet, cinnamon scent. But you don’t get too close, not wanting to draw attention. As you walk you both make small comments here and there on the weather or scenery, but the quiet is actually nice after being in the buzz of your office. And the nature around you speaks for itself. You love this time of year when the leaves on trees are rich shades of red and orange with some yellow leaves peeking through. However, you get an up-close conversation with the scenery as a gust of wind blows a wall of leaves into your face.

Both you and Lana gasp and she asks, “Are you ok, honey?” You giggle and reply, “Yeah.” Picking the stray leaves off of your coat and dress. As you turn to face her, she laughs and says, “You have bits of leaves all over in your hair. Let me help you.” Then Lana comes closer and reaches up, gently taking the leaves out of your hair without disturbing the style. Her face is inches from yours and your eyes flick over her slightly furrowed brows and pink cheeks from the cool air, and her lips drawn into a straight line as she focuses. Your eyes get caught on her luscious lips and you feel the urge to close the distance and kiss her, but you remember the public space you’re in. So, you softly say, “You’re beautiful.” Lana’s eyes widen and you clear your throat as you explain, “Uh, u-um I mean the weather. It’s beautiful. Not that you’re not beautiful, because you are. I’m just gonna shut up.” By now your whole body burns and you feel like a complete idiot.

Lana laughs, the corners of her eyes crinkling in the cutest way and she says, “It’s ok. I like you too, honey.” You pause, trying to keep your face guarded as you ask, “You—you like me…as a friend?” Her soft hand comes up to cup your cheek and she murmurs, “I like you as a friend and more.” Your eyes glance around, nervous someone may be looking, but no one is. Then your eyes return to her warm brown ones and you quietly admit, “I like you too. As a friend and more.” Lana grins and bites her bottom lip, letting her hand slip away, the cool air chilling your cheek again.

You still feel stunned at what had just happened, and Lana pulls you out of that by murmuring, “We should probably head back to work.” Blinking back to reality, you look to your watch and have to hold back a disappointed whine. “Yeah. We should.” You answer. So, you turn back and begin the trek back to your workplace. As you walk, Lana keeps closer to you than before and all of a sudden you feel her fingers intertwine with yours, holding your hand. A gasp escapes your lips and you look around for other people. But Lana leans close and softly soothes, “Don’t worry, honey. Our hands are hidden.” You look down to check and see she’s right as the folds of the both of your skirts and coats cover your clasped hands.

Before you enter the building, Lana invites you to her apartment for dinner and you happily agree. You try to contain yourself as you re-enter the office and Lana leaves your side. But you can’t keep your mind from thinking about tonight. And you find this cool, fall day to be turning out much better than you thought.

Tagged: @marilynroselleprentiss, @saviorinsilk, @chokemepaulson, @versonstar

Let me know if you would like to be tagged in later works!

#AHS #ahs imagine #ahs asylum #lana winters #lana winters imagine #lana winters x reader #sarah paulson #sarah paulson x reader #sarah paulson imagine #fall prompts #fall 2019

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karmaistheguyonthe1975 · 4 years

Text

Yeah? Yeah.

Heyyyyyyy this is my gift for @coniello, who I got in the @sincerely-us gift exchange! Sorry I’m posting this so late in the day. The prompt was Evan and Jared going on a road trip, but they’re in a fight so they kinda have to bond again. It was fun to write!

This weekend was going to be... less than ideal, to say the very least. It was supposed to be fun, according to both Evan and Jared’s mothers, and according to the two boys themselves up until a few months ago.

A trip to a waterpark, the same one where they had shared their sixth birthday party, that had been planned for a year. But now, due to f**k-ups on both their parts, they had barely spoken a word to each other in over two months. A small fight over what movie to watch had turned into a shouting match that brought up every disagreement they had had for the past five years.

Of course, they could hardly tell that to their mothers. So there they were, stuck next to each other in a car for two and a half hours and facing two nights in a hotel room together. On top of that, they couldn’t ignore each other. They had to act as if they were still best friends. G r e a t.

The air between them was thick, and you could practically cut the tension with a knife. Both boys were desperate for some opportunity to relieve it, but unsure of how to.

‘I’m sorry,’ Evan typed into his notes, drafting a message that was likely never going to be sent. ‘I shouldn’t have said anything that I did, and I shouldn’t have accused you of lying about your camp friends. I’m sorry I’ve been forcing my presence on you throughout high school, I know you really don’t want to hang out with me, which is understandable. So yeah... I’m sorry.’

He copy-pasted it into his messages with Jared, staring at the send button and running through every situation he could think of if he sent it and if he didn’t.

Then something popped up on the screen: a meme. From Jared.

Evan deleted his message, instead sending a simple ‘Was that supposed to go to me?’

‘yes?’ Jared replied. ‘who else would it have gone to’

‘Oh... Aren’t you mad still?’

‘arent u?’

Evan glanced over at him, a confused look on his face. ‘No? I’m the one who messed up.’ He heard Jared snort a little.

‘havent changed at all i see. u arent the only one who messed up’

‘Jared, I accused you of lying about your camp friends purely because I was jealous of them.’

‘just shut up we both did a Big No accept it’

Evan laughed out loud. ‘I’m just... still sorry.’

‘well stop. like now’

Evan looked over and smiled at him. ‘Fine.’

Jared smirked back, but there was no trace of malice in it. ‘loser,’ he replied.

The rest of the three-hour drive was filled with memes, small-talk, and laughing, and, although it was slightly awkward, neither boy had been happier in a while.

“Okay, boys,” Heidi sighed once they were at the doors of the hotel rooms, trying to support the weight of her packed bags. “Make sure you don’t go to bed too late and meet us in the lobby for breakfast at...” She looked around, waiting for someone else to suggest a time.

“Nine?” Mrs. Kleinman offered.

“Yes, nine,” Heidi confirmed. “That sound good?”

“Yeah,” Evan replied. “Thanks, Mom.” Jared just finger-gunned.

“See you in the morning,” Ms. Kleinman said, opening the door of the room that she and Heidi were sharing.

“See ya!” Jared called, swinging into his own room and pulling Evan in by the elbow.

Evan leaned against the door uncomfortably, biting his lip and looking anywhere other than Jared’s eyes. The car was much easier than this. He could easily avoid eye-contact in the car, only having to look ahead, or out the window. “So...” he tried. “How are you?” Mentally, he scolded himself. God, that was such a stupid question. “I mean like how have you been? Because obviously we’ve been talking for a while and I know... s**t sorry, I’m bad at this.”

Jared laughed and threw himself into the crappy hotel room couch. “Evan, chill out,” he said. “Like seriously.”

“Right,” Evan mumbled. “Sorry- I mean, um...”

“I get it,” Jared interrupted, holding out his hand. “Do you like... want to put your s**t down and sit? You’re allowed to do that.”

Evan looked down and realized he was indeed still holding his bags, suddenly becoming aware of the ache in his arms. “Oh, right.” He placed his bags in a neat pile by the beds, a contrast to the haphazardly stacked ones that Jared had merely tossed onto the bed he’d claimed as his own. He still didn’t sit, though, even when Jared gestured questioningly at the couch.

“Made a college decision yet?” Jared asked. “You didn’t know, last we talked.”

Evan nodded. “I’m gonna take a year to save up, then I’m probably going to do some kind of biology, maybe. Staying close to home, though. You were gonna go... somewhere in Montana, right?”

“Montana State,” Jared agreed. “Computer science. I got a s**t-ton of scholarships, too.” Although you wouldn’t guess it upon first, second, or third impressions of him, Jared was freakishly smart, maintaining a 4.0 in high school despite sleeping through class 50% of the time and regularly skipping.

Evan smiled. “That’s- I’m really happy for you, that’s really great.”

“It’s school,” Jared grumbled. “I don’t know why I’m paying to go. I should be paid to go.”

As Jared complained, his face shifted into a childish frown. The expression reminded Evan of when they were in middle school, including some, ahem, certain feelings that tended to pop up when a hormonal and bisexual 8th grader had a smart, funny... kind of cute-

Oh, S**T! Evan thought. Those feelings we’re supposed to have been kicked to curb years ago. But apparently not.

“Ev,” Jared called, snapping his fingers. “Earth to acorn.”

Evan looked at him (well, more like started paying attention to him. He had been staring after all). “Yeah? Sorry, I, um... I zoned out. Sorry.”

“You were staring at me,” Jared informed bluntly. “I mean, who could blame you, I am gorgeous, but-”

“No I wasn’t!” Evan lied.

“You were.”

“No!”

“Fine then, keep your crush repressed,” Jared teased, both projecting onto Evan and being characteristically oblivious.

Evan turned pink. “I...”

Jared cracked up. “You’re such a dork!” he wheezed.

“I am not!” Evan protested. “You’re the dork.”

In response, Jared held up a finger as he dug through his pockets, finally pulling out a crumpled yellow card. “Uno reverse card,” he smirked.

“You-” Evan said. “You just keep that in your pocket?!”

“Yep,” Jared replied, popping the p.

Finally, Evan sat on the couch, although he remained tense. “I like hanging out with you,” he mumbled, having a momentary burst of courage that left him with immense amounts of regret. “Oh my God, that was so weird, I’m sorry! I just meant like, you know-”

“Evan,” Jared said, trying to stop the word vomit.

“Because we fought and we have talked in months I just missed you, you know? And I-”

“Evan!” Jared repeated, louder, which successfully silenced him. “I know what you mean. You don’t have to explain yourself. I missed you too. I shouldn’t have been such an a*shole during high school.”

Evan smiled weakly. “It’s okay.”

Jared smiled back. “Star Wars?” he asked.

“Oh God,” Evan laughed. “We haven’t watched those since we hung out every weekend in 8th grade.”

“You haven’t,” Jared corrected. “I’m not a heathen, I still watch them regularly.”

“Whatever. Let’s do it.”

One movie later, they had assumed a position in which Jared’s head was resting on Evan’s shoulder and their hands were touching in an effort to make the computer stay steady. Jared stretched a little and looked up at Evan, who had a slight glow surrounding his head from the lights shining through his blond hair. Would it be gay to kiss him? Jared asked himself. YES IT WOULD BE GAY, IDIOT!

Holy s**t, he was actually considering this. He had never been known for being open with his feelings, opting instead for sudden outbursts and passive-aggressive remarks. But lately, he had been doing better. He wasn’t as mean, at least, and slightly less scared of feelings. “Evan...?” he said finally, an audible shake in his voice.

“Yeah?” Evan asked, staring at the space between Jared’s eyes, which was the closest he could comfortably get to eye-contact.

Jared’s hands began to shake slightly, never a good sign. “Can I... s**t...”

Evan moved so he was entirely sat up, taking hold of Jared’s forearm to calm him down. “Jared,” he murmured. “Breathe.” Panic attacks, and the preceding moments, were something that Evan had more experience with than he would care to admit. But in situations like this is was undeniably helpful to know how to deal.

Jared frantically searched Evan’s face for a sign of... something. His eyes moved like those of a caged animal, darting back and forth, even though his body was frozen. Finally, possessed by some other force, he pressed his lips up against Evan’s, staying stiffly there for a moment before realizing what he had done and pulling away.

Evan stared blankly at him for a moment, entirely dumbfounded, before leaning down to repeat it. Jared kissed back momentarily, but pulled away and looked down after a minute.

“Sorry,” Evan muttered. “I shouldn’t have... I didn’t mean to... crap, I messed this all up, didn’t I?”

Jared distanced himself from Evan, giving him a few inches of space. After a few moments of silence, he spoke quietly. “Was that okay?”

“Was it okay with you?” Evan responded, his usual stutter gone and replaced by a shaky, quiet tone.

“If it was with you... yeah.”

“It was,” Evan replied hesitantly.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Jared looked over at him, biting his lip to refrain from a hopeful smile. He placed his hand half of the distance between them, letting Evan decide whether or not to take it.

Evan moved his hand to cover Jared’s. “Yeah?” he asked, repeating Jared’s question.

“Yeah,” Jared echoed.

And there they sat, comfortably silent, the same thought running through both their heads.

Maybe this trip won’t be so bad.

#deh #kleinsen #jared kleinman #evan hansen #dear evan hansen #sincerely us

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moonb-eam · 4 years

Note

the star or the high priestess for the tarot card inspired aus!! (it’s ok if u don’t wanna do these ones, no hard feelings!!) ahh I love your fics btw💕

the high priestess: magic, dreams, knowledge

“i had this dream, and now…”

possible AUs/settings: visions, sold fortunes, magic au

hello my darling, thank you so much!! 💛

it’s possible i got a bit carried away by this au (over 8k carried away) - but it’s inspired by one of my favourite books, and i had so much fun writing it 💫

i hope you like it! 🔮

ce destin est un marée (et nous sommes emportés)

read on ao3

Summer 1886

In the north end of the Paris, on the edge of the artist’s haven of Montmarte, sur le Boulevard de Clichy, you’ll find a man standing on top of a box in front of an old theatre. He’s strangely dressed, sporting a bright red suit and a top hat cast in shimmering gold. His beard is dark and neatly trimmed, a cane rests over his wrist, and a monocle dangles from his breast pocket. There’s an elegance about him that’s contrasted with a certain strangeness—it excites you. It makes you stop in your steady pace down the boulevard. It makes you perk your ears up.

“Venez tous! Venez tous!”

You listen as the man weaves a tapestry of words and images that floats over the gathering crowd, settles across their shoulders and tickles the backs of their necks with curiosity.

L’homme fort: the strongest man in all of France, capable of breaking apart stone with his bare hands.

Les acrobates: a death-defying act starring a pair siblings who have come all the way from the exotic south.

Les danseuses: no man alive is safe from the spell these young ladies weave as they move.

Then the man lowers his voice to a whisper. You feel yourself leaning forward involuntarily.

He tells of a new addition to their family, a young man plucked from the gutters of Paris like a rare jewel from the sewage—a young man of otherworldly abilities.

Le cartomancien.

Every secret you hold close to your heart can be found within the folds of his cards. He knows when you will meet the love of your life. He knows the last words you will say before you die.

The man raises his voice, spreads his arms out wide.

“If you are brave enough to discover your future, mesdames et meisseurs, you can meet this young man and his magical deck of cards for the low price of deux francs!”

This prompts scoffs from some of the crowd. They turn away, not wanting to spend their hard-earned money on such trifles. But you, you linger there in the boulevard, thinking about your present: directionless, bleak, your father’s unchanging disappointment a phantom pain between your shoulderblades. You feel a constant thrum under your skin, an unearthly restlessness waiting to break free from its mortal confines. Your future is as murky to you as the hazy mid-summer sky, and you wonder if knowing would ease the stress at all. Perhaps knowing what lies ahead in the future would give you purpose in the present.

The coins in your pockets are heavy with implication. Father’s money, the money of land ownership and property taxes and squeezing tenants until they bleed.

The thought of using that money for something Father would look down on with such distaste makes you smile. There is victory in the small revolutions, perhaps.

You consider it. You imagine sitting at a dimly lit table, watching cards fall to the surface like leaves in the autumn before some faceless, mysterious fortune-teller, and the idea is as enticing as the sweets you used to see in the windows of Le Bon Marché when you were a child.

But then you hear a clock chime in the distance, that dreaded mark of time passing, a warning that you are risking lateness to your meeting with Father’s business partners. And so, much like the sweets, you leave the man standing on the box, the theatre and the fortune-teller, because you know this is something that will forever be out of reach.

You take a hurried step back, turning to the direction you were first headed in, and nearly collide with a young man and woman coming towards you.

You step aside, lowering your hat in apology, but the pair barely take notice of you, talking excitedly amongst themselves.

You stare as they pass.

Not at the girl. She is pretty, yes, dark-haired and with a sweet smile, but the boy.

The first thing you see is deep, oceanic blue; eyes as alluring and freeing and terrifying as the Atlantic itself.

Then you take in more details in rapid succession: a straight, elegant nose, clear smooth skin, full lips curved into an inviting smile as he says something that makes the girl hit him on the arm in retaliation, his cheeks dimpling as he laughs.

You are late, you are squandering your final chance to gain Father’s trust as the minutes tick by, but you cannot move. You are fixed to the middle of the street because you have never seen a person so beautiful that they’ve caused such a violent reaction in you: a lightning storm roaring in your veins just from the sight of them, just from the thought of stroking your fingers across their cheek.

It scares you, this rush of instant attraction, for as exhilarating as it is, as good as it is to feel so alive you could soar, your heart is heavy with the knowledge that this is something else that is wrong with you. This is something else that makes you different. Something else that ensures Father will never approve of you.

So you merely watch as the beautiful boy passes you, as he disappears into the mouth of the old theatre and becomes nothing more than a memory. A dream.

You leave quickly, now inexcusably late to your meeting, and you will yourself to forget about possibilities and overturned cards predicting futures and fate lines that can be broken, or diverted.

You may have a strong will, young Monsieur Demaury, but you forget one thing: that just because you cannot see your own future, does not mean it isn’t already in motion.

Autumn 1888

Lucian de la Lune is sitting at a small table, across from a man with a perfectly-groomed moustache, waiting for him to pick a card.

He doesn’t know the man’s name—he never asks for names, in order to keep client privacy. He asks only for a word, something to identify them to him when they request appointments for readings.

This man called himself Oberon.

Oberon keeps fluttering his fingers across the fan of cards spread across the table, humming under his breath, but eventually lands on one, carefully picking it up from the fan spread across the table. When he turns it over, he raises his eyebrows, dropping it back down to the table as if the thick cut of paper is slowly catching fire, threatening to singe his fingertips.

The image on the card is a cloaked figure with a lantern, one skeletal hand stretched out to an unseen, unsuspecting person. The pale messenger. The dark omen. Death.

“Death, then is it?” Oberon says with a wry smile. “My time has come?”

Lucian de la Lune sighs, tugs the sleeves of his white shirt back over his wrists. It’s silk, one of Yann’s, and it swims on him, gapes open on his neck and collarbones in a way he knows they notice, the men and women who come into his small room inside the theatre—the one shrouded in navy blue and deep purple curtains, with tall, misshapen candles alighting every available surface. All of it—the eccentric room, the loose silk shirt, his perpetually messy hair—compounds to form the image of the pretty, mysterious boy with the magic cards and all-seeing eyes. The infamous Lucian de la Lune.

“It is not as literal as that.” He says to Oberon, waving a hand out over the table. His tarnished signet ring catches in the candlelight, a muted flash of light thrown across the ceiling. “The cards never are.” He picks up Death in his left hand, flipping its face towards Oberon. “What it means by death is rebirth. There’s a change coming for you, monsieur, whether you are ready for it or not. A necessary destruction in order for rebuilding.” He flits his gaze over to the man, who is staring back at him, rapt. “Choose two more, please.”

Oberon does, with more excitement, plucking two cards from the fan quickly and laying them face up between them.

The first is five thorn-stemmed roses, all cut sharply at the bottom. Unforeseen challenges approaching. But the card is inverted to Oberon, signifying a fall, of some sort. A price paid from dishonesty.

The second is a man, hanging by the foot from a wooden post. Also inverted. A possibility for change and self-reflection, but for Oberon more likely a stagnation of the self through materialistic pursuits.

“Ah,” Lucian de la Lune murmurs. It is becoming clearer to him. He lays a finger down on a card. “The five of wands, monsieur. It is reversed to you, signifying a coming challenge. Circumstances will change, and you will need to adapt to them.” He moves his finger to the other card. “The hanged man, which is also reversed. You are stuck in the habits you have created. These are selfish habits. They have led you to a life only concerned with profit, by any means, and if you keep in these habits,” he sweeps a hand across the three cards laying between them, “ there is a chance you will lose everything.”

Oberon stares at him, a deep crease forming between his eyebrows.

Lucian de la Lune sits back in his chair, satisfied. He’d had a feeling, when the man first stepped into his room, that there was an uneasiness about him; something he couldn’t put a name to, but gave a sensation like holding a stolen loaf of bread in your hand. A forbidden sort of feeling.

Caught. Which would imply breaking the rules. Which, in turn, could imply:

Exploitation. Criminality. Fraud.

It had only been a guess, but his guesses are usually right.

Always trust your instincts, Lucas, Maman used to tell him. Us Lallemants, we’re never wrong when we get a feeling about someone.

Now, the man across from him laughs, clapping his hands together in front of his chest.

“Well,” he says, grinning, chest puffed up with bravado, “that was very entertaining. But you’re not as good as they say you are, are you?” Oberon’s eyes glitter teasingly at him. “Because I can assure you, my business is secure, mon cher. I can assure you, I am very good at what I do.”

Lucian de la Lune shrugs, picking up the cards one at a time to place them back into his deck, their worn, fading edges smooth and familiar under his fingertips. “The cards only ever show one possibility, monsieur. One future.” He shuffles them with easy, practiced movements, letting the low hum of energy they hold seep into his hands, their hushed, ancient voices singing through his veins. “Each choice we make introduces a new future, or sends us careening towards the one we are meant to meet.” His fluid motions cease, suddenly, and he’s flipping a card over onto the table, face up.

Death.

He smiles sweetly. “You’re the one who made the appointment, monsieur. But then again,” he says, placing the deck down, “this is merely a game. Entertaining, as you say.”

An expression crosses over Oberon’s face as though he just bit into a rotten piece of fruit.

Lucian de la Lune’s smile only widens. “I believe you still owe two francs, monsieur.”

There’s a moment of silence, the two men staring at each other across the table. Then Oberon laughs, digging into his coat pocket for coins. “I think perhaps I underestimated you,”he says. “You are a rather fascinating creature.”

He slaps five down on the table. Nearly triple the usual rate.

“A little extra just for you,” he says, standing. “For giving me a great deal to think about.” He slips into his overcoat and smoothes down the lapel, gathering his cane and hat from the hook by the entrance. “I thank you for your time, Lucien. It was most enlightening.” He winks, tips his hat, and then disappears through the curtains.

It’s only when the curtains still, when Oberon’s footsteps recede into silence, that Lucien de la Lune exhales, rolls his shoulders away from his ears, and becomes Lucas Lallemant once again. It’s like shedding a skin, when he lets himself lose Lucian for a moment, when he doesn’t have to worry about being seen. Gone is the easy confidence, the lowered lashes and air of mystery. Instead there is only Lucas, with all of his scars and distrust.

(But here’s a secret. Lucian de la Lune is not magic, not really. Lucas Lallemant is.)

His Maman was. And her father, and his grandmother, and her great-grandmother, and so on to the very start of their name.

The Lallemants. There is a strange energy in their veins.

But it’s a volatile kind. An all-consuming kind. The kind that made Lucas’ father fall madly in love with Maman, then abandon her when Lucas was just a boy.

It’s the kind that, as the rumours go, drove Lucas’ Maman mad, the catalyst for her running away, for her leaving a thirteen-year-old Lucas behind. It’s the kind that made her disappear. It’s the kind that Lucas grew to see as a curse more than a gift—something for him to fight against, to repress.

He used it only a little, when he lived on the streets. Just enough to survive in the slums of Paris. He distracted shop owners so he could steal food, made a policeman fall asleep in an alleyway so he could escape and one time, saved a baby bird from being run over by a carriage with a well-timed gust of wind.

He wouldn’t use it any more than that. He wouldn’t let magic overtake him like it did Maman.

It’s with a touch of irony then, that he sweeps his gaze across his surroundings, lingering on all the trimmings and trappings that are put in place to say, magic. The energy he so fought against, the gift that is a curse, that is the thing he makes a living from now.

He could say it was pure chance that he met Manon one day on the street, how he was at the end of the little bit of money he’d made selling newspapers, was considering professional thievery, and Manon had taken one look at him and decided he would be perfect for Hercule Barnet’s Monde des Merveilles. He could say it was pure chance, but another cartomancien would scoff at such a thing.

Fate. That is what drives every moment in our lives.

Maman believed in fate.

Lucas picks one of the coins up from the table and rolls it between his fingers.

Was it fate that brought him to this place? To the theatre? This room shrouded in dark curtains? Was it fate that caused him to pull at threads of his magic every day, to tell husbands if their wives are faithful, to tell young women when they’ll meet the man of their dreams, to tell businessmen if their investments will prosper and to tell those sick in love whether or not their feelings will be reciprocated? The futures Lucas saw were rarely pleasing, and were often only vague notions of intent, possibilities as thin and fleeting as smoke. He’s had people break down into inculpable misery in his room. He’s had people react with violent anger. He’s been threatened. He’s been obsessively stalked. He’s had people try to steal his deck, convinced that the cards are cursed.

(But it’s not the cards that are cursed, it’s the boy who wields them.)

You encounter unbelievable faces of humanity, when you deal in the future.

“Lucas?”

He startles, stepping back from the table, and Daphné is poking her head between the curtains, her hair piled up messily on her head, with wildflowers braided sporadically into the strands. She smiles when she sees him.

“Do you have any more clients for the next hour or so?”

Lucas shrugs, rolling his shoulders back, trying to ease the tension at the base of his neck that’s bene plaguing him all morning. “No appointments, but there may still be some that wander in.” He knows what she’s going to ask, the same she does every Wednesday, and he gives a pre-emptive defence. “So no, I’m not coming to lunch.”

Daphné groans, waving a hand out at him. “Lucas. It’s the middle of the week! And it’s freezing outside. No one’s going to come in.” She steps through the curtains, her pale-pink dress brushing against the floor as she moves. “Come with us.” She pleads, bouncing on her toes excitedly. “The girls and I had a fabulous show last night, and we’re celebrating. We want to go to that new café by the park, the one with the incredible pastries.”

Her excitement is catching, her brightness a welcome change from Lucas’s dark curtains and low lighting. Lucas feels the stirrings of a smile, but he shakes his head.

“No. Another time, Daphy.”

Daphné huffs, blowing a stray strand of hair away from her face. “You’re no fun.”

“I’m plenty of fun.” Lucas argues lightly, pocketing two of the coins from the table and holding the other three out to Daphné. “Look how fun I am: I’m giving you extra funds for your decadent lunch.”

“Oh my.” Daphné laughs, taking the coins from Lucas. She examines them in her own palm. “Where did you get these? Another admirer slipping you extra money under the table?”

“Perhaps.” Lucas says, busying himself with reshuffling his cards. “Use it to get yourself one of those pastries.”

Daphné eyes him over her flat palm. “Lucas, are you sure? You could keep this money for yourself.”

“I don’t want it.”

Daphné watches him intently for another moment, eyes dancing over his face, travelling down to his hands, to the cards rapidly flitting between his fingers.

“Alright.” She says eventually. She steps forward and presses a gentle kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, Lucas.”

Lucas nods. He doesn’t tell her that he has no desire to take the money because it feels like being bought, in a way, like the man was attempting to stamp ownership on Lucas with a few extra pieces of change. Spending that money, to Lucas, would feel like solidifying that ownership.

He doesn’t say it, but he knows Daphné will understand anyway. They all would, all of them that perform for Barnet, who get pulled aside after their shows by wealthy patrons who bombard them with offers for lavish dinners and tickets to the opera. It’s a regular occurrence for them, and it gets all of their backs up.

Daphné squeezes his arm, the warmth and comfort in the gesture saying, It’s alright, Lucas, you’re still your own person. Lucas is at once infinitely grateful for her, for Manon, for everyone in the small family of strange creatures that populate Le Monde des Merveilles.

“You’re welcome,” he says quietly, the movements of his hands slowing as he returns her smile. “Enjoy your lunch.”

Another squeeze to his arm, and she’s gone, disappearing between the folds of the curtain with her pink dress trailing behind her. Lucas looks back down at his cards, his smile fading to something quiet and fond, and without thinking, he picks a card, setting it face-up on the table.

He blinks at what he sees.

A messenger with good news. A bringer of love and fortune. A romantic hero on a white horse.

The Knight of Cups.

Lucas snorts inelegantly, at the card that’s telling him a knight in shining armour is about to appear before him a sweet word and whisk him away, and places it back into the deck, shuffling the knight’s amorous eyes out of sight.

The best thing that has happened to Lucas in the last few years was being given a place in Le Monde des Merveilles. Steady income. A place to live. Food to eat. Friends. A certain level of fame that gives him access to most corners of the city. He does not consider wishing for more than that, ever. Wishing is for fools and romantics.

Lucas shuffles the deck again and focuses, letting the energy of the cards guide his touch. He pulls out one that calls to him, loud and desperate, begging to be seen. He lays it face-up on the table, and there, again.

The Knight of Cups.

Lucas scowls down at the table, at the knight’s eyes that are painted so full of hope.

“Enough,” he says aloud, to the cards, or to the universe, to the magic in his bones and the great magnet that tugs the chains of fate along the surface of the Earth. He says it to all of them at once, slamming the deck of cards down on top of the knight. “It isn’t funny,” he whispers, but he’s not entirely sure what he means by that.

It isn’t funny to make me look towards the door with hope, even when I know nothing will come.

It isn’t funny to promise on things you can’t deliver.

It isn’t funny to pretend that good things happen for no reason.

With a heavy sigh, Lucas pushes himself away from the table and out of his small room, the curtains blowing apart before him, a burst of magic erupting from the centre of his chest that’s unchecked, uncontrollable, and makes a door down the corridor slam shut.

He winces, but he keeps walking, turning a sharp right and making a direct line towards Barnet’s office, which he knows at this time of day will be unlocked, empty, and always has a fresh pot of tea sitting on his desk.

Lucas could really use a cup of tea right now. Preferably one with a strong whiskey in it.

He returns to his room slowly, balancing his cup of tea with a stack of stolen biscuits from the hidden cupboard in Barnet’s office, and he’s not paying attention to what’s in front of him. His eyes continuously drift from his cup to his feet to the biscuits and back to his feet, so Lucas doesn’t see him at all, at first. He has no idea he’s there until there’s a short clearing of a throat, a polite, “Excuse me—”, and Lucas’ head snaps up, his tea sloshing dangerously close to the rim of the cup.

He nearly drops the biscuits.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” There’s a young man stepping away from the thick curtains marking Lucas’ room, one arm stretched out as though he’s going to catch any tea that spills onto the floor, but seems to think better of that and snatches his hand back, eyes wide.

Lucas stares at him.

“I, ah…” The man fumbles his hat off his head in a clumsy grip, nearly dropping it with one hand and and catching it with the other, laughing at himself nervously. “I’m sorry,” he says again, bowing his head towards Lucas. “I was hoping to see you, but you were out when I arrived, so I…waited.”

Lucas is still staring at him. He’s staring hard, because the man before him is tall, young and handsome, very handsome, and he’s wearing a thick, expensive coat and perfectly-polished shoes, and Lucas hates it, but the first place his mind goes is to the amorous eyes of the Knight of Cups.

Fucking great magnet. Fucking universe. Fucking cards.

The young man looks like he’s struggling to find something else to say, but Lucas is also struggling, so they stand there, staring at each other for a moment that stretches itself too long, too intimate for strangers in a dim, empty corridor.

Lucas coughs and straightens slightly, desperately grasping at the edges of his Lucian de la Lune cloak, trying to pull it over his Lucas Lallemant face that is too open and honest, too taken aback by the appearance of the man before him, so sweet-faced and honey-voiced that he may very well be from a fairy tale.

“You…” He swallows the tremors in his voice down. “Did you want a reading?”

The young man blinks at him like Lucas woke him from a deep sleep. “A what?”

“The…” Lucas gestures with his pile of biscuits to the thick curtains. “The cards. A reading for your future.”

“Oh! Oh.” The man laughs again, light and warm like a ray of sunlight, and he nods. “Yes, of course. I mean, that’s what you do! Of course.”

“Alright.” Lucas steps around him to enter into his room, quickly dropping his biscuits on the corner table, snapping his fingers to re-light the candles that went out, and taking a rushed sip of his tea to fortify himself. The sip he gets is almost entirely whiskey, which he supposes is rather appropriate, but makes him give a strangled cough. The young man follows after him slowly, carefully, like he’s not sure he’s allowed to enter into Lucas’ little world.

Lucas watches as his eyes roam over the midnight blue curtains, the dripping candles and the round table at the centre, then his eyes find Lucas again, and stay there.

“This is a wonderful room,” the man says. “It suits you.”

Lucas raises an eyebrow. He thinks, that’s a strange thing to say when you don’t know me at all, but he bites back from saying it, swallowing the words down with another sip of tea, and heading right for his table.

“The price of a reading is two francs.” He says flatly, busying himself with straightening the tablecloth and shifting the candles around.

“Oh, of course!” The man plunges a hand into his coat pocket, and Lucas hears the sounds of coins rattling around in there. It’s a sign of wealth and a sign of carelessness, having so many in such an easy place to steal from.

So, wealthy yes, but perhaps newly wealthy. A recent inheritance is most likely, given how young the man looks—barely older than Lucas himself.

The man places two coins down on the table, two francs exactly, and he’s still standing awkwardly behind the other chair, his coat open and his hat in his hand. He looks like he’s halfway between sitting down and running away.

Lucas makes the choice for him. He walks around the table, hands outstretched. “Here, I will take your hat and coat. You can sit down.”

The young man nods, his nerves as palpable as the November chill in the air outside. His movements are jagged and uneasy, his eyes constantly shifting from the ground to Lucas’ face like he can’t decide where to look. Lucas wonders if the young man is looking for an answer to an illicit question. Maybe it has something to do with the beautiful coat in Lucas’ hands, with the money that bought that coat. Maybe this man makes his money like the man from this morning does: in the darkness. Maybe he’s unlucky in love, and he’s going to ask Lucas for help. Dozens of young Parisian men come to Lucas’s table every week with the same predicament.

Lucas is curious, and he’s rarely curious about the people that come to him.

“So,” he says at length when he sits again, reaching for his cards and giving them a quick shuffle, hastily turning the Knight of Cups back over the correct way, “what is it that you’re looking for?”

The young man shrugs, a movement startlingly contradictory to his fine coat, his elegant features and his nervous posture with its ease and insouciance . “I don’t know, really. I suppose I just…” he shrugs again, shifting in his seat, eyes fixed on the cards in Lucas’ hands, following them as they slip and fold into one another. “I suppose I’m curious about what you can see in my future. Or even in my present.”

“Hm.” Lucas sets the deck down on the centre of the table. He lays a finger on top of it. “If you have a clear question, it helps to give a clear reading. Is there anything specific you would want to know? Something to do with finances? Love?”

The young man smiles at Lucas. “Finances and love? Those are the most common inquiries you get?”

“Most people view them as the focuses of life.”

“But you don’t?”

“What I think does not matter.” Lucas replies shortly, and he removes his finger from the deck. “If there is nothing specific you’re seeking then it may dirty the waters of what I can see. Do you understand?”

The man nods. He’s still smiling at Lucas, more confidently now, his shoulders loosening from where they were sitting high around his ear, but his eyes are soft in the candlelight, pale grey-blue catching on the flickering flames.

“Very well.” Lucas murmurs. He gestures at the deck. “Shuffle those until you feel ready to begin.”

The young man inclines his head and he’s reaching forwards, ghosting his fingers across the top of the deck before touching them, as though he’s nervous to. As though he’s not sure if he deserves to touch them, just as he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to enter the room. Lucas shivers as though those long, careful fingers are hovering just above his own skin, mapping out the shape of his body.

When the young man does touch the cards, he touches them gently, reverently, his fingers smoothing across the worn edges, dancing along the intricately-patterned designs on the backs. He looks fascinated with them, as though each card is an entire world of possibility, and he would be right to think so, but he would also be the first person to sit at Lucas’ table who seems to think so.

Lucas shifts in his seat. He can’t stop watching the young man’s hands, listening to the sound of the paper under his fingertips, his own skin prickling with the phantom sensation of a touch on his own skin, and there’s a moment where his mind trips, stumbles on the thought of what it would be like to be touched like the man is touching his cards: so thoroughly and adoringly.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the flame of a candle near the floor burst into a violent, bright orange, and he bites down hard on the inside of his cheek, holding his breath until the flame returns to a low, pale yellow. He tastes blood inside his mouth.

This is not right. The cloak of Lucian de la Lune keeps slipping off of his shoulders, revealing too much of Lucas Lallemant to the confines of the small room, to the bright, piercing eyes of the young man across from him.

“I think,” he says softly, breaking into Lucas’ thoughts, “that I am ready.” He places the pile back down on the table.

Lucas takes one steady, calming breath. He avoids the young man’s eyes, focusing on the deck as he moves it to one side, then in one swift movement, spreads it into a fan across the table.

The young man makes an impressed noise, which really is unnecessary, and Lucas feels his lips curling into a pleased smile at the sound, which is equally unnecessary.

Focus, Lallemant.

“Take a moment with the cards,” Lucas orders, waving a hand over the fan. “Find one that is calling to you, in some way, one that you feel yourself being drawn towards. When you do, take it from the pile, and lay it face up on the table.”

He expects the young man to proceed how everyone else normally does at this point, taking their time to consider each and every card, to dance their hands across the fan until eventually picking one that is chosen, they believe, at random; what they think is a split-second decision, but really is an insert of fate into their hands, forcing a choice when making one seems impossible.

But that is not what this young man does. Without hesitation he sends a hand out, fingers touching down on a card off to the left of the fan, nearly at the edge.

“This one,” the young man says, and it’s said without any doubt, so confidently that Lucas feels his own mouth dropping open slightly in surprise. Out of all the people who come into his room, out of all the desperate, future-seeking people in Paris, Lucas would never expect this young man to be the one who knows his card right away.

Is fate forcing his hand so strongly? Or is it a blind choice, one made too quickly, without any thought at all?

Then, the young man is picking the card up, he flips it over on the table, and Lucas blinks down at it.

A hand, hovering in the air, holding out a single coin.

Wealth. Prosperity. A coming successful business venture.

“The Ace of Pentacles,” Lucas says, nodding down at it. “It seems that you have had some good fortune lately, monsieur. Perhaps you’ve come into some money. Or you made an investment that has paid off.”

The young man frowns. “I suppose you could look at it like that,” he says, and Lucas is about to tell him that he doesn’t need to say anything, that he can just pull another card, but the young man says, “My father died a year ago.”

Ah. So Lucas was right about an inheritance.

“I was left ownership of some properties,” the young man says. “A few tenements. A few theatres. I lowered the rent on them, straight away, which, according to all of my advisors was a terrible decision.” He laughs, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “It would be a comfort to know I made the right choice.”

Lucas blinks. He heard about this, about some of the buildings he lives near, in the lower end of Paris, coming into new ownership. He heard about the rent being slashed in half, like magic. It’s one of the reasons Daphné, Manon and Alexia take so many luxurious lunches lately.

It doesn’t seem possible to Lucas, that the man across from him, young and nervous and with such careful hands, is responsible for that. It seems too good to be true, one of those stories they print in the papers to try and convince everyone that the wealthy really do care about the poor, that when they drop their spare change into a dirty child’s hand it��s because they want to end poverty. It seems like…Well, it seems like.

Like he’s a fucking knight in shining armour.

There’s an uncomfortable feeling in Lucas’ chest, something fiery and bright, like the birth of a star. He rubs at his sternum absently, and he doesn’t miss how the young man’s eyes follow the motion, dipping to the place where the shirt gapes open slightly on his collarbone.

Lucas flushes. “Choose two more cards.” He says, more sharply than he means to. “We’ll see how successful that choice will really be.”

It shouldn’t surprise Lucas, what happens next. It shouldn’t surprise someone who has magic, who wields the cards and knows that fate exists, that it is a tangible force at work in the universe. It shouldn’t surprise someone who, that same day, pulled the same card twice in a row.

But the young man turns over two more cards, finding them with the same confidence and speed that he did for the first, and Lucas is so shocked by it, that he thinks he can see that candle near the floor burst into a dark purple.

The second card: A messenger with good news. A bringer of love and fortune. A romantic hero on a white horse.

Then the third: a circle with archaic symbols etched into its surface, each corner of the card occupied by a winged creature with watchful eyes. An unexpected turn of events. Fate being pushed into motion.

Lucas both wants to laugh and cry.

The young is staring at him expectantly, hunched over in his seat with his hands clasped in his lap, eyes wide and earnest. Eyes that look so much like the knight’s when Lucas meets them.

“The, um…” Lucas coughs to break the hoarseness in his voice. “The Knight of Cups.” He points at the card in question. “A messenger bringing good tidings, or a symbol of love. Your…” He pauses, and bites down on his bottom lip, trying to gather his thoughts. “Your true love, as it were. Or if not love then a friend, someone coming to aid you. Someone with your best interests at heart.”

He keeps his eyes fixed on the cards as he speaks. He can feel his face growing warm, like the burning in his chest is travelling up through his bloodstream.

“Now, the, um…the next one is the Wheel of Fortune.” He points to it in turn. “There is a shift happening. A change in your life that you can only go along with. There is no point in fighting it. It’s telling you to let the events of fate unfold, as they are already in motion.” He tilts his head down, eyes scanning the three cards. “But usually it’s a good sign, that when the wheel eventually stops, you will find yourself where you need to be. Altogether, this is a very positive reading. It’s saying that if you stay on the course you’re on, then good things will come to you, monsieur. Very good things.”

Only when he finishes speaking does Lucas glance up, checking the young man’s reaction, and once again he finds himself shocked, because the young man doesn’t look smug, like many people who get a positive reading would be. He doesn’t look excited. He’s crying. Silently and reservedly but there it is, thin tears trickling down his cheeks to his chin.

He catches Lucas’ gaze, and he laughs at himself, something Lucas is realizing is a character trait of his, immediately going for self-depreciation whenever anyone takes notice of him. He wipes away his tears, smiling softly.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, his eyes moving between Lucas’ face and the cards. His cheeks are a mesmerizing shade of pink. “I…don’t know what came over me.”

“It’s alright,” Lucas says softly. The cloak of Lucien de la Lune is pooling at his feet, fallen completely away from his body, and it is just Lucas Lallemant sitting there, fighting the urge to cover the young man’s hand with his own. To soother. To comfort. “Many people cry during their readings.”

“I suppose it’s that I haven’t had very much good news lately.” The man’s smile takes on a melancholic shape, his eyes low. “It is…a bit overwhelming, when you’re in the dark, to have someone telling you eventually you will find light.”

Lucas doesn’t know what darkness a man like the one across from him could experience. Born wealthy, coming into an inheritance, strangely beloved by his tenants, gifted with a beauty that makes Lucas’ breath catch. What darkness could such a person face?

The tenderness that was blooming in Lucas’ heart is battling with bitter argument, with the desire to bite out, Have you ever slept on the street, monsieur? Stolen scraps for your meals? Have you ever had to sell everything you own, then be faced with selling yourself?

But the bare face he’s wearing must say some of that for him, as the young man frowns, his brow furrowing.

“I am sorry,” he says again, rubbing a hand through his hair, mussing the neat strands. “You must have no wish to hear the worries of businessmen.”

“I hear them every day,” Lucas says. “It’s my job.”

The young man shakes his head. “It’s your job to tell people what they hope for, is it not? To give reassurance.”

Lucas leans back in his chair, crossing his arms. “I don’t give anything,” he says, a touch tartly. “The cards are chosen by you. I only interpret them.”

“Well.” The young man runs a finger across the Wheel of Fortune card, tracing the edges of the image. “I think you are magic.”

The word makes Lucas balk for a moment, his fingers clenching at the sleeves of his shirt, but the man doesn’t look accusatory when he says it, doesn’t look like he means it any way other than innocent, the way a child might when they see a snowfall on Christmas.

Magic.

“Well,” Lucas says, propping his elbows on the table, mimicking the man’s tone. “I think you are a romantic.”

The man grins. “Is that a bad thing to be?”

Lucas tilts his head from side to side, humming. “It is not a practical thing to be.”

“But it’s necessary, don’t you think?” The man asks, his voice so soft it floats across the table like feathers. “To have love and beauty and romance in times like these? To have sweet things to live for?”

Lucas’ voice comes out as steel. “Many people can’t afford to live for sweet things. They live only to survive.”

The man is quiet at that, chastised, considering Lucas with those bright eyes. Lucas doesn’t shy away from his gaze. He lets his words hang between them, lets them resonate with this lovely, sheltered person, with his money and prophesied success.

“You’re right.” The man huffs a breath and leans back. “It is a naïve outlook, I know. One based only in privilege.” He squints down at the table. “And in ignorance. In not knowing enough about the world. But that is something about myself I’m trying to change.”

“The desire for change is good,” Lucas says. “But it’s the embracing of its reality that is important.” He picks up the three cards on the table and returns them to the deck, shuffling the fan together in his hands. He’s frustrated by how intrigued he is by this man, how his pretty words are piercing so deeply into Lucas’ head. He can’t remember the last time he wanted to get to know someone so badly, to uncover all of their secrets, to sink beneath their chest and see their heart for himself, to taste the heavy beating of it.

His hand slips, and a few cards spill onto the floor.

Lucas curses under his breath, and the man dives down, retrieving the cards from the floor. He brushes each one off carefully, stacking them back into a neat pile to hand to Lucas.

When Lucas takes them, his fingers brush against the man’s. Only for a moment, the briefest touch of skin against skin, but it’s enough to make Lucas’ skin flare up, the place they touched burning as brightly as that place deep in his chest. Lucas snatches his hand away, holding the cards close to himself like they can protect him from the dizzying sensation of those warm, gentle fingers pressed against his own.

Lucas is about to open his mouth to order the man to leave, because there’s only so much he can take of this enthralling, endearing young man who may or may not have been foretold as a knight in shining armour to Lucas, a literal romantic hero sweeping into his midnight-blue room with bight eyes and the outlook of a poet. It should be hilarious, this storybook person who has come to life, so completely different from everything Lucas is, but more than anything, it’s overwhelming. It’s exhausting to be in the same room as him.

“Can I ask you something?” The young man is standing at the side of the table, his fingers spread wide on the top of it.

Lucas narrows his eyes. “I suppose.“

“Lucien de la Lune. That isn’t your real name.”

Lucas snorts, setting the deck down again. “Of course it isn’t.”

“Will you tell me your real name?”

It’s not the first time someone has asked Lucas this, so he has his standard answer ready: a flat, apathetic, “No.”

The man nods like he was expecting this. He presses one hand against his chest, over the burgundy tie knotted there. “I’ll tell you mine.”

Lucas raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t ask for yours, did I?”

“No,” he says on laugh. “You didn’t, but I would like you to know it, if that’s alright.”

Lucas shrugs instead of protesting. He never asks for client’s names, ever. Because it makes them feel secure and he really doesn’t care, but he doesn’t tell this young man, not to tell him, because there’s a corner of his mind where he thinks he really wouldn’t mind knowing.

“It’s Eliott. Eliott Demaury.”

He says it nervously, as nervous as he was when he first entered the room, and Lucas bites back on a smile as he stands from his chair.

“Well, Monsieur Demaury,” he says pleasantly, “thank you for coming today. I hope your fortune was to your liking.” Standing so close to him, within the confines of his room, Lucas becomes at once aware of how much taller Demaury is than him. Lucas has to tilt his head back slightly to meet his eyes.

“It certainly was.” Demaury replies, just as courteously. “Thank you, Monsieur de la Lune.” He draws the name out with a smile, and Lucas shoots him a withering glance as he fetches his belongings from the rack by the entrance.

Lucas watches as Demaury slips into his fine coat, clasping his hat between his hands and looking all the part of a gentleman—the sort of man Lucas would expect to see at the opera, or dining at Foyot. He does not look like the sort of man who would cry from hearing there is good news in his future.

Demaury lingers by the entrance to Lucas’ room, scuffing one polished shoe against the floor and fiddling with his hat, and Lucas finds he doesn’t mind. He’s not sure if he wants him to leave either. He thinks he might want him to stay around, to discover if he really could be the knight in the cards. If there’s some part of him that could be meant for Lucas.

But there’s the sound of laughter at the end of the hall accompanying heavy footsteps, and Demaury startles, turning towards Lucas to make a clumsy bow, placing his hat back ono his head.

“Thank you,” he says. “Again. I…well, I hope to see you again. Sometime.”

“You could always return for another reading.” Lucas says, following Demaury outside of the room. He stops in the doorway, holding the curtain aside and clenching the thick velvet in his hand to centre himself, to make his voice even. “Perhaps your future will change.”

Demaury smiles, head tilting down towards the floor. He sticks his hands in his pockets, a boyish gesture at odds with his gentlemanly exterior. “I really hope it doesn’t change, actually. But…I suppose it is good to check, isn’t it?”

Lucas bites back a grin. “Yes, it is.”

“Alright.” Eliott takes a step backwards, turning on the spot. “Then I will, um…yes. Alright. Yes. Have a…pleasant day, Lucien.”

It comes out before Lucas even thinks of it, the desire to hear his own name in that honeyed voice overpowering the practical, rational side of his brain like an oceanic wave.

“Lucas,” he says quietly. Demaury whirls back towards him, mouth open in surprise. “You may call me Lucas.”

“Lucas,” Demaury says, and his mouth holds the letters are carefully and reverently as he held the cards, as though he’s not sure he’s allowed to touch such things.

Lucas is holding the curtain so tightly now he thinks there may be a real possibility he will rip it down. The burning in his chest has spread into his entire body, humming with something that feels a bit like magic, but also feels entirely separate from it.

“Have a pleasant day, Lucas.” Demaury whispers, and he’s smiling so sweetly at Lucas, his eyes crinkling, that Lucas lets one out in return. Just one small smile, only for one moment.

“Have a pleasant day, Monsieur Demaury.” He replies, and he watches as Demaury turns away, taking a few steps down the hallway before turning back towards Lucas, huffing a laugh when his eyes land on him and turning once again, towards the entrance of the theatre, and he disappears from sight, his footsteps swallowed up by the sounds of laughter and excited voices as people come and go within the theatre, searching for entertainment or searching for their future or searching for the very thing they did not know they would find.

Lucas exhales and steps back into his room. It feels different in there after Demaury, like the room itself is holding memory of his shape, of his presence. Lucas goes to the corner table and knocks back the rest of his tea, the remaining whiskey a welcome burn in his throat. He takes a large bite from a biscuit and chews slowly, thoughtfully, paces a circle around the room like he’s walking in a dream.

He stops in front of the round table, where the deck of cards sits like a northern star, pulling him forwards, leading him somewhere he cannot see.

He pops the rest of the biscuit into his mouth and picks the deck up, shutting his eyes and he shuffles, letting the energy of the cards guide every movement, every brush and slide of paper against paper. It’s a whirlwind of sensation behind his eyes, sounds and colours and feeling, but then there’s ah, there’s something, and Lucas plucks out a card, dropping it down onto the table.

He opens his eyes.

Not the Knight of Cups. Not what he was, possibly, expecting.

But the very thing he should have been expecting.

A circle with archaic symbols etched into its surface, each corner of the card occupied by a winged creature with watchful eyes. An unexpected turn of events. Fate being pushed into motion.

The Wheel of Fortune.

A laugh bursts out of Lucas, one that’s long and lingers and is full of wonder rather than spite, tapering off to giggles that shake his shoulders.

He sighs, running a finger along the card the same way Demaury did, as though touching the same edges of the wheel will feel like touching Demaury’s hand again.

“I see you’ve given up on subtlety altogether,” Lucas says. He says it to the cards, to the universe, to the magic in his bones and the great magnet that tugs the chains of fate along the surface of the Earth. He says it to all of them at once.

He lets out another laugh, at the impossibility of it all, at the wheel staring back at him so intently from the table, promising changes Lucas himself could never have predicted.

We are in motion.

#you're so sweet anon ily 💛💛💛💛#i loved working on this prompt so thank you for sending it in!!!#my research for the fic consisted of a solid hour of looking up paintings from la belle epqoue #which was amazing #but that being said if anyone catches any historical inaccuracies (there will likley be some let's be real) i'm happy to make edits!!#tarot prompts #prompt fill #fic tag #elu fic #skam fr fanfic #skam fr #skam france

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lumiereswig · 5 years

Note

Do you have any crossovers with/AUs inspired by "Moulin Rouge!"? I know there's a fics list page but my wifi is so stupid slow it never loads so I can never tell.

nope! srry

since u can’t load the fics page im gonna give it all to you right here boo

Lumiere discovers something new, post-curse: Matches

Plumette/Lumiere, pre-curse. Plumette growing up and Lumiere growing close. Lit By The Sun

Plumette/Lumiere, immediately after being cursed: Fire and Feathers

Lumiere meets the prince for the first time: A Showman Through and Through

Plumette/Lumiere as college kids: Modern AU that is not super great but eh i tried

plumiere in love: it’s right here for now (at least until I edit it and make it better)

here’s Scotland

“a maid that has a crush on Lumiere faking being Plumette and trying to seduce him”: hahaha this one still makes me laugh

abandoned ‘kidnapped’ fic—here

lumiere finding out plumette is pregnant: Here.

lumiere sees the baby for the first time: Here. Aww.

“a one shot in which plumette and lumiere go on a romantic tryst about the castle in the days following their wedding 💕”: poor cogsworth

Lumiere is the sexiest sandwich in the palace. Here.

Plumette gets sick, it’s really sad: Right over here, pal.

More plumiere falling in love here.

Tale as old as time, older than that guy, Beauty and Maurice.

garderenza backstory? here it is

So, like: what if Mulan showed up.

“can i please have a crack-shippy fic where everybody is in love with the wrong people.” Here.

figuring out how to be human again. here

lumiere/plumette body swap HERE.

“Movie night at the castle!” As you wish.

a bunch of other maids have a crush on lumiere and try to get his attention: a short fic about trapezes

“A group of poor motherless ducklings imprint on Plumette” QUACK QUACK.

“please expand on that night when Plumette and co. got drunk because of Chapeau’s brandy + wine idea…” I don’t know why I like writing drunk!staff so much but i DO

1991, MEET 2017!

What happened to Gaston? The only Gaston fic I’ll ever write, probably. Here.

He is nineteen. She is younger. Lumiere tells Plumette a fairytale. Lit by the Moon.

“How about a fic were the staff play light as a feather stiff as a board with Plumette as the board.“ what the fuck even is this game i am still confused but on y va, i guess

ATTRACTIVE FARMER MAN AND HIS TWO WIVES

Plumette’s last seconds before the curse takes hold. Laughing Still.

Forgotten. [Ongoing]

Plumiere in the rain. Quick mini-fic. I’ve Seen Fire and Rain

“quick question : how often does lumiere get sick?” Here.

“What if the day the curse was broken the staff go batshit crazy over being able to eat again so they eat until their stomachs hurt. Then Chip starts a food fight by throwing a bread roll at Cogsworth.” THIS HAPPENED?

“A dragon comes to try and eat Plumette” Lumiere is a fire-bender

“crack fic where they somehow discover theyre fictional” this one was so fun to write, lumiere picks up ewan’s scottish accent and hates it

“What about a really cute fic were Lumiere and Plumette fake being sick so they don’t have to work and get to spend the whole day together” poor cogsworth part 2

“Who gets the weird nightmares and who consoles the other at two in the morning because they’re in tears.” Me, because I just want my OTP to have nice things. Here.

”coffeeshop au but its still set in the 18th century“ BUT WHAT DO YOU THINK OF ROUSSEAU, THO??

“Can you write about Lumiere throwing Plumette a surprise birthday party for her?” hey

“Chip wants to be maître d’ someday and follows Lumière around the castle as his little protégé” he’s going to be a better one than lumiere here

“don’t think about how painful the transformation must have been for the servants" do i ever think of anything else. [the answer is no]

“*Whispers in your ear* AMNESIAC LUMIERE” FUCK. HOW’D YOU KNOW I LOVE AMNESIA FICS?? FUCK. ultimately one of my favorite fics. holy fuck

“*Whispers in your ear* AMNESIAC LUMIERE” part TWO, motherfuckers

“Maybe one during the curse where they can suddenly hear the soundtrack around them?“ poor cadenza

“What if somebody after the curse was broken just out of nowhere started playing the Aria. I NEED FEELS” have you thought about horrible things yet today

“The castle has to order in pizza” adam would like to register a complaint.

“Ewan McGregor and Lumiere switching universes" here

”A water balloon fight that gets out of hand?“ SPLASH.

Les Miserabeauty and the Beast. Here.

“Can you do where everyone is turn into a baby” ANGST

STANFOU ROMANCE

“Nutcracker AU?!” aw fuck here

“I Never Really Knew You”—Cadenza & Adam

“He Must Loathe Me”—Chapeau & Plumette

“The Sound of Her Weeping”—Garderobe & Lumiere

“Her Little Satin Slippers”—Cogsworth & Plumette

“Home”—Mrs. Potts & Plumette

“Chapeau’s Charade”—Belle & Chapeau

“Lullaby”—Garderobe & Plumette

“Cake in the Sun”—Lumiere & Stanley

“Like You Used To”—Adam & Garderobe

“Why The Beast Eats Like….That”—Chip & The Beast

“The Boy’s Hand”—Chip & Adam

“The Pink Vest”—Garderobe & Cogsworth

“Draw”—Maurice & Adam

“They’ll Never Meet Again”—Plumette & Garderobe.

“Her Beautiful Maman”—Garderobe & Plumette, in the parents AU. Also: Lumiere & Frou-Frou. Woof.

“have Belle and Adam watch batb 2017?” sure.

“I would love to see their reaction to singing in the rain! It’s my all time favorite movies!! ❤️❤️" 🌧🌧🌧🌧SAME 🌧🌧🌧🌧

“consider the coconut” MOANA CRACK.

“Plumiere goes to Paris?” Prequel fic! [oh là là]

“thy crackest crack of all - batb but adam/belle and lumiere/plumette swap places” lumiere turns into a dragon

“so. um. amnesiac adam?“ FUCK. FUCK.FUCK.

”Mary Poppins would be practically perfect in every way!” Feed the fucking birds

“I should have told you a long time ago.” Plumette wakes up, after their first night together. Fits into the “Lit by the Sun” story.

“This is why we can’t have nice things/you don’t see me”—right after the curse, Plumiere cope with their new forms. Angst?

“Prove It/You’re Drunk.” Lumiere had….a night of it. Poor Cogsworth, the Continuing Saga

“great comet” fic: the candle in the mirror

“I’ve been waiting a long time.” finally a happy!cogsworth fic. Tic toc.

“Batb and Frozen crossover pls“—it’s garbage

The whole palace body swaps. here

“What happens when Lumiere’s family wakes up and realizes they have a son at the palace?” well SHIT ! there’s a prompt

“Chapeau having to relearn and figure out how to play the violin once he’s turned into a coatrack.” Shh.

a cuisinier fic! this fandom doesn’t deserve him

“Batb and Robin Hood crossover!!!!!” fuck

“how about the castle residents plays a giant game of live clue.” Adam would like to register another complaint

Lit by the Stars. Plumette and Lumiere meet for the first time.

“belle catches a cold?” i’m allergic to fluff

“how about amnesiac belle this time?” FUCK

w o w this one’s about plumette & belle sharing plague stories

“Can you do where Lumiere and Plumette babysit Chip while Mrs. Potts is working” cute? ??

Wedding Cake: it’s huge

“lightly read fanfiction.” RIGHT?!

“You should let them watch the classic movie Beauty and the Beast” here

“ plumette x lumière modern spies AU” here.

“cogsworth angst” YOU GOT IT dude

“Hi, could you do some fluff and angst headcanons for Madame de Garderobe and Cadenza please xx” the honeymooners

“Shalalalalala my oh my, looks like the boy’s too shy, ain’t gonna kiss the girl” has lumiere ever been shy in his life ?

“Would you care to write a drabble of the castle redoing Mrs. and Mr. Potts’s wedding because Chip found his mother’s wedding dress and was bummed that he missed it?“ oh hey unrelated: i never dated a christmas ornament

“imagine plumiere first met AFTER they were turned into objects” um: FUCK YES.

“Batb characters in the titanic” too soon, people. too soon.

“Plumiere prompt: A whole new world! new fantastic point of view. No one to tell us no. Or where to go. Or say we’re only dreaming.” ok

“a touring theatre group comes to perform at the castle” this is more like a headcanon but it’s long as fuck so it ended up here

“cogsworth discovers he can fly” this is so wrong, this is so right

“Card Tricks”—Lumiere & Chip

“Coffee & Tea”—Lefou & Mrs. Potts

“Lion’s Mane”—Cuisiner & Plumette & Adam

“the characters read some of your fics and their reactions” o fuck. crack.

“Ok, but what about someone slipping Lumiere a love potion meant for Plumette??” kisses

Plumette stargazes; Lumiere dates someone else. Veronique

“ding dong we need more cogsworth- can we have something with him and mrs. potts bonding over all of their dumb kids” ding dong yes yes yes we do!

the villagers get cursed. a trash fic!!!![[[[ongoing]]]

Seating Arrangementsare! important! here.

“cogsworth sharing plumette’s first dance with her at her wedding, and…” I don’t dance.

poly garderenza/belle. i love this bullshit. i ship this

“Bonjour you wrote a fic about Luimere taking care of Plumette when she’s sick, can you write one about Plumette taking care of Lumiere? 💛💛” cough!

The First Untethered Hot Air Balloon Flight: oh, fuck.

garderenza content FEELS

“amnesiac belle?” COMPLETED, BITCHES. fucking ga w w d

“Can we have cogsworth headcanons?? Pretty please mon ami??” Dulce et decorum est.

“Eclipse”—Lumiere & Chip

what if the servants came awake again, in modern days? Here

‘do you remember when we were human?’ Plumiere shit.

A history lesson w/Cogs and Lums. Beware the dust. Album.

GARDERENZA HIGH SCHOOL AU !!!

“Woof”— Belle & Frou-Frou

“Fireworks”—Adam & Plumette

“Amnesiac Mrs. Potts?” Eh.

“a midsummer night’s dream au?” welcome to CRACK CITY [x]

“Plumette has a tragic, existential moment.” Pouf-pouf.

“a touring theatre group comes to perform at the castle. like some kind of magic, they can perform shows that don’t even exist yet” [x]

“I would love if you wrote when Plumette and Lumiere came up with Be Our Guest” BE! OUR! GUEST

“The castle adopts a pet? but not like a cat or anything, like they get a pet komodo dragon or something” welcome to the zoo

garderenza’s glory [x]

“Flicker In, Flicker Out.” The curse takes its toll.

“Who would be into divination? the Supernatural? Spooky Shit™?” HEY THERE DEMONS, IT’S YA BOI.

“If each of the servants could write a book, what would they be about?” The Villeneuve Catalog of Literature, fresh off the presses. [x]

“Cogsworth + Lumiere switch personalities?” i fuckin love a good crack prompt. showgirls!

“Socks”—Pere Robert & Mrs. Potts

adam and belle meet as tiny kids

COLLEGE FACULTY AU FIC

sad maurice fic: :)))))))))

“What do the servants do when they can’t sleep?” Shhhh.

Chip being in town when the curse strikes, here [ongoing!]

Belle gets used to the staff being, well.….human again. “New.”

“Have you ever done a role-swap where Belle was the princess and Adam was the boy from the village?“ CHIP. DON’T FUCK WITH THE TIME TRAVEL. Here.

The useless energy of haunted things. “Freaks of Furniture.” Thanks, JSTOR.

@batbobsession collab w/me called “One Moment”—their part is here, my part is there. The servants and the staff take a minute, right before the battle, to face what they’ve become.

“spooky prompt: What If the castle was haunted the year after belle breaks the spell…sadder prompt: What If the ghost was Adams mom…Worse prompt: or his father” THIS IS NOT THE FUN GHOST-HUNTING I ASKED FOR.

“Everyone says that Adam was under the spell ages, so what if the spell went on for 300+ years or whatever, and a woman hiking through the woods kind of went through what Maurice did with the tree being knocked over…” Fucking!!!! Granola bars!!!!!!!!!!!![x] [Ongoing.]

How desperate I became. To erase. To unmake my mouth, my pulse. / To unlive. “The Writing-Desk.”

“So Very Different”—Cuisinier & Garderobe

“how would the staff and Belle and Adam react to some little kids from the village showing up trick-or-treating?“ Something like this, I imagine.

“Amnesiac Cadenza?” i do fucking love an amnesia ask

“During the curse, Adam begins to see ghostly apparitions of the servants’ human forms.” Dead men walking.

“Spooky prompt: A haunted house in Villeneuve.” i just want to talk to the demons!

“These Two Need More Love”—Chapeau & Cuisinier

“A piece inspired by the song, “A Shoulder to Cry On,” aka, ‘80S MUSIC FICS

“Adam, Belle + staff go to pick out/chop down their own Christmas tree……” Yule fic by me + other people! ho ho ho.

way down in hadestown

The fandom-spanning fic, involving Star Wars, Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings, Doctor Who, and Tulio and Miguel.

“Everyone must leave something behind when he dies, my grandfather said.” Evermore. Thanks Ray Bradbury.

“idk how she got there but Garderobe rules the world.” ❤️

“Oh! How about a story or headcannons of Shane and Ryan doing a Buzzfeed Unsolved Video at the enchanted castle in BatB?” [wheeze] (a FAVE)

“Words”—Garderobe & LeFou.

“what if someone confused the servants with the royals, cuz they dress better than adam and belle?” This happens regularly.

“Pere Robert somehow comes across a Time Turner” ⏳tick-tock⌛️

“Crackfic prompt: Belle is messing around with magic books (AGAIN) and somehow summons dinosaurs.” that’s , uh, that’s chaos theory

plumiere SNUGGLING FOR WARMTH TROPE????

“The BATB characters stumble into The Great Comet” EVERYBODY RAISE A GLASS

“So I’m reading the Raven Cycle by Maggie Stiefvater…..” Here.

“Please give me more singing hair brush!” the fucking hairbrush. Here.

“Please can I have a bunch of adorable hcs where Garderenza are prepping Bassette for their first concert with her singing in it too” that is a hairbrush

arrrrGGHHHH, mateys, that thar be a magical pirates fic, shiver me timbers

“lumiere gets a sunburn” ouCh

“for adelle: maybe the Official Proposal?” Here.

“ what if. an amnesia fic. where they. ALL. Got. A m n e s I a“ —MY BRAND~

“Headcanons for Belle and Adam being the world’s greatest grandparents?” also known as “be a bear, grandpa!”

“Garderenza prompt: ‘You saved my life!’” oh how divine

belle keeps playing with magic and getting everybody fucked

this collab fic with @theteaisaddictive is done! “agathe gets amnesia”

“Whisky and Red Wine”—Lumiere and Belle have a night in.

“AU idea: As belle is leaving the second time, something stops her and she turns and whispers ‘I love you’ before running off.” Can you say “two idiots”?

“ have you ever done any asks about what you think maurice/belle’s mum’s life was like before they had belle???” I AM ALWAYS HERE FOR THE MAURICE SAD!FICS [x]

“something sweet with adam and the plumiere child.” sweet as stolen breakfasts.

“Belle messing with magic again finds one that puts the universe into reverse” this one is straight crack i hope you like it

chip is the middle man for some major lumiworth action

“A traveller stops by for directions […] by coincidence, he’s one of Belle’s *very favorite* authors.” Wow I wonder if the world’s biggest book nerd is going to handle this in a responsible manner [x]

“a man attending a ball at the palace spots plumette, and falls in love with her beauty. she receives an anonymous present of heart-shaped chocolates on her bedside the next day, and assuming they are a present from her dear lover, eats them without a thought. moments later…..” Not exactly this trope but uhhhh it’s a love potion fic babyyyyyyy

#PLEASE REBLOG THIS POST #beauty and the beast #batb #batb 2017 #it's shorter than the other rlly long one #but also uhhhhh h u h looks like i wrote 2 many fics #ooOOps #fire hands candle hands trashdelabra stans #its lumiereswig b i t c h

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shelbybroslimited · 6 years

Note

I requEST MY DREAM AS A PROMPT BITCH LETS SEE WHAT YOU CAN DO I LOVE U

I’m sorry it’s so late- but HERE IT IS I LOVE YOU!

post-it notes

Joe was sweet, almost too sweet. When he’d leave the house before I’d wake up, he’d leave notes and post-its in the weirdest places.

But it was sweet.

Even if it was just about taking out the trash, picking up milk, or “I’m gonna clean up the kitchen I swear,” it was always…..

Sweet.

As time went on, the notes changed from words to doodles, often very crudely drawn.

“What the fuck is this?”

“That’s you, baby.”

“Are you sure?”

“What’s that s’posed to mean??”

I tried to keep as many of them as I could, taking them and sticking them into a notebook, often having to tape them down as pages were flipped over and over again.

But even with all the notes, the bed sharing, and the whole fact we were kinda somewhat living together, we still weren’t…. Official? I hated thinking about it, labels. And I didn’t want him to think that I was obsessed with that kind of thing, I wanted him to think I was a “cool girl” who didn’t need approval from the guys she was kinda with.

It’s not even like Joe was home a lot. He had his own place with his own things, but he always seemed to end up in my house. Clothes ended up in my wash, a toothbrush in the restroom, and a pillow on my bed. But what did that mean other than he forgot things at my house so often that I just started keeping them there?

I wasn’t the greatest at drawing things, but I certainly wasn’t bad. I took up an art class in my uni courses, but I didn’t tell Joe. I didn’t want him thinking I took an art class to make better drawings than him to leave around the house (even though that’s exactly why).

It was nearing the end of the semester, and one of the final events for this class was for a portfolio display.

“So what are you gonna put up?” Marie asked, she was always so kind in helping the both of us make it through this class.

“Not sure, I don’t even really want to put anything up if I’m honest.” I replied.

“Aw why not?? I love looking at your stuff!”

I raised my eyebrows and rolled my eyes at her.

“I DO!”

“You’re just being nice.”

“Oh my goodness do not get all ‘I’m unworthy’ bullshit.”

“I NEVER said that.”

“Your eyes did and you know it.”

I finished putting things into my backpack when my notebook fell out and a few post-its fell on the floor.

“What’s that?” Marie asked, reaching down to pick the papers up.

“No no don’t look at-” I exclaimed, Marie already turning them over, “those…”

Marie studied the notes and post-its with an amused look on her face. I reached out to snatch them from her hands.

“These are so…”

“Horrid? Terrible? I know.”“ADORABLE!”

I looked at her in confusion, “Excuse me?”

“These are like, really good. And so cute. You should enter these in the portfolio display.”

“YEAH like Dr. Humphrey would let me do that.”

“She might… put them in little frames or something it’d be cute!”

I considered what she said. They would look really cute posted up. Lots of other people have done things similar to this, right? Text messages, love notes, regular pieces of paper? Surely if I could do it right it would look cool… right?

Marie and I stood talking for a it longer before I headed home. I sat on the bus and looked out the window, thinking about homework, what to make for dinner, and of course, Joe. Would he be there when I got home? No, he’s at work. Wait what day is it? Maybe he is there? Maybe he went to his own home. Maybe he took all his stuff and left. MAYBE-

My thoughts were interrupted with the bust halting at my stop. I jumped off and walked toward the building, up the stairs, and dug out the keys to my front door, finding a folded note between the door and its frame. Gently pulling it out as I opened the door, I unfolded the note to see a picture of two stick figures and words around them scribbled in Joe’s writing.

Had to run out for something, but be back ‘round dinner.

-Joe

P.S. the picture is us, if you couldn’t tell :)

Okay, so maybe he wasn’t planning on taking all his stuff home and never coming back. Good.

“Your display looks lovely.”

I looked at Marie, setting up the last few panels.

“Think so? Not too cheesy or weird?”

Marie draped her arms over my shoulders as she stood (much taller) behind me.

“I think it looks perfect.”

I smiled. It did look better than I thought it would. Then again, I imagined it looking like an on-fire garbage can- but that was Stephen’s display outside, not mine.

“Did you invite him?”

“I told him I had something tonight but wasn’t specific.”

“Are you kidding.”

I looked at Marie, a mix of disappointment and annoyance on her face.

“Marie he doesn’t know that I was even taking this class. Plus he’s probably busy with work or something…” I trailed off.

“Honey,” Marie put her hands on her hips, “you two need to have a talk on whatever… this is.”

She moved her hand around in a circle in my general direction, obviously talking about our “relationship” status.

“Marie he is a very well known and successful man who most likely does not want to be tied down to some uni student who doesn’t know what the fuck she’s doing.”

Marie rolled her eyes, “Well I’m going over here by my display. When you drop the pity-party attitude you’ll know where to find me.”

It was my turn to roll my eyes as I chuckled putting up the last frame. I kinda hoped Joe would show up, but at the same time I think I’d throw up if he did. Would people here get all fangirling if he showed up? If Joe Cole showed up to some small uni art portfolio show? I tried not to throw up.

Time passed and sooner or later there was a decent crowd making their way through the presentations. Dr. Humphrey actually thought the notes were cute, and commended me on a well organized display.

“‘Scuse me miss? What’s all this about?”

“Well all of these are-” I turned around and froze mid-sentence.

Joe stood there, hands in his jacket pockets, dumb smile on his face, looking at me.

“Uh-”“That one’s s’posed to be a camera innit? ‘S what you told me at least.” He pointed to a very badly drawn camera I made when we first started leaving notes for each other. It was before I took the class so I knew I’d gotten better since then.

“You gonna say anythin’ darling?”

“How- how did you know this is where I was going I- I never told you…?”

“Your girl Marie sent me a message. Guessin’ she took your phone to do it.” He nodded his head over towards Marie and her display, where she waved her hand and winked as her girlfriend kissed her cheek.

Joe took a step closer to the board and I remained frozen, staring at him staring at my work.

“‘notes to tell you I love you’” he said, turning his head to look at me, “‘s that what this is all called?”

I was going to throw up. No wait, pass out. No, definitely throw up. Wait- both.

“Did you do this to tell me you loved me?” he whispered as he walked closer to me, “Answer me, darling.”

I nodded, “Y-yeah.”

He let out a low chuckle and stood inches from my face, “Really?”

I nodded again. This is it. He’s gonna say I was crazy and never wanted to see me again.

He turned to get something out of a bag I didn’t realize he had on his shoulder. What is it? Is it the key to my apartment? Is it a card saying it’s over?

It was a….. Notebook?

He put it in my hands, “Go on, open it.”I cautiously took the notebook and started flipping through the thicker pages. They were… doodles? Like the ones we left each other? Some of these are exact copies of notes he’s left me, some I’ve never seen before. Some had words around them, some didn’t.

“I-”

“Take a look,” he smiled, “they’re all for you.”

I looked up at him, “….really?”

“Yeah,” he smiled bigger, “gotta do something personal for my girl, right?”

“Y-your-”

“My girl, that okay with you?”

I nodded my head, unable to think of words better to say than “HELL FUCKING YES.”

“Been meaning to talk with you ‘bout that, really. Sorry I’m so shit at this… relationship stuff.”

“That’s okay,” I blurted, “me too.”

We stood there awkwardly, me still holding onto his notebook.

“Right,” he coughed, “when’s this thing over, gotta proper show off my girl, eh?”

I laughed as Joe put his arm around my shoulders and kissed my hair.

Maybe Marie wasn’t wrong after all.

#ask #answered #watery-lane #SORRY ITS SO LATE #peaky blinders #Joe cole #Joe Cole blurb #my writing #peaky blinders blurb

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emypony · 6 years

Text

ARES HEADCANONS WITH THE BOYS, AFTER THE BREAK

Some ARES (more like ot2/ot3/ot4 headcanons with Haizaki, Asuto, Nosaka and Nishikage) headcanons for @ozrockbitway (if i remember right dfljkghfdg it’s been long ago since we talked about it, I think??) and @producktions @someatsu @blueberry-pastel @suzunofuusuke @kirinoisbestboy @sinfonylanglader @therealruney @calmystorm-saltycandy (hope u dont mind the tag ^^’’) @shawn-and-aiden-frost-9 i guess if u wanted to read as well @mimirk63 ITS NOT YUUICHI but ya kno ;w;’’

i literally dont even know who else would care about these (mostly joke) headcanons so iM SOWWY if i like, dont tag some ppl ;;

also im sorry that these are like all over the place tho jfldghkfk

ANYWAY with that out of the way

1. so I was discussing about Nishikage baking and. i got it. Nishikage works @ Tasty part time. He makes ambitious creations. Nosaka enjoys watching the behind the scenes. (Asuto will eat anything he makes)

2. Asuto starts hanging around Nosaka and Nishikage thought this would be bad and that Yuuma would stop hanging out with him but is thankfully proven wrong as Asuto pretty much always invites both of them to hang out with him. Nishikage starts to 'adopt' Asuto as Nosaka's friend and feels the need to PROTECC him as well. they also become great friends and this eases Nishikage because Nosaka finally has someone to spend time with that can somewhat get him out of his shell. Related to #1, Asuto will bother Nishikage and ask him if he's cooked something new yet. Nishi is afraid to cook more things at first but is prompted by Asuto because THAT BOY will literally eat anything, bad or good.

3. Nosaka actually likes dry jokes but no one knows since nobody really likes dry jokes and doesn't make them. Asuto ends up with a book EXACTLY about dry jokes and he finds them interesting and funny but not as much as Nosaka, so when he uses one of those jokes it makes Yuuma laugh and it takes everyone by surprise (especially Nishikage)

4. Nosaka snorts when he laughs.

5. I see Asuto and Nosaka becoming friends before Asuto and Haizaki (even if they're acquaintances) Haizaki comes on later along.

6. Asuto is claustrophobic and that's how the ot3 friendship starts. He, Haizaki and Nosaka somehow end up stranded in somewhat of a locker and he starts freaking out. Despite the issues between Nosaka and Haizaki they don't like seeing the cheerful Asuto being scared like that. Asuto asks them to hold his hand and they reluctantly did that even if they didn't like being next to each other. After that incident Asuto was a bit more open around them and uses his 'persuasive' powers to get them to hang out with him.

7. Haizaki is the tallest, followed by Asuto and then Nosaka. Nosaka is a bit conscious about his height and even if Haizaki makes fun of him, Asuto reassures him and tells him its okay.

8. Nosaka would be really bad at portraying his feelings even if it's something simple or complicated so he makes really weird comparisons and nobody understands except Nishikage even if sometimes even he's wondering what's going on in his mind.

9. I originally planned Nosaka to be a Vegan but I don't wanna do that he's just been taught to always eat healthy because there was no other alternative. he sometimes sees Asuto stuffing his face with unhealthy (fast food/other) stuff and it confuses him because he's still like perfect and fit and he doesn't get it. With time Asuto makes him try things he wouldn't normally eat by himself and even if he doesn't eat that regularly, he'll sometimes accept Asuto's invitation to get things he hasn't tried before. He's really big on trying foreign food but maybe once every few months.

This is a lot of Nosaka fdkjghd im sorry i love him a lot AND I DIDNT EVEN KNOW IT

10. One day Asuto's friends find him, Nosaka and Haizaki playing cards in his room (i think they'd keep the friendship hidden for a while don't ask me why). Norika would take a liking to Nosaka but not romantic. She ends up doing his nails or make up as a thing. He looks dashing with black polish. Haizaki has none of that and even if Nosaka is really :| and stoic he'll pretty much go with anything.

11. this was like, a multiple headcanon thingy with @suzunofuusuke and @producktions alike

Nosaka is a heavy sleeper and Nishikage is the opposite. #Nosaka and Nishikage share a bed, fight me. Due to his past Nosaka has nightmares and moves a lot in his sleep so frequently he'll fall from the bed which'll make Nishi wake up and freak tf out because dfljkgf where's Yuuma?? and hes just sleeping on the floor

12. Nishi and Nosaka sometimes both stare at Asuto and how pure he is dfljghfdg like "damn Asuto's a nice friend"

i'll uh, try some Haizaki too since I've basically neglected him holy shit

13. Things get better with Akane and after Asuto basically has him talk things out with Nosaka, he becomes a lot less stressed and angry and finally starts to open up to Asuto, at least. He's a bit awkward at interacting outside the soccer field so it takes a bit of time to be comfortable around both of them, but Asuto always made it easy. He's still a bit intimidated by Nishikage though, even if he has no ill intentions towards Haizaki and they've even successfully hang out together alongisde the other two a few times. They share a love for spicy food.

14. HAIZAKI NEEDS GLASSES and he doesnt like wearing them but he's really cute in them. Asuto would always tell him that he looks cute in them and he wouldn't like it. Men aren't cute. Haizaki isn't cute!! >;C Nosaka would just quietly tell him that they look good on him nonetheless and he'd blush and say 'thanks' and thats their interaction okay #stolen from @someatsu

15. Haizaki has his ears pierced but nobody knows cuz of his long hair and that it's not allowed @ school. He likes to try out diff earrings in his spare time. Asuto catches him one day and never lets him hear the end of it but when they sometimes go walking around shop districts he'd loudly proclaim "Those would look real good on you, Haizaki!" when he'd see any cute earrings and such. poor Hai chan will try to hide from view at that. Nosaka chuckles. also stolen from @soatsuko w permission dw

16. starring guest hiro again with headcanons he shoved into my arms: Haizaki doesn't use social media because he doesn't see the point of it. Had Twitter once but got bored. likes baggy hoodies. probably has a collection of berets (this one's on @araiguma-koon)

17. @arbegagordon gave me an idea so Haizaki and Akane used to play Toontown so now that Akane isn't playing anymore, Haizaki still logs in but gets sad. Through some kind of unconventional means Asuto starts playing Toontown with him because he wants to make him happy and even if Hai chan won't admit it he's pretty happy that Asuto does this for him Nishihkage plays cooking mama Nosaka tries a lot of games but he gets bored fast because he thinks he's not good at them. He REALLY likes the pet games though. EDIT: I FORGOT. NOSAKA PLAYS ALICIA ONLINE AND NONE OF Y’ALL CAN TELL ME OTHERWISE. he likes collecting pets and clothes. he would defs cosplay his AO character omg

18. this was a collaboration of my ideas and @producktions and her analysis post basically she said that no one usually cheers for Nosaka SOOOOOOO, after Asuto finds that out he goes to all his matches and screams like fucking crazy for him and even if Nosaka won't show it he'll smile sometimes to himself because Asuto does this for him and expects nothing in return and just wants to see him smile and it’s OOF so pure

19. Asuto has both Nosaka and Haizaki merch. (you know, for support! Asuto is big on making his friends feel loved) They're both embarrassed by it and whatever they say they can't make him NOT wear it in public, as he's hanging out with THEM.

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isroselalondebisexual · 6 years

Note

What do you think Rose Egbert would be like? :0 And Dave Harley, John Lalonde, and Jade Strider

Rose Egbert, raised in a supportive, loving home environment, would probably still be fighty and punchy because I don’t think there’s a single parent in existence that could ever change that about her, but she’s also very likely going to be more inclined to wait until being PROMPTED before she lets loose her floods of salt and snark. So like, a pretty regular girl on first impressions, definitely deeply entrenched in her Hot Topic mall goth phase, wears chokers from Spencers and whatnot, but pretty friendly at face value and in all the advanced literature courses, has been in every psychology class the public education system offers. On the debate team. And so you’re like, cool, she’s on debate, that should be fun, she’s pretty well composed as a person I bet she has some good thoughts. And then you attend one of the debate matches. And you see a side of Rose Egbert you never knew existed and holy hot DAMN you’re not sure if you’re terrified or in love with her. Possibly both. Probably both. She’s quick witted alright, devastatingly intelligent and in this to WIN. Dad Egbert has all of her debate trophies (medals? I wasn’t in debate idk how these things work) displayed as proudly as he displayed his clown statues in the canon timeline. Her role as a Seer of Breath is to best free the timeline and her friendgroup from the clutches of the Literally-A-Demon Lord of Time, who seeks to enslave them, their timeline, and the universe to his whims, to become his playthings. Her role is to forsee the best route, not in terms of luck, but as a specific, pointed fuck you to Doc Scratch, Lord English, and everything associated with them. That part in canon where Rose is talking to Doc and he’s like “do you even still have that emotion?” or whatever and she’s like “Why, yes, it seems it’s all been mysteriously relocated to my middle finger. The dark magics are at it again.” Like that but times a thousand she is SMART she has FORESIGHT and she is going to FREE THEIR TIMELINE, BITCH.

Dave Harley grew up alone on an island with a magic dog and some weird chess folk, so first of all he doesn’t know what a gender is so jot that down, second of all what do you mean boys don’t like boys? Obviously boys like boys, he likes boys, u r foolish, u silly human culture you. So uh, you know how Dave is like, this huge massive attention whore in canon and he starts out “I’m so cool are you noticing me being cool and not caring over here”? Yeah no, immediately bypasses that, this boy wants ATTENTION so TALK TO HIM DAMMIT. His only real guide for physical touch has been a dog and some people who are not human so Personal Space Whomst? Dave is here, he is in your personal space, you are paying attention to him bitches. His collection of weird dead shit is even weirder, given that it is a Harley tradition to taxidermy weird shit and also he lives out on an island now. Probably takes the PRETTIEST photos of like, the island views and stuff, which he naturally posts online and gets a lot of likes and reblogs for which, good, give him that sweet sweet validation. His selfies are everywhere. Go like them. His role as the Knight of Space would be a pretty important one, he’s upholding the balance of the universe and breeding the new one and stuff, which basically just means he’s the weird frog dad now. You see all those frogs? Those are his babies. He loves them. Smorch. Dave ew don’t kiss frogs that’s gross. Dave does not care, Dave is gonna smooch those frogs bc he loves them and all their mutant little paradox offspring. Dave the frog whisperer. Whenever Karkat’s getting screechy he just like. Takes one out of his sylladex or his hood or pocket or SOMEWHERE and sets it delicately down in front of Karkat when he’s not looking and Karkat proceeds to screech and flip out and Dave laughs at him. This Dave is likely a lot more carefree, but doesn’t have a good grasp of concepts like “responsibility” or “giving people space.” A good and goofy kid, with some nice tasty abandonment issues probably thrown into the mix there somewhere. He doesn’t wanna be alone again.

John Lalonde very likely has a very bad grasp of what consequences are. If he breaks shit, they can just buy a new one, if he pranks someone a little too mean or says something that goes a little too far, his mom is easy to forgive him. My dear sweet ADHD child probably didn’t do too good in school and did a lot of class clowning tomfoolery but Mom Lalonde didn’t discipline him for it at home so threats of “I will call your mother if you don’t settle down” didn’t have much of an effect on him. He’s a good kid! Friendly and loving and affectionate, but if he fucks up he doesn’t take responsibility for it and pulls the “it was just a joke!” card way too frequently and doesn’t know how to actually apologize or fix his mistakes. But even though he’s very outwardly childish, he’s also surprisingly mature for his age, by way of like, opinions and stuff? Like he’ll say stuff and it’ll seem totally left field for him cause John you’re like, the funny dude of our group, but he’s also the one who knows how to disinfect wounds and the RIDICULOUS importance of making sure your older sibling knows who their DD is when they’re off drinking with their friends and while he doesn’t have an emotional reaction to traumatic events right off the bat (like in canon) he does do a VERY good job of responding pragmatically to them, and that’s kind of a result of yeah, his mom’s his buddy, and yeah, she lets him get away with anything, but no, John doesn’t really get the chance to be a kid ALL the time, and in part he acts out like this because he’s frustrated that he CAN’T fully be a kid, so he’s overcompensating. His role as the Heir of Light would be as somebody who embodies luck and intellect, which he doesn’t really feel like he can do. He’s not smart, right? He’s never done well in school. But he has really high emotional intelligence, and he’s got street smarts no 13 year old has any business having, and he eventually comes to realize that he is lucky. He’s very lucky. He’s got good friends who love him and who he loves, a strong team who can conquer the world, the universe, even a demon with the strength of a green sun, and when John comes to appreciate consequences and ramifications of their actions, he would be better able to understand how to use his powers to become the luckiest little shit in the universe, and could look death in the face with confidence because he understands, now, he’s realized some things, some the easy way and some lessons were painfully hard, but he’s confident in what he’s doing and he’s got his friends at his back.

Jade Strider, I hate to say it, but I think she would end up a very meek individual. Very, very hypervigilant, aware of everyone’s mood around her and this HUGE people pleaser, because as far as she’s concerned “not actively pleased” might as well be utterly synonymous to “actively displeased.” Life is uncertain to her, she’s very diligent about reading the moods of others and making them happy. Everyone loves her and think she’s just absolutely the best, she’s always ready to listen, always eager to cheer her friends up when they’re feeling down, doesn’t say jack SHIT about herself. If people ask she straight up lies. She does NOT talk about her own problems, even worse than in canon. She is happy go lucky and pleasant to be around, see? She’s doing great. Don’t worry about her! Oh do you need to talk about something? She’s got hair-trigger reflexes and does NOT react well to sudden loud noises or jumpscares. She’s very forgiving, because it’s only natural that sometimes her friends will hurt her feelings, right? That’s what love looks like. Some things just can’t be prevented, so why bother. Lotta learned helplessness kinda shit going down. Very reactive to positive feedback and physical affection (as long as she sees it coming) but has no idea how to go about asking for it. She’s very popular at her school for being pretty and cool and badass and friendly all tied up into one but her friendships are very shallow with her school friends, because if she cannot open up about herself, what room is there for emotional intimacy? As a Witch of Time, her main thing that needs to happen is she needs to get fed up. She needs to get pissed off. She doesn’t deserve this shit! She’s thirteen! She doesn’t deserve a parent who didn’t love her, she doesn’t deserve to have the weight of the timeline on her shoulders, she doesn’t deserve to see her own corpse over and over and fucking OVER again! This isn’t fair, this isn’t right, she doesn’t FUCKING want this, fuck her Bro fuck the Game fuck keeping quiet she’s a KID and she’s HURTING and she will be fucking UPSET about it! And then she’s gotta let John, and Rose, and Dave hold her and tell her she’s right, she’s so right, she is absolutely entitled to her anger, she’s allowed to feel angry about this, she’s gonna be okay though, they’re there, they love her and they’re not gonna let anyone hurt her ever again, she’s allowed to feel hellfire down deep to her bones but then, most importantly, she needs to let her friends help her, she needs to trust them, and learn how trusting works, learn what love looks like and how all her little broken pieces fit back together. And no, she’s never gonna fully recover from that. She knows she’s gonna be a compulsive liar down to her dying day and she’s never going to be able to trust openly like some people do, but she’s got people who love her and who she loves dearly, and she’s going to be okay, and every day it gets a little easier. Some days are bad, yeah, some days she’s angry over stuff she thought she got over years ago, but at the end of the Game, after all has been ripped asunder and they’ve moved into their new lives on Earth C, she is allowed to recover and to rest and sure it’s not always easy, but she’s always trying, and things are better now.

#Rose Lalonde #John Egbert #Dave Strider #Jade Harley #Rose Egbert #Dave Harley #John Lalonde #Jade Strider #answers #Homestuck #John #Jade #Dave #kidswap #Homestuck meta #analysis #Homestuck analysis

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diyunho · 7 years

Text

The Joker x Reader - “No Names” Part 3

When The Joker told you he found somebody else, your world shattered to pieces. But what hurt the most was the fact that he didn’t even bother to come around and see his little girls; very hard to find excuses on why their father is missing, especially when the triplets adore him. And extremely hard to cope with the gloomy future after you found out some details that might explain his estrangement.

Part 1: http://diyunho.tumblr.com/post/164355559106/the-joker-x-reader-no-names-part-1

Part 2:http://diyunho.tumblr.com/post/164854110621/the-joker-x-reader-no-names-part-2

“Mommy’s going to have another baby,” Evie whispers in Frost’s ear. He’s on the couch, waiting to drive all of you to the beach house.

“Really?” he pretends not to know, even if the triplets keep on repeating the old news every time they see him.

“Yes, it’s a girl,” Mia giggles, climbing in his lap. Emma abandons her toys and gets on the couch, starting to play with Jonny’s hair. “Daddy says he’ll have another pretty doll added to his collection,” she continues to stoke Frosts’ hair and the other two agree.

“U-hum, Daddy said she’ll be cute like us,” Mia’s eyes get big with anticipation. “I can’t wait to see her; I’ll take care of my little sister,” she decides.

“That’s great!” Jonny praises, helping Mia mount his other knee. “You will be an awesome babysitter.”

“No, I’ll take care of her!” Emma sulks while Evie whimpers, unhappy:

“No, I will!”

The inevitable bickering begins while Frost attempts to calm down the spirited little girls.

“I’m telling mommy,” Mia pushes Evie’s head.

“I’m telling daddy!” she fights back, trying to slap her sister.

“I’m telling both!” Emma pouts and you enter the living room, followed by The Joker.

“Hey, what’s going on? Why are you shouting?” you crinkle your nose and the siblings abandon their current preoccupation and run to both parents, explaining why they should take of the little one after she’s born.

“You can all take care of her, OK?” J replies, grumpy from the terrible headache he woke up with this morning. He took some pills to help out with that but no relief so far. Of course the migraine is a side effect due to all the medications he’s on; never ending issues: one thing leading to another.

There’s protesting, ponytails are being pulled, plus some more pushing around and eventually the turmoil fades once everybody steps in the elevator. The excitement of playing in the sand makes things better no matter what.

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

The girls are having fun on the beach and you joined your boyfriend on the terrace, relaxing in the huge hammock under the canopy. His head is resting in your lap, waiting for the remedy to work: you had to give him an extra dose for the migraine since the pain didn’t go away with the usual fix.

“How come there’s only one Princess in here?” J grumbles, caressing your tummy; not too big for now since you are just 5 months pregnant.

“I don’t know, but it’s exciting, isn’t it?” you cheerfully ask, knowing he’s in a bad mood.

“Yeah, it is, but only one?! I think I’m losing my touch…” he sighs and it makes you laugh:

“I doubt that’s the reason.”

He’s still frowning so you want to distract him somehow.

“You know what J ?”

“What?”

“I wanted to ask you to marry me so many times,” you smile, confessing to the actual truth.

“Why didn’t you?” The Joker looks at you, suddenly interested at your revelation.

“Well, I figured that if you wanted to marry me, you would have asked.”

“True,” he admits and you punch his shoulder.

“Not the answer I was expecting, can’t you be sweet for once?!” “I’m always sweet; the sweetest guy ever!”

“No… you’re not,” you take a deep breath and he agrees:

“Yeah…I’m not…”

You watch the children playing for a little bit and he realizes you’re still upset.

“Pumpkin?”

“Yes?” you twirl the green strands of hair around your fingers, absent minded.

“After I die and I get to the gates of hell, you know what I’m gonna say?”

You immediately want to protest against his statement but J continues.

“I’ll tell them my woman did a lot of bad things, but she should go to a better place: she put up with me and had my children so she shouldn’t follow me there. Umm…why are you crying? It’s supposed to make you laugh,” The Joker bites on his lip, confused, oblivious at your emotions. “Is it the hormones?”

“N-no…” you sniffle, struggling to bend over to kiss his forehead. “This is probably the sweetest thing that ever came out of your mouth.”

“Told you I’m a sweet guy, “ J smirks, victorious. “Are you gonna miss me?” he kisses your wrist and it makes you sadder.

“Not even for a second,” the shaky voice announces.

“Good, you shouldn’t,” he mumbles, closing his eyes and enjoying the cool breeze on his face. “But at least you’ll be left behind with my heart. Umm…can you stop crying? I’m referring to the tattoo, Kitten, all right?” J slides up your body, getting comfortable by your side. “Why are you so hormonal?” he glances at the design he was referring to, pretending not to understand your feelings.

The Joker has playing cards symbols tattooed on his fingers: spades, diamonds and clubs, but he’s missing the heart—you are the one that has the missing symbol inked on your skin, right on top of where your heart is, with the writing under it: “Mister J’s.”

“You always misunderstand what I’m saying, Y/N,” he grumbles, kind of uneasy at your tears. “Cut it out…” but his threat doesn’t even sound harsh. “What am I going to do with you, hm?... “ he wonders and wipes your cheeks which prompts more tears coming out and you cuddling to his chest.

“If you leave me I’ll never talk to you again,” the rant starts without any warning.

“Oh my God, you promise?” and you giggle through tears while the top of your head is getting covered in soft kisses. “Hey,” he gets your attention, “I don’t want you to sleep with anybody else after I die; I really think you should consider becoming a nun.”

You elbow him, laughing and crying in the same time:

“You’re an idiot,” you kiss him and J has some words for you:

“Nobody calls me that, Pumpkin! Except Godzilla,” he’s fast to add, knowing how much you hate the nickname. “Not a single soul dares fucking with the big creature.”

“Such a horrible man,” you whimper, distracted by his antiques.

“Thank you, I was hoping you’ll notice,” and he’s so satisfied with himself that he finally realizes the headache is gone. “Wanna make out?” the proposition follows and it earns criticism.

“I thought we already kind of were…”

“I was working on it, you just keep on crying! But anyway, fair warning: I don’t think I can do more than that. To my eternal shame, I’m pretty drained from my meds and I doubt more will happen,” he snarls in your ear, self-conscious about the problem.

“I just want to kiss you and hold you, honey,” you imitate his voice and J rolls his eyes and yanks at your almost inexistent waist. “Are you using my own line?! It’s mine, find your own! And I wouldn’t be so quick to mock: you fell for it every single time; that’s how we got the kids, “ J snickers, reminding you about the truth. “Sooo easy to trick,” he keeps on going, excited he can tease.

“Are you going to talk all day ?!” you inquire because he won’t shut up.

“I can talk for weeks,” the cocky remark bluntly comes to an end when The Joker gulps, his fingers clinging to your dress. “Shit…muscle spasms,” he groans, the pain taking over.

“Hold on!” you jump off the hammock, running inside for the treatment.

“You’re pretty fast for a pregnant woman!” J yells, trying to contain the agonizing ache taking over every inch of his being. You get back to him in a flash, worried about his condition.

“Here, take the pills,” you hand him over 3 of them with a glass of water, hoping they will work soon. J pulls you back next to him; it makes him feel better. He shivers under the pressure of his muscles involuntary contracting and digs his fingers in your back. It hurts so badly because he doesn’t realize how strong his hold is but you don’t make a sound. You’ll probably end up with bruises again, yet The Joker doesn’t do it intentionally.

His shrieky breath worries you even if this happens often.

“Do you want to go inside? It’s getting dark out here. The kids played all day, time to eat and get them ready for bed. You think you can move?”

“No, not yet,” J admits, moaning from discomfort as soon as he attempts to lift his head up.

“That’s ok, we’ll wait for a little bit then,” and you peck his temple, wishing you could take the pain away.

“What are you still doing here?” he interrupts, struggling to speak.

“Well, I’m not going inside either until you can move.”

“No, why are you still here?”

You faked not understanding what he meant but now you can’t go around the answer.

“Where else I am supposed to be? I belong here.”

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

The triplets whined until they were allowed to sleep in the master bedroom with you two. They all passed out in a matter of minutes, the small bodies curled up against yours. J is better because the meds worked, but he wasn’t able to eat anything and you hate it: he is skinnier as it is, doesn’t need to lose more weight.

“Read to me, Princess,” he stretches and repositions himself closer to you, this way he can play with your long hair.

“Let’s see what we have here,” you reach for the two books on the night stand. “We have Shelley and his love poems plus Poe and his morbid stuff,” you whisper since the girls are asleep.

“Morbid!” J is quick to choose.

“We’ll go with love,” you wink and he puffs, annoyed:

“Yuck!”

You ignore him and search for some of your favorites when he unexpectedly turns your face towards him. The Joker stares at you, debating on what he is about to utter.

“I have a list… a secret list in my mind with people I don’t hate…”

“You do?” you smile, shifting his way since it seems important; you can tell.

“Yes, and…umm… stop smiling! You and the girls didn’t make the cut!” J puckers his lips, irritated at his own disclosure.

“Oohh, that’s sad… Who’s on the list then?” you nuzzle in his neck, kissing it.

“Just Godzilla and some loud brats,” he spits out in a hurry and you giggle.

“Do they have names?” you curiously check.

“No, no names…”

“Lucky them,” you exhale, cupping his face. “Too bad me and our children are not on the list.”

J doesn’t reply and you let go, returning to your book and starting to read with such a soothing voice he relaxes right away. By the fourth poem he’s out cold and you spend another hour gazing at him, thinking how much you wish he could live forever.

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

“Morning, baby,” you yawn and touch his shoulder. “The girls have been up for a while, I’ll make coffee and breakfast should arrive soon. OK?... … …Hey, did you hear me?” you ask, panicking when he doesn’t open his eyes after you shake him. “Baby, wake up!”

But he didn’t wake up, not even after you gave him the emergency adrenaline shot. His doctors arrived at your hideout in a hurry, confirming your worst fear: The Joker slipped into a coma and there is no way to know if/when he will come out of it. The news broke your heart and it was very difficult to explain to the triplets:

“Daddy…won’t wake up anymore,” and you try so hard not to cry. “But he might at one point and in the meantime we’ll pretend he’s awake and continue to speak to him, allright?”

The kids looked at each other, then at you, then at him, not comprehending the severity of what was announced to them.

“Is daddy very tired?” Evie asks, puzzled.

“Yes, honey, he is, that’s why he’s resting,” you sadly smile, checking his IV line. Since J can’t take oral medications anymore, everything was converted to liquids, including the nutrients he needs. You decided to stay at the beach because he loves the ocean and maybe hearing the waves crashing on the beach might help.

“What is this?” Emma walks in the front of the heart monitor that keeps on beeping, which prompts the other two siblings to do the same.

“That’s daddy’s heart,” you explain so they can understand.

“Waaahhh,” Mia is amazed and gets on her toes to see better. She kisses the screen, snickering, followed by her sisters.

Such innocence, you think, wiping a rebel tear.

“Who wants to give daddy a massage?” the offer gets their attention and they all jump on the bed, fighting. “Me!”

“No, me!”

“Your nurses will oblige your every whim,” you peck his forehead. “If they are too loud, you just have to wake up and say so… … …No? Well then, I guess you’ll have to deal with your daughters chewing your ears off. Enjoy!”

-- “Oh my God, she’s kicking so hard! I think she may have a party going on in here,” you keep his right hand on your bump since the other one is hooked to the IV pole. “I am pretty big now, almost there with the pregnancy. You’re missing on the fun…” you keep on yapping like you always do. Sometimes you even answer for him.

“Don’t you wanna ask me if I’m auditioning for Godzilla’s part in the next movie?...No…? It’s your opportunity to tease me again, I know you want to…Wow, that’s a first! How come you’re so mellow? Rawwrrr!” you roar, even if you know it’s no use. “Hey, that was pretty funny, you can at least laugh… Uhhhh…” you give up, glaring at the spinning fan on the ceiling. “You’ve been like this for almost 4 months, aren’t’ you bored? You get bored easily… … … Anyway, I’m gonna read you something now. Morbid or love?”

After no reaction from his side, you decide.

“We’ll go with morbid, your favorite. Stephen King or Poe?... … … Poe you say? Your wish is my command,” and you start reading to him, being so tired you can barely see the words.

-- “I think I’ll have to find me another boyfriend,” you huff, injecting his weekly shot in his arm. “I am not becoming a nun so I will have to sleep with somebody else. If you don’t agree, you just have to wake up and say so… … … No? I thought you cared. Oh, well, your loss,” and then the remorse takes over.

“I’m not going to find another boyfriend, ok? You’re lucky I like you…” and looking at his face makes you aware of how much you miss him. “If you want to let go…you can…” you bite your cheek, sniffling but you change your mind in an instant. “If you dare doing this to me and the girls, I’ll hate you forever! I’m not joking!!”

-- You are so worn out you fell asleep at the dinner table. Your people brought over food and you took a few bites, then just dozed off. The girls didn’t notice but Frost did since he was there. He had to carry you in the bedroom and tucked you in. That’s when he decided he should speak up. The next day you heard about it:

“Y/N, you need help.”

“With what?”

“You’re exhausted: you’ll have your baby soon, you’re taking care of the girls and Mister J. There are so many of us, we can help you.”

“This is my family, my responsibility, got it?” you raise your voice, irked.

“I wasn’t suggesting otherwise,” Jonny pacifies your outburst. “But if you get sick, Mister J will kill us all.”

You bite on your nails and he has a suggestion:

“Would you prefer…just me to help with Mister J?”

You softly sigh, indirectly answering his question:

“It’s…it’s hard for me to turn him.” “I can do that,” he nods and you agree by not replying.

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

“Here’s your new Princess,” you place the newborn on his chest, wrapping his arm around her and holding it in place since he can’t do it himself. “ She is absolutely adorable, don’t you want to see her?... … … Open your eyes and look at your daughter…No? Hm, that’s pretty heartless, even for you. Oh, wait, never mind, I have your heart, I forgot,” you look down the cleavage at your tattoo. “Still, this is no excuse…I decided on the name Amelia and we can go with Amy from there. If you don’t like the name, all you have to do is wake up and tell me so… … Going once, going twice….Amelia it is then,” you kiss the little head then his lips.

-- The triplets are mesmerized by the new addition to the family. They all want to hold her and be her favorite. They get in such fights and it drives you nuts, but in a good way.

“This is my sister!” Evie struggles to get in front of the line formed around the crib. (The crib is in the master bedroom because you want The Joker to hear his little girl.)

“No, she’s mine!” Mia slaps Evie’s hand, trying to climb inside.

“No-oooo, Amelia’s mine!” Emma takes over and the newborn fusses from the ruckus.

“Ssssttt, don’t wake her up!” you admonish the triplets and they listen, disappointed they can’t play with their new favorite toy.

-- When Amy cries at night, you gently kick J.

“It’s your turn, go!... … Don’t try to get out of it!... No?... You owe me big!” and you get out of bed, dragging your feet on the floor, wishing you could nap more than 2 hours at a time. “Your turn to be on diaper duty, Mister King of Gotham,” you point out, upset. “Don’t think I don’t know you are doing this on purpose to skip your turn! So rude…” you mutter, actually being upset because the new meds J is on don’t do too much so far and he’s still in a coma. Very frustrating. There is no cure for his disease, but at least you want him awake.

“You know what? I’m leaving you! I’m taking Amelia and the triplets and we’re out of here! See how you like to be alone!” you threaten, mad at everything, finishing up your task. You suddenly realize the heart monitor intensified its beeping and you freeze. You place her back in the crib and rush to his side. His chest is going up and down fast and you hold his hand, distressed.

“Did you hear me?... Baby, did you hear me?... We’re not leaving, I was just saying! Calm down, we’re not going anywhere…” you start kissing his face all over. It takes about 5 more minutes before the heartbeat goes back to normal.

The doctors couldn’t guarantee that his reaction was due to your ultimatum but they said it’s not impossible. That was the first feedback you ever got since the morning he didn’t wake up anymore.

-- You slide the wedding band on his ring finger, taking advantage of the state he’s in and you’re not even sorry.

“There, if you don’t want it, have the courage to say it to my face. If you don’t protest, I am thinking that you want it…Yes?... Well, then, you can keep it. Looks sexy on you, I must state the obvious here. … … Did you add Amelia to that list of yours? You should…unless she won’t make the cut either…I wish you would open your eyes to see how cute she is. Don’t you miss all of us? I assume you do but you are too stubborn to do something about it…” and you continue, briefing The Joker about the plans you’ve been working on for a while. “Tonight we raid “Excell” laboratories, they are experimenting on a medication I want for you… But the catalyst that it needs to be combined with it’s made in Japan; we’ll definitely get that one too as soon as possible. Don’t worry about a thing, I told you: you will live forever. Babysit the girls, ok? You’ll have help from our men, just in case…“

-- Your henchmen are scattered all over the building, scavenging everything they can get their hands on. You can’t be in there for too long; even if you took care of the alarm, you can’t risk lingering in the medical facility.

You broke into the lab alone and found what you needed; just stashed the vials in a suitcase when you realize you are being watched from the far corner of the room.

“Of course you would show up, you always know, don’t you?” you back out, pointing your gun at The Batman. He doesn’t say a word, but takes a few steps towards you.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” and that crazy grin on your face makes him halt. “We are getting out of here and I am taking this with me ! Don’t even dream about being a hero tonight!”

Suddenly, explosions are heard in the distance, and they are coming closer and closer until a big detonation shakes the building, making the windows crack.

“That was close,” you chuckle. “Across the street to be precise.”

Alarms start blaring in the background, turmoil and chaos fastly increasing on the streets.

“All the places were empty, consider it… a professional courtesy,” you growl, backing out more. “The next ones won’t be, I made sure of that. Do you want your precious Gotham citizens to die? If we don’t leave safe and unharmed, it all goes to shit!!!”

That mask hides any trace of emotion he might have but the distorted voice echoes in the lab.

“What you have it’s useless without the catalyst. Why bother?”

“I’ll get it somehow! Now stay there and don’t move or we blow up more!”

You exit the room, not turning your back on The Batman until he is out of sight.

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

A week passed by and the medication from Japan that needs to be combined with what you stole from “Excell” laboratories is still not in your possession. You are running out of patience.

“Y/N, our courier from East Gotham dropped this box about an hour ago. It has your name on it; were you waiting for a shipment?”

“No,” you signal him to come on the porch. Amelia is in a small crib outside, sleeping, and the girls are having fun digging a big hole in the sand. “What is this?”

“Not sure, but he said he was given to him by our West Gotham courier.”

“Weird, I wonder what…” and your heart stops when you open the sealed box and see the small typed note on top of a metal container. “Consider it a professional courtesy.”

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

J blinks a few times, wincing in pain, his mind cloudy and confused. He has no idea what’s going on and after being in a coma for months, he’s incapable of speaking or moving too much. He feels the weight on his chest and barely manages to look down, noticing his three month old daughter sleeping on him, sucking on her thumb. The Joker struggles to turn his head to his right to see you are sleeping also, still holding the book you read to him tonight, completely passed out with the triplets snuggled to your body.

His eyelids are so heavy that he gives in, having one single thought in mind before dozing off with the rest of his family:

I think I’m gonna live forever...

Also read: MASTERLIST

http://diyunho.tumblr.com/post/153664676321/joker-x-reader-masterlist

#the joker x reader #the joker fanfiction #the joker jared leto #the joker imagine #the joker #jared leto #jared leto fanfiction #jared leto imagine #THE SUICIDE SQUAD #the suicide squad imagine #the suicide squad fanfiction #mister j #Mistah J #mr. j #puddin #dc #DC comics

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secretblog1212 · 6 years

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So i got 2 if u don't mind so the first is stain usually nevers go hard ob bill but bill was be stubborn and grumpy so stain shows him what its like to have a hardcore tickle fight then u should do one with the whole loser club but mostly get stain and eds f u don't want to its ok love u😍😍 also i just found u blog and squeald at the fics😂😂😂

this is for the first one and holy fuck thank you, i died reading your prompts and promise i will get on them. I kinda messed up because i wrote this on my phone near midnight and was like half coherent and read it wrong and thought you meant stan getting rekt by bill instead of the other way around and im sorry. i will redo it but i figured i should at least post this thingy. And no i will do anything you ask, like almost literally anything and i love you.

“Bill?” Stan asked in the middle of their cuddle session over at his own house. “Why… why don’t…” his face flushed and she shoved it into Bills stomach.

Bill wasn’t sure what was happening but he was amused. It had to be good if Stan couldn’t even say it. “Yeah?”

Stan didn’t remove his face so when he spoke it was nearly to muffled to understand. Nearly being the key term.

“Why don’t you ever tickle tickle me?”

He looked up and his face was unbelievably red. Bill wasn’t quiet sure what he meant. Tickle tickle? Wasn’t the tickles he gave Stan tickles? Did he want different tickles? Confusion spread across his face and Stan knew he was going to have to explain further.

“Well when you tickle Richie you tickle him… hard? I guess and it makes him laugh hard too… but you only tickle me soft and…” Stan said getting more and more flustered the longer he talked without Bill understanding. Why couldn’t he just magically understand that Stan wanted to get wrecked, or as Richie had put it when he explained how it felt to Stan, because trust me Stan had asked, he had specified wrecked spelt differently. Something like rekted? Maybe recked? He wasn’t sure but it was weird.

Richie had described it as losing control in the best way because it felt nice to not have to worry. You couldn’t control your actions or stop the other person from doing what ever they wanted. They could do anything they wanted and that had never seemed more appealing to Stan before. He wanted to not be held accountable for himself even if it made him feel childish. He wanted to hear Bill talk to him like he did with Richie, low tones and teasing. Making comments that made Stan’s face blush when he thought about them before he went to sleep and want to curl his fingers into his side and pretend it was Bill there instead of him.

He needed to know what it felt like. Richie had also warned him that it wasn’t something everyone liked. To him it made him feel cared for and safe but it could make others feel hated or put of control in a bad way. Stan had a fifty fifty shot at either with the way his mind would flip back and forth.

“Do you wuh-want me to tickle you hard…l-l-like I do Richie?” Bill asked carding a hand through Stan’s curls and tugging his head up so Stan was looking at him.

“I-I… maybe? A little bit sometimes…” Stan said in a soft voice, he was worried about how Bill would react. He knew he would be fine with it but a voice in the back of his head told him that Bill would think it was so weird. ‘Who likes to be tickled?’ ‘Richie likes it and none of the losers think it’s weird. Bill tickles Richie all the time.’ He tried to tell the voice. The voice always told him things like that, things he knew weren’t true but the voice said them anyway. The voice liked to try to convince him that they were true no matter how much he knew they weren’t until he started to doubt himself and believe the voice.

'Freak! He’s going to hate you!’

Stan did his best to tune out the voice and tried to instead focus on how Bills hands felt when they scratched at his scalp and tugged at the knots in his hair that he could never get out.

“D-do you want me to nuh-now?”

Stan shoved his head into Bills shoulders. He was using that voice. That voice. Oh god that voice did things to his brain. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t speak. He moved Bills hand, grabbing him by the wrist, down to his hip. He rolled over so his back was against Bills chest before taking his other hand and putting it onto his other hip as well.

Bill didn’t move, why wasn’t he moving? “What do you want me to do Stanny? Do you want me to tickle you? To tickle your hips until you can’t breathe, you can’t move? Is that what you want? You’re going to need to tell me what you want Stanny.”

That voice. He never stuttered when he used it making it all that much worse. He was fully confident it himself.

Stan was already dying. Bill wanted him to tell him to tickle him. He couldn’t do that! But he really really needed to feel Bill digging into his hips and putting raspberries on his neck and shoulders and any skin he could reach. He needed to feel Bills fingers digging between his ribs and into the softness left over from the baby fat he never quiet grew out of. He needed to feel the quick pinches and squeezes on his upper thighs that made him kick out. He even wanted Bill do pin him down and hold his legs still as he tickled his feet, he had forgotten his feet were even ticklish. He needed to feel Bill and nodding his head wasn’t going to get him that.

“I… I want you to.”

“To what? What do you want me to do, and where do you want me to do it at?” Bill whispered into his ear, not enough to be ticklish but enough to be vaguely uncomfortably tingly.

“I-I…” Stan stuttered. “I want you to tickle me… my hips and… and I want you to tickle my stomach and my… my legs.” Stan swallowed the rock slowly cutting off his words. “Please. Please Bill I want it. So bad. Bill I can’t. Bill.”

Stan shivered as he felt fingers tap against his navel. As Bill whispered with more breath than needed into his ear. “That’s all I needed you to ask Stanny.”

Bills hands were suddenly everywhere. His hips and his ribs. In his belly fat and wiggling under his where his neck had slammed down into his chest.

Stan was hysterical, he was beyond words. He did his best to stay still, holding his sheets jn a death grip and making sure not to squirm to far or hard. Slowing he jerking muscles and moving them back to where he wanted them.

He was out of control, and he was loving it. The rational side of his brain was screaming at him. ’You’re to vulnerable!’ Stan couldn’t hear them over Bills whispers. Asking if he wanted more, if he was enjoying it, was he having fun? Stan wouldn’t of been able to reply even if he could of gotten all three yes’s past his near minacial laughter.

Bill tickled him till he was hoarse and his mom came to make sure he was okay, poking her head in through the door without either boy noticing her presence before retreating with a smile to tell her husband that it was okay and they were just play fighting. He was tickled till he didn’t have to try to restrain himself since his limbs wouldn’t move even if he wanted them to.

By the time Bill stopped Stan’s laughter had long past reached silent with snorting. Bill thought this trait was adorable why it only flustered and made Stan laugh harder. They went until Stan thought he would go crazy and somehow just as be felt he would lose control of everything, including his bladder which had started to make itself known, Bill slowed it down just like he did with Richie. If you stopped all the sudden there was no calming transition period, something that was needed to go from laughing hard to no laughing at all in minutes.

Stan was basically gone when Bills fingers stopped. His breathing was fast but steady and strong. Bill asked him if he was okay.

Stan nodded, he couldn’t talk.

Bill asked if he liked it and wanted him to do it again sometime?

Stan nodded. God yes.

#ticklish stan #Tickles #prompts #he wanted tickles #stenbrough #gay #it #bill and stan #Bills stutter #stan uris #Bill calls stan stanny #fic #tickle fic

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cafephan · 7 years

Text

dan and phil play my horse prince #3: a summary

two seconds in and already a questionable horse impression okay time to strap in for another weird one

"i knew you were going to start clopping"

clopping??? klopping???? clopping looks better so i'm going with that

"cloppity clop when will we stop.... is the question many of you have been asking" aw they saw my tweets

dan licked his lips as he looked over to phil SAME

he is wearing the ladybird jumper so i agree

remember the ladybird jumper selfie??? let's take a moment

okay back to the video

it was a nice moment of remembrance though right

anyway

"i like a good divisive series"

"this is our great youtube controversy, phil"

those people that are uncomfortable, it's legit the same level of sexual tension dnp have on a regular basis just in the form of a girl and horse like,,, it's 2017 the hat/cherry/lung/milk/kitten/whatever else fic exists there are more disturbing things out there

they're validating those of you though, good for you i'm happy for your notices

"it's not literal bestiality" // "it's just a lol" "a nice little lol... just a casual lol"

"i think we should do this one and see how we feel" i mean finally putting that positions book to good use

there's not much eye contact so far are they okay

i think recently we've been spoilt with eye contact and now we're feeling like something's wrong because they're not gawking at each other

"so whether you want to or not, strap yourselves in for ten minutes of erotic equine roleplay"

phil demonstrating that sweet sweet hand porn

"i don't think we should've encouraged you with the fanart" story of your life innit lads

congrats to those phanartists that got noticed!! you're very talented and i appreciate you!!!

i appreciate the last one which highlights the shaved sides i liked that a lot ty

"the less we talk about that the better" legit the phandom about 2012

dan's reaction to the fanart,,, get those screenshots

"keep it coming.... or don't, it's up to you" phil pls you're making it too easy for me

"do you need to do that though?" // "i do, it's a thing now" living for the little domestic i feel deprived

"dog. dog has a moustache."

"phil that makes no sense" as if u never make any mistakes howell phil's waiting to call you out like the absolute savage that he is

remember the thomas the tank engine fuck-up, phil was right on that

phil's laugh my ears are blessed

they have two very different reactions to a horse making breakfast

i found another of dan's kinks who's keeping tabs on them all we've got another to add to the list

"what's a good... lad? one that makes breakfast, the morning after" is that a subtle wink wink nudge nudge, daniel

"i'm hyped. this, this is, this is a soap." dan is so excited he's tripping on his words

he's staring at phil okay world order has been restored

"you know you love it, stop lying to yourself" // "you love it. just thumbs it up anyway, if you don't like it"

i love the detailed hair angles we get when they both look down on the screen i appreciate it a lot

do you think phil will ever ditch the straighteners

"that's really posh" phil the savage already getting his revenge

congrats hp stans for phil dropping that reference

did they just compare all of our mums to a horse

"anyone that exudes glitter and makes sure that you're resting on the weekend... that's who you need in your life"

"maybe susankun's on the crunchy nut like us" i bet you both are

maybe see a doctor about that

i'm not sorry

"am i the dog? i think i'm the dog" phil says after barking and effectively claiming the role of the dog

"you just frickin volunteered" dan the savage

"that was some good borks" so any excuse to compliment phil huh

"what is this video" me every time i read these summaries before posting them, i relate phil

"some good pottery"

"unless this is a magnetic knife, how is the horse holding it? with that horse thumb he's just gonna grow?"

dan demonstrates the claw technique

look at that hand movement fluidity this ain't his first rodeo

dan... are u ok.... you've just been in this position for four seconds...

turned into seven seconds, the longest seven seconds of my life.... is it one of the new 7sc they tweeted out for

“can i stroke him?” // “i’ll give him a stroke”

lanky emo lads fawn over hairbrush functions

that sounded like a weird porn didn’t it oh god no

“look at this roleplay, we nintendogs now”

“oh yeah, feel my brush”

dan gives that side-eye, he doesn’t like phil saying that to anyone else

the singing quota for this video has been filled

thought they were going to give us a sweet harmony for don’t speak and do no doubt proud but nope dan decides to parody it

this is not the harmony i wanted stop singing a weird cult theme or whatever the fuck it is

leek or spring onion will we ever know

phil is intent on killing simulations recently is he ok

“sorry guys” dan is on hand to comfort us

may need to rethink some comfort fic prompts i have

“is it okay? is anything about this okay?” if the existential crisis branding was still relevant he’d be on the floor rn

“shall we have a chat? a little horsey chinwag?” yes phil come back to your northern roots i’ve missed you

“a really long-faced chinwag” you tried dan but you will always be a southerner you can’t pull off chinwag

“is a carrot a fruit?” mister university asking the real question

is dan actually googling it

“AHA it was to catch us out for being an idiot!” i mean, you googled it so.... aren’t you still an idiot

phil is an orange kinda guy, dan is a grapefruit kinda guy...... explains a lot if you think about it

“he hates me again!” // “i can’t believe he hates me again, straight away...” pretty sure i’ve read that exact line of dialogue in a fic before

“what can i say? i’m more in tune with my inner.... horse... man”

casual head scratch as he silently prays for nobody to pick up on that quote

“deep fry anything, and that’s a winner”

“the choices hurt me so bad”

trying to justify this game just falls flat

no amount of meaningful speeches are rectifying it dan

but it’s not stopping him trying

oh he’s stopped now

“i think we should get our things back”

“this is our life” enjoy u demons

“great. i love my life” phil i just don’t even know what to say stop looking like you’re showing a lemon a good time

take out the lemon and stare at your wavy haired companion

if i used that line in a fic would you disown me

what kind of accent did dan just try to say field in because he sounded like me

“a horse can’t go on rollercoasters is what i’m thinking” // “can a horse go to the cinema?” “no, he’s going to get in the way of everyone’s screen” wow dan and phil, damperers of horse dreams since their corresponding years of birth

“yes, dan’s credit card is about to spend more money on this horse app” of course it’s dan that volunteers his card, phil would never

he’s the voice of emo goose he only spends money on luxury apps

mister moneybags high brands stan has no problem forking it out tho good for you son get some

“i am this entire developer’s number one supporter” me when dapg was announced

the frenzy time music is something special

“phil you’re doing the impossible quiz again and that is like ten out of ten banned” younger kirsten is crying

phil’s real laugh comes out to play again welcome back old friend i love you

“is she falling in love with the dog? is that what we’re asking?”

phil’s voice is like monotone throughout all of these videos he couldn’t give less of a shit

he’s just humouring dan’s kink(s)

dan stop criticising phil’s horse voice you can’t have it all for yourself all of the time we need as much of it as you do

“i am ready for this” me whenever they upload on a day that’s not the same day i’m posting a fic

there are very different theories about the multitude of onions

again phil’s includes death

i’m beginning to expect it

“oh he’s gone a bit sassy”

“passive aggressive.... okay” dan we feel the same way when we found out phil’s sent a dm

“i feel it coming.... i feel it coming... are you ready? am i ready?”

“that’s just dreamy. i’m in love with that” // “that is dreamy. i’d like that as a poster in my bathroom”

“that is the thickest spring onion i have ever seen in my entire life” // “it’d take a lot of gnashing” phil demonstrates said gnashing thank you for showing those teggies

“look at the girth on that one” you know what you did dan don’t blame us when the fics come rolling in

the onion fic

“how do you not love this? people, i mean come on, this is better than the current season of the walking dead”

uncomfortable fidgeting as dan realises he’s pissed off hundreds of thousands of people

staring at phil again yes i’m living

“this is better than the wire” phil doesn’t want to leave dan all alone in the opinion firing line

“it’s turning into that cake outtake from tatinof” HOW DARE YOU.

feeling less guilty having watched it now u fuckers

“it’s literally the cake situation”

seriously i’m going to watch it again just to spite you both

“imagine a horse pushing you against a wall and force-feeding you spring onions” dan i love you but i’m going to have to reject this prompt

the game turns sinister and they both look the most excited they’ve looked for the entire video

“this is fulfilling every kink that our audience might have” in which dan tries to push his weird kinks onto us out of fear phil will judge him

“is the next one set in the afterlife?”

“i feel like i went to a place i didn’t think i was going to”

“so real talk, let’s get real” phil i like that you’re trying to get close to the camera but you’re still too far away it’s not doing what you think it’s doing

“if you don’t want us to do this ever again...” “what’s wrong with you” honestly dan same

they’re literally encouraging thumbs down??? how long have they been in the youtube game???

“tell us your opinions down there” oh dear god they’re encouraging the fanfiction

“if you want the horse, we want to give you the horse. you know what we’re saying?”

it’s hard to quote when they’re both talking at the same time BE POLITE AND LET EACH OTHER SPEAK

“this is a two way relationship...” why did phil’s smile grow when dan said that

“slice our subscribe button like a spring onion” // “please don’t stab your laptop and/or mobile device” // “trot over to our other channels”

danisnotchoking (but he wants to be)

AmazingSpringOnion

#I'M SORRY THIS IS SO LATE #i was watching ant and dec and my parents and i were waiting for our takeaway #it took an hour longer than it should've #so i only had time to finish this now #but this was fuuuuuuuuuun

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cutegirlmayra · 7 years

Text

Sonic Prompt: Arabian Knights Prologue

World: Sonic and the Secret of the Rings (Game)

Couple/Premise?: greenyvertkins: I’m just curious as to how my idea would be approached if someone else used it as inspiration to write their own interpretation. Basically, its a prologue to Secret Rings, how Sonic comes into possession of the Arabian Nights storybook - Amy bumps into Tails in Station Square and not seeing Sonic with him, inquires about where he is only to learn that hes sick and back at the workshop in the mystic ruins resting. So Amy visits the antique shop near city hall and knowing that Sonic likes to read, buys the Arabian Nights book which she finds inside the shop. Theres a prompt for you :)

Dedicated to: @greenyvertekins

(x)

Prompt:

Amy is looking around in different shops and thrift stores, poking her head around decorations to see if anything catches her eye.

A spooky looking old library is looming like an antique near the center of some of her favorite small stores, but it looks more like a worn out, roman pillared building than a library...

She gave it a funny look, trying to look inside, but the hallow wind that passed gave it an old, ghostly sound as if time itself had stopped there.

She shivered in fright and realized the lights were off. Probably not open.

She continued on.

As she did so, she saw Tails walking about, something that was unusual most of the time, and happily dashed over to him.

“Tails!” she swung her arms out to greet him, passing small street over to him, as he turned to look to her.

‘If there’s Tails, then there’s a Sonic!’ she excited leaped into his arms, and looked around over his shoulder, before pulling him away and patting his shoulder.

“How are you!? It’s been too long!”

“H-h-hiya, Amy.” Tails was being pushed back with each hit, but kept his feet at their post, before shaking his head out of the dizziness from being pushed back and forth.

He then smiled weakly, his head down slightly, being submissive to her usually very direct and overbearing personality. “I’ve been alright. How about you?”

“Great!” she opened her mouth to show a huge grin, before then turning serious and looking behind him, squinting her eyes to narrow her focus and looked around the range behind Tails, then turned to glance behind her. “...Is Sonic with you, today?”

He rolled his eyes, typical Amy.

“Not today. He’s kinda sick, actually.” he scratched the back of his head.

She gasped, turning to him and blinking in surprise. “Sick!? Oh no! My poor Sonikku!” she put her hands in fists up to her face, her eyes sparkling and growing big with concern and love.

“Yeah. He’s okay though. Recovering well.” he fanned lightly his hands out in front of him, before gesturing as he spoke on to comfort and then explain. “He just showed up out of the blue one stormy night. And you know how I am with storms... HeeEEhhhh..” he squirmed, having a dislike for lightning and thunder.

“I opened the door after a few knocks that weren’t from any hammer of mine... and then I saw Sonic, shivering a smile, raising a shaky and cold thumbs up, and then sneezing. Drenched. He looked awful but he tried to play it cool. Slept for hours. He’s doing better though, no need to worry.” Tails sweat dropped, seeing Amy’s concern grow as she leaned forward, picturing the horrible scene.

“So... He’s all better now?”

“Yep! He’s just taking his time looking over my library.”

“Pfft.”

“Hey! A few stacked bookshelves is TOO a library!”

“N-no, not that. Though we could argue on that definition but... anyway! Sonic reads books?” she shook her head, not going to contemplate on ‘unimportant opinions’ when it came to some new information on Sonic!

“H-huh? Well, yeah! You didn’t know?” He placed a foot forward, his hands on his hips, and leaned toward her. He innocently looked up to her, smiling.

“I know something you don’t about Sonic? That’s refreshing to hear! I-I-I mean! N-not that I supposed you thought you knew everything or whatnot..”

His save was badly timed, as she gave him a slightly irritated look, but it was more comical than intimidating.

Which was nice, can she can be intimidating when she’s mad...

“Heh...Heh..” he shyly straightened up and stepped back, giving her space. “Anyway,” he gestured his hands out again. “He’s been flying through most of my adventure series. It’s pretty amazing! Not only is his mind sharp, and his feet fast... but his eyes are like scanners from another world!” he laughed, pointing to his eyes. “He flips through pages like his finger’s a race car! I once tried to see if he even comprehended what he read. He’s actually pretty insightful too...”

Amy was trailing off in thought.

This new information could be key to her!

So, boohoo, she missed her chance to nurse Sonic back to health.

But now~ She could enter Sonic’s life more with a love for reading! She could read to him, or him to her, and maybe they could even start a 2-person only book club! Ah!

“I love it!” Amy exclaimed, jumping to one foot.

“...You what?” Tails looked confused.

She twirled and blew a kiss up to the sky, “Thank you, Cupid!~ I have my answer!” she then waved cutely to Tails, “Gotta go! I have to find Sonic the perfect story! One where it’ll entrap him in love for me by his love of the story~ Then we can talk about it for hours!” she ran across the street, as cars honked and slammed to break for her.

“A-Amy!” Tails outstretched a hand to her, but then quietly withdrew it and shook his head, scratching his head. “Sonic’s right. It’s hard to keep on track with her thinking, sometimes...” he continued to shake his head, sighing slightly to himself, and walked on.

He pouted a moment as he did so, “She didn’t even ask what I was doing out here... hmph.”

“Tails!”

Tails turned to look across the street.

Amy waved again, holding her arm up high, “Good luck buying new gadgets and doohickeys for the x-tornado!” she then took off down to the creepy, old library.

Tails paused a moment, but smiled. A pleasant surprise.

“Eh, maybe she knows more than just Sonic.” Tails nodded forward, then looked up to the sky. “But hush up, Cupid! We don’t need her getting any more ideas...” he joked, and continued on down the lane... before...

“Ahh!” he gripped his head. “I’m the one that gave her an idea!”

Amy slowed her pace by the library, getting an odd feeling of eeriness from it. She frowned, before looking inside.

She was surprised to see lights sudden... were those... lanterns?

“Book people sure can be weird with their tastes.” she commented and shrugged, going in and hearing the bell echo through the large, marble building.

She looked around, before a figure in a cloak, their face hidden, saw her and put the book they were taking back down, and walked over to her.

“...Tarot master... you dabble?” The woman gestured a long sleeve out to reveal her hand, pointing to Amy.

“Y..Yes? Well, kinda. Used to. Wait, how does that-?”

“This is a special library. One that reveals identities and secrets.”

“Ohh... this is one of those ‘specially themed’ places.” Amy used the bunny ears, and then looked around, trying to be polite about people’s interests and nodded. She put her hands up in front of her and ignored the previous weirdness.

“You come searching for an adventure?”

“Yeah! For my hero~” she swooned, cupping her hands together and holding them up by the side of her face.

The woman looked down.

“...What color is this... hero?”

“Blue? What of it?” Amy furrowed her brow to the woman, before putting her hands on her hips. “Look, Lady. I don’t mean to be rude or anything, but you sure get nosy with your fortune tellings.” she pouted. In her studies, she had learned to be more show-oriented than this woman was letting slide.

The woman looked away to the side, “Forgive me. I’m out of practice with...” she looked up to Amy. “...Customers.” she then turned around and grabbed a lamp, walking onward.

Amy leaned up, and just shrugged, walking on after her.

The woman seemed to hunch, before Amy saw a book, and stopped to pull it out. “King Arthur? Hmm... okay!” she pulled it out.

“Come this way.” the woman called, looking back for her.

“Yes, Ma’am!” Amy quickly followed her, as the woman slowly hovered up to a taller shelf, and pulled a book from it.

Amy’s mouth turned into an amazed ‘o’ and she looked excited. “Now that’s a show!” she gave an open-grin to the woman, as she hovered down, and handed Amy the book.

“This... is the story of which your hero was destined to-”

“Let’s see!”

“..!”

Amy snatched the book right out of the woman’s hands, not hesitating for theatrics and turning the pages open, flipping through and then reading the title.

“Ah..!” the woman reached forward, as if afraid of Amy opening the book.

“...Arabian...Nights? This is some kind of foreign tale?” Amy looked to the back of the book. “OOoooh! Is it an adventure/romance!?!?” she got all pumped up, looking pretty sold on it if it was.

“U-umm...” the woman was hesitant, not used to Amy’s blunt speech.

“Ah, doesn’t matter. I’m sure if he’s ‘destined’ it’s all pointing to me being the perfect girl for him, right? Haha! Tarot cards! You can really trust those things. Better than a silly horoscope. Although, those don’t get half the recognition they deserve.” she hurriedly put the book with the other one, then pointed a finger up to the woman as if stating her facts and started walking away, humming a bit as she went to the counter.

The robed woman looked a bit unused to Amy’s antics, especially her quick nature, and sighed.

She unhooded herself.

“Destiny has a way of preparing us all for the future... May the Blue hero be swift in saving our stories... Be back soon. Messenger Rose.” she bowed, showing a beautiful ordainment on her head, some jewels of Arabian decent, and some medieval symbols along the designs of her head-wear.

Rushing back to Tails’s place, Amy burst open the door, “Heelllo~” ‘For the money I spent on these relics, he better not just leave them on Tails’s shelf to dust over again!’ Amy hid her anger at the ridiculous pricing of the books, but strode in as Tails sweat dropped, seeing her suddenly make an entrance.

“Hello, Amy.” he spoke out, but it seemed he was a little nervous to have her. He smiled to Sonic, who just smiled back to him, and looked over to Amy.

“I heard from Tails you have something for me?”

Sonic was lounging on the couch, as Amy rushed over, happy to see he looked fine.

“You look great!”

“Thanks! Tails really fixed me up. Seems he’s more than just good with tiding up planes.” he looked to Tails, who smiled at the praise, and bowed dramatically.

“I’m only as good as my tools. And in this case, my medicine cabinet.” he joked, and walked back into his open kitchen.

Amy nodded and turned to Sonic, holding out the bag she had.

His eyes widened and he blinked them a moment, before seeming kinda curious and taking them from her.

“What’s this?”

“You know! If Tails told you I was coming, he must of also mentioned telling me about your love of books!” she put her hands behind her back, leaning a few times on one outstretched leg as she looked away, blushing lightly while he rummaged through the bag.

“Huh? Some more adventures?” he took out the two books, and looked at their covers.

“Em-hmm!” Amy nodded, growing excited to see him looking more and more giddy towards them.

“Thanks, Amy!” he looked up, winking to her. “I appreciate it!”

She squee’d slightly, before rushing to the couch to sit next to him.

“Now, remember! You can’t stand me up just to finish reading them, okay?!” She puffed up a cheek, making sure he knew how upset she would be if he did so.

He laughed, and scratched a hand behind his head, “Don’t worry, Amy. I understand the cost.” the nodded to her then, reassuringly, before setting the books aside.

“So... you’re really feeling better, right?” Amy looked much more concerned now.

He smiled back to her, kicking a leg over his other one and leaning back, getting more relaxed and just chilling.

He raised a hand up as he spoke, “You bet! I may need to crash a little while longer though. Just until the mildew dries up.”

“Mildew?”

“Hahahaha!” Tails suddenly started laughing, hitting the counter.

Sonic looked away, embarrassed a bit as he sweat dropped and tried to avoid Amy’s question and Tails’s mocking.

“Wh...What’s so funny?” Amy blinked her eyes.

“Sonic thinks he might be allergic to mildew!”

“I am not!”

“You very well could be!”

“I was cold! I was wet! It was clearly nothing but bad timing!”

“Hahaha! You were sneezing and having a fit like a drama king! If this happens everytime it rains, you should be more careful about it.”

“Emm...” he folded his arms, looking away and seeming annoyed. “Never bothered me before...”

Amy smiled with a slight giggle.

It was good to be with her old friends again.

They always made life so much more interesting! and fun, too!

Sonic found there was one more thing in the back, poking him from the side, and so he reached in, before pulling out a strange looking ring.

“Huh? What’s this?”

“Oh! That.” Amy looked a little apologetic at him seeing it.

“They called it a ‘bonus’ for purchasing two books. I hope you don’t mind. It’s a little tacky...” she sweat dropped, looking to him with closed eyes.

He looked fascinated by it, and looked it over.

“Sonic and rings? I think he’ll be just fine with it.” Tails joked, as Sonic smiled to him and then looked to Amy.

“Is that all?”

She nodded, “I promise, no other rings.”

“Okay.”

He looked back at the ring and then suddenly started to laugh.

“What’s the matter? Is it really that odd looking?”

“Oh no! I’m just glad this wasn’t what I thought it was, haha!” Sonic joked too, as Amy caught on and rose up, looking upset.

“I WOULDN’T BUY A TACKY LOOKING RING FOR A WEDDING BAND!”

“Well, that’s good.” Tails covered his mouth, snickering too. “Did you.. Pfft... Did you purposefully avoid taking it out of the bag, Sonic?”

Sonic smacked his knee, and nodded to his friend, as if not able to speak from his laughter right now.

Embarrassed by their sudden burst of laughter, she flushed red in anger and stormed out. “You two are both unbelievable! Hmph! I’m leaving!”

She slammed the door behind her, as Tails and Sonic watched before looking back at each other.

“You’ll have to thank her and make up for that.” He commented.

“Yeah... I wonder if she’d be okay with chilidogs?” Sonic leaned back, and exaimed the ring more closely... carefully... before starting to get sleepy.

“Maybe one of these book before I nap again.”

He lazily reached for one.

Tails nodded and walked off. “I’ll be in the other room if you need anything.”

“Right.” Sonic opened Arabian Nights and set the ring down next to the clock. “Let’s see.. a story that doesn’t start with ‘once upon a time’? Amy really did step it up for me. Heh.” he grinned, a signature smile now.

Eh. He’ll thank her later~

He fanned his hand as he thought about how to make it up to her, before leaning back and across the couch, starting the new storybook adventure!

(I enjoyed this very much XD thanks for the prompt! and thanks for helping me out Green! :Db I combined the adventures a little, did you notice that? xD lead it right into the game for ya :) )

#Sonic and the secret of the rings #sonic and the black night #sonic #amy rose #sonamy #sonamyish?#tails #sonic game #sega #sonic prompt #greenyvertekins

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words-and-fangirling-wonder · 7 years

Text

A is For Anniversary (Part 1)

So since I’m now completely past the actual Eustass Kid Week event, I’m going to just post as often as I can until I finish this story. The prompt for this is Anniversary, but it will actually be a three-part series. This part is from Kid’s perspective.

Author: fangirlwonder (wordsandwonder on AO3)

Pairing: Kid/Law

Prompt: Anniversary

Rating: Teen, but only for swearing and stuff, I don’t know I’m bad at rating

Beta’d by: @fitgirlfaith24

Kid had never been good at this kind of thing. Well, probably. To be fair, he’d never actually tried to be, so he couldn’t really say for sure, but he didn’t feel like the type of guy that would be good at it. But this was different. This was Law. And he wanted to make it good for him, even though in all honestly Law probably wouldn’t care. For all that the doctor could be a moody little bitch (which Kid meant as a term of endearment, really), he was probably the least romantic person Kid had ever met; which suited him just fine because it meant he didn’t have to stress over trying to pull off any dramatic gestures of affection or any of that other bullshit that had always made him shy away from relationships in the past.

But again, this was Law, and that made things different. Because for the first time in his life Eustass Kid had reached a relationship milestone. Six. Whole. Months. With the same person. That was six months of commitment. Six months of rarely (if ever) getting to choose the movie, or the take-out they ordered. Of sitting around bored because Law wanted to read his latest medical journal in peace (meaning Kid couldn’t talk, or move around a lot, or breathe too loudly), but he also didn’t want Kid to leave. Six months of snarky comments and superior smirks and mood swings that gave Kid whip lash and somehow not caring about all of that because Law was worth it. Because Law traded his onions for Kid’s tomatoes when they got burgers. Because Law would listen to Kid enthuse about various cars and car parts for hours without complaining, even though he had no idea what the mechanic was talking about. Because he let Kid kiss him right when he got in from work, even though he was covered in dirt and grease and Law hated mess. Because every time Kid made the doctor smile it was a direct achievement, and making him laugh felt like winning a fucking gold medal. So damnit, Kid had to make this fucking special.

Which is how he ended up staring helplessly at the colorful display of anniversary cards for half an hour. Because really, he had never been good at this.

What he needed was some help, but who could he ask? All his friends were assholes, and even if he felt comfortable asking Law’s friends, he knew they would just tell the surgeon and ruin it. So who? He’d been trying to think of romantic people that he knew and he was coming up completely blank.

Vibrations in his pocket drew him out of his musings and reminded him that he really should get a new phone. Because ever since the doctor had replaced his terrible couch, Kid didn’t have a comeback when Law told him to get a new phone, and that was just unacceptable. He flipped it open with a little more force than was probably good for the ancient piece of technology and angrily read the text that had so rudely interrupted his impotent staring.

Bonney: Mom wants to know if ur coming for dinner Sunday

Kid groaned. He’d forgotten about the family dinner he had at his mom and step-dad’s house every month. It was the same day as his anniversary.

Kid: Can’t

The response was almost instantaneous. Bonney: Mom says why not, asshole

Kid: Mom did not call me an asshole

Bonney: It was implied.

Kid: Whatever, I can’t make it.

Bonney: Mom says are u dying

Kid: What the hell? No, I’m not dying

Bonney: Mom says good then see u Sunday

Kid growled at his phone in frustration, startling the woman who was browsing the cards next to him. “Sorry,” he muttered, angrily typing out a reply.

Kid: I said I can’t, damnit.

Bonney: But why

Kid: I have plans

Bonney: U can cancel on Killer u live w him

Kid: Yeah, well they’re not plans with Killer, smartass.

Bonney: Then who

Kid: None of your damn business, Bonney. Just leave it.

Bonney: Boy or girl

Kid: What?

Bonney: The person ur ditching ur FAMILY for

Kid: Didn’t I say to fucking leave it?

Bonney: Tell me or I’m telling mom u swore at me. I’m young and impressionable u know

Kid snorted at that. Bonney was 16 going on 30 and was about as impressionable as a brick wall.

Kid: Fine. It’s a guy. Now leave me alone.

Bonney: No cuz ur still ditching ur family to MAYBE get lucky

Kid: It’s not like that. And I’m DEFINITELY gonna get lucky.

Bonney: Well aren’t u optimistic.

Kid: Not really, cuz don’t people usually get laid on their anniversaries?

The satisfaction he felt upon hitting the send button slowly melted away into horror as Kid realized that in his haste to win the argument against his sister he had admitted to being in a serious relationship. His phone buzzed and he flipped it open without looking at the screen, expecting a text, but was greeted with a high-pitched shriek instead.

“ANNIVERSARY?!?!?!?”

“Shit, Bonney, you wanna scream that a little louder? I don’t think the people in fucking China heard you,” he growled.

“Okay,” the girl retorted. “ANNIVERSARY?!?!?!?”

Kid winced and held the phone away from his ear, causing the woman still reading through cards near him to shoot a worried glance his way. “Look, just shut up, okay? It’s not a big deal, it’s just six months-“

“SIX MONTHS?!?!?”

“Jesus, do you only have one volume setting?”

“When I find out that my only big brother has been in a secret relationship for six months and hasn’t told me? Yeah, you’re damn right I’m going to be loud! How could you not tell me?! I mean, I get not telling Mom and Al, but me?!? I’m your sister!”

“Yeah, and it’s none of your business! Plus you’d just tell mom anyway and it’s none of her business either!”

Bonney inhaled sharply. “How dare you, sir! I would never! Although if you think I would? Then maybe I should!”

“Bonney, don’t you dare. I’ll tell her soon, okay? It’s just … Look, Law’s weird about family and I don’t need you guys suddenly trying to get to know him and scaring him off.”

“What kinda name is Law? Also, whaddaya mean he’s weird about family? Does he not want to meet us? Cuz that’s a red flag, big brother. You shouldn’t commit to someone who isn’t willing to meet your family. When Cassie was dating Kyle last semester? He kept coming up with reasons not to meet her family and I kept telling her that she needed to figure out why and talk to him but he put it off and put it off and then she finally cornered him and got him to talk about it and then it turned out he didn’t want to meet them because he had a police record already and her dad was his parole officer or something. And also he was cheating on her. So you never know about that kind of thing.”

When his sister finally paused to breathe Kid was quick to jump in, hoping to avoid more stories from the soap opera-like high school drama she called her life. “It’s not like that. Law doesn’t have a record, he’s not cheating on me, and again, it’s none of your business why he’s not ready to meet the family. Now if you don’t mind, I need to get off the phone so I can find him a fucking card.”

There was a slight pause. “You’re getting him a card?”

“Yeah, so?”

“Wow. That’s … new for you.”

Kid rolled his eyes. “Whatever. I gotta go, okay? Tell mom I’ll come over next Sunday to make up for missing this week.”

“Fine. Want me to tell her you’re sick?”

“Nah, just that I have plans I can’t rearrange or some shit. Thanks, Bonney.”

“Mmmhmm, you totally owe me. Bring me some of that weird gum you got me for my birthday when you come.”

He grinned and nodded even though she couldn’t see it. “Sure, fine. See you next Sunday.”

“Text me!”

“Uh-huh, bye.”

“Bye!”

Well, that went better than he thought it would. Bonney was pretty okay as far as kid sisters went, but she could really be like a dog with a bone with this kind of thing. Looking back at the colorful collection of cards, Kid decided not to dwell on why she let it go so easily in favor of facing the problem at hand. Picking out the perfect anniversary card.

“Having trouble?” a feminine voice asked behind him, and Kid turned to see a slender young woman with short, bright orange hair looking at him quizzically. She didn’t look like she could be much older than his sister, maybe eighteen or so, and the nametag pinned to the front of her uniform shirt said “Nami.”

“Uh, nah … I mean, kinda, uh, but it’s … I’m good, thanks.”

She rolled her eyes and moved closer, plucking the card he was holding and quirking an eyebrow as she read it.

“I love you beary much?” she asked, pointing to the smiling teddy-bear under the big block lettering. “Are you dating a twelve-year-old?”

“I was being ironic?”

The look she gave him made it very clear what she thought of that as she put the card back. “Tell me something about the person you’re buying the card for.”

“Look, I got this, okay? I really don’t need any help, just-“

“Too late. I’m invested now. So. Tell me about her.”

“Him.”

If that revelation shocked the girl she didn’t show it. “Okay, tell me something about him, then.”

“He’s a doctor.” Wait a minute. Why exactly was Kid telling this complete stranger things? “He’s kind of an asshole; sarcastic and stuff. He likes nerdy shit.” What the fuck. It was like his mouth started moving without permission from his brain the second he looked into her eyes.

“Hmmm. Does he like cutesy stuff?” Seeing Kid’s immediate grimace she smiled. “Okay, no cutesy stuff then. What about this?” She held up a blank white card with bold black lettering that simply said: I Like You More Than Pizza. Kid snorted and took the card from her, opening it. It was also blank on the inside except for more words, saying: So There’s That. Happy Anniversary.

“That’s … kinda perfect. Ha, actually, it’s totally perfect because I can’t even remember the last time I had pizza.”

The girl raised her eyebrows, looking confused. “Uh, okay? What does that have to do with it?”

“Cuz he hates bread. Including pizza crust. So since I’ve been with him I haven’t really had pizza.” Kid paused as a realization hit him. “Shit, did I give up pizza for that asshole? Oh my God, I fucking did. That fucker. I fucking love pizza.”

“What kind of person hates bread? That’s just weird.”

“Yeah, I know. I don’t know what his problem with it is, he just really fucking hates it.” He gave the salesgirl a slightly awkward smile. “Hey, uh, thanks. I’ve been here for like –“

“Fifty three minutes,” she supplied with a smirk. “I timed you. I bet my co-worker that I could help you find the perfect card in less than five minutes and I won so now he owes me five bucks. So actually, thank you.”

Kid briefly considered being offended, but decided against it as he looked over the card again. It really was perfect for the surgeon. Now all he had to do was get a gift that was equally as perfect and plan a date that would also be perfect and … well fuck.

Kid really had never been good at these things.

#eustasskidweek #Eustasskidweek2017 #eustass kid #jewelry bonney #Bonney is Kid's sister #card shopping #Nami makes an appearance #one piece fanfic #fanfic

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