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jimintopia · 3 years

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prettiest of them all (1)

genre: college!au, s2l!au, fluff, angst?

pairing: jimin x reader

summary: you're nothing special, just an ordinary girl who's just trying to get through college... but an angelic boy with honey colored eyes thinks you're the most beautiful flower he's ever laid his eyes on.

word count: 1.5k

chapter warnings: swearing (mostly jungkook lmao)

a/n: oh gosh i'm so nervous,, this started out as a tiny drabble i wrote out on the back of my bio notebook in january and two weeks ago i sorta revived the idea lmao. i hope you enjoy this little series of mine!

this fic was made possible by @latetaektalk (thank you so much for those helpful tips! i spent a lot of time formatting and reformatting this post and editing the fic, and your advice helped a lot with that!) and @chimchiekookie (thank you for your encouragement and kind words! you gave me the courage to post, tysm kira). also, to @yuvi-with-luv and @meiadore for just being! i love u crackheads; oKAY that was really long so i'll let you get to the fic oops haha

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(1) only time will tell.

College is not easy. But sharing an apartment with Jeon Jungkook is an entirely new level of difficulty.

“Goodness,” you mutter, stepping around the books and pens scattered on the floor of the living room, your roommate’s half-asleep body slumped across the couch. You can’t even get to the kitchen without tripping over something of his. “Couldn’t you have cleaned up before dozing off? What an idiot.”

“I heard that,” he mumbles drowsily, yawning. “The idiot is clearly you, Y/N. Who the fuck signs up for an eight A.M. lecture on Mondays? Something’s obviously wrong with you.”

That earns him an apple to the head, before you remember it’s supposed to be your to-go breakfast and quickly scramble to retrieve it.

“It’s mandatory,” you tell him. “Can’t graduate without taking it, so I might as well suffer. Psychology majors go to hell anyway, so I signed up knowing what I was getting myself into.” You give your best friend a once-over as he stretches, still on the couch. “You have fun sleeping in, Jeon, but by the time I get back I want you showered and ready for a proper brunch. Got it?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he rolls his eyes, but you know he enjoys your routine outings as much as you do. Ever since you met in your second year of high school, it became a little tradition of yours to regularly meet up for lunch on the weekends — and that turned into basically each mealtime once you got to college. “Just go, you’re going to be late. Those tiny legs of yours are gonna have a hard time running all the way to 808. We’re not even on campus.”

“Excuse you?! I’m 5’6”!”

“Y/N,” he sighs, shaking his head pitifully. “That’s like, four inches shorter than me. But nice try.”

Both of you exchange an annoyed glare, but deep down, you’re having your fun bantering with him. It’s a trademark of your relationship, one of the many things you appreciate him for. No one you have met so far could match your sharp tongue as well as Jungkook.

“I do not have time to argue with you right now, Kook.” You glance at the clock, quickly slipping your feet into battered sneakers. “There are leftovers in the fridge — by the way, remember to lock the door if you don’t want Taehyung to visit unannounced again — and I left a carton of banana milk on the bottom shelf, right next to the ketchup. Oh! I did your laundry last night; there’s a pile in your room that you just need to fold and put away. Anything else I’m forgetting?”

“You just dumped my clothes in my room? On the floor?”

You narrow your eyes at him playfully. “Wrong answer, Jeon.”

“Oh, fine.” Jungkook rolls his eyes, ruffling your hair affectionately. “Thank you, Y/N. Now please just go already.”

“Dumbass,” you return, grinning. “I’ll be back soon. I'll bring Taehyung over if I run into him!”

He’s already closed your front door, but you can still hear his shout of protest from the other side, causing you to burst into incessant giggles: “Don’t you fucking dare!”

By some kind of miracle, you actually get to the lecture hall approximately a minute early. You and Jungkook don’t live on campus, but your apartment is pretty close — walking gets you to class in ten minutes, and if you run, you’ll arrive much quicker.

“Yeoreum!” you greet your friend with a whisper as you walk in, tossing your apple core into the small trash can. “You’re actually early for once!”

“Blame Hoseok,” she grumbles as you sit down next to her. “Dumbass woke me up at five in the morning to go run with him, Y/N. Five o’clock. The asshole’s dead to me from now on.”

“That sucks,” you sympathize, but you know she’ll always give in to her twin brother — the two of them are inseparable, as much as she likes to complain about him. “But hey, at least you got your coffee fix!”

Yeoreum lifts the half-empty cup before taking a long sip, a small smile adorning her features. “Also courtesy of Hoseok,” she admits. “He causes a lot of arguments, but at least he knows how to solve them. I like to think I’ve trained him well.”

“I wish I had a sibling,” you sigh wistfully. “A brother, maybe. Or a sister, I wouldn’t really mind. It must be nice always having someone else who understands you.”

“Y/N, you live with Jungkook,” she points out. “He’s basically the brother you’ve wanted your entire life. He has been since we were fifteen.”

“I know, but it’s different. I didn’t grow up with him. Plus, he’s more annoying than a sibling could ever be.”

“And he’s hot as hell.”

“Yeoreum,” you scold quietly, bringing out your laptop for the start of the lecture. “You think everyone you meet is hot. Regardless of whether they’re actually a decent human being or not. That’s probably why you always end up dating assholes who don’t deserve you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she waves you off, not quite meeting your eyes. “Chill, Y/N, I’m not interested. The boy’s just insanely attractive. Can’t I call someone attractive without wanting to get with them?”

You lean over to say something to her, but the entire class quiets down suddenly, so silent that you could hear even the softest whisper.

Professor Ahn strides in with an authoritative air, several books in her arms, followed by a boy whom you’ve never seen in this class before. A new student, perhaps? Or maybe he just transferred departments. You never know — it’s certainly not too late to switch out.

The professor tells him something quickly and he nods, before jogging up the stairs and hastily sliding into the seat right next to you. In fact, it all happens so quickly that you’re still buffering, trying to process what just happened. Instinctively, you move a little closer to Yeoreum.

“Goddamn,” she breathes, eyes wide in surprise. “Y/N, he’s so fine.”

Okay, so that was a bad choice. But the thing is, she’s not wrong.

The guy doesn’t speak to or look at you once during the entire lecture, totally dedicated to typing up everything Professor Ahn is saying — but you can’t help but check him out from the corner of your eye every few minutes. The blond hair is, surprisingly, a very good look on him, and the way the corner of his mouth is always turned upward makes you incredibly curious. What the hell is there to be happy about such an early class?

Ten minutes before you can finally get out of that stuffy hall, there’s a light tap on your right shoulder, startling you. You turn your head around so fast your vision nearly blurs, taking a second to steady again. “Huh?”

The new guy is tentatively smiling at you, like he’s gauging your response. “Hi,” he says, a little hesitant. “Um — do you have a black pen I can borrow? Mine just gave up on me mid-word and I didn’t bring any extra.” You glance over to his side of the bench: sure enough, the last few letters of the word ‘extension’ are so faded out, you can barely see them.

All of your pens are either blue or red, but Yeoreum quickly passes you one of her black-ink fountain pens under the bench, nodding at you in silent understanding. “Here,” you offer it to him, watching the adorable way his face lights up when you hand it to him.

“Thank you! You’re a lifesaver,” he says, quickly scribbling something down. “I can’t fathom using any ink color other than black, it just… doesn’t make sense to me.”

Well, you could type up a whole argument against that, but you hold your tongue for the time being. Instead, you peek over at his notebook curiously, trying to see what he’s so engrossed in writing down. You catch sight of a name printed neatly on the top left corner of the page, and you squint so you can see it better.

Park Jimin. You let it rest in your mind for a moment. It’s a beautiful name, and though you don’t know exactly what it means, you’re sure it would roll right off your tongue if you were to say it aloud.

“I’m Jimin,” he says, right on cue as he returns the pen and you not-so-discreetly pass it to Yeoreum again. “What about you?”

“Y/N.” For some reason, you’re struggling both to find something to say and maintain some kind of calm. You don’t know why he’s making your heart beat faster, only that he is.

“That’s a nice name.” Jimin smiles, and it’s breathtaking. His eyes form little crescents as he beams at you — you! — and for just one second, you can’t think of anything else. A silly crush, you chide yourself, averting your gaze from his face. A few days and it’ll leave on its own.

You want to be right, and you might be wrong, but you have no idea, no way of knowing what the future holds. It’s like they always say — only time will tell.

taglist [please send an ask if you would like to be added!] : @meiadore @chimchiekookie @eyecandy5644 @chubsjmin

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#jimin x reader #jimin college au #jimin strangers to lovers #jimin fluff #bts fanfic #kpop fanfic #angst?#park jimin #bts s2l au #jimintopia

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bisexualcoltseavers · 3 years

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To Know

The first time Natasha has the thought, she’s seven years old.

The dress is stuffy; the collar feels like a weight around her neck and Mama scowls when Natasha reaches up to tug at it. “For God’s sake, bambina,” she sighs. “Can you give it a rest? You can take it off in a few hours. You know what your father will say if he catches you playing with it again.”

At seven years old, Natasha already knows many things. She can create circuit boards, mentally solve equations that send adults running for their calculators. Yes, she knows many things, but the first thing she ever learned? Howard Stark isn’t a good father. As far as she’s concerned, Jarvis is her father. Natasha knows better than to say all of that. Instead she allows her gaze to wander around the room, taking in the sights of all the other girls in dresses and the boys in their suits.

“I wish I could be a boy,” Natasha tells Mama. “They get to wear suits and I have to wear this dumb dress.”

Mama laughs, and Natasha’s heart soars, though she’s not quite sure why her mother is laughing. She doesn’t laugh much, but it’s one of Natasha’s favorite sounds. “Don’t be silly, sweetie,” Mama says, readjusting her hair bow. “You’re such a pretty little lady.”

Pretty little lady. The words leave Natasha feeling nauseous, and for the first time in a long time, she can’t figure out why.

At eight and a half years old, Natasha cuts her own hair. It’s short, a mop on her head, and when Mama shrieks that she looks like a boy and what have you done to your beautiful hair? Natasha grins in satisfaction. Jarvis fixes it and gives her a soft smile. Jarvis doesn’t care that Natasha prefers jeans and t-shirts over dresses, doesn’t care that she cut off her long, curly hair. He loves her just as she is.

When he takes her to the full length mirror to take a look, Natasha’s heart flutters happily and she can hardly contain the rush of excitement. Yeah, she thinks. This is right.

Natasha gets detention for refusing to wear a skirt when she’s eleven years old. Pants are more comfortable, she insists. The boys get to wear them!

Dad shouts at her over the phone, hisses that she’ll never be a boy. Natasha aches for the ground to swallow her up, drag her down to the endless void where she doesn’t have to be anything. The words rise in her throat, I’m not a girl, I’m not a girl! But they die as quickly as they rise. At eleven years old, Natasha knows many things. She’s in high school at eleven years old, nearly on her way to college coursework. Natasha doesn’t know how she knows this, but it’s the most important fact that resides in her brain.

Natasha Stark is not a girl.

Her body is wrong. When her voice should begin to deepen it remains high pitched, a soprano note that Jarvis and Ana gush over and that she wishes desperately did not exist. Her body begins to grow and change in ways that Ana had told her it would, but Natasha had just snorted and not paid attention to any of it. Her body begins to curve and her chest begins to grow and she bleeds. Natasha spends more time locked in her bedroom, absorbed in her robots so that no one can look at her and her horrible body. Her dainty, feminine, wrong body.

Jarvis and Ana whisper about her. They’re worried. Whenever they ask her about it, Natasha comes up with an excuse. I miss Mama and wish she would come home. Dad was being a jerk again.

Rich families are cutthroat. If Natasha doesn’t conform, behave exactly how they all want her to, she’ll be an outcast. She’ll be sent away to one of those horrible camps a girl at school was talking about and Dad would make Jarvis and Ana stop talking to her.

Keeping Jarvis and Ana was almost worth all of the wrongness.

Almost.

That same year, Natasha comes across the word transgender in a book she’s reading. It’s not often that she has to look something up. On a Thursday afternoon, after days of contemplation, she makes the trek down to her school’s library. The other students giggle when they spot her, Natasha the freak, and she sneers at them before turning to the card catalog. It takes what feels like hours to find what she’s looking for. LGBT 306.76. She follows the numbers, dives deep into the nonfiction section and frowns. It’s a small section, but she’ll make do. There she spots a book, She's not there : a life in two genders. Natasha pulls it off the shelf, reads about this person who everyone assumes to be a girl but really is a boy. There he defines the word Natasha saw, the word transgender: a person whose sense of personal identity and gender does not correspond with their birth sex.

It comes in waves, the realizations and relief and all of it. Everyone around her thinks that Natasha’s a girl, but something inside of her screams wrong! That’s wrong! She’s never had a word for it. And there are more people just like her? Natasha takes the book to a table and reads feverishly, taking notes.

She’ll never be able to do anything about it, but the more she reads, the more Natasha’s convinced of it. She’s transgender. Not wrong or horrible or broken.

Transgender. Natasha has more research to do.

She’s thirteen and alone in her room, staring at herself in the mirror. Mama says that she’s turning into a beautiful young woman, albeit not as proper as she would like. The last bit is always said with a tiny smile, so Natasha knows that Mama is joking. Mostly. And dear old Dad? Well, that bastard isn’t even around, so what does he know?

The bruises on her ribs scream in agony, but Natasha swallows down a hiss of pain. Howard isn’t here, but she refuses to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he could break her someday. She may be broken, but at least she has Jarvis and Ana.

Jarvis and Ana, who teach her how to cook. Jarvis and Ana who don’t hit or shout when she burns banana bread and nearly starts a fire, who laugh with her and choose her.

Ana bought her these clothes, these jeans and a black t-shirt that’s just a bit too big on her petite frame and brand new Chuck Taylors. Alone in her bedroom, Natasha pulls her hair back grinning at the sight in front of her. She doesn’t see Natasha, or a pretty little lady or a proper young woman. The image in front of her is young, and a bit too earnest, and dammit, Natasha, why are you crying?

The image in front of her is a boy. He looks about two years younger than her, but she can work with it. Weak, fragile Natasha is gone. In her place stands a boy, an exuberant, funny, genius of a boy. The boy and Natasha reach out; their fingers touch, and Natasha feels more at home than she has since she was eight and a half, her waist-length hair clumps on the floor.

Natasha knows what her name should have been. Mama told her years and years ago, and it felt like it was hers. Anthony. Anthony Edward Stark. “Anthony.” Natasha whispers the name, crossing that line at last. After this there’s no going back. No more Natasha and dresses and bows and heels and skirts. There will only be Anthony and his jeans and t-shirts and sneakers, Anthony and his deep voice and his rightness.

Anthony moves his fingers away from the mirror, lets go of his long hair and the illusion shatters. In front of him stands a girl, a weak, broken girl in boy’s clothing. Who is he thinking? He can’t be Anthony. His mother would never speak to him again; Howard would toss him out on the streets. He’d be all alone. He wouldn’t even have Jarvis and Ana.

He’ll call himself Anthony, he decides. Or maybe even Tony. Anthony’s too posh, too formal, everything Howard loves and all things he hates. Yes, Tony. Tony sounds good, sounds right. He’ll answer to Natasha and wear the frilly dresses and play the part of a nice young woman. The thought sends waves of nausea so fierce that his knees buckle, but Tony can do it. He’s going off to MIT next year. Just one more year and he can be free.

Tony doesn’t last a year. Before his fourteenth birthday he’s in jeans and t-shirts, long hair pulled into a ponytail or braid. Howard hates it, tells him he looks like a rat and a slob, but what does he know? Mama’s away on longer and longer trips, which means longer stretches where he doesn’t have to wear those horrible dresses. Everyone still calls him Natasha, and he bites back a snarl and an My fucking name is Tony every time, but he manages. The masculine clothes don’t ease all of it, but they help.

MIT is a godsend. For the first time in his life, Tony is free to create his robots, live out from under Howard’s thumb, and finally be himself. The media hounds him, but for the first time in his life Tony doesn’t care. He cuts his hair again and rumors about him being a butch lesbian circulate and he just laughs. If only they knew.

There is just one thing wrong, other than himself. He’s younger than everyone else, smarter and he doesn’t know when to shut up. It’s nothing that Tony isn’t used to. He survived boarding school, and he’ll survive this too.

Then he meets Rhodey.

At first, they’re Jim and Natasha. Jim is older than Tony by two years, but they’re in the same year. They share the same general education class, Sociology 101, and they get paired together for a project. They both have single dorms, but two months later, Tony has practically moved into his room.

Jim is now Rhodey, but Tony is still Natasha. He yearns to tell him, stops and starts, the words dying in his throat. In a short amount of time, Tony’s become attached and anyone to whom he attaches himself winds up leaving. Tony’s too loud, too smart, he stays up too late and hyperfocuses on his robots. Rhodey doesn’t care about all of that, but Rhodey will definitely care if Tony tells him I’m not a girl, don’t call me Natasha, please call me Tony. Tony can practically see Rhodey recoil in disgust, shove him away and kick him out of his dorm.

Tony can’t, won’t, risk that.

Howard pays for an off campus apartment next year. Tony and Rhodey live in their own apartment, almost in their own little world. Howard doesn’t know that Rhodey’s living with him. Tony had mentioned it, but Howard had just grunted, not even paying attention.

It’s better that way.

Tony only binds his chest when Rhodey isn’t home. He knows he’s not supposed to wrap with ace bandages, but he has nothing else and he’s desperate. What he doesn’t count on his Rhodey coming home early, seeing Tony in the living room with nothing but his jeans and an ace bandage binding his breasts.

For a long moment, they just stare at each other, neither speaking. Then Rhodey opens his mouth and Tony bolts, locking his bedroom door behind him.

Goddammit.

Tony waits anxiously for a few days, almost begging Rhodey to say something and get the conversation over with, but he never does. Rhodey is good like that. Everyone else thinks Tony is weird, but Rhodey loves him for who he is, not in spite of it as so many people think. That much Tony knows to be true. But if Rhodey knew this about him, then Rhodey wouldn’t love him anymore.

Rhodey is everything. He’s friendship and love, late nights and delirious mornings, comfort and safety, and Tony aches desperately to hold onto him. They sit together in the living room, Rhodey doing homework and Tony fiddling with DUM-E’s arm. Rhodey is calm, but Tony is so tense that he can hardly stand it, and before he knows it the words, “Why won’t you call me a freak?” slip from his mouth. Rhodey looks up at him in surprise and Tony continues. “You walked in on me and you haven’t said a word! Go on! Call me disgusting! Call me a freak! Just get it over with. Dammit, Jim, why can’t you just get it over with and stop stringing me along?”

Rhodey sighs and shoves his textbook away. “I haven’t said anything because I didn’t think it was that big of a deal.”

“Bullshit,” Tony hisses. “I’m a fucking freak and you know it! Everyone else already thinks it, so go on, have at it. Tell me something I don’t fucking know.”

Rhodey raises an eyebrow. “Are you done?” Tony’s face flushes with rage, but before he can retort, Rhodey’s up and crossing the room, standing right in front of him. “I didn’t say anything because I didn’t think it was a big deal. Nat, you stay up for three days at a time. You leave circuit boards and wires all over and forget to do your laundry. You’re loud and funny and one of the kindest people I know. This? The, what is it called, binding? It’s not even the weirdest or worst thing I’ve caught you doing.”

Tony deflates and stares at his friend for a moment. It’s not often that he’s speechless, and judging by Rhodey’s smirk, he must be thinking the same thing. “I guess you’re right,” he says slowly. “You really don’t think it’s weird?”

“Cross my heart.”

Rhodey doesn’t think he’s weird. Rhodey doesn’t want to toss him away, discard and abandon him like the trash so many other people believe he is. Tony doesn’t deserve Rhodey, doesn’t deserve his kindness, love, or friendship. But with Rhodey, he feels the safest. If Rhodey doesn’t think he’s weird for binding, maybe he won’t care about the other stuff? Tony’s heart hammers in his chest, his palms sweat and he sits on the floor. Rhodey sits across from him, reaches out and squeezes his hand.

“Rhodey, I have to tell you something.”

Rhodey waits patiently while Tony collects himself. Tony’s never said the words out loud before. Saying them feels like the end of a chapter, one more piece of Natasha gone. The idea of saying goodbye to Natasha is exciting, exhilarating, freeing. Tony takes a deep breath and looks into Rhodey’s eyes.

“I’m transgender.”

** Rhodey has questions, of course, he does, but he holds onto Tony tightly as he explains everything. How he never felt like a girl, how he doesn’t know how he knows, but he knows that he’s a boy. He’s a boy and he wants to die every time someone calls him Natasha, how he wants to burn every dress and makeup palette he owns, how he feels like himself in masculine jeans and t-shirts and suits.

And then Rhodey does something that shocks him. It’s a question. A simple one, really.

“What’s your name?”

And for the first time he gets to respond, “My name is Tony.” Everything falls into place, and Tony sighs, leaning into his friend. Rhodey pulls him all the closer and Tony affirms, “My name is Tony.”

“Okay, Tony,” Rhodey says with a wide grin. “It’s nice to meet you.”

A few days later, Tony unlocks the door to the apartment and kicks off his shoes. Midterms suck, and he thinks he might actually eat dinner and go to bed early tonight. He stumbles into the kitchen, eyebrows raising curiously at the package on the table. There’s a note on top of the brown wrapping.

Tones,

Sorry if this is weird, but I just wanted to do something for you. I did research and everything says not to bind with ace bandages, so I got this for you. Let me know if it doesn’t fit.

And I know I didn’t say this before, and I should have, but thanks for trusting me.

--Rhodey

Tony opens the package and gasps when he sees what’s inside. He’s heard of these, but with Howard snooping through his credit card statements, it’s never been safe enough to buy one. The binder is lighter than he expected, but it feels like he’s touching gold. Tony rushes to his bedroom and puts it on, relieved when it actually fits. Then again, Rhodey knows everything about him. This is no exception. He puts his t-shirt back on, messes with his hair and looks at himself in the mirror. For the first time, he doesn’t see a girl pretending to be a boy. He sees himself, Tony Stark, and tears well dangerously in his eyes as he reaches up to touch his reflection. He’s still not exactly where he wants to be, he won’t be until he turns eighteen and can transition without Howard’s input, but the binder helps ease an ache inside of him, the ache that screams you’re wrong!

Tony doesn’t feel wrong, not with the binder, not with Rhodey calling him Tony and using masculine pronouns. No, for the first time in his entire life, Tony feels just right.

#trans tony stark #deadnaming tw #misgendering tw #marvel fanfic #mcu fanfic #mcu fanfiction #tony stark #brief mention of child abuse

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ak47stylegirl · 3 years

Note

Hmm... sicktember, huh? Let's go for #10 and I'm going to be boringly predictable with Scott :D Your choice of caretaker.

This was fun 😁 I know you love Scott and Gordon, so the choice of the caretaker was easy lol 😂 I hope you enjoy it! I went with a little bit of a different writing style with this fic, so hopes it's good 😅

I'm doing this challenge by asks, so send in a number and a bro, and I'll get to writing 😄 Overload my inbox!! 😁

----

Glass crunched under his feet.

“Wow…this place was asking to become a danger zone...” Gordon muttered, gingerly tipping over an empty beaker with a finger. “What even was this place?”

It was hard to tell what was dust and what was rubble from the earthquake; everything was in some form of ruin or decay.

“The building is listed as an office complex, owned by lee frank industries, but….” John frowned, sounding perplexed, “something doesn't add up….”

Frustration was evident in John’s voice, because there was nothing that John hated more than a puzzle piece to a mystery being just outside his grasp.

That or false information, especially incorrect space facts…oh boy, does John go feral if you joke that the sun is just a planet that‘s on fire.

So does Alan, though he's more the barking puppy variety, Gordon thought with a smirk, oh that was a great mental image…

“You’re right about that, John….” Scott reported, stormy blue eyes scanning the room, back rigid. “This looks more like a lab than an office, and not one that reaches any legal safety requirements either….”

Gordon straightens unconsciously, becoming more alert and focused. He understood what Scott was implying and what that could mean…

The building’s stability may not be the only danger…

There was a tense pause on the comms before “I’m contacting the GDF….” John's voice filtered over the comms, each word heavy with the severity of the possible growing situation.

“Good plan, John….” Scott nodded, looking left and right down the long complex “in the meantime, Gordon and I should look for survivors….”

“FAB….just..” John’s professional mask slipped for a second, his voice softening, “be careful down there, okay?”

“Will do…” Scott nodded, with a small, confident smile, catching his eye, “Gordon will search the left side of the building, while I take the right, all agreed?”

“FAB”, Gordon and John replied in unison.

“Good”, Scott’s eyes hardened, his commander persona coming to the forefront, “comms stay on at all times, is that understood?”

Acknowledgement was voiced, and in Gordon’s case, in the form of a mock salute, and an ‘Ay, Ay captain!’

Scott’s eye roll could be felt from space.

----

So far, the left side of the building was devoid of life, a ghost town of broken glass and rubble.

And bodies.

“I found another one, John..” Gordon grimaced, crouching down next to a middle-aged female, who was crushed by a shelf, chemical burns making her unrecognisable.

“Damn it, Scott was right, this place was a safety hazard waiting to happen…” Gordon looked around the small stuffy room, bottles of chemicals stacked haphazardly, sharp objects just discard all over the place.

Brains would have a fit if he saw this…

“Had any luck on your end, Scott?”

“Not so far, but keep-” the sounds of harsh coughing could be heard over the comms, “-keep l-looking….”

Gordon frowned, “Scott, are you alright?”

There was more coughing before Scott replied, “I’m f-fine…I just-” Scott groaned, his words starting to slur, “-I just cau-caught my..my b-breath, I-”

There was more coughing and a thud on the other end, followed by Scott’s comm going dead. “Scott?! Scott, are you alright?! Answer me!”

Gordon started to run full speed, all thoughts of lab safety abandoned in his panic. All of the alarm bells in his head were ringing; something’s wrong, something’s wrong.

Something’s wrong!

“Gordon, put your helmet on now!” John barked over the comm line, causing him to halt and follow without question. “There is an unknown gas radiating from Scott’s location! GDF and Virgil are on route now!”

Gordon took off in a sprint again, helmet now secured. “Good! We may need it! Do you have eyes on Scott?”

Gordon flew around a corner.

“He’s still not responding; vitals show he’s conscious, but none of them are in a healthy range.”

John sounded worried. Not a good sign. As was the yelling he could hear as he neared Scott’s location, but something was off about it.

The only one yelling was Scott.

He slowed down his pace, not wanting to run into an unknown, possibly dangerous situation unprepared.

“No! No! Gordon! Please, wake up!” Scott could be heard screaming; his voice filled with pure anguish. “Please!!”

A shiver ran down Gordon’s spine, “John, you don’t have any clue what that gas does, do you?” He whispered tensely; honestly a bit freaked out by Scott’s cries.

“I’m working on it….” John growled, sounding beyond frustrated that vital information was alluring him. “Don’t engage Scott until we know what we’re dealing with, okay?”

Gordon scowled, hearing Scott scream and cry his name again. “Sorry John, no can do….” He turned the corner, finally laying eyes on his brother.

Scott was hunched over a body, screaming his name and begging the dead body to wake up, sob rattling Scott’s shoulders.

Scott thought that body, a young adult male, was him, Gordon realised in horror, his face going ash white.

“Scotty?” Gordon spoke softly, taking a cautious step forward, his hands held up in front of him in a gesture of peace. “You’re okay there, bro?”

Scott’s head snapped up at his entrance, blue eyes locking onto him. Blue eyes which were cloudy and glazed over.

Gordon grimaced, taking another step forward.

Yeah, Scott wasn’t in his right mind; that was plainly obvious.

The situation changed so fast Gordon barely had time to react as Scott launched to his feet with a snarl, yelling, “You!”

Gordon barely dodged Scott’s punch, his eyes going wide. “Whoa! Scott, it’s me! Gordon!” He pleaded as he dodged Scott’s attacks.

That seemed to just make Scott angrier, “don’t you lie to me, you bastard! You killed my brother!!” Scott jumped at him, finally managing to knock him off his feet.

This was bad! This was very bad! Gordon thought as his big brother started to punch him, pinning him down with a crazed look in his eyes.

Virgil and John were yelling at him over comms. He had to do something! Gordon thought as he struggled against Scott, whose punches were becoming more painful.

Gordon’s elbow stuck Scott’s cheek, stunning Scott long enough for him to shove Scott off, and put distance between them.

“Scott! Stop this! I don’t know what you’re seeing, but it’s not true!” Gordon yelled as he once again began to dodge Scott’s attacks, his ribs protesting immensely. “Please, Scotty!”

Scott’s attacks stopped, blue eyes clearing for a second, “Gordy?” Scott’s voice trembled, sounding so terrified.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s me, Scooter….” He took a hesitant step forward, a plan forming in his mind. “We were on a rescue, remember?”

He took another step forward, seeing that Scott was staying still, slowly reaching for the emergency sedative in his sash.

Scott’s eyes latched on his hand movement, eyes going wide, and the anger returned. “Ahhhrgh! Get out of my head!” Scott shook his head, gripping his hair in his fists. “Your tricks won’t work on me, Hood!”

Well, that explains a lot…

He took another step forward, “Scotty, I promise I’m not-“

“Enough lies!” Scott screamed, tackling him to the ground, his head hitting the ground hard, being momentarily stunned.

“No!” Gordon cried out as Scott knocked the syringe from his hand, it rolling just out of his reach.

“It’s over, Hood!” Scott sneered, blue eyes devoid of their normal kindness and love, “you’re never going to hurt my family ever again!”

Gordon looked into emotionless eyes, and felt proper fear of his brother for the first time in his life.

Scott wasn’t going to stop; he was going to...

Gordon growled, his eyes hardening in detention as his fist met Scott’s nose. Scott cried out in pain, distracted for a second, and in that second, he was able to wrestle Scott under him.

While Gordon was quick and agile, a good fighter in his own right, Scott was stronger than him. The fight quickly escalated into a wrestling match, neither letting the other get the upper hand.

Gordon spotted the syringe near them, just as Scott got the upper hand, slamming him into the ground.

No matter how much he struggled, Scott had him well and truly pinned this time, one arm pinned above his head.

One arm was free, but mobility was limited by Scott’s body weight on his upper shoulder and arm. But he had to try!

“Scott! I’m just tr-” Scott pressed his forearm against Gordon’s throat, beginning to cut off his air supply “,-t-trying to help you!”

His fingers brushed against the syringe, it slipping just out of his grasp. So close! So close!

“Like hell you are!” Scott cried, tears of anguish and fury pouring down his cheeks. “What have we ever done to you?! What have my little brothers done?!”

Tears pickled at the corners of Gordon’s eyes, his vision darkening just as his hand finally gripped the syringe.

He didn’t hesitate, slamming the syringe into Scott’s thigh with all of his remaining strength. Scott cried out, the pressure on his throat disappearing as Scott leapt away from him.

“What did you-” Scott stumbled, falling on his butt, eyes starting to blink rapidly. “What did you just...just inject into me?!”

Gordon slowly sat up, wrapping an arm around his ribs. “Scotty, it’s okay….” He moved towards Scott, who tried to flinch away, but only ended up collapsing onto his side.

“No, no, this, this can’t be h-happening..” Scott whimpered in despair, unable to lift his head or stop Gordon from moving towards him. “P-please, not G-Gordy….”

“I’m right here; I’m right here, Scotty..” Gordon pulled Scott onto his lap, wrapping his arms around him tightly. “It’s alright, shh come on, go to sleep now….”

Scott’s eyes were becoming heavy, each blink becoming more prolonged than the last, “No, I can’t…I gotta…I gotta…“

Scott’s breathing evened out, eyes slipping close and not opening again. Gordon sighed in relief, slumping backwards, Scott’s head resting against his chest.

“You owe me big time, big brother…” Gordon whispered with a small pained smile, hearing Virgil’s voice in the distance. “So very, very much….”

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #scott tracy #gordon tracy #john tracy #virgil tracy #alan tracy #sicktember2021

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generalfoolish · 3 years

Text

Do You Ever Wonder?

Part Two: How You Make a Boy Feel

Pairing: Marcus Pike x fem!reader

Rating: Adult themes, but still pretty fluffy

Word Count: 1,991

Masterlist | Do You Ever Wonder? Masterlist | Part One

A/N: A little update to this story. I'm still on the fence about Marcus, but he's fun to write ;)

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged!

“Stop!” You giggled, walking arm in arm out of the movie. Marcus was teasing you about your obvious attraction to both Humphrey and Mary. You couldn’t help yourself, you reasoned, they were a great distraction to the handsome man beside you. You leaned in closer to him as you walked into the chilly D.C. evening.

“Fine, fine. Are you hungry? Popcorn makes me so hungry. I was thinking of a proper restaurant, if you’re into it?” Marcus leaned down closer to your ear, his breath a hot tickle against your hair. You nodded, and burrowed into your jacket a little deeper. It had seemed like a promising evening, but the sun had taken all of the warmth in the air with it.

“It is chilly, isn’t it. Here, I’ll get a cab.” Marcus stepped away from you, and flagged down a cab in no time. He could be very authoritative when he wanted. You slid in after he opened the door, and he gave the cabbie the address.

“So, where are we going?” You asked, rubbing your hands together. He scooped them up and wrapped them in his large, warm hands. You blushed a little, thinking about how big they were and what you’d like them to be doing instead. He smiled and blew some warm air in the pocket his hands had made for yours.

“It’s a little fancier than a diner, but it’s no black tie place.” He told you, lowering your hands, but not letting go. The action forced you to scoot a little closer to keep your arm from being bent awkwardly, but you didn’t mind. Two hours in the dark with Marcus had only driven you crazy. You had no idea why he was going so slow. Not that you minded the switch from the usual dating scene, but if you didn’t taste his lips soon you felt you might actually lose your mind.

“How vague, Marcus.” Your tone was chiding, but you smiled as you said it. You had come to enjoy his easy banter and teasing. You didn’t want it to end. Before you knew it, though, the cab ride was over and he was passing cash to the driver. You got out on the building side, and looked back in confusion at him. There was no restaurant. There were no businesses at all. He grinned widely as he approached you. His hand found the small of your back, and he led you to a door up a small landing.

“That’s because I wanted to cook something for you. I’ve been, well I’ve been practicing, and I...I want to do something nicer than a stuffy meal.” He stammered out, before looking at your face. You had broken into a smile, and you were sure your face was turning red from more than just the cold. Unable to speak, you just nodded. You were overcome with an emotion that was new. No one, let alone a prospective guy, had made you a meal. It felt like a lot, but in a way you’d never had before.

“Welcome! I picked the place up a bit before the show, but I’m fairly clean.” He rambled, tossing his keys in the foyer table’s bowl. He kicked his shoes off, and invited you to do the same. He took your coat, and hung it up in the closet. He ushered you to the kitchen and pulled a small stool out for you.

“So, I’m not a big wine guy, but you struck me as a red wine gal?” He laughed, and pulled out a bottle from the fridge. “The clerk assured me this would impress a pretty girl.” You both laughed as he poured a glass for you, and passed it your way. He watched apprehensively as you took a sip, and exhaled in relief when you told him it was good. He poured himself a glass, but you noticed he didn’t touch it much.

“What’s on the menu, then, Chef?” You asked, swirling the Pinot around.

“It’s number 5 on the “Easy and Romantic dinners to impress your date,” List, and number 12 on the “Easy but Impressive Meals,” List. It’s just mussels in wine with some homemade bread. A little salad if you’re into it?” He rambled, clearly nervous.

“That sounds amazing, Marcus. Did you say homemade bread? I thought you said you were a beginner?” You asked, peppering him with questions, but honestly a little buzzed and ready to tear up some fresh mussels.

“Like I said, I’ve been practicing. Now, why don’t you handle the music situation, and I’ll get cracking on dinner.” He flashed you a big smile, and pointed to the vintage record player in the corner of the living room. It was gorgeous, cabinet style. He had shelves of records to choose from, and you shifted through the sleeves. It was endlessly more intimate than a stuffy restaurant, you thought as you pulled Fleetwood Mac’s self-titled record from the shelf. You loaded it gently on the turntable, and then laid the needle on the edge. Monday Mornings came through the speakers after a little crackle, it sounded clean and beautiful. You swayed a little to the words, before following your nose back to the kitchen. Marcus was concentrating on the mussels, but you could see his foot tapping. You knocked back the wine for a little courage, and poured some more. You noticed he had a nice Sauvignon Blanc for the mussels, and you felt your mouth water at the thought of how delicious dinner was going to be.

Without noticing it, Marcus had started feeling the music a little more, and you watched him dance as he added the wine to the mussels. He slid smoothly from the stove to the counter to chop herbs as the record started croning Warm Days. You watched the way he slowed his slight swaying to match the slower pace of the song, and you felt the rush go right to your core. Everything about him made you crazy. You shifted a little on your stool, getting more uncomfortable as you traced the outline of Marcus’s back muscles as he chopped garlic and parsley. You felt the heat rise to your face as you thought about his hands tracing you, and how it would feel to roam your own hands across his back.

“Dove, would you grab the bread from the oven, there’s a mitt to the left of it, I’ve got sticky garlic fingers.” He said, laughing. You cleared your throat, and stumbled to the oven. You grabbed the loaf out, and nearly dropped it when you saw how gorgeous it was.

“Marcus did you cut this design yourself?” You asked incredulously, and he nodded without turning around. “It’s gorgeous!” You exclaimed, laying it on the board he had set out. He started to say something, but the song loudly switched to Blue Letter, and the moment was lost.

“That’s dinner, then.” He told you, pulling the pot from the stove and walking it to the counter with the stools. “You’ll have to excuse the counter meal, there’s not a lot of space and I admittedly eat most meals on the couch.” He told you, sheepishly.

“No, Marcus, this is amazing. You were right, so much better than another meal out.” You assured him, as he spooned mussels out. He grabbed a knife and sliced a hunk of bread for you, before removing the pot.

“We’ll see if you still think that once you taste it.” He laughed, but you could tell it was a little more serious than he was letting on. So, not minding the steam, you dunked a bit of the bread into the broth. You quickly took a bite, and it was amazing. Not just good, but actually amazing. Which you told him, promptly and a lot. You tried the mussels and it was more of the same.

“Marcus, the flavor is amazing. You’ve never made mussels before?” “No, I just followed the recipe.” He said, sheepish, again.

“Shut up. You’re lying. You have to be.” He shook his head and you just looked at him in awe. You didn’t have much to say as you ate the meal, you were too busy enjoying it. You had never just loved mussels, but Marcus made you change your mind. Marcus made them your favorite. You smiled as you ate, and realized that you were falling for him. It made you nervous. Of course, it made you so nervous. You’d been burned before. He had too. It felt too nice, too quick. There wasn’t any drama between you. Over My Head played behind you, and you had to agree, it did feel nice. It felt amazing to be here, enjoying this meal with this wonderful guy.

That’s probably why you leaned over and kissed him. You didn’t really realize you were doing it, it was like your desire took the wheel and steered you right into the wall. He was surprised. There was no warning, no build-up, but he responded in kind. The kiss sealed it for you. The way his lips met yours hungryly. How neither of you let up until you were panting for air. How you both seamlessly slipped from the stools, and stumbled to the couch without breaking apart. How wordlessly you found yourselves exploring each other.

You broke apart for a second, his hands wrapped firmly around your waist as you straddled his hips. He rested his forehead against yours, and struggled for breath.

“I outta cook for girls more often.” He joked, his lips connecting with your jaw and moving lower at a lazy pace. You moaned against the soft trailing, and shifted against him as he sucked softly at your neck. You felt his own stirring beneath you, which you brazenly dipped against. He grunted into your neck, and held you close. “Careful.” He warned, his voice low.

“I think I’d like to skip straight to dessert.” You evened, darkly. He smirked and pulled you down for another kiss.

~~~~

You were laying against his chest, his heart a steady thump beneath you, and you could have probably fallen asleep just like that. His arms were wrapped around you, and his fingers were trailing in your hair or rubbing gentle circles on your back.

“What does this mean for you?” He asked the darkness softly. You felt his heart start to race, and you hoped it was for the same reason your own started racing. You swallowed hard, the words not coming easily. For you, it was so much more than just sex. It was shattering. You’d had casual hook ups before, but this felt like so much more. He took your silence badly.

“It’s just, I’m not a kid, y’know. I’ve been married, divorced, and engaged again. I want something real, and lasting. I can see that for us. I promised myself I wouldn’t get serious fast, but there’s something about you. You know? It’s everything. There’s everything about you. I want to make you dinner all the time. I want to dance with you, and watch movies, and just see your smile. I just have to know if you feel the same, because if you don’t then I can’t be hurt like that again.” You propped up on your elbows to look at him, but his eyes were squeezed shut. Your heart broke for him as he spoke, and you just wanted to put him together. You pressed a kiss against his chest.

“Marcus, I want nothing more than to get to know you, and learn how to make this work. I don’t want to rush in, but I couldn’t wait another second. I want to try this out with you.” He pulled you closer and kissed your forehead. You were happy to see him content, and you were as happy as you could be. It was the start of something amazing.

tagged: @mouthymandalorian

#Marcus pike x reader #Marcus pike x fem!reader #the mentalist #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters

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lethesomething · 3 years

Text

Boy band members as puppies or cats: Ateez edition

I was drunk last night so i obviously came up with a the scientific™ theorem that posits all boy band members are some form of puppy or cat. In order to investigate this Very Scientifically, i'm just gonna do what i do and make lists (note: i am not a scientist).

I will start my analysis with subject A: Ateez

Seonghwa

Soft, careful, polite in the streets, theatrical AF in, uh, on stage. Like a lot of the band, he has a certain duality to him. Protective but mostly incredibly proper. Verdict: cat (regal) This is that very pretty cat that looks a little haughty cleaning himself behind a window in a posh part of town, but can actually be really affectionate when you get to know them. Enjoys chasing a bell ball a little too much. Puts on All of the Charm when you're putting milk in your coffee and they Want Some. Why are you suddenly curling around my legs like a stripper finding a pole in the desert, cat, you know it's bad for you.

Hongjoong

Hard working, extremely self-conscious, a little awkward but we love him anyway. The brains of the operation. Has some kind of leadership position but is sadly put in charge of pure chaos. Save him. Verdict: cat (tom) The kind of cat you let out in the morning and don't see again till night. What's he doing? Where does he go? Who friggin knows. He keeps coming home with random accessories and looking fabulous in them. You assume he either steals them or has acquired a harem of adoring fans on his travails.

Yunho

Quiet but very energetic and, to be fair, a little silly. Seems very chill and easy-going, to the point where i've only seen him look forlorn or any kind of sad when he's acting in kdrama. Verdict: puppy (retriever) Listen, the fandom has collectively decided that Yunho is basically a golden retriever and i'm not about to face their wrath. Think of the kind of dog that is surprisingly calm when taking them out for walks, but so frigging cute that everyone wants to pet them. He's fine with it too. Give him All the Love.

Yeosang

Another quiet one, though incredibly aware of the effect he has on people. The amount of sass contained withing this one person could power a small boat. Verdict: cat (bodega) The kind of cat that lounges. The world is his oyster and this particular store is the realm he has chosen to rule over. In the morning he snoozes in the apple basket, a few hours later you find him on the shelf, back paw dangling down as he stretches out between the instant coffee and the sugared cereal. Oh you want to buy some powdered milk and could he please move so you can get it? No.

San

Duality king. Very soft and cuddly, but also very sharp (you could grate cheese on those abs). This man canonically sleeps with stuffies (or did at some point) and also canonically becomes some form of demon on stage. He's a whole package, people. Verdict: cat (black nero) You know that glossy, utterly gorgeous black cat that should be intimidating, but when he sits in his cute little soft bed with his toys he looks super adorable and you wonder how he stays lean and muscular like that, but then when you pull out the laser pointer he goes Completely Batshit Feral and is willing and able to tear down the entire house to get the little red dot? Yeah.

Mingi

Big and very sharp looking (that jawline, jeesh), but actually very playful and soft and silly. A good bean. Must be protected at all costs. Verdict: puppy (big) Mingi reminds me of those big dogs with the big deep boof that come up to your waist and even if they are mostly made of limbs, you're a little cautious of them but they're just very soft and friendly and a little clumsy. Not even remotely as scary as he looks.

Wooyoung

Official top hoarder of kpop men during his time on Kingdom. The closest a human being has come to being an actual dog. He once bit Yeosang's arm? As a sign of affection? I have no words for this dude. Verdict: puppy (excitable) Loves Everyone. Reminds me of the kind of dog that you take on walks and afterwards your arm hurts because he keeps excitedly running up to people, sometimes scaring the shit out of them because he's so loud, and you have to pull with all your might to keep him from jumping all over random strangers. Enjoys hugs. Gets way too into games and destroys three toys per week from sheer energy overload.

Jongho

The Only Adult in the band. One of the more held back and serious out of all of them, though that's not really saying much. Destroyer of fruit. Makes other vocalists go 'Jonghoo…..' and sigh in inferiority complex whenever he Does the Thing. Verdict: puppy (husky) This man gives me big sled dog vibes. He protecc, but he also takes zero shits. Very strong and at times stubborn. A good boy, but Vocal (see what i did there). Good luck getting along with the neighbours once he starts howling at the moon. Those high notes can crack glass.

#ateez #seonghwa #choi san #yunho #hongjoong #yeosang #mingi #jongho #wooyoung #lethey analyses

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theflashdriver · 3 years

Text

Just Five Minutes (A Silvaze Oneshot)

Heavy was the head that wears the crown, both due to the burden carried by its owner and the lack of sleep that accompanied it. Blaze the cat was known for being a workaholic, friends and colleges alike has claimed such and made efforts to curtail her tendencies. To some extent her overworking was indeed self-imposed, it was in her nature to take on burdens and the work of others, but it wasn’t solely her own fault. As the singular monarch of the Sol kingdom, she worked long hours with little hope of respite.

One o’clock was nearing, it was only fourteen minutes away, yet Blaze had already sat through two meetings totalling almost four hours between them. The day had started at half past seven with some additional reading and preparation, she was supposed to have had a pair of hour and a half long meetings yet both had seen fit to overextend by around fifteen minutes. It wasn’t that these meetings were unimportant per say, the first had been regarding a foreseen bumper crop while the second had concerned utilising more modern defences to protect the Sol emeralds, but both of them going into overtime was taking its toll.

The twenty-one-year-old princess was supposed to have a half hour break between each meeting, supposed to being the operative words. A half hour break cut in half once more, it’d be comical if it wasn’t such a common occurrence. Even if there was no break whatsoever between these discussions, she was supposed to retain a prim and proper attitude whilst her visitors could yawn and slouch without risk of it being taken as an afront. Even doffing her usual guardian’s outfit, her robes and tights, risked being viewed as some sort of afront. As she walked the palace halls, now free from that stuffy meeting room, she knew that she was stewing on this much too intently. If she kept this up, she wouldn’t enjoy this brief hiatus and her patience would wear thin when the next meeting undoubtedly exceeded its allotment.

Groggily, she shouldered her way through a set of old double doors and into the library. The scent of old paper and stagnant air hit her, but it signalled a sort of sanctuary. She moved quickly across the emerald carpeted floor, breezing along the great wall formed by the historic fiction section. The massive room was like a labyrinth lined from floor to ceiling with books, but she knew her path through it better than anyone else. It didn’t take long for her to notice that a few tomes had been lifted, a pair on specific pirates and three more containing hyperbolised accounts of the island’s early history. If she hadn’t known he was here, then that would be a clear indication of his presence.

She coasted along the next wall, passing by historic poetry, before crossing by a section filled with pure historic nonfiction. The old wooden shelves that framed her surroundings were surely soon due their monthly dusting, a job that her partner had taken on with gusto in an effort to make this space nicer for the pair of them. As she snuck past yet another library shelf, she swore she heard him snort. With no more than a parse at the row upon row of encyclopaedias, she rounded the final corner and her eyes fell upon him.

Lounging on their shared couch at the heart of the library was Silver the hedgehog, three days into his return from the other world’s future. Both of them had dramatic burdens on their shoulders, she had a world to run while he was tasked with saving his, but to say that he was enjoying his rest would be an understatement. Books were piled on the coffee table before the psychic, claiming residence beside a filled fruit bowl, and he was currently nose deep in a newer retelling of Jet the Second of Babylon’s exploits. He’d taken on clothes too, adding to snug display. She’d stolen the maroon hoodie he was wearing on a number of occasions and his ability to wear baggy grey tracksuit bottoms as he pleased was making her quite envious.

Sneaking behind him, she placed her chin atop his head and draped her arms across his chest. Though she felt him shift, he quickly seemed to relax as he realised just who was holding him. Her eyes dared to close as she took comfort. He’d arrived in as messy a state as usual, smelling of old sweat and thoroughly filthy. Three days deep into bathing though, he smelt of pines and was unbelievably fluffy.

“You look too comfortable, mind if I join you?” She heard the tone of a princess in her voice and winced, “Sorry I’m late.”

“You sound tired,” She felt his hand reach up and his thumb caressed her cheek, “Did everything go okay?”

“We just ran over time, it was as mundane as ever,” She sighed, pulling herself away and rounding the couch. She shrugged off her purple robe, revealing the white tank top beneath, but knew she wouldn’t be free for long. In an attempt to make up for lost time, she immediately lay across the couch and set her head in his lap.

His book was quickly put aside, and their eyes met for the first time today. Age had certainly treated the hedgehog kindly, granting him a height that she couldn’t match even in heels. His shoulders had broadened, and his voice had deepened but that innocent spark still lingered in his piecing yellow eyes, reminding her of what an innocent he was. Casually, she sank a hand into the small plume of chest fur that had escaped him clothes and watched his smile grow warmer.

What they were to each other now had gone unspoken for months, if not years. The nature of their relationship had only ever been confronted through actions like this for a multitude of reasons, not the least of which were their duties. Still, that made things fun, it meant she could perform actions like this and watch as he struggled to react. Blush had claimed his cheeks and he’d quickly broken from their stare-off. She had won, as was so often the case.

“Are you hungry?” He asked, his gaze having undoubtedly fallen on the fruit bowl.

“Famished,” She replied, yawning up at him.

With a whir of psychic energy, Blaze watched a bunch of grapes drift into view before arriving in his hand. He gently lowered his hand and, without so much as blinking, she bit one from the vine. He’d probably filled the bowl himself before coming, the hedgehog had a serious sweet tooth, but she’d started to wean him off of chocolate and towards fruit as of late. His sugar intake was still ludicrous, but he was on the path to improving at least.

“I’m sorry it’s not a proper lunch, Marine needed more help that I’d thought,” He claimed a grape for himself. They’d intended to meet during her first break but a call from the raccoon had dashed that plan, “Apparently her ship had sank an hour before she called me in, but she didn’t want to admit that.”

“Hush,” She commanded, claiming some more fruit, “If you’re that worried about it then you can make me something in time for the next break. A little sugar boost will more than get me through,” The feline elaborated, “Did you manage to fish it out the ocean?”

“I did, and it’s mostly patched up, but I think it’ll take her another day or so to get it ready. She had a bit of a pre-emptive launch,” He explained.

For a while they simply lived in silence, quiet and calm. Moments like these were still rather new to them, intimate in a way they hadn’t really experienced. The fact that they could just exist like this for a while, sharing food and unwinding, was wonderful. He hadn’t known comfort in this lifetime, just as he hadn’t the prior, but she was here now to make certain that he did. They were together and they were safe; in moments like this, she could thing of nothing else.

Blaze found herself snuggling deeper into his lap, relaxing her shoulders and clasping her hands. Soon the sound of her purring came to fill the air, overwhelming the silence. This was the closest to the traditional view of a princess that her life got. It was all work, none of what the storybooks had told her. She worked constantly and fought to defend her world, she was born into a position of equal proportions servitude and luxury. At least Silver could open her eyes to the latter, even whilst the former hung over them.

She swallowed another mouthful, realising that a thought wriggled its way to the forefront of her mind, “What time is it?” She was ruining what little time they had but she had to know.

Silver glanced over his shoulder toward the library’s ancient grandfather clock. It had been introduced when the castle was first built but, gradually, none of the original remained, “Five minutes to one,” He glumly responded.

“Only five minutes left already,” She mused, “More like three, considering the walk.”

She heard him sigh, “It’s not fair…”

“It’s the path I’m on, there’s no escaping it,” She eased him, biting another grape off the vine, “In a handful of minutes I’ll be back in that room, discussing the construction of a new graveyard and replacing old tombstones.”

“A handful of minutes…” He hummed.

Blaze looked beyond the bushel and found that a quirk had entered his expression. Silver and new ideas were a paring that often mixed strangely. The hedgehog wasn’t unintelligent but his still relative inexperience with social situations and the nature of the modern world had led to some rather embarrassing situations. Innocently embarrassing of course, but certainly still worth avoiding.

Pushing the grapes aside she looked him in the eye, “What are you thinking, Silver?”

“What if that handful of minutes didn’t have to be just a handful?” He thought aloud, allowing his hand to mingle with his chest fur and quickly finding hers, “What if that handful of minutes could be as long as you wanted it to be?”

She flipped her right hand, interlocking her fingers with his, “It’s important work, I need to get back to it. There’s no way of changing the system to make that go away. You know how important my role is.”

“I know it is but,” He squeezed her hand, “You’ve already missed half of your break today, you deserve that much at least, right?”

“You’re so naïve,” Blaze yawned again, “I’ve missed it, so it’s gone. Rushing through meetings, or avoiding them to steal it back, isn’t an option. Let’s just enjoy the time we have.”

“But what if you could have it…” He hummed again, releasing her hand, “What if I could get you it…” Blaze sat up, turning to face him only to find that he’d looked away. Before she could open her mouth again, he’d jumped to his feet, “I’ll be right back. Don’t worry, I can do this.”

“Silver,” As the hedgehog went to stand, Blaze caught his hand. While she had an inkling of what he was going to attempt, she just didn’t know how safe it was, “You don’t have to overdo it, not for me.”

“You’re clearly tired and I want to help you, Blaze,” As he smiled down at her, speaking so honestly, she couldn’t help but feel a butterfly flap in her stomach, “I’ll do whatever it takes, even if it only changes things a little,” She let go of her hand and his smile grew even bigger, “I’ll be right back.”

The hedgehog took off like a shot, vanishing amongst the bookshelves, but Blaze didn’t hear his footfalls for long. There was a flash of cyan light, accompanied by a rumbling like thunder, and then the hedgehog was gone from the library, likely even from the entire castle. The princess glanced to the library’s grandfather clock. Her next meeting was set to start in three minutes. Had he not just run off then she would be preparing, hurrying back in the hopes of brushing up on the itinerary.

Her gaze dropped to the bunch of grapes he’d left but, just as she was about to pluck one, another thundercrack rolled through the library. Blaze looked up only to find that a portal had manifested in front of her, a bright cyan disk that washed the table, couch and her in its psychic glow. Just as quickly as it had manifested, Blaze watched as a hand with a familiar circular symbol reached through and into the library. She rose quickly, grabbing her robe before stepping over the table and toward the gateway. She took one last glance at the clock; she only had two minutes left, but how long did he plan to make those last? Blaze took his hand, closed her eyes and, feeling his tug, stepped into the warbling energy wall.

A change in air pressure immediately greeted her. The feline felt a gentle breeze blow through her fur, yet sunlight was shining warmly upon her. A stumbling step that brought her fully free from the portal lead her to discover the thick grass underfoot, matched by the mixed scent of countless wildflowers. She blinked away the difference as, in an instant, her world had gone from being lit by electrical lights to basking in a sun shining overhead. Around her, and even from far afield, Blaze could hear the hum of insects mixing with all manner of marvellous birdsong.

Her eyes fell upon the hedgehog who’d brought her here. In what had been mere seconds to her had been long enough for him not only to choose this location but his garb entirely. The hedgehog stood before her dressed in a short sleaved, open-buttoned, teal paisley shirt with accents of orange and white throughout the pattern. A set of still comfortable looking black trousers had taken the place of his joggers and he’d donned a set of hiking boots. As nice as his clothes were though, they couldn’t hold her attention like the overexcited grin on his muzzle.

He stepped out the way, revealing both a picnic spread and a far better view of their surroundings. Beyond the woven basket and tartan blanket, Blaze could see tree after tree stocked with ripe peaches, on the verge of dropping, and rolling green hills that spanned out towards the horizon. She soon however found herself becoming lost in the smaller beauties of this band new landscape. Lavender, crocuses, violets, bluebells, buttercups and countless other species of small flower covered the ground but around them were also foxgloves that harboured blundering bumblebees and wild sunflowers on magnificently tall stalks. The sight of a green hummingbird, daring to fly so curiously close out of blissful innocent, pulled her from staring at their surroundings.

There was no one else here, it seemed like no one had ever been here. When the hedgehog has left, she’d known his plan was to travel through time and find them a peaceful spot, but she’d expected to arrive somewhere in the reccent past or the other dimension. This must have taken far more effort than that, it absolutely had to. Not only had he found a place so wonderful but he’d found it on a day that the sky was perfect, errant clouds were drifting through the sky but never lingering too long in front of the sun. The grass wasn’t wet, rainfall must have been days prior, and yet the world around them was so vibrant.

“Silver, where are we?” She asked, her mouth agape.

“Where? We’ve hardly left where you were sitting,” He cheekily answered, wandering back to sit on the far side of the blanket, “We’re now on a simple grass plain on an undiscovered island, you’ll sit on that couch, around about where we are now, in a little under two thousand years.”

The feline walked to the edge of the blanket, “How long did it take you to find this time? How many days did you cycle through?”

“Well, I got us a good while away from the folks first landing on the island and then kept trying this same day every year until it was nice,” He answered casually but his blush betrayed how proud he was of this plan, “I think I went through a couple hundred years before picking this one.”

“And I take it this safe?” She lowered herself to sit, still eying him intently, “There’s no chance of a time paradox?”

“As long as we don’t do anything to disrupt the land, nothing should change. The timeline seems to do what’s easiest, it can stomach a small change like this,” He promised, opening the hamper with a wave of his hand, “Picking the spot was the last thing I did, gathering and cooking everything took way longer.”

Silver began to waggle his fingers in the air, almost like he was pretending to conduct. Blaze watched as shapes began to dance free from the basket. First came a large, sealed, pitcher, plainly filled with raspberry lemonade and still containing a half dozen frozen ice cubes. Next came a large silver serving dish which, upon landing, removed its top to reveal a spread of far more sandwiches than they could ever hope to eat. From tuna and cucumber to cheese and tomato, all manner of fillings had manifested in the blink of an eye. Soon after followed a troop of cupcakes set atop a two-tier stand, each iced a different colour and decorated from sweets ranging from lemon jelly slices to maraschino cherries to give each cake their own theme.

Silver the hedgehog could make wonderful use of a minute, that much was more than clear, but how long had that minute lasted for him?

“Just how long did you spend on this,” She squinted at him, causing the hedgehog to break eye contact.

“N-Not longer than eight hours?” He gulped.

“Silver!” The feline shouted, genuinely shocked. She’d expected a couple of hours, three at most, but eight?

“I can rest up and everything will be fine, we can stay here for as long as you like,” He promised, “As long as you don’t plan to stay for more than two hundred years, then we might bump into your ancestors.”

“I should have you send us back right now, this is far too much of an effort and I didn’t contribute anything,” She was flustered, again slipping into the voice she used to rule, but she was anything but upset with him.

“You just being here is more than enough on its own,” Silver responded, clearly growing flustered himself, “I-It’s not like I did this all totally on my own, I went to the other dimension and Amy let me use her oven. I didn’t want to go back and use mine in case I encountered Marine or messed something up permanently.”

In a lot of ways, Blaze knew she was exceptionally lucky to have Silver in her life, let alone to have a relationship like this with him. For as mundane as the cooking behind his effort was, and as normal as their prior time in the library had been, the hedgehog was anything but regular and so casual in how he showed it. No one else could ever have come remotely close to what she was experiencing right now, no one else had a partner who could stretch a minute into eight hours before whisking them away for as long as they liked. The feline almost felt selfish for keeping him all to herself like this but she knew that, fundamentally, that he did this because he cared. He’d seen how bedraggled she was and wanted to make her happy, to shirk this opportunity would be foolish. That and, well, he’d set this up for her to take advantage of. Blaze could tease him to her heart’s content, and no one was around to catch them in the act.

“We can eat, we can rest, we can explore,” He offered, awkwardly smiling at her again, “We can do whatever you want.”

“Whatever I want, hm,” The feline pawed her way across the blanket and toward the hedgehog, “I think I’d like to retake our prior position.”

With half a yawn and no further warning, she pushed her way to rest her head atop the hedgehog’s lap. She’d always known that he made a good pillow but something about this position, coupled with the warmth of the sun seeping into her fur, was truly blissful. Their cloistered times in the library were wonderful, but there was something entirely heavenly about doing this so publicly yet not having to worry about the prying eyes of others. There was no chance of rumours, no potential for tabloids, just the two of them, enjoying each other’s company. The sight of the blue sky above as they did this too; something about it felt so liberating.

“You said you were famished, right? I managed to get fresh salmon,” As he babbled, she glanced up at him. The hedgehog had used his power to draw one of the triangle-cut sandwiches from the tray, “I guess that’s not much of a feat when you can time travel but-

Before he could undersell himself, the feline reached up and shooed away his glowing aura. The sandwich retrieved, she only spoke two words, “Thank you,” That alone was enough to restoke the fire on his muzzle.

The clink of ice filled her ears as she took the first bite, signalling that he was pouring them drinks through the use of his power. Seared salmon and baby spinach in a delicately creamy sauce, the flavours mingled to perfectly. If every single one of those sandwiches had this level of effort put into them then the long hours he’d mentioned more than made sense. It’d be akin to making four or five separate dishes and then reshaping them to suit sandwiches, atop that even crafting the cupcakes and drink.

As a glass filled to the brim with a faint pink liquid drifted towards Blaze, she looked up to him again, “You really did go too far with all of this. You know I was expecting to arrive in the other dimension or the past, to step into some kind of café or a different library.”

“I may have gotten a little overexcited, Amy did tell me I was going overboard. Even if she then insisted that I go all out…” He admitted as she took a sip. It was frightfully sweet, as one should anticipate a concoction made by the two hedgehogs would be, but surprisingly subtle in its flavouring. The lemon only faintly undercut the primary raspberry taste, “I kind of owe her now. I promised to help her do something similar for her and Sonic…”

“Well, it does seem that you have a knack for this,” She complimented him before taking another sip, “I’m sure she’ll be more than pleased with wherever and whenever you send them.”

“She already has ideas, but I’m scared of granting her free reign in the past,” He cringed, “I need to find a middle ground between an interesting place and somewhere it’d be difficult to change the future,” She watched as a cupcake flew through the air, the hedgehog hadn’t had a sandwich yet but she was too comfortable to scold him, “I was thinking about letting them go on a winter date in the middle of summer… she seemed to think that was a great idea.”

“That does sound rather romantic. Very unique,” Blaze responded, before a likely truth ran through her mind, “Although, she’ll probably want you to surprise him with it. If you do that, she’ll surely be ready for the cold while he won’t be. It’ll be an opportunity to get closer to him, in more ways than one.”

“She wouldn’t let him freeze, right?” He asked, so very innocently.

“No, she certainly wouldn’t,” The pyrokinetic half-joked, “But I think, deep down, he’d enjoy that just as much as her.”

Conversation ebbed and flowed, just as the tide or changes in the clouds. One moment they would be discussing the food but the next they would be simply holding each other and enjoying their serene surroundings, only to later end up laughing about their friends’ potential antics. They were never quiet for too long, but conversation never felt forced or as though it was some sort of requirement, it was allowed to come and go as it pleased. Silver’s pointing out of a cloud shaped like Cream’s head led to a long span of time where they stared to the sky, occasionally pointing out the strange forms they observed. It was all so regular, so fundamentally plain, and it brought her nigh unending peace. Though she yawned throughout their meal, Blaze never found herself falling asleep.

His arms had found their way to hold her, clasping just above her bellybutton. This had been intended to relax her, but the princess couldn’t help but take in how peaceful her partner looked. He’d been so overexcited, but he’d equally worked so hard. It wasn’t surprising to see him so tired. After another long bout of silence, the hedgehog began to shift.

“Well, the food’s done,” He hummed, beginning to return the crockery to the hamper. In truth, they hadn’t managed to entirely finish all the sandwiches but she’d long since expressed her fullness, “We should probably head back, right?”

It wasn’t what she’d expected him to say, but she fundamentally understood it. He was trying to be mature, trying to match the seriousness she so often displayed, but Blaze had been spurred on by their surroundings. If they truly were outside of time, able to return to it at any moment, then what was the rush? Why would she ever waste a day as perfect as this. Just this once, perhaps only this once ever, Blaze the cat, the guardian of the Sol emeralds and princess of the Sol kingdom, decided to be greedy.

“I don’t think two hundred years have passed yet,” The pyrokinetic hummed, sitting up stretching.

“Eh?” He was clearly caught off guard.

“I thought I got to decide when we went back?” She teased, now fully rising to her feet. Blaze turned to him, “If this is my kingdom then I would like to see it.”

The hedgehog stumbled to his feet, beaming, “R-Really? I didn’t look around too much, just in case you wanted to. I just took a bit of a glance around from above, made sure everything was as it should be.”

She brushed past him, taking the hedgehog’s hand and feeling her tail wrap around his waist, “Shall we stroll then? Take in this island, unsullied by others’ footsteps?”

He squeezed her hand, bundling their picnic spread into a neat pile and setting her royal robe atop it, “There’s nothing I’d rather do.”

That stroll quickly evolved into a frankly stupid dash through the woods. Hand in hand soon turned to arm in arm as they leapt through the thick bracken of the underbrush. Though the hedgehog apparently had some knowledge of the layout, the feline soon ended up leading and racing to reach spots she knew would be transformed with time. A great peach tree forest presently stood, proud and strong, where the royal gardens would eventually take root. The feline had known that these trees were native to the island, but not that they were nearly so plentiful. In her time, only a few remained on Southern Island, one at the heart of the aforementioned garden and another near the town centre. Both were said to be centuries old but now Blaze knew that was certainly true.

Beyond those trees were a swamp, now the site of southern island’s main shopping district. The countless croaking of frogs proved to her that this part of her kingdom had always been loud, but seeing it in such a natural state almost made Blaze wish it was still in such a state. Still, that feeling was quickly washed away as Silver went to pick up a small amphibian only to tumble over himself. Though he managed to psychically keep himself from falling, the response from all the frogs was to leap from the brackish liquid and scatter in all directions. The cacophony of croaks was only rivalled by the sound of their slippery forms crashing back into the water and against the ferns of the undergrowth. The sight of him, bashfully hanging there as if he’d been ensnared in some unseen trap, was more than enough to make her laugh. In an instant, the hunter had taken the place of his supposed prey. What he’d intended to do with a frog if he’d caught it, let alone why he’d tried to catch one with his hands, Blaze had no idea, but it’d only added to the enjoyable mundanity of the day.

No reason, beyond the virtue of freedom she felt welling in her chest, led Blaze to break from staring at him and, still grinning from ear to ear, take off running. The hedgehog gave pursuit, for once not so oblivious as to think this was more than a mere game. Blaze jumped over roots and weaved through trees, running just out of arm’s reach ahead of the psychic. Her heart pounded as though this was some harsh battle, some life-or-death scenario, but she knew it’d only been stoked by the childish part of infatuation. She couldn’t do this in her time, not without feeling the eyes of her people scrutinising her every movement. Even when she was in the other dimension, the presence of so many people made her feel as though her every movement was being analysed. This was freedom, a form of release from her inhibitions that she’d never experience otherwise. It was as though they were in that destroyed future again, still children who were oblivious to how the world was supposed to be, but free from the pressures that world had forced upon them.

She ran and ran and ran until the trees were no more, until the grass vanished from under her and stone took its place. Blaze found herself at the edge of a bluff, overlooking the beach and the sea just beyond it. The feline knew this rockface well, she and he had enjoyed many picnics atop it. Though it was open and exposed now, it would with time become one of the most secluded and private places on the entire island. Panting, she drew the back of her hand across her brow and threw a glance back to him. Cyan light was glowing from the trees, he was in pursuit but had perhaps lost her.

“Silver! This way!” She called out before quickly turning her attention back to the view.

To Blaze, the value of the sea had been lost to her life spent on an island nation. She’d come to take the waters for granted, it was all she’d known for much too long, her relationship with the ocean had been a rather dull one. But now, seeing a beach devoid of people and waters more pristine than ever before, the beauty of the view took her by force. An untouched driftwood barrier formed a long yet broken line along the shore, protecting and simultaneously buffering a wide collection of rocks and shells of all different sizes and shapes.

She heard him land at her side; the key reason that she could stand heights like this. Across both lives, he’d helped her overcome that fear of falling. That alone was a miracle, she couldn’t believe she’d overlooked his potential for quite so long. What had once been a power she was equal parts captivated by and envious of had quickly become a rather romantic tool, a key part of unspoken his arsenal. Though this was the first occasion he’d taken them out of time for such a casual reason, he’d so often and so casually snuck her gifts with his power and carried her for miles above the ground. With the wave of his hand he could sweep her off her feet, not that he would without checking in first.

“It’s beautiful. This spot reminds me of when I first arrived in this world, everything looked so incredible. Undamaged, untouched,” The hedgehog thought aloud, “Do you want to head down there?”

Her tail had already snuck its way around his side again, but she knew that wasn’t enough of a hint for him. She had control, the almighty time traveling psychic was practically wrapped around her finger. It was probably due to their lonely situation but, now that they were away from the forest, it was as though the pair were more isolated than ever. She couldn’t help but feel just a little more confident than usual.

Yawning, mimicking the kind of movements she’d only ever seen in movies and read of in books, the feline stretched her arm around his far shoulder, “I suppose I might.”

Beet red colouration rushed to colour his cheeks as she stepped closer and allowed her right hand to sink into his chest fur, “I-I’ll take you wherever you want to go…”

She raised her leg and he quickly caught on, using his psychic pull to bring her into a bridal carry. This position had taken on different meanings across their lives. While once the feeling of his arm beneath her knee was a sign that they were retreating, it now signified a journey toward something. Be it the peak of a mountain or deep into a valley or simply further in their relationship, this position was a sign of movement. Gently, casually, she let herself lean into his shoulder.

Plainly trying to ignore his blush, a sheen of cyan overtook the hedgehog’s body as gravity abandoned them. With a single step they were floating above the abyss, but he didn’t stop there. As if walking on any normal road, the hedgehog paced further and further forward. With each step they would descend as far down as they did forward. Despite their relatively slow pace, Blaze lost track of time as she stared up at him.

There was something about moments like this, when that psychic glow coated him and his quills hardened in response. It contrasted so heavily with the childhood view she’d had of him, of an adorable ball of white fluff who was far too serious for his own good. Places like this brought out the best in him, let him be more casual and match his inherently soft aesthetic. He could be harsh and strong when he had to be, but she knew this was his closer to his natural state.

As his feet met the ground his eyes crashed into hers. She opted not to step out of his grasp, “S-So, um, we’re here.”

“I’d noticed,” She hummed, scanning their surroundings. He’d landed them on the inner edge of the driftwood barrier, where shells had gathered for years on this untouched land, “Shall we sit?”

“If you want,” The hedgehog struggled to respond, lowering the pair of them to the ground. Naturally, she maintained her position in his lap and atop him.

So very casually, or at least as casually as she could manage, the pyrokinetic cast a glance to her surroundings. The crashing of waves was somehow clearer than it typically was in her time, perhaps due in part to the lack of individuals intruding upon the ocean’s path. The sand was especially smooth, perhaps a result of the ocean’s efforts going entirely unhindered. She blindly stretched behind her, feeling her way through what few shells were in reach. They were cockles, as was supposed to be the case on the island. She had a meeting regarding their harvesting later today or, rather, in almost two thousand years.

She caught sight of his staring out of the corner of her eye. He was looking out to sea, but the remnants of his blush still lingered on his cheeks. Her only regret in all this was that she hadn’t seen his reaction as he first laid eyes upon this untouched world. The hedgehog had grown such an affinity for nature, a want to both experience and protect. It’d become an additional aspect of his role defending that other world, making sure that nature continued to thrive. From gardening to birdwatching to hiking, he’d fully embraced what he so often had to go weeks without.

He would leave again soon to perform that duty, she had to take advantage of what they had both here and now.

“You know, this has all been quite the flagrant misuse of your powers,” She tutted, shifting her weight to push him backwards as she broke the silence, “Very irresponsible.”

It was hardly the most scathing of her taunts but, perhaps due to the physical act that had coincided with it, her words it clearly snatched the hedgehog’s attention. His eyes flickered up to her, wide with surprise. The term your highness, or any of her royal titles for that matter, didn’t much appeal to the feline, but turning her learned regal traits on the hedgehog was an endless source of fun. She watched as surprise was gradually overcome by what little defiance he could muster; she already knew what he was going to say.

“W-Well,” He stuttered, trapped beneath her, “I thought it was for the best? It’s not like I only use my powers to save the world, I used them to pass you grapes before we left.”

“Ah yes, how long ago was that? More than ten minutes must have past by now,” The feline felt a smirk grow on her face as the hedgehog squirmed, “You’ve made me late.”

“We’ll be back on time, I promise,” He managed to reply, struggling to meet her gaze, “I-I’ll drop you right into the meeting room if you want, we can even arrive early. Your past self will be in the library for ten minutes before it starts, you can spend all that time getting ready for the next meeting.”

“How naïve, making such decisions for a princess,” She sat up straight, shuffling off of him a little.

The hedgehog managed to rise just a little, though his blush hadn’t cleared in the slightest, “Y-You’re happy to be here though, right? You’re happy to have this break?”

“Am I?” Blaze turned away from him and smirked toward the sea, “Whyever would you think that?”

“Y-You’ve been smiling,” He stammered, she could imagine the worry on his face without even glancing his way.

“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” She lied, still looking out to sea. Far away, she could see where the waves dipped beneath the horizon. They really were alone out here. Playing with him like this in such a public space was truly liberating, “Though I supposed I have enjoyed this, somewhat.”

“I’m glad,” Like a switch had been flipped, he was beaming again, “You looked so tired back in the library. I know I can’t do much to help with your work but, if you ever need something like this again, you only need to say.”

“We can’t do this every time, Silver. There will be occasions when I’ll want to, but I know we shouldn’t,” His smile wavered, she cupped his cheek. He was so genuine, so sweet, so naïve, “Just having you by my side is more than enough,” She allowed that hand to slip to his quills and ruffle them, “Although, that’s not to say I won’t ever take you up on that offer…”

For a long while, surrounded by this serene scene, they simply sat and enjoyed each other’s company. Blaze found herself not sleeping but simply snuggling into the time traveller, burying her head into the crook of his neck before lowering to reclaim the pillow that was his chest. Eventually though, the feline knew that she was as comfortable as was possible, that all her relaxation had reached its climax. Pushing herself from his frame to loom above him once again.

“We should probably head back,” She snorted, as he fumbled to his feet, “Or, I suppose, head forward in this case.”

“If you’re sure you’re ready,” He double checked, only casting his hands skyward as she nodded.

Psychokinesis whirred and hummed, a great blue pulse left the markings on his hand only to soar above and beyond the cliff-face. While that energy was racing towards their belongings, the hedgehog’s face took on a frankly goofy expression. Despite how casual this situation was, his commonly serious demeanour had leached through to make him look rather foolish. His very colourful and uniquely patterned shirt certainly wasn’t helping matters.

In no less than a minute, Blaze sighted a glowing bundle soaring over the bluff’s lip. Like some kind of soft meteor, the wrapped-up picnic basket crashed towards them, only just stopping before it could hit the hedgehog in the chest. As the pile swept past, she plucked her robe from the top and shouldered it.

“You’re sure that you’ll be able to get us back to the right time, aren’t you?” The princess asked, dusting the sand from her tights.

“I promise,” He smiled, floating the bundle behind them before stretching his hands forward. From the quills at the back of his head, a well-cut green stone flew to hover in front of them. A chaos emerald, his preferred source of energy.

As though he was washing a window with sponges strapped to both of his palms, the hedgehog began to wave his hands in repeated circles. More energy began to pool in front of him like a warbling plate, it quickly grew from the size of a droplet to become far larger than either of them. The outer edge of the disk gradually ceased in their shifting and the hedgehog’s hands fell to his sides. The effort did seem to take it out of him a little but, with them now both bathing in the light of transportation, he wouldn’t have to work again.

“After you,” He gestured ahead, plucking the emerald from the air.

Blaze, entirely trusting her partner, stepped forward. Shifting across time and space was, by now, practically second nature to her. Once upon a time she’d struggled with the instantaneous shift from one place to another, her first arrival in the other dimension had left her dizzy and exhausted. Now she knew some best practices; to close her eyes, hold her breath and keep her balance.

She stepped off of sand and straight onto hardwood.

The strong scent of coffee struck Blaze first, the only true amenity in the room was a small coffeepot set on a small side table. That much was enough to let Blaze know that they’d arrived. No wind rustled through her fur and the room was lit by a series of electric lights that had been plugged into the celling when she was five. They were at the heart of the palace, there were no windows for the sun to breach. Just a boring wooden table with reflective varnish. He walked in behind her, sealing the portal with no more than a wave as he finished arriving.

Compared to the world they’d just known; the silence of the meeting room was deafening. She already missed the breaking of waves and the ticking of the room’s clock wasn’t a worthy replacement. They’d manifested at the head of the table, her position, and were faced with six empty seats. A glance to the wall proved that Silver had stuck to his word, it was exactly ten minutes till one o’clock. On the long stretching desk, directly in front of her seat, was a bulky binder filled with notes and opened to the hour’s itinerary. Ah yes, she’d gone from running through forests, trudging through swamps and having a heart to heart on the beach to discussing where to bury the dead in no more than a moment.

How long had they spent away? She’d assumed that it couldn’t have been more than a couple of hours but, in truth, time had been rather lost on her. Despite his intent being to create a time for resting, they’d ran and acted in such a wild manned. Instead, he’d energised her in an entirely different way. He’d brought her excitement; he’d given her the strength to carry on and get through today. How could she even begin to repay that?

An idea wriggled its way into Blaze’s head.

Nonchalantly, the feline redonned her robe and neatly fastened it before retaking her seat, pretending to scan her notes, “Well, everything seems to be in order…”

“I told you that I’d get us back on time,” She could hear the joy in his voice.

“You certainly did,” The princess squinted at the page, placing her finger beneath a chosen random word, “But it does look like the timeline has changed, ever so slightly.”

“W-What? It has?” He rushed to her side, leaning over her shoulder to look at the papers, “Blaze, what are you talking about? This is still all about refurbishing gravesto-

The moment he turned from the page to look at her, Blaze’s hand sunk into the quills on the back of his head and pulled him in just a little closer. He surely knew what she was about to do, she’d done it often enough, but that didn’t seem to stop him from becoming flustered. After a moment of staring, taking in his blushing face, Blaze closed her eyes and closed the distance.

Feeling him shudder at the first contact, wanting to return her efforts but being restricted by her hold, brought the princess endless jubilation. Blaze’s heartbeat shot up, as she pulled him in and offered him the slightest of opportunities. He hurriedly took it, pushing to further close the distance as is such a thing was possible. The taste of raspberry lemonade on his lips was just an added bonus. Feeling him grow tense beneath her touch, knowing that, despite his capacity to take her back in time, she had this power over him, was incredible. A might not born of her royal position or pyrokinetic might, but love.

The kiss didn’t last for long, of course. Not only did she have work to return to, but Blaze knew it was best to leave him wanting more. As she pulled back, her eyes reopened and his bashful face filled her vision. Eyes lit like overexcited lighting bolts, cheeks like poppy petals and a thorough look of overexcitement had claimed his face.

“S-So, I take it the timeline hasn’t actually changed then?” The psychic eventually asked.

“Not that I’ve noticed,” She smirked, “You’re the same naïve hedgehog you were when we left.”

“That’s good,” He struggled to reply, “I-I think.”

For a moment longer she simply stared into his eyes and watched him squirm. The princess didn’t especially wear makeup but the idea of leaving a lipstick stain on him had crossed her mind a handful of times. He probably wouldn’t even notice until it was too late. But, alas, similarly too late, they’d been lingering together for much too long. The pair of them had just spent hours together, she’d decided it was time to go, and yet she didn’t want to release him. What foolishness…

“I’ll see you in an hour and a half, perhaps a little longer,” She mused, still holding the back of his head, “If you can make such good use of two minutes, what can you do with so much more?”

“W-Well, um,” He squeaked, “I guess I’ll try to think of something?”

Her fingers uncurled from his quills but the hedgehog, plainly stunned, didn’t move, “I’m sure you will, but, for now, we must part.”

“O-Oh, right, yes, um,” He shot up straight, quickly looking away, “Good luck with, um, t-the graveyard people.”

“You’ll need to get used to this eventually,” She rolled her eyes. Despite the rarity of their kisses, given only when she was certain no one else could see, she’d thought that he’d have grown a little bolder by now. Despite the smallness of her action in comparison to his, the hedgehog was adorably lovestruck.

“I don’t know that I can do that in an hour and a half, even with time travel,” He mumbled, tugging at his chest fur, “And an extra fifteen minutes probably won’t change that.”

He could be so naïve, so blunt and oblivious. Without a second thought, Blaze rose from her seat and took him by the collar. Uttering nothing more than the word “Well, if you can’t manage that,” For the second time in so many minutes, her lips found his. The ticking of the wall clock filled her ears as they parted again, “Just brace yourself for when I finish up.”

#silvaze #Blaze the Cat #Silver the Hedgehog #sonic the hedgehog #Amy Rose #i guess the latter two are just mentioned but oh well #Marine The Raccoon #fanfiction #sonic

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gtschnickschnack · 3 years

Text

I wanted to post some of my writing so.. have this one shot

plot: Tim comes into the institute and finds previously shrunken Jon hurt on the floor, his feelings are complicated

length: 3.5k

cw: light injuries and some blood (from scraped elbow), gt typical manhandling, mentions of: worms, rehab and stalking

This is set in s3 and while canon divergence, I do a lot of referencing to things that happen in the podcast, so if you don’t listen to it, it would prob get confusing. Oh and also spoilers! So warning for that ig

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Tim was too tired to properly glare at Elias today when he walked into the institute. The music blasting from his ear buds was turned louder to ignore his comments on proper work attire. His joggers were extremely appropriate in his opinion. He hadn't been here for the last few days and was predictably feeling tired again and hated it. He stuffed his hands in his hoodie pocket as he made his way down to the stuffy basement, though he had to remove one to open the door to the office. At an earlier point most of them stopped really working in this room so stacks of statements where piled high, but by now no one seemed even bothered to clean the mess and dust was starting to settle on some. He sighed. At least no one was in this early.

Though he doubted Jon would be somewhere else. Tim closed the door behind him to walk over and stand by his desk. The sticky notes from last week were still there. Ever since Jon had been shrunk by that Mike guy he's spend most of his time on his desk, still trying to do his stupid work. He glanced to the door of his office and his brows furrowed in confusion when he saw it was closed. Martin had been very explicit about keeping it open so that Jon could call for help. Tim shouldn't care, but still walked over to it, opened it just a gap and then stopped. He also shouldn't need to do this, but he took an ear bud out and peered inside.

Disheveled as always, with boxes next to full shelfs and more folders sat on top of those. Tim listened for Jon who would surely tell him good morning and Tim could ignore it like always, keeping up his routine. But to his surprise it was silent. In fact the top of the desk looked devoid of him, though with how tiny he was now he could easily hide behind objects. He now pulled his other ear bud out, plugged the wire out and stuffed it into his pocket. He was getting tired of the song he'd stuck on loop anyway. Tim still shouldn't care, but the disruption of usual passive aggressiveness towards Jon gave him a weird feeling.

"Hey!"

He perked up. It sounded like Jon, but Tim couldn't place the direction. He looked around. Could he be on a shelf? Tim squinted as he walked over to the desk dominantly sat in the middle of the room and scanned the surface. Usually Martin was the one carrying Jon around. Though Tim hadn't seen him come in yet so perhaps he'd need to bring him some crumbs for breakfast today. He leaned over so he could peer behind a pencil holder. No Jon. His rand ran along the edge of the old wood as he walked around to the side of it. Maybe he was hiding behind that box for some reason.

"Tim!"

That's when Tim stopped dead in his tracks. That was Jon, and he sounded close. If Jon wasn't on the desk, but this close, could he…

His eyes slowly traveled down to the floor and surely there was Jon, leaning against his desk, arms over his head and and dangerously close to Tim's sneaker. Shit! Did he nearly step on him? He recoiled at the image with disgust, pressing his teeth together and quickly, but tense, took steps back.

Tim obviously still didn't care, but when he saw his tiny arms slowly lower clearly shaking he felt a twinge in his chest. But especially when he saw some red on Jon's skin where his shirt had been rolled up, did he move down to kneel on the floor, far enough away that Jon wouldn't have to break his neck to look at him. From the shorter distance Tim could see his chest move quick and his mouth hung open in shock. Was that his fault?

"What happened?" Tim simply asked and leaned down further.

Jon was very out of breath and needed a moment to catch some air. "I-I fell." He swallowed. "Down from the desk."

Tim looked between him and the top of the desk, scaled proportionately the height should be lethal, yet Jon looked fine. "So your eye powers make you survive falls like that now?"

"No I uh- I think it just has to do with surface?" He took another breath and gestured around. "Like mice or bugs who can also fall great from heights unharmed. Its about the relationship between the mass and-"

"I really don't care." Tim interrupted him and had accidentally raised his voice because Jon flinched at his tone. He swallowed down his guilt. It didn't really matter to him why he wasn't as hurt as he should be. He eyed Jon's elbow, definitely bleeding. "You're still hurt, we should clean that." This time lowering his voice.

"It-It's fine. I can just wait for Martin. I'm fine, it's really not that bad."

Tim put one of his palms flat out in front of Jon, the way he'd seen Martin do it.

"Martin isn't here yet." He had to hold himself back on an eyeroll. "And he is going to fuss over this a lot more than me."

Jon averted his gaze, but he could tell he agreed.

"So? You want my help or not?" Tim asked.

From this angle he couldn't see his face, but he heard his small sigh. With his hurt arm raised he scooted across the floor until his hand was put on Tim's palm. It was absolutely tiny. Smaller than Tim's finger pad. He guessed if he took it between his fingers it would be entirely hidden. Jon pushed himself up to sit and then probably meant to move backwards, but instead he only fell back and only stopped himself with his less hurt elbow. Christ did this man look miserable.

Eventually Jon did make it with his legs on Tim's palm, leaving them stretched out and feet barely hanging over the edge. Tim had obviously known for weeks that Jon had been small, tiny. But now holding him in the middle of his palm was the first time just how minuscule every part of him was. Tim's eyes started scanning over them, but then Jon craned his neck up to meet his gaze.

"I'm uh.. I'm ready, Tim."

Tim cleared his throat. "Uh. Right."

He carefully lifted his hand up and used his free one to stabilise the first one. Moving Jon up to his eye level he saw his eyes were closed and his mouth hang open to take deep breaths. He couldn't imagine Jon enjoyed being moved around like this. Even for him it felt a bit nerve wrecking, afraid he might drop this fragile man. How did Martin manage to keep so calm moving him? Tim tried to make the ride is smooth as possible while standing up. Back on his feet he put his hands over the desk and then stopped.

I could just… not put him down, he realised. Jon was small, incredibly tiny, and barely occupied Tim's palm at the moment. Everyone, including Jon, knew by this point that Tim hated him. So many shitty things had happened to and around him and it only feels right to blame Jon for most of them. They were friends at one point. Until Jon decided to become a lunatic and stare at him like Tim was holding a knife behind his back at all times. Tim still didn't feel safe with open curtains, afraid that Jon, or someone else, was watching him again. Jon hurt him, and the worst part about it was that everyone only cared about him. Sure he went through something there. And sure he at least realised he did so much wrong. But Tim feels like he could never forgive him. He'd already wished Jon would get some punishment and he already has, his curiosity and intrusiveness earning him the burned hand and his new size. But truth was he didn't really want to hurt Jon, he wasn't a monster. And it was hard to bear those tiny eyes staring up at him in fear.

"Tim?"

That made him blink and see his hand was still hovering over the desk. Right, he should put him down. Tim set his hand on the wood and watched Jon scoot over to the edge of his palm, planting his feet on the surface and using Tim's fingers to push himself up. He removed his hand once Jon walked a few steps away and couldn't help but notice the way he was slightly limping. The way he and Jon did after the worm attack, when they bonded over the rehab and Jon got mad at Tim's inappropriate jokes.

"Are your legs hurt too?" He asked.

"J-just some bruises. I'm fine." Jon explained.

There wasn't any blood soaking through his jeans so Tim had to believe him, though he rolled his eyes at the denial. There wasn't an ice pack that he knew of and the one ice tray that had sat in the communal kitchen had been lost or stolen some time ago. Seeing no other chairs around, Tim pulled over Jon's and sat down. Jon made no protest. It was a bit too low, still adjusted for normal sized Jon's legs, so he had to move it up before slotting his legs under the desk. Of course there was a first aid kit in Jon's desk and of course Tim knew about it. Because when his boss turned to stalking him, someone, something or the man himself, stabbed him. And he was so paranoid of them he didn't even tell them about it. After Jon earned a scolding from Martin, Martin had placed it inside his desk, should it happen again. If he should also be too lunatic again to ask for help. The memories drew some anger up in him, but when he opened a drawer and a jar of dust with the label 'Jane Prentiss' greeted him he raised his eyebrows, scoffing at the image. The other drawer then.

"I'm fine, really Tim, you don't need to waste your time."

Tim ignored him and did find the green box in the drawer below. He sat it gently down next to Jon and opened the latches to examine the contents. Jon gave him a sigh and walked back to sit on a stack of papers that was a bit too high for a proper seat so his toes barely reached the desk. He rested his hurt arm on his knee, while the other held onto the edge, his tiny fingers fidgeting with the papers. There was a convenient list of contents clued to the top of the kit and Tim searched for one of the first ones: alcohol wipes. They came in small square packs and he figured one would be more than enough for Jon.

"Can you hold your arm up?" He raised his own for show, elbow towards his boss and hand pointing to the ceiling. "Like this."

Jon mimicked him and Tim took the chance to lean down and inspect it closer. The skin on his forearm was scraped below the elbow, making him bleed a little, but it didn't seem too serious. He ripped open the pack first, the tissue inside felt wet and cold, then reached out and took Jon's wrist gently between two fingers to hold it steady.

"Ah! B-be careful please…"

"I'm not going to hurt you, Jon." Tim clenched his jaw and tried to suppress the feelings Jon's plea and scared expression invoked in him. "And stop staring at me like that."

Jon looked genuinely confused. "Like what?"

Like I'm going to kill you, he wants to say, but Tim already knew what that expression looked like on Jon, when he was sure he was plotting his murder after the Prentiss attack. Like I'm going to hurt you, he wants to say, because it would be so easy for him to do, whether on accident or on purpose. Like you're so sorry for yourself, he wants to say, because Tim knew he was. Jon had already tried to apologise many time, Tim just never wanted to accept it, because he hurt him too much to do that. Like you are trying to look into my head to check my next move, he wants to say, catching that same kind of glint in his eyes that Elias had.

Like he was a monster, he wants to say. "Never mind." Tim says instead.

Jon flexed his wrist in the grip, but otherwise let Tim handle him. The tissue still between his fingers he reached forward and gently tapped the wound on Jon's arm.

"Ah, ah!" Jon exclaimed at the sting and turned his head away, hissing through gritted teeth.

As Tim kept his concentration high he carefully cleaned the wound and let the tiny bits of blood soak up. It didn't look like the wound was still bleeding which was some relief. Jon's eyes were back on him, afraid and wet, but not crying.

"How did you even fall off? Did you slip on a paper?" Tim asked, patting around.

"No I uh… I was taking a live statement." Now Jon was avoiding his eyes again, his fingers bending the edge of the paper he sat on back and forth. "They didn't think neither I or the tape recorder were right to take their statement, though I assured them I am still very capable of listening and they uh… I got thrown off the desk before they stormed out."

Tim wanted to groan but it came out closer to a sigh. "Jesus Christ, You can't just talk back to people like that!"

"I have a right to complain!" Jon argued back. "Alright, I am small but I am not incompetent!"

"Jon, when you're like this people don't-" Tim cut himself off. People don't see you as a person, he wants to explain, having seen how people were treating him like a toy.

No, Jon was still a person. Even before he shrank to be smaller than a pen. Because choking up all the horrible things he'd done, to him being just another one of those monsters out there was wrong. Jon was an incredibly bad friend, miserable boss and extremely bad at hiding just how scared he was. And he was very much so a person.

Tim let out a long sigh. "Keep it like that." He instructed as he let go off his arm and tossed the tissue into an already full trash can.

Tim had already spotted the band aids before so he was quick to snatch one of them up. He held it out next to Jon's arm and saw how it would cover it in its entirety. There was luckily a pair of scissors in the kit as well and though they were awkward to use, bend up to cut through bandages or clothing, he managed to half the width of the bandaid.

Jon held his arm up for him so Tim could apply it. He wrapped it around and made sure Jon could still move his elbow. His fingers padded the bandaid as he had to wrap it twice around Jon's thin arm. Christ was he fragile. He pulled back and Jon did as well, inspecting his work. He scratched the edge.

"Thank you, Tim." Jon told him.

"Sure." He says.

Tim sighed and pushed himself back to his feet. He tried to ignore how much less tired he felt already being here. He turned to the door and only shot Jon a quick glance to see that he was already climbing a pile. Tim rolled his eyes. If he wanted to work himself to death, it wasn't Tim's problem. He was about to open the door when Jon interrupted him.

"Ah, Tim! Could you help me with this?" He shouted across the room.

Tim turned around to see Jon on the stack he was climbing, gripping the edge of a paper. He returned to stand in front of the desk again. "What? You're still trying to do work?"

Jon sighed and let the edge fall to his feet. "Yes, I was planning on researching this one next. And also let Martin know that the statement giver… changed their mind."

It was one way to put it, but even he thought it might be better to keep the truth from Martin, or else he'd make a huge fuss. "Right…"

"Yes, so could you?…" Jon gestured to the paper. "It's just hard to drag down with one arm."

Tim put his hands in his pocket and Jon followed them with lips pressed thin. "Why don't you take a break instead?"

"My lunch break is later, I'd like to get this done before then." Jon explained.

"No, I mean like a proper break. A holiday, I guess. You should at least rest your arm." Tim replied.

"I am, that's why I'm only using the other one."

He almost wanted to point out how he knew Jon would not take proper orders and take even longer to heal. Tim got it worse with the worms, but he could hand his cane back weeks sooner than Jon, just because he kept "forgetting" it. Jon was looking to the clock on the wall, then to Tim.

"So, you're not going to help me?" He asked.

"No." Tim answered.

No?" Jon raised an eyebrow.

"No, you need a break." Tim clarified.

Jon was rolling his eyes and giving him a sigh while Tim remembered holding him. He could force him to take a break against his will, Jon couldn't do anything against it, physically at least. While Tim was against the idea of using this situation to his advantage, getting his boss a break was not really anything of an advantage to Tim. He looked around, thinking of a spot to put the small guy. If he was on his desk he would surely try to work again. A shelf would be a bit cold and cruel. What if he threw off the files of his own desk and set him on there? He pulled his hands out of his hoodie pocket and that made him look down.

He could put Jon in there. Jon could not get out of there to reach any statements and was probably small enough to fit. Tim looked up at Jon and raised his eyebrows, the other man sending him a confused expression back. Oh, he would definitely fit.

With a sigh Tim rounded the desk and sat on Jon's seat again who furrowed his eyebrows in response. With some hesitation towards his plan he reached out for Jon. He didn't run away from his fingers, but did lean back. Tim's plan was to just quickly take him by his sides and put him into his pocket. So he placed his fingers there and lifted him up.

"Tim what- T-Tim!" Jon sounded alarmed.

He was afraid of squeezing Jon too hard so the fingers on Jon's sides quickly rose up to settle under his armpits, making Jon's shirt rise up and his shoulders hunched up.

"You're going in pocket time out." Tim explained.

He raised him up and watched his tiny arms wrap around his fingers to hold on, his legs kicking the air as he looked downwards with wide eyes. In a weird way it looked kind of cute. Tim would make it short for him and quickly held open the pocket to put Jon inside, removing his hand afterwards. He might be here a while so he reached down, under the seat, and let out a sigh of relief when he managed to find a handle that made the back rest go back. Meanwhile Jon stirred in his pocket and Tim could feel him move over to one side of it, hands placed on the edge first before his head peaked out. He looked a bit unsteady and Tim was ready to shoot a hand under him if needed.

"Tim, can you please put me back on the desk." Jon sounded irritated.

"Are you going to rest there?" Tim raised an eyebrow.

Jon took his eyes off him and went silent.

"Thought so."

Careful, as not to stir Jon too much, he set his legs on the desk to rest them on it, pushing some papers around. Tim pulled out his phone and plugged his earbud wires back inside, then scrolled around for something to do.

"Will-" Jon spoke up again and Tim turned his head to look past his phone. "Will you let me out at least when Martin arrives?"

Tim thought for a moment, then agreed. "Sure. Time out until Martin's here."

Jon looked away, staring at the floor, before giving a single nod and crawling back inside. From what it felt like he settled somewhere around the middle, pushed a bit against the upper fabric and then stilled. Tim almost felt proud. Not even Martin didn't struggle to ever stop this man from doing his work. He only put in one ear bud so he could still hear Jon in case there was an emergency and went to playing his usual mindless apps to pass the time in this hell hole of an institute. As his right hand figured out a puzzle his left fidgeted with the free ear bud before he stared at it, turning it around.

He shrugged and hoped Jon would like his music before putting it inside the pocket.

#gtma #schnickwriting #im not a good beta reader for my own stuff so excuse any mistakes plz

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unnecessaryadversaries · 4 years

Text

LOVE & DEATH [Alucard | Adrian Tepes X Death] Ch. 8

Summary: Since Trevor and Sypha's departure, Alucard has endured terrible loneliness and grief. Despite becoming known as the "Guardian Angel" — defender of Wallachia, and involving himself with witches, he believes it is his fate to suffer alone forever. One night, his world is turned upside down when the castle is visited by Mistress, the incarnation of Death. Each being the only remnant of what Dracula and Lisa have left behind, Alucard and Mistress Death revisit ghosts of their past, as they try to find solace amongst one another, and face the looming threats ahead.

(A/N: In case you were curious, Alucard is 6'2"; Mistress Death is 6'8"; and Itzhak is 7'3". So we've got a smol, a tol, and a very tol!)

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The kitchen was warm when Alucard walked into it, almost to the point of being stuffy, and the odor of burning wafted through the air. Despite this, his eyes widened slightly in awe as he looked overhead at the many candles hovering in midair, softening the space with a peaceful, orangish glow. Which was accented by the blue moonlight filtering in through the windows. It seemed magical, and he smirked at the gesture, but as enchanting as it looked, it could not distract from the mess made of the kitchen. Pots and pans were stacked haphazardly in the sink, food and other substances decorated the countertops and shelves in splotches, and the once tidy cabinets were open and wildly rummaged throughout.

“What a wonderful surprise,” Alucard muttered under his breath. He rubbed the aggravated knot that was already beginning to form in the back of his neck. The careful organization and storage of recipes, ingredients, and food were dismantled in hours, and it made his eye twitch. However, what caused him to blanch was the whispered sound of Mistress giggling as she spoke with Itzhak. They were observing the handstitched dolls Alucard had placed on a low shelf.

“Don’t look at those,” he blurted out, his cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“Ah, Adrian, there you are,” Mistress replied as she and Itzhak rose to their full heights to gaze down at him.

Alucard immediately noticed that she was dressed differently: For one, she wore no cloak, and her chained belt was missing but the amulet remained draped around her neck. Her new dress was still long and fitted her form but was off-shoulder and a muted blue color. The neckline dipped into a sweetheart pattern that almost revealed the line of her bust, and the sleeves remained dramatic and medieval-like. Her long, white hair was styled into cornrows at the front of her head that then dispersed into a bouquet of kinky curls starting at the middle. Furthermore, the two braids that hung forward on each side of her head were decorated at the end with silver beads.

He already considered her beautiful. Only now, she looked more welcoming, and maybe even slightly happier. Had it not been for the mess he knew she made, nor the humiliation he felt at having his dolls discovered, he would’ve complimented her.

“Itzhak and I were just admiring your cute, little dolls.” Reaching out, she grabbed them both in her hand. “They look just like Belmont and the Speaker girl. You’re so creative, Adrian. Isn’t that right, Itzhak?”

He nodded. “Yes, Mistress.”

Alucard shook his head. “You really are laying the compliments on thick; these are hardly impressive.”

He suppressed the urge to groan as he saw the way Mistress placed them back on the shelf. They were slouched over sadly and set too far apart from each other for his liking. Therefore, he approached the dolls rather quickly to fix their positions and lamented as he did so. “This castle was a lonesome, unfriendly place when Trevor and Sypha left, and I admittedly went a little mad when they were gone. These are just dolls but most days they were all I had to talk to.”

Once perfect, Alucard stepped back to admire his handiwork, a small smile tugging on his lips when memories of their playful bickering began to resurface.

“That’s pathetic,” Itzhak deadpanned.

An irritated growl ripped its way from Alucard’s throat as his head turned sharply to glare at the creature. His hands itched with the temptation to tear him apart, but if his earlier reaction to losing an arm were anything to go by, it’d hardly faze him in the slightest.

“Well, it needn’t be that way if they hadn’t left,” Alucard exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger at the dolls as his forehead wrinkled in frustration. In the awkward silence, little Trevor and little Sypha toppled forward slightly, as if they were bowing in forgiveness. He immediately noticed and grumbled as he moved to fix them in upright positions again.

Itzhak muttered “pathetic” in his alien tongue then looked to Mistress Death for her response…but, she had none. Instead, she stood rigidly and looked upon Alucard with a face etched with sorrow and guilt. Her eyes began to moisten with blood, tinging the white sclera pink and then red, as her bloody tears welled and threatened to spill. It was an intense look Itzhak had not seen since the night of Alucard’s birth, and it caused him to gasp, “My Mistress!” with a voice tainted by some flicker of worry. Slightly alarmed, she perked up and batted her eyes to return them to normal and acknowledged him.

“What is it?”

“The…surprise—”

“Yes,” Alucard interjected, “what is my surprise?” He faced them with his arms crossed after finishing with his task. “Because I am somewhat underwhelmed and quite frankly annoyed. The candles are a nice touch but, I can see that you’ve cleaned yourself up better than my kitchen.”

Mistress rolled her eyes skyward. “Ugh, you are a true Tepes man at heart, so dramatic.”

With that, she snapped her fingers, causing a visible shockwave to surge from them and spread rapidly outward. Consequently, the cabinets and windows rattled somewhat, and the ground shook slightly, but overall the kitchen was no longer in disarray. Alucard lowered the arm he raised to shield his face and gripped his chin as he surveyed the room, humming thoughtfully. Aside from the candles that still hovered overhead, everything seemed cleaned and in its proper place. Even that weird burnt smell was gone.

“There, is that better?”

Alucard arched a brow then brushed past her, headed towards one of his spice cabinets. He had a complex system when it came to the organization of his spices; one that took him days to figure out the best catalog that suited his cooking methods and palate, and he’d be damned if it was all thrown to the wind. He sifted through that cabinet and two others, checking the labels and positions of different spices to make sure everything was indeed in order. Once everything checked out, he released a satisfied sigh and answered, “Yes, much better.”

“Splendid! Now, come sit. Itzhak, pull out a chair for him!”

“Right away, Mistress.”

Alucard nodded his head in thanks when Itzhak pushed him comfortably up to the table. He had a sneaking suspicion of what to expect, and his mouth formed an “o” when it was confirmed. Mistress carefully set a lidded plate and silverware down in front of him, shyly confessing, “I could’ve used magic or simply summoned a chef from the Outerworld, but I wanted to do things myself.”

Alucard’s warm smile soothed any uncertainty she had regarding his surprise, and she felt more confident with her dish. Her body practically buzzed with excitement as she envisioned how pleased he would look as he ate. She became so eager by these thoughts that she almost wished to stuff his mouth full of food herself! However, she silently scolded herself for thinking such things.

Okay, that’s a little too far. What am I, insane? I need to control myself. It’s only food, but —

“How considerate, thank you, Mistress,” Alucard said, picking up his fork and knife. “I can hardly remember the last time someone has cooked for me, so I can’t wait to dig in.”

She beamed. “Perhaps I can do so again if this meal satisfies you?”

He chuckled lightly. “A tempting offer.”

When she finally lifted the lid, Alucard’s glowing face quickly became cast with a shadow of disgust and confusion. He tried to mask his repulsion with delight, but his furrowed brows and tense, awkward grin betrayed his true feelings. Fortunately for him, due to Mistress Death’s initial excitement, she was none-the-wiser to his first impression of her dish. Itzhak, on the other hand, stood beside her, watching the dhampir closely and softly droning as if in thought. Briefly, Alucard wondered how a being without much of a face could appear so judgmental?

“Well,” Mistress clasped her hands together, “what do you think?”

He poked nervously at the food, examining it with a critical eye. Two unevenly sized chicken breasts sat pitifully atop a mucousy mass of some unknown substance. The chicken was wrapped in what Alucard assumed was mozzarella cheese. It was spotted with pools of reddish oil and stretched thin enough to appear transparent in some areas, revealing the pinkish color of the chicken breasts underneath.

“Ah, chicken,” he commented with a shaking voice and wrinkling nose, “one of my favorites.”

He pushed the poultry aside to dig through the reddish-brown, slimy stuff below. It looked like a massive tumor of maggots, and when he tried to separate it, it pulled apart in gooey strands.

Oh Lord, please.

Alucard was never one to pray over his food before, but now he was beginning to consider asking for some divine intervention. The texture of this stuff alone was enough to make him feel sick, so he didn’t want to imagine how it’d taste. For a moment, he gaped wordlessly at it before clearing his throat. “And what might this be?”

“Jewel worms! They’re considered a delicacy amongst the elven folk in the Outerworld. I only hope I prepared them correctly.”

“I see,” he responded, hoping that his dread didn’t seep too far into his tone. “And what are they supposed to taste like?”

To Alucard’s dismay, she shrugged. “Unfortunately, I would not know. I only followed the recipe once Itzhak brought me the ingredients.”

The maggots themselves sat upon a pile of a thick, gray mush freckled with bits of muted colors. Furthermore, the mush rested in a puddle of runny sauce that resembled muddy water.

As if reading his mind, Mistress explained, “those are mashed potatoes.”

He squinted his eyes to peer closer at it. “What are these speckled bits inside of it?”

“Maybe if you try it instead of asking me, you’d soon find out,” she answered with a wink.

He knew she was only teasing, but as vile as the food looked, her words seemed more like a threat. Even before tasting it, Alucard knew that this dish would be the worst thing he’s ever eaten, and yet, he still wanted to try it. While the glee that twinkled in Mistress Death’s eyes wasn’t enough to convince him that what she made was of any good, it was enough for him to know that she genuinely wished to present him with something she thought would make him happy. It was more than he could’ve asked for, and he couldn’t possibly reject her kindness, no matter how wretched her food was. After steeling himself with a deep breath, he gathered a piece of everything onto his fork and ate.

xXx

“You killed him.”

Mistress clicked her tongue. “Hush! I did not kill him,” she hissed, making Itzhak squirm underneath her murderous glare. The seconds ticked by, and her deadly stillness paired with a chilling silence conveyed a level of anger and threat of violence that was enough to wrench a deep, apologetic bow from his body.

“I was careless with my speech,” he quavered, then added in his alien tongue, “Forgive me, my Mistress!”

At his words, Mistress sighed in approval, stepping away from him. “I can hardly fault you, Itzhak —” she placed her hands on either side of Alucard’s head and lifted it from the table “— he does look quite…dead.”

A mess of food dirtied his face, and some jewel worms even managed to tangle themselves in the strands of his golden hair. With a huff, Mistress lazily waved her hand, magically removing the mess from his face and hair. Next, she effortlessly lifted him into her arms bridal style and turned to Itzhak. A pang of sympathy hit him as he awaited instructions from Mistress. Though her happiness earlier was not a façade, it was draining for her to be around the dhampir. The slight tremor of her arms was evidence of how tired she was becoming, and her once bright eyes had faded to a dying glow.

It’s almost as if she’s making herself sick…but why, my Mistress?

“Take him to his chambers. I don’t know when he’ll awaken, but it shouldn’t be that long. My cooking can’t be that bad,” she said bitterly, the realization of her failure beginning to sully her pride.

Once Alucard was carefully placed in his arms, he started to make his way towards the exit. The clinking of dishes led him to believe that Mistress Death was attempting to prepare another course, but when he turned around to acknowledge another command, he was surprised to see a teapot in her hand.

Unable to suppress his curiosity any longer, Itzhak remarked, “I do not wish to see you this way, my Mistress. Why do you endure for the Tepes boy?”

“You should have intimate knowledge as to why I endure this pain for Adrian — I wish to make him happy. It wasn’t too long ago in your life that you’ve also endured for someone you claimed to love,” she ended with a sneer.

Empathy, Mistress Death thought, do I want Itzhak’s just for the sake of being understood, or do I not want to be seen as a fool?

He grunted in remembrance and countered, “Devotion led to my downfall. I am what I am today because I desired to endure for the sake of another.”

She laughed, the pitch of her voice rising in bewilderment. “Is that what this is about, you believe Adrian would betray me?”

Her eyes flashed dangerously when she faced him fully. “I think you’ve forgotten what I am,” she warned, an inhuman growl crisping the edge of her words. A mysterious light breeze began to push against the fire of the candles above.

Despite this, he courageously pressed on. “I have not forgotten, nor do I believe that the dhampir will betray you.”

Mistress snorted and turned her attention to the teapot in front of her. “Then why waste my time with such musings?”

“Because I know you are hurting! Your body shakes with weariness, my Mistress, and your eyes cloud with blood!”

She was rendered silent and lowered her head. The candle flames also started shivering more violently.

“I also wonder…” He glanced down at Alucard’s handsome face then back to her, “…if your desire to make him happy only stems from your guilt?”

Mistress Death’s head whipped towards Itzhak with as much swiftness as the instantaneous snuffing of the candlelight by the mysterious wind. Her eyes were wild and glassy with tears, and her teeth were bared but non-threatening; she looked deranged.

Cry, cry, cry, she urged herself. But, she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

Instead, she spoke with a cracking voice, “You never lost what I did…you cannot see what I do. I hurt in a way that you do not understand, and because of that, I…I am...”

Alone.

In her distress, she wished that Alucard would awaken because she wanted to talk with someone who understood. Furthermore, at this moment, when her stubbornness and pride were weak, she desired the strength to pour everything in her heart out to him. She realized that this must be the pain of loneliness, and her body started to ache from it.

Is this the real reason why I stay? Because I’m as lonely as Adrian?

Mistress turned her back on Itzhak as she attempted to control her labored breathing. With a quiet but even voice, she said, “Take Adrian to his chambers, then complete the other task which I’ve commanded you.”

He sighed and nodded. “As you wish, Mistress.”

When he left, she tried to bury her feelings once again as she clutched the teapot tightly to her chest. The only thing that kept her from shattering it in her grip was that it once belonged to Lisa.

Alucard’s eyes opened slowly. His mind was hazy, so he kept still and stared above at the wispy, white curtains of his canopy bed, waiting to remember what had happened to him.

Itzhak. Surprise. Mistress. Food — ah, that’s right. I must’ve blacked out after I ate her food.

He shivered at the memory and became nauseated by the lingering taste in his mouth. As he stood and made his way to the door, it didn’t take him long to put two and two together. He knew that either Mistress Death or Itzhak carried him back to bed, and when he opened the door, he was greeted by the latter.

“You are awake,” Itzhak commented in monotone.

“Yes, how long was I unconscious?”

The creature raised a bony finger to his chin and droned. “About an hour from the last time you were awake.”

Alucard’s brow furrowed. “Pardon?”

“While I carried you up the stairs, you awoke suddenly and vomited, then passed out again.”

He cringed at that. “My apologies, I didn’t mean to cause you such trouble.”

“I have dealt with worse.”

With Itzhak in close step behind him, Alucard made his way to the bathroom.

He glanced behind himself and rolled his eyes. “You don’t have to follow me.”

“I don’t want to, but Mistress has commanded me to keep watch over you, in case you pass out again.”

“How thoughtful of her,” he mumbled.

Once he made it to the bathroom, he quickly shut the door behind him before Itzhak had a chance to step inside; But, almost jumped out of his skin when he turned around to see him standing in the middle of the room.

He growled, “Does she intend for you to babysit me while I piss as well?”

Itzhak scratched his head. “She didn’t specify—”

“Get out.”

xXx

This time, the kitchen was colder and darker when Alucard stepped into it. The candles were gone, so the only light that illuminated the space was the moonlight that poured in from the windows. Mistress sat at the table stock-still with her hands surrounding a steaming cup of tea, and her eyes were closed as if she were sleeping. Alucard hummed in thought and sat next to her, spotting the cup of tea that was waiting for him. Mistress didn’t notice when he sat down, nor when Itzhak materialized into the kitchen, and it caused the dhampir to worry. Something was amiss with her, and he didn’t like it.

He cupped her shoulder and squeezed gently. “Mistress?”

When she opened her eyes, they were pitch black, and after she blinked, they returned to normal. “Adrian, it’s nice to see that you’re awake. Are you feeling any better?”

“Yes, after brushing the taste from my mouth I do, thank you. Are you alright?”

She merely nodded.

“What were you doing?”

She stirred the tea in her cup distractedly. “Just thinking.”

“Of?”

“Death,” she replied matter-of-factly before taking a sip.

He removed his hand from her shoulder and grimaced. “How very fitting,” he said dryly.

After a few moments, she gestured to his teacup. “I found these neglected at the back of your cabinet.”

Alucard huffed a laugh as he traced the golden rim of the floral teacup with his finger. “I was never much of a tea drinker. I only ever drink it when visiting with witches in Arges — my mother, on the other hand, was a different story.”

At this, her voice grew lively. “Oh, I know. Day and night, Lisa would drink it. She was practically addicted.”

“Indeed, she was,” he laughed.

Fondness sparkled in Mistress’s eyes as she traced the designs on the saucer. “This set was a gift from me for one of Lisa’s wedding anniversaries. We used to drink tea all the time together in the castle garden.”

“Really?”

Alucard angled his body slightly closer to her as if he’d hang on better to every word she said this way. His heart warmed at the mention of another speaking so tenderly about his mother. And, he hoped that Mistress would continue speaking of her recollections, for both of their sakes.

“Your mother was always polite enough to drink the tea I prepared. No matter how sweet or how bitter it ended up, she at least took a sip. However, I did get better overtime…with her help of course.”

The pleasant smile she flashed him was contagious.

“I took the liberty of having Itzhak retrieve your mother’s favorite tea flavor from the Outerworld — It’s called Rose of Sharon. I prepared it just as she would’ve liked it. Try some.”

The confidence she had in the drink was assuring, so Alucard did not hesitate to bring the cup to his lips. He was delighted by its floral aroma, which enhanced the sweet and fresh taste. Drinking the tea felt somewhat nostalgic since it reminded him of the perfume his mother used to wear. Oddly, the times he used to spend in the garden with his father, studying botany, also flooded his memory.

“Mmm,” he moaned softly after his first sip, licking his lips as he set the cup on the saucer. “That was very good. You’re quite masterful at tea-making, Mistress,” he praised.

She blinked surprisingly at him. “You mean it?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t I?”

“Pfft. Well, after considering your last little —” her eyes squinted suspiciously “— stunt, I took you as someone who enjoyed savoring the moment before crushing one’s misplaced optimism.”

He raised his eyebrows at her. “Are you seriously that offended?”

She gave him a side look and drank from her cup.

His eyes narrowed. “Come now, don’t act so childish. While I appreciate your efforts, I won’t deny that what you served me was more akin to poison than anything else.”

“Poison?” she drawled. “Ha! Funny. Maybe the fault lies not in my food but your weak stomach.”

“That’s rich, coming from someone who probably hasn’t even tasted food before. If the state of my kitchen was any indication of the quality of your meal, then it would’ve been wiser for me to pass.”

The tea set jumped with a clank when Mistress slammed her cup on the table. Surprisingly, nothing broke. “Hmph! Be that as it may, there is no better judge in this room than dear Itzhak. He’ll eat practically anything.” As if on cue, he appeared at the far end of the table where Mistress’s abomination still lay.

Alucard arched a brow. “If he’ll eat anything then his judgment would hardly be fair—”

“Nonsense.”

She smiled sweetly at Itzhak. “Go on, take a bite. Tell me how it is.”

He lifted the plate to the mouth that was forming on his face. It opened unnaturally wide to receive everything in one bite. The taste didn’t seem like much of a big deal once he closed his mouth to chew, but after a few moments, he started to retch and cough. When a thick, stringy piece of chicken fat flew out the corner of his mouth, he slurped it back inside, gagging as he did so. Mistress Death’s smile fell more and more with every wet burp and heave Itzhak emitted until her face eventually settled into an angry pout. On the other hand, Alucard was leaning back with his arms crossed, smirking smugly. After struggling to swallow, a shudder ran from the top of Itzhak’s head to the bottom of his feet.

Once his face returned to normal, he gurgled, “It — it’s…good, Mis—”

“Oh, shut up.”

Alucard chuckled, “Well, I think that settles things.” He pushed away from the table and walked towards the door.

Mistress looked at him quizzically. “Where are you going?”

Before leaving the kitchen, he switched on the lights and answered, “Off to retrieve some things. Hopefully, your pride isn’t so wounded that you plan on sitting there, sulking all night.”

Mistress stared at the cutting board, knife in hand. “You must be joking.”

“I most certainly am not,” Alucard replied, setting freshly washed vegetables in front of them. He dried his hands off on a towel and moved beside her.

“You mentioned earlier about possibly cooking for me again, correct? If your offer still stands, then I expect you to do things better the next time. Now, pay attention.”

Mistress raised a brow but couldn’t help to smile. She knew that Alucard wasn’t doing this to belittle her or show off. He was as much of a teacher as his parents, and sharing knowledge seems to be a quality he has similar to his mother. Plus, she had a feeling that he wanted to spend time with her as well, and she found that endearing.

Alucard held up a potato and rotated it to examine. “Potato skin is more nutritious than the potatoes themselves, and I washed them, so there is no need to remove them for this dish.”

Next, he set it on his cutting board and grabbed a knife, explaining, “Hold it crosswise and make sure to maintain it so that it doesn’t roll away while you cut. We’ll need to slice the potatoes like so, making sure each piece is even.”

He demonstrated until the entire potato was sliced. “Now, you try.”

Mistress nodded. “Alright.”

Halfway through cutting a potato, Alucard stopped her, patiently saying, “Your slices are uneven and too thick. Look at mine again, you see? They need to be uniform so that they all cook evenly.”

She tried again, and when he voiced his approval, they cut the rest together.

“You know a lot about cooking, it seems.”

“I’ve had a lot of time to learn here on my own. Some dishes I prepare are ones my mother used to make, and ones that I remember from places the castle traveled to. However, most are a result of experimentation or taken from books.”

She looked up in thought. “Hmm, now that I think about it, I do remember seeing an entire section of Dracula’s library containing nothing but cookbooks. Funny, since he rarely ever cooked.”

“He liked to collect knowledge,” Alucard said with a shrug.

She snorted. “Please, Adrian, call it what it was.”

“What?”

“Hoarding.”

The laughter he barked caused her eyes to crinkle at the corners.

“You must’ve teased my father a lot.”

“Heh heh, yes, more than you know.”

He cleared his throat. “Add these potatoes to the bowl. I already have minced garlic on hand, so let’s chop the spinach and halve these cherry tomatoes.”

She did as instructed and followed along with his guidance. Afterward, they moved everything over to the stove where he had raw chicken breasts waiting.

“Luckily, I had extra chicken stored, so there’s just enough for all three of us.”

From where Itzhak sat at the table, his head perked up. “Three?”

Alucard nodded. “It would be rude of me not to include you, Itzhak.”

The creature droned in response and cocked his head to the side as he watched him teach Mistress how to cook chicken properly. He noticed how her shoulders would sink then quickly raise back up whenever the dhampir looked away then back to her. However, her voice was still full of as much mirth she could express despite her weariness, and she was enjoying his company immensely. However, being around Alucard was a double-edged sword for Mistress, and Itzhak was concerned for the day putting on a brave face would become too arduous a task for her.

He was brought out of these thoughts when a savory aroma triggered his mouth to form, just so it could water.

“You never add more than what the recipe calls for. One cup of heavy cream might not look like enough for this, but it is,” Alucard informed.

“I see. Maybe that’s why my jewel worms came out the way they did.”

“I thought you said you followed the recipe?”

She waved a dismissive hand. “Mmm, I may have…added a few things here and there. Don’t look at me like that.”

After combining the other ingredients, they waited for everything to simmer. In the meantime, Mistress set the table while Alucard left to grab some wine. When he returned, it was time to serve the food.

Silverware clinked against the porcelain plates as the trio ate in comforting silence. Given Itzhak’s large hands, he looked like a giant eating with the utensils of a dwarf. Even still, he didn’t let that stop him from enjoying his meal…maybe a little too much.

Mistress huffed exasperatedly. “For the love of — Itzhak, please, you do not have to moan like that after every bite!” She cursed in her alien language then added, “Honestly, are you eating or making love?”

Alucard chuckled, and Itzhak even released a few sounds akin to a laugh.

“It should be a compliment to you, Mistress. He’s only enjoying what you’ve made.”

“What we’ve made. And, you’re right, it is, so thank you, Itzhak. But, don’t be so dramatic about it next time,” she said with mock irritation but cracked a smile at him to signal that she was only teasing.

Light conversation was spoken between the three of them as they finished eating, and when Mistress and Itzhak exchanged a few words to one another in their language, Alucard drank from his wineglass.

As he did so, little Trevor and little Sypha had caught his eye from across the kitchen, and he could almost picture a smile on their faces. The wine tasted much sweeter that night.

A large bubble floated into the air, distorting the reflection of Mistress and Alucard as they stood side by side, washing dishes.

“This was my first time sharing a meal with someone,” she confessed, dunking a plate into the warm water.

“Really? I’m surprised given how much time you’ve spent with my parents.”

“I only ever drank tea with Lisa, and occasionally, wine with Dracula. But, I’ve never shared a meal with them…you’re my first.”

Alucard almost dropped a plate. A light blush stained his cheeks at her choice of words, given how innocently she said them.

“Right —” he hid his face with his hair “— well, did you enjoy it, then?”

He heard her soft laugh and froze when he felt her nails tickle the side of his face as she brushed his hair behind his ear. The motion compelled him to look at her, and despite her actions, he saw neither amusement nor teasing in her eyes, only pure adoration.

“Very,” she answered.

When they finished, Mistress Death’s attire and hair transformed back to the way they originally looked. She stood in the middle of the kitchen with Itzhak by her side.

“There are things I must attend to.”

Alucard looked to the floor. “I understand.”

“Now now, pick your head up. There's no need to look so downhearted and blue.”

Like a nervous boy, he spoke with a quiet voice. “If...if it isn’t too much to ask, may I see you again?” He kept his head bowed, not wanting to glance up for risk of seeing any rejection in her expression.

She lifted his strong chin with her knuckle. Intense, pale eyes were level to his, reflecting his eyes and hair like specks of gold. Her trademarked stillness did not chill nor intimidate Alucard this time. To him, it seemed fragile, as if she’d dart away with any small movement on his behalf, so he kept still too and held his breath as if it’d blow her away if he released it. The longer he studied her face, the more her weariness revealed itself to him. A sadness slowly seeped to the surface of her eyes, then ebbed away and flowed back. It was a push and pull of vulnerability that seemed like she was trying to reveal something to him, and yet, would not — could not?

He itched to know what she was trying to say.

Mistakenly, his lips parted to speak, and he cursed inwardly as she hastily pulled away. But it wasn’t before he caught the pain that had briefly flashed through her eyes. She pulled her hood over her head, concealing most of her face in shadow.

His brow furrowed in concern. “Mistress? What is—”

“I enjoyed my stay very much so I’ll return to you as soon as I can. It won’t be as long of a wait as last time.”

He frowned. One thing Alucard hated was tiptoeing around, but he acquiesced, simply because he didn’t want her to shut him out completely.

She uttered a word to him in her language that sounded lyrical, then explained, “That is my word of promise.”

When he tried repeating it back to her, she giggled at his slight butchering. “You were close.”

Black smoke rose from the ground where Mistress and Itzhak stood and slowly rotated up their forms.

“Until then, Adrian.”

“Until then, Mistress.”

Itzhak waved, and Alucard raised his hand in farewell, seeing the two of them off with a genuine smile.

25 notes · View notes

lets-talk-appella · 4 years

Note

If you have time can you do the “You’re not mature enough to be a parent.” - “Try me.” prompt.

This is like… more than a year later. But! I feel that we all need some fluff right now, so here you go, with a small modification.

Bounding

Summary: Domestic Bechloe fluff

Word Count: 2.5k

Rating: G for gross amounts of fluff

Ao3 and FFN (posted as a chapter in a series of prompts)

Chloe stares atthe pile of soggy, smelly laundry in the washer in disbelief. She blinks once.Yep. It’s definitely been sitting there. For several hours, judging by thecrumpled state of their clothes.

That’s when theannoyance sets in.

“Beca!” she shouts.

“What?” Becacalls from deeper in the house.

“Did you forgetto move the laundry again?!”

The ringingsilence she gets in return is all the answer she needs

After having beenmarried and living together for two years, it’s safe to say the honeymoon phaseis wearing off.

With a growl,Chloe reaches into the washer and tries to extract the clothes, which cling toeach other and the inside of the machine with stubborn tenacity. A whiff oftheir damp odor wafts into her nose and she cringes; changing her battletactics, she shoves the clothes back into the washer and slams the door closedso hard it makes the machine rattle. Muttering angrily, she wrenches open thelaundry cabinet and, in her haste to find the detergent, knocks over severalbottles of various stain removers and carpet cleaners, some of which crash tothe floor.

She groans outloud and stoops, collecting each item and shoving it back in the cabinet,knowing the lack of organization will annoy her later but not bothering to carenow. She untwists the cap of the detergent and, not paying close enoughattention to her task, pours far too much into the measuring cap and spends thenext few seconds pouring it back into the bottle. Of course, some trickles downthe side of the bottle and leaves a sticky blue mess.

Clicking hertongue in annoyance, Chloe tugs open the machine’s soap drawer, pours thedetergent into the slot, then slams the drawer closed. Her movements sharp andquick, she screws the cap back onto the detergent untidily, causing even moreof the soap to run down the sides of the bottle and onto her hand. With a huff,she wipes the bottle and her hand clean with some tissue and slams thedetergent onto its proper shelf so it knows what it’s done. Kicking the laundrycabinet door closed, she pounds her hand on the washer’s “start” button, whosecheery wash cycle jingle only worsens her temper.

Chloe blows astrand of hair from her eyes.

Is it really thathard to remember to switch clothes over to the dryer in a reasonable amount oftime? Or, is it so hard to do the dishes? Or, heaven forbid, put them away? Achore that Beca had neglected all week. Beca’s been neglecting lots ofhousehold tasks, now that Chloe thinks of it. Vacuuming, bathroom cleaning,studio organizing, meal prep. In fact, Chloe can’t recall a single thing Becaactually has helped with recently.

Chloe clenchesher jaw. They’re supposed to be a team.They’re supposed to work together to maintain house and home. They’re supposedto slow dance while cooking. They’re supposed to throw socks at each other whenfolding laundry. They’re supposed to trade kisses while passing one another inthe hall, one armed with a broom and the other pushing a vacuum.

But no. It’s beenChloe pulling both of their weights around the house, doing all the chores,while Beca sits behind her laptop mixing and doing who-knows-what, a veritableBeca Show while Chloe slaves away.

And she’s hadenough.

Gritting herteeth, Chloe barks out, “Beca! Where are you?”

A briefhesitation, then a small sounding, “Studio,” comes from Beca’s generaldirection.

Chloe snortsderisively. Of course. She stomps toward the study, moving quickly throughtheir kitchen and dining room and into the hall. The door to the studio roomBeca has claimed as her workspace is open a crack already, but Chloe stillflings it open. She holds onto the handle so it doesn’t ricochet off the wall(the last thing she needs right now is a drywall hole to patch) but it stillhas the desired effect; Beca stares at her from her desk, eyes wide andstartled.

“Chl—”

“Beca, what thehell?”

“I—”

“I had to restartthe washer because the clothes you leftin there started to mold.”

Which isn’tstrictly true. They just smelled kind of bad. But still, Beca’s grimacedelivers no small amount of satisfaction.

“I know, Iforgot, and—”

“You’reforgetting a lot!” Chloe cries, throwing her hands into the air. “Dishes,floors, bathrooms, cooking—”

“Chloe—”

“We need to eat, Beca! Do you want us both toabsolutely starve because you forgot to meal prep? I mean Jesus,Beca, I could pass out at work fromhunger if I don’t have lunch!”

Beca’s lipstwitch. Chloe feels some of her anger deflate, but rallies quickly.

“And what aboutthe—the floors? If we don’t vacuum—allergens! Molds! Dust! Everywhere!” Chloelists, regaining momentum. “Dirty carpets lead to heart disease, Beca, I readthat in the—”

“I’m sorry!” Becamanages, hands raised in a peace offering. “Really. I’m sorry. Work has beencrazy lately, and—”

“I work, too!”Chloe declares imperiously, though she knows her regular 9-to-5 hours as amusic teacher are less demanding than Beca’s often-erratic schedule meetingwith rising singers seeking production. “And yet I do everything!” She moves,storming farther into the room to join Beca behind the desk to peer at herlaptop. “What could you possibly beworking on that’s more important than—”

Chloe cutsherself off with a choking noise, unable to believe her eyes. She stares at thelaptop screen for a long moment, then looks back at Beca, who grins sheepishlywhile seeming to shrink into her office chair.

“So, um, I’vebeen thinking—”

“DOGS?” Chloeshouts, pointing an accusing finger at the laptop. “I’ve been breaking my BACKaround OUR house doing YOUR chores because you’re too busy looking at picturesof DOGS?”

“Um.” Beca says.“It’s the Humane site? I’ve just been thinking, you know, it might be nice tohave a dog?”

Chloe sputterswordlessly, despite the tiny part of her that agrees with Beca whole-heartedly.It would be really nice to have a dog. But she’s on a warpath, damn it, and shecan’t stop now. So, she draws herself up to her full height.

Beca’s eyes widenstill further. “They’re so fluffy, Chlo, look.”

“You’re notmature enough to be a dog parent!!” Chloe spits.

Beca’s eyebrowsdraw together and she lifts her chin, defiant. “Oh yeah? Try me!”

The words comeout loud and challenging, and for a second, they glare at each other. A smallmuscle twitches in Beca’s cheek, and Chloe has a fleeting thought towardkissing it.

Just like that,most of her anger drains away. She’s never managed to stay angry at Beca forlong.

“Fine,” she huffs,pinching the bridge of her nose. “Fine. I’ll ‘try you,’” she says, and noteswith satisfaction the sudden uncertainty in Beca’s eyes. “Time to go mattressshopping.”

Beca’s expressionturns to one of mingled horror and devastation. They’ve been talking aboutpurchasing a new mattress since their wedding, having used Chloe’s same oncesince college—which had been purchased secondhand from her cousin before herfreshman year. Which was several years ago. It’s safe to say the mattress hadbeen solidly worn out for a long time, with actual dips in the spots theyusually sleep. It’s just that mattress shopping—spending at least a few hoursin some stuffy mattress store, trying out the hundreds of options and findingsomething they both agree on—is such a chore that they’ve put it off.

Chloe standstriumphant, positive that Beca will drop the dog thing and agree to help morearound the house; basically, anything to delay the mattress shoppingexperience.

However.

To Chloe’ssurprise, Beca’s consternation changes quickly to resolve. She stands from herchair to meet Chloe’s eyes and closes her laptop.

“Fine!” Becasays, wearing that smug, closed lipped smile. “Let me get my keys.”

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

It takes themalmost twenty minutes to actually get in the car, because Beca is too stubbornto admit she lost her keys and wastes fifteen minutes stalling. Chloe finallydigs out her own keys and drives them to the nearest mattress store in silence.

When they arriveat the mattress store, Chloe is relieved to see the parking lot is fairly quietwith few customers. Beca isn’t a huge fan of crowds, and the guilt over makingher mattress shop on a weekend is already starting to set in a little. If therehad been a ton of people there, Chloe would have felt worse about it.

Maybe Beca sensesher guilt; her hand smoothes over Chloe’s lower back as they enter the store.The small gesture tells Chloe she has nothing to feel bad for, and that Beca’sright there with her.

“Good afternoon!”an older, smiling sales associate greets them almost immediately. Chloe’s eyesflick to a nametag: Jerry. His easy-going demeanor and welcoming expressionbring a smile to Chloe’s face.

“Hi!” she greets.“We’re looking for a king-sized, please. Can you help us with that?” As shealways does with new people, she looks for any telltale flicker behind his eyesat the realization that she and Beca are a couple. Thankfully, nothing in hisopen expression changes, and a moment later, Beca’s hand slips comfortably intohers.

“Definitely,”Jerry nods. “Right this way, please.”

He leads them toa side room, where dozens of the king-sized mattresses are aligned perfectly,gathered by brand and further organized by mattress quality and specifications.Maybe seeing their overwhelmed expressions, Jerry begins talking them throughthe advantages and disadvantages of certain brands, as well as the importanceof lumbar support, firmness-to-softness ratio, and customizable comfortsettings. Beca’s eyes glaze over about thirty seconds into his speech, thoughChloe catches her occasionally blinking in effort to pay attention.

It really, trulyisn’t anything against Jerry. It’s simply that mattress shopping is horrible.

It’s a bit of arelief when Jerry finishes the information overload. “I can see that you havemuch to consider,” he says kindly. “I’ll check on some other customers and comeback in a few minutes?”

“That’d be great,thank you,” Beca says, pulling herself out of whatever loop of music Chloe ispositive was running through her mind.

Chloe smiles atJerry as he returns to the main floor, and then turns to Beca. “Fun, right?”

“Super fun,” Becasays. “Very adult. Very mature of us to be here. Purchasing mattresses.”

“Mmm.”

“King-sized,even,” Beca continues. “Upgrade.”

“I thought wecould at least get a nice one.” Chloe walks toward a mattress, sitting on theedge and bouncing a little. “Ooh, Bec, this one is springy!”

“Oh yeah?” Becaasks, wiggling her eyebrows and slowly pacing to Chloe. “That’ll be fun…”

Chloe feels theheat rise in her neck as Beca draws closer.

“…for bouncingon!” Beca finishes her sentence, jumping completely onto the mattress andstanding on it. Before Chloe can stop her, she jumps on it once, making thewhole thing bounce under them both. “See?” Beca asks proudly, looking down ather.

“Get down!” Chloehisses, even while fighting a smile. “Jerry might be back soon!”

Instead, Becaextends her left hand. “Care to join me, m’Lady?”

It’s really thesight of Beca’s wedding band that does it. Chloe gives Beca her own left hand,and Beca helps her to her feet so they’re both standing on the bed.

“Beautiful,” Becasmiles, and it’s the easiest thing in the world for Chloe to lean forward andkiss her quickly.

“You’re just asbeautiful,” she says.

“Mmm, very true,”Beca agrees with a crooked grin. “We’re both stunning. Now, wanna race to theother side of the room?”

“Oh, it is soon,” Chloe says, and before Beca can so much as blink, she’s jumping from theirmattress to the next, bounding along, aiming for the far wall.

“Cheater!” Becacalls out, and then all Chloe can hear is Beca’s laughter from behind her andthe regular squeaking of bed springs as Beca jumps on the mattresses.

They race, Chloein the lead, bouncing from mattress to mattress, focused on their end goal. Theelation of it fills Chloe, rises in her chest with every jump she takes, andshe feels like a child. Beca draws closer, until she keeps pace with Chloe, andthen they’re not so much racing as they are just keeping near each other. Themattresses are large enough that they can bounce a few times on each beforeleaping to the next, and by the time Chloe gets close to the finish line, herlegs burn with effort.

She arrives onthe final mattress barely an instant before Beca does, and the second Becalands, she wraps her arms around Chloe’s waist and falls, taking her down tothe soft display bed with her.

They’re bothlaughing and out of breath, and Chloe clings to Beca, who pulls her close, eyesdropping to Chloe’s lips, and—

“What on earth do you think you’re doing?”

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

The car ride homeis as silent as the ride to the store had been.

Chloe keeps hereyes resolutely on the road, both hands firmly on the wheel. Beside her, Becastares out the passenger window.

Traffic hasgotten heavier, people going out to dinner or to shows to enjoy the weekend.They get stuck at a red light. It’s the same one that Chloe swears she always gets stuck at; it definitely hasit out for her.

Beca clears herthroat softly. “So… he was kinda grumpy, wasn’t he?”

The dam breaksand laughter bubbles up from Chloe’s chest. Beca starts laughing too, real,rich laughter that only makes Chloe laugh harder. They laugh, and keeplaughing, each one setting off the other, and it doesn’t subside until Chloe’sstomach hurts and her cheeks ache.

“Oh my god,” shemanages weakly, wiping tears from her eyes as the traffic light turns green andthey inch forward with the crowd of cars. “I thought he was going to kill us.”

“Nah, Jerrywouldn’t do that,” Beca says, waving a hand. “He was trying not to laugh thewhole time he was banning us from the store.”

“He still bannedus though!”

“Only because hetotally had to,” Beca argues. “We still ordered a mattress, so at least wedon’t have to do that again for a while.”

“It was more funthan I thought it would be,” Chloe concedes, taking her eyes off the road onlyfor a moment to smile at her wife.

“It was,” Becaagrees. “Though, maybe you were right about me not being mature. I’m sorry,Chlo. I’ll help more around the house and with everything.”

“I’d appreciatethat,” Chloe sighs happily. “And then, you know, we can talk about being dogparents.”

Beca perks upimmediately. “Yeah?”

“Totes,” Chloereplies easily. “And, maybe, eventually… parent-parents?” she glances over,biting her lip.

Beca is lookingat her like she put the stars in the sky. “That would be nice,” she says.

“Then it’s adeal,” Chloe agrees. “Just… no letting the dog on the new bed, okay?”

Beca doesn’tanswer.

“Bec, I mean it!”

“No promises,Chlo.”

#bechloe #Anonymous #my writing #bechloe fluff #beca mitchell #chloe beale

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azraeldean · 3 years

Text

the devinee episode 1

(Nash’s house - Edge’s room.)

(Edge (a blond human of about 12) is sitting with his communication device with his best friend Malik ( a brunette human of about 12))

Edge: Can you believe it Malik?

Malik: That you hacked your communication device?

Edge: No, that I am talking to a female.

Malik: Ok, it is hard to believe your talking to Faelerah female. Considering we live in a society devoid of women.

Edge: I know I am so lucky! ( They both giggle.) Let’s look at her picture again. ( He pushes a button on his communication device and we see a cute blue skinned female in several pictures.) I am more intrigued every time I see her figure.

Malik: I bet you are.

Edge: Hey Malik, Do you have the Chance collectible doll. I want him to sign it. ( We see a box with a blond doll in it, who must be Chance)

(The Nash’s house downstairs)

We see a picture, of what must be Edge and his Human father when Edge was little. The camera moves up and we see his human father put it back on a shelf)

Static: ( Human father Nash’s first name) Edge! Ready to go?

Edge: Hold on a second.

Static: I can’t hold on a second. Jace is waiting for us.

(Edge pushes a button to make the pictures disappear from his communication device and tries to put thedevice back to a neutral screen. Both humans get nervous. Edge’s father enters the room.)

(Edges room)

Static: Baby, what are you two doing? I thought you guys were excited for today.

Edge: we are.

Static: and what are you doing on your communication device?

Edge: Me and Malik were just looking up information on our new school.

( Edge brings up the school website. Static starts scrolling threw the popped up virtual website. Scrolling threw a virtual tour of the school.)

Static: ( looks over and picks up the doll) I always knew he would become something big. Me back when I was in school I had a blonde Mohawk. Obviously I was the coolest person there. I mean how could anyone beat a hair do like that.

Edge: Probably easily.

Static: Well, meeting up with everyone again is going to be great. You are going to love all the memories your going to make. Now let’s go meet up with our friends. ( as he leaves he takes the hat off Malik’s head.)

Malik: (to Static) Hey! I liked wearing that.

Static: Well I have to return it. Come on Edge! (Edge gets up to leave and looking on his communication device sees he has a new message.) Edge! (Edge leaves)

The Devinee

(Devinee park)

Static: Go and play with the others.

Malik: Thanks for bringing us Mr. Nash I am excited to see some of the new people we will be at the school with.

Jace :(a Devinee) Don’t you think we will be seeing enough of them over the year to come?

Static: Stay where I can see you guys.

Jace : You don’t have to worry about us.

Edge: Yeah, we are practically adults.

Static: Yes, twelve is so old. And baby...

Edge: Yes, I know you’ll be right over there. He rushed me out of the house so fast I didn’t get to read my new message from Jasmine the Faelerah. In her last message she told me that ...( walks away talking to Malik)

Jace: Guys! Over here!

(Over by the playground)

Malik: That sucks about the message.

Edge: I know but Jasmine messaged me last night too.

Malik: Oh? What did she say.

Edge (closes his eyes) “ I keep looking at your picture the Faelerah don’t have much interaction with humans and your so interesting to look at and talk too.”Babe every time we talk it just makes me want to get to know you even better. Your amazing.”

Malik: Wow

Edge: it seems like she’s just as fascinated by me as I am by her.

Malik: Too bad she doesn’t live on planet.

Jace: Hey! (Edge and Malik run to catch up with him)

They all gather together and survey the park together looking at a group of older Devinee holding instruments.)

Edge: oh no, I bet they are going to play music from the 8,000s.

(Jaiden’s cafe)

Jai (Devinee): I made a new coffee blend I highly recommend it. It has tapioca and coco in it. It’s very sweet and has a kick of texture with it. It also goes great with the muffins I make that you love so much Lucien.

Lucien: Jai, ideally I’d like something that wasn’t a days worth of calories. You know I am watching my weight.

Jai: The drink is healthier than it sounds. Why don’t you try some. Then we can take a walk together, so you can burn some of the calories. We can go to the park we’re some of our friends and their kids are gathered and you can brag about the new drink.

Lucien: Alright, alright. Oh my gosh is that Armand? (A small human of about 5 walks up to them)

Jai: Yeah.

Lucien: Hey sweetie, look at how grown up you are.

Jai: Can you say, “Hi Lucien”?

Armand: Hi. (He waves)

Lucien: Hi. (He waves back)

Jai: He starts kindergarten next week, can you believe it? It’s going to be great for him. I am excited for him to meet Devinee and other humans his age.

KLucien: speaking of being around people your own age. I checked and you haven’t confirme your going to the “reunion gathering” thats happening tomorrow night.

Jai: I know. I know.

Lucien : Jai, we’re all really sorry your mate died, but it’s been a year. I think Julian would want you to get out and spend time with your friends. He wouldn’t want you to cut yourself off.

Jai: Can we.... uh... why don’t I go grab the keys so I can lock up and we will go for that walk, ok. We are going to go to the park. Sound good baby? ( Goes in back with Armand)

(The park)

Edge: Oh, hi. Your Mr. Sternshine right?

Axle (Devinee) : I am. And you must be Edge. Wow. Wow. Wow. Static’s son, I can’t believe your going to be one of my students. Time just flies by.

Malik: Static?

Edge: My papas first name. Weird, right? (They both smile and glance over to Static in the distance.)

Axle: (Takes the hat from Jace) Thanks for bringing that I will take it to its proper owner. (Puts the hat on his head) Great, it was great meeting you guys. Uh, listen, go and enjoy your time at the park go meet some other people.

Jace: Static? (Edge hits him) Ow! (They start to run)

Axle: Hey guys, be careful! Be careful! Be careful! Okay just keep going. Don’t listen to me. Alright.

(Further in the park)

(As they run, they laugh loudly together. They stop running as they get to the pond.)

Edge: Look...

Malik: Yeah, that’s a really big tree.

( Malik and Jace start to walk away, but Edge stays.)

Jace: Edge? Let’s go. Oh, I see. Gonna hide behind that tree and message Jasmine?

Edge: Shut up!

Jace: ( mimicking Edge) Oh. She’s just so different, yet she understands me so completely. (Edge punches him) Ow.

Mr. Rasnic (Devinee): And here is the pond you will see a lot of children both Devinee and Human gather around here. Most of the kids here feel too grown up for the playground even the humans.

Jensen ( Devinee): Oh, you see Tobias? This won’t be like our old town.

Jace: Tobias?

Tobias (Devinee): Jace?

( Jace goes up to Tobias.)

Jace and Tobias: Omg! It’s so good to see you! Me? You! Lol Jinx you owe me a coke.

Jace: Dude what are you doing here?

Malik: I guess they’re friends.

Tobias: My Apha father moved in with his new mate. Who happens to live in this town. So Alpha brought me here so I could meet some of the kids I would be spending the year with.

Mr. R.: I think we’ll let you two get reaquantied and your alpha and I will finish talking about the benefits of this community and your future school together.

Jensen: Tobias come find me when your done, ok?

Tobias: Yes Alpha, I won’t go far ok?

Jensen: Good.

Jace: Oh, sorry. Malik, Edge, this is Tobias. We were on a Devinee softball team over the summer together.

Edge: We could tell you guys are friends.

Tobias: Nice to meet you

Edge: Yeah. Ok, the coast is finally clear. Malik your coming with me,

Malik: No, no.

Edge: You two stand guard.

(Edge and Malik go behind the large tree so Edge can check the message on his communication device.)

Tobias: So is your friend always like that?

Jace: Yes.

Tobias: Really?

(Malik runs up behind them and scares them by screaming boo!)

Tobias: Humans.

(Another part of the park)

(Axle is looking at his communication device)

(In a black ufo a blond man (Chance Roberts) is talking on his communication device)

Chance: Kyson I am really truly okay but if you want to come to this gathering with me you can. (As he talks they show his collectible doll, and then him actually talking.) I just don’t want you to get bored it’s all very small town. Alright, it is sweet of you to want to meet my friends and I do want to show them my future mate. I love you too.

(He hangs up his device. As he does you see the flash of his engagement ring.)

(The park)

( Chance gets out of the ufo and enters the park)

Chance: Thanks. (To the driver who opened the ufos door for him)

Driver: Your welcome.

(In the park)

Chance: Slash!

Axle: Chance. Oh wow...(closes his communication device and gives him a hug) Well. Hey. Oh my, it’s great to see you.

Chance: You too. So your a teacher at our old school now. Ok, here (gives him a present)

Axle: Ok now, this is an upgrade for the schools technology system, right?

Chance: Yes, it’s just something to show my gratitude to the school that gave me my start.

Axle: Speaking of our old school days... How about this Jai’s old hat.

Chance: Ok ( puts the hat on)

Axle: Nice, it works on you.

Chance: Yeah, it goes well with this shirt really well doesn’t it.

Axle: Well, we all know you’ve always had better fashion sense than Jai.

(Outside the park)

Lucien: (Sees the ufo) Oh wow, look at that someone is certainly traveling in style aren’t they Jai.

(Jai scans the park and sees Chance and Chance sees him. He waves at Jai when he sees him.( You get the sense that maybe they were once together))

(Behind the big tree)

Edge: Malik, Can you please chill, if we are caught I’ll just say you didn’t know what I was going to do.

Malik: Oh, yeah great... So what does the message say?

Edge: Malik, Jasmine is going to be on planet and she wants to meet me tomorrow.

(Park entrance)

Chance: What’s your stuffy’s name?

Armand: Art

Chance: Art?

Jai: So you have a future mate? Congratulations.

Lucien: Yeah, when’s the ceremony?

Chance: Oh soon, but we haven’t pegged the exact date yet, but, well, your all invited.

Axle: Cool, So when do we all get to meet Kyson?

Chance: He’s going to fly down this afternoon. He’s so sweet he really wants to meet all my old friends.

Axle: He’s an Aztle isn’t he?

Chance: Yes he is.

Jai: I always knew you’d meet the perfect mate.

Chance: Well, so, I guess I should probably go now and check in to the hotel on planet. But Joey your really not going to the reunion gathering tomorrow?

Jai: No, I am not.

Chance: Well then why don’t you at least come hang out with us later it will be a smaller group.

Jai: Well, um...

Lucien: Of course he would. We will both come. We can’t wait to catch up.

Chance: Great. So I’ll see you guys later then.

( Mr. Sternshine takes the hat off her as she leaves)

Lucien: By Chance.

(Playground)

(Edge and Malik are Swinging)

Edge: I want to meet her, but I am worried I won’t meet up to her expectations of humans.

Malik: I am sure you will. Jasmine is coming here. You can sate some of your curiosity. It’s a golden opportunity.

Tobias: Who’s Jasmine?

Jace: A female Falererian Edge me on some inter-spacial chat room. I bet she’s actually one of those spikey alien things, that will poke him anytime he gets close.

Edge: And your a young immature Alien with wings but I am still friends with you.

Jace: Oh, very funny.

Tobias: Ok. If your meeting some strange alien you met in a chat room. It could be really dangerous.

Edge: We just met I have been talking to him for months and your telling me about strangers.

Malik: Guys don’t worry Jasmine is totally cool she’s coming here on some Falerian mission.

Jace: What kind of mission would a Falerian go on?

Edge: She’s a voluntary missionary. She travels with other aliens that help planets that are at war even ones like ours were the war our soldiers are fighting is on a different planet. She’s going to have some spare time. Stop worrying about me.

( They start chasing each other around the park)

(The Nash house - Edges room)

(Static and Chance are looking at Edges collectible figurines)

Chance: You have such a wonderful child and to have raised him all by yourself too. So cute too, even better than the cutie you were haha.

Static:(looking at chances engagement ring) I can’t wait to meet Kyson. He got you such a pretty ring he must think highly of you.

Chance: Thank you he wanted to get me a collar too which is traditional for his race. He says it’s to protect me from other aliens showing his claim but it seems so possessive to me.

Static: I am sure he just doesn’t want anyone to get any ideas.

(Edge enters the room drinking water)

Edge: Why are you in my room?

Static: It’s my house I am allowed to go where I want.

Edge: Your showing off my figurine collection again? I know you like to show me off but next time can you ask before you trespass?

Static: Next time can we be more polite to our guest. Baby...

Edge: Your Chance Royal, I am such a big fan. You make a great superhero on your show, I love it when they give big parts to humans.

Static: and your gushing.

Edge: I can’t believe your actually here and friends with my papa.

Chance: Shocking right? It’s great to see you my friends kid all grown up.

Static: He wishes. So sneaking off to send secret messages?

Edge: Did you... have you been spying on me? I deserve some privacy.

Static: Relax, I wouldn’t do that to you. But I can tell your getting that attitude us humans get in our teen years.

Edge: Papa I am not doing anything wrong.

Static: Do yourself a favor and don’t have kids.

Chance: No promises. (They leave) Bye.

(Edge closes the door)

(Edges’s room - later)

Edge: Ok. We’ve gone through all the messages. No spikes and no mention of any other weirdness.

Malik: Jace is just worried about you.

Edge: Jace is just an idiot.

Malik: That Tobias seems kinda cool.

Edge: He’s fine I guess but he’s just your typical overprotective Devinee. That’s why I like Jasmine she’s so unique and exciting. I have never met a potential mate like her.

Malik: Babe, you’ve never had a potential mate before.

Edge: I know.

Malik: Maybe...

Edge: What?

Malik: What Tobias said, about meeting strange aliens from a chat room. He’s right it could be dangerous.

Edge: Not you too Malik, with all the overprotectiveness, I am twelve I can handle it. Don’t worry so much.

Malik: Maybe you should talk to your papa. He could take you to meet her then we would all know you were safe.

Edge: Are you kidding me he would freak out. Are you saying you don’t think I should meet Jasmine.

Malik: I don’t know.

(A lounge)

Kyson: Wow I’ve never met Devinee before but Chance has told me so much about you guys I am thinking of writing an Aztle guide to the Devinee. (His phone communication device beeps) Hold on guys I got to take this. Yo Francine, yes, yes I am with my human on Nevarah. Yes it is a beautiful planet.

Lucien: Chance, I watch your show every Saturday morning. Seeing you as a star it’s so great for kids to have a role model like you.

Chance: Me as a role model what about you.

Lucien: What about me?

Jai.: Come on don’t be so modest. The things you do for this community. You must have raised money for every local charity and spending time with the soldiers.

Static: Plus, your furthering your education.

Chance: All humans should look up to you and take after your amazing example.

Lucien: It’s not that amazing, I have just done everything I’ve been told to do been the perfect human Devinee expect.

Axle: Its better than being like Will he was given so much and just threw everything away.

Jai: (On a translucent screen) Hey, come on down to Jaidens cafe. I have all the goodies and sweets you could want! I even have things for the health nuts out there. There’s always new creations too so come on ever you won’t find better drinks or sweets on planet and that’s a promise. (Gives two thumbs up)

Lucien: Jai! That’s awful!

Jai: What I had to advertise some how didn’t I.

Kyson: Your absolutely right that’s how you keep a business going. Francine, Francine, this just isn’t the time I need to be spending time with my future mate and his friends you know how important this kind of thing is to humans. I gotta go bye. (Hangs up) Hey next time you want to do something like that let me know I can totally hook you up. I can get you professionals give it a real polished vibe you know attract even off planet customers.

Jai: Yeah, your right Kyson.

Kyson: Glad I could help, plus if you want I’ll even write the script free of charge.

Axle: I don’t know I kind of liked it. It had a happy friendly family friendly vibe to it.

Everyone: Yeah, it was totally Jai.

Chance: Kyson, we were talking about human role models. Well Jai has to be one for the Devinee and hey you are writing that book. Jai would be the perfect person for you to interview.

Jai: No, I don’t think that’s a good idea I am not the same Devinee yo used to know.

Kyson: Um...

(Jai gets up and gets a drink at the juice bar.)

(Axle comes up to him)

Axle: (To bartender) Can I get a pineapple juice? Thanks. Jai talk to me what’s going on here?

Jai: I can’t do this I am having this drink and going home.

Axle: You can’t do what hang out with old friends.

Jai: You know what, everyone wanted me to get out, but I don’t feel like I belong anymore.

Axle: Oh Jai, that’s not true.

Jai: Slash, you don’t understand so don’t act like you do.

Axle: Cutting off people, isn’t going to help. It isn’t going to change anything. Being around people may even help with the pain of your loss.

Jai: Stop, you and everyone else thinks they know what’s best for me how I should grieve how I should get past this. I don’t need your opinions, I know what’s best for me not you or anyone else.

Axle: We are friends. We are just trying to help.

Jai: No, your meddling and feeling sorry for me all of you are and I am sick and tired of it so please leave me alone.

Axle: Oh, and none of this has to do with Chance?

Jai: No, of course not. I mean I don’t like him but I don’t think the rest of you do.

Axle: Maybe not but it’s his choice.

Jai: Yes, I know that, but he feels sorry for me too, just like the rest of you. I am tired of all this and I am leaving.

Axle: I think you’re the one feeling sorry for yourself, so stop blaming everyone else.

(Axle finishes his drink and goes back to join the others. Leaving Jai alone. Jai looks at them then looks away)

(The Nash house)

(Edge is asleep when the humans come in being loud and rambunctious.)

The humans: Wild thing you make my heart sing, you make everything groovy. Wild thing I think I love you. But I want to know for sure! (Singing)

Lucien: Can you believe a song from so long ago is still known today?

Static: Come on let’s have a real drink.

Lucien: Ooh, yes.

Chance: We should do each other’s hair just like old times. We can fix Statics hair like she had it back in the day. Bring back old fashion. I think the planets ready for it.( Edge wakes up and makes his way downstairs.)

Static: Oh, Edge I am sorry we woke you up.

Chance: Yeah babe, I am sorry too.

Static: We promise we will quite down. Humans ready for that drink.

Chance: Yes, but just one Aztles are almost as panicky about humans drinking as Devinee. Edge it’s good to see you again how are you?

Edge: Chance, can I ask you something.

Chance: Sure, Is this about a potential mate?

Edge: Yes, but it’s a girl and my friends are freaked out.

Chance: Well, how do you feel about it?

Edge: I think she’s great, I am not freaked out by her gender I am intrigued by it.

Chance: Well, then maybe you should go for it. Trust how you feel. Sometimes you just have to do things despite what your friends think.

Edge: Like you do on your tv show, always going for what you want, being the hero.

Chance: Yes, if my parents had their way. I wouldn’t have my tv show. I would just be your good typical human sitting at home with a good Devinee mate. How awful would that be? So come on tell me about her what race is she I want to know more.

(The kitchen)

Lucien: Hey Static, what do you think of Kyson?

Static: Chance could do a lot better.( Lucien teases his hair) ooh, nice.

(The stairs (static is listening to Chance and Edge talk))

Edge: Your so smart, how do you know all these things?

Chance: This ( meaning your brain) learns a lot of things when you get older. It’s cliche but true.

(Static comes up to them.)

Static: Am I interrupting something?

Chance: Oh no, we were just discussing some of the moments on my show.

Edge: Yeah, he has some really great stories.

Static: Honey do you want to join us for a little while.

Edge: No, I am going to go back to bed.

Chance: Good night.

Static: Night baby, So what exactly were you telling him.

Chance: wouldn’t you like to know? He’s so young.

Lucien: Oh yes because your ancient.

Chance: I basically am.

Lucien: I refuse to think like that. I am young in my mind. I don’t even feel my age.

Static: I mean I wouldn’t mind going on a date or something.

Chance: Yes, that’s what’s great about Kyson he take me on dates all the time. He’s so sweet.

Lucien: I am sure all kinds of aliens would fall all over themselves to be with you.

( Edge’s room he’s on his communication device typing a message to Jasmine saying he wants to meet.( it says “ I would love to meet you in person.”))

Edge: Sometimes you just...( sends the message) go for it.

END

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princesscandijane · 5 years

Text

Crawling for the Day

I was doing some yoga one day while diapered and strained my back a little. Long story I couldn’t stand up right away so I crawled around for a minute or so until my back loosened back up. I was able to stand and walk, but at that moment I thought, ‘hmm… I’m diapered, I was already crawling around, little diapered babies don’t get to walk.’ My plans for the day was to be diapered watching TV in the living room all day, so why not spend the rest of the day crawling to get around the house. I started with some rules, but began to add to others as things came up.

The rules I gave myself:

1. I must crawl around on my hands and knees. Some pressure can be taken off on the balls of my feet, but the majority would be hands and knees.

2. I am allowed to stand provided I am supported from something. Things such as the couch, counters, walls, etc… as long as enough of my balance is supported by it. Meaning if the object was taken away I would fall over.

3. Canes, walkers, using a chair and moving it, etc... is prohibited. All objects that can be used as support are fixed objects. Exception being a chair or something like that can be moved but only if I can do it while crawling.

4. All activities must be done without being able to support myself.

5. No clothing shall be worn that can cover or hide my diaper.

6. Fresh diapers and diaper changes will take place in the bedroom.

I found out a couple things pretty quickly. First thing is that tile and hardwood floor is not fun on bony knees. Fortunate for me only my kitchen and bathroom give me those problems, and the bathroom won’t be an issue sense I’m wearing a diaper :) So that just leaves me with the pains of going to the kitchen. Not too bad, but I almost caught myself cheating at the kitchen, but forced myself to do it anyway.

Another thing I noticed was that things are really far away and take a lot longer to get to. My normal crawl speed is about 1 foot per second so maybe ¾ of a mile per hour. I was watching Hulu and a 90 second ad came on, I decided to use that time to get my stuffy from my room. From my couch to my bedroom door is about 20 feet with obstacles to go around. I had to then crawl to the dresser it was in, crawl back, which takes a little longer with something in your hand or arm. By the time I got back to my couch I had to rewind the show a little. What would have taken me 15-20 seconds at a normal walk took over 90. Because of that I decided that I should make sure that my diaper changes are in the other room. Though it would be super convenient to keep my diapers in the living room with me, this way I’m forced to crawl. Enforcing that I’m not just someone who can’t keep their panties dry, but a baby that can’t walk. Though I didn’t get my diaper change after every wetting. Each diaper lasted me several hours. But as the day dragged on the desire to cheat and stand and walk did increase. Just to do something small takes so long. Like I accidentally left the remote by the TV as I crawled back on the couch at some point. I didn’t mean to, and I wanted to just stand up take the couple steps to grab my remote and be back on my couch in 5 seconds. But I forced myself to come down from the couch crawl around the coffee table grab the remote and crawl back. It took about 30 seconds.

Eating was not something I even thought about when I started this game. I have to really figure out what I can make and eat. I thought cereal would be a good choice. Something simple, no cooking, and can make the whole thing while leaning on the kitchen counter. That’s what I did, I crawled to the kitchen, climbed up the counter to where I was standing and leaning against the counter, grabbed a bowl and made my cereal. I was going to go back to the couch when I realized a problem. I have no way to carry this bowl to the couch. Trying to crawl with it would be such a pain with preventing it from spilling that I had to sit on the floor and eat it right there. Which is what I did. I sat criss-cross-apple-sauce and ate my cereal while staring out the kitchen window. The TV was paused, so while I ate I was left with only my thoughts of what a baby I am. My diaper puffing up out of my crossed legs was visible every time I took a bite of cereal. I could kind of see my reflection in the window of me looking like an overgrown baby as I brought the bowl to my mouth to drink the milk.

From that I realized cooking is out of the question. As I can’t expect to move around and use those dishes while making sure I was supported by something. That just sounds like a disaster and an ER visit waiting to happen. Thinking about what I have that I can eat is a bit tricky as most things that are simple and easy is junk food. Like cereal and chips, and other things that I shouldn’t really eat. I have some microwavable diners which would be simple and would have to eat on the floor like I did the cereal. I also have yogurt which I can take to the couch with me, which I did for a snack. There was also delivery. Though as much fun as it is to think about in fantasy of answering the door on my hands and knees wearing a diaper, I would never knowingly or willingly expose my kink to unwilling participants. I did order food from uber eats and left instructions to leave the food on the porch and leave. When the food arrived and the driver had left I crawled to the front door and quickly grabbed my food off the porch, and crawled back with the bag. I kept myself hydrated with bottled water.

This was such a fun experiment. There were several times that I thought of cheating because no one was around to make me, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to deal with the inconvenience. Such as eating my cereal on the floor or the amount of time it takes to grab something ‘quickly’. And the extra time it took for every diaper change. But those things, and that I was having to force myself to do it when I didn’t want to anymore was what made it so much more fun.

When I do this again I’ll plan ahead just a little bit. Not too much, but things to make sure I am taken care of and don’t have to cheat(making sure I get proper hydration and nutrients). I think it would be fun to already have a baby bottle filled with a meal replacement like Boost or Ensure to drink as formula, and put on the bottom shelf. Put everything I can have on the bottom shelf sense that is the only way I can reach it. Some individual cups of apple sauce, baby food, bottled water, microwavable chicken nuggets. So I can minimize the amount of times I need to lean on something to stand up. Maybe have a more little things out, like my binkie, stuffie, clothes. Things like that.

If you’re an abdl that has not tried something like this before, I highly recommend it. This would have obviously been more fun if someone else was there to change my diaper for me, use the stove to cook my nuggets, decide where I will eat what food be it the kitchen floor or make me eat at the table, give me choices on what I am allowed to watch, etc… All those things I’m sure would have even made it an even greater experience. Even without someone there to do all those things it was a lot of fun.

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wackapedia · 5 years

Text

Ghost Hunting

Warning: one swear word

"Hey guys! Its me, y/n and today we're doing a ghost hunting episode!"

You were a popular youtuber and an occasional tv show actress. You were currently speaking to a handheld camera, outside a huge victorian-age mansion, at past midnight. You were with your neighbor, Joe Mazzello, who agreed to be in your vlog since you guys have the same agent. You weren't particularly a fan of this guy, but since he's now a big shot actor, it would be great to have him in your vlog.

"Now, I'm with a really special guest tonight, you might know him as John Deacon in the award-winning film Bohemian Rhapsody, its Joe Mazzello!" You panned the camera to the man dressed similarly as you. Black rain jacket, a GoPro strapped on his forehead and chest, and a backpack for his goods. He gave a tight-lipped smile and waved as he said "Ghosts aren't real!" to the camera.

You narrated the history of the place as you walked up the grand entrance of the house. Joe kept his flashlight forward and occasionally drops a witty comment about the facts you've gathered.

"So what do you think, Joe? Are you down to catch some ghosts on film tonight?" You faked your enthusiasm to mask your fear."Fingers crossed! Lets do it!" He was somehow cheerful despite the terrifying nature of the expedition. He was just really excited to be working with you, spending the night together despite being in an allegedly haunted house.You exhaled at the mic attached on you. "Alright lets do it!"

Joe opens the large wooden door creaking all the way through. Your handheld light bursts through the hallway, making the cobwebs, dust, and decades-old furniture visible to both of you.You can feel your heart hammer against your chest as you ventured deeper into the hallway. You were sure Joe was making a funny joke but you were too nervous to even comprehend. He seemed to notice your anxiety as he pulled you behind him. "Why are you doing this anyway?" He asked, chuckling as he wiped his sweat."Its fun. Imagine if we actually catch a ghost on video though" you tried to be nonchalant. Suddenly you hear heavy footfalls from upstairs. Like someone running.

"Oh shhh- shnipes!" Your heart was about to leap out of your mouth as you tried to keep your language PG. Joe remained unfazed as he pointed his flashlight to the direction of the stairway. "Its probably just a cat." He laughed at your reaction. Not cool, Joe.

You kept moving around the ground floor of the house, suddenly feeling colder at some parts of the house, particularly the dining hall. "Is that the music room?" Joe announced as he headed to the last room at the end of the hallway. "Joe, wait!" You chased him, afraid of being left alone. Despite being neighbors, you and Joe weren't really close. He was constantly away and if ever he was home, you had no reason to come over. Your only interaction with him was when you meet at the lobby of your building, or in the basement parking. An occasional smile, good morning, thats it. At some point, you assumed he was somewhat conceited, but so far he's been nice and funny.

The room was empty except for an upright piano fitted against a wall near a french-style window. There were no other pieces of furniture in the room."Okay so this is the room where there were said to be apparitions of the last lady of the house. The reason why there are no other furniture in this room is that the lady would throw objects at whoever dares to intrude." You spoke to the camera."How does that make you feel, Joe?" You panned your handheld camera to him while he was walking up to the piano, touching the dust-covered keys and pressed a chord you recognized as the first key to Bohemian Rhapsody. "I feel that its a shame she doesn't keep a bass guitar here." He chucked. You caught yourself laughing, slowly loosing up the tense situation.

Suddenly you hear a third laughter from within the room. You held your breath and held eye contact with Joe. "Did you hear that?" You whispered. He nodded, slowly backing away from the piano. He pulled you out of the room and into the end of the hallway, near the exit.

"Joe what was that?" Your voice was trembling now.

"I have no idea y/n" he said as he moved toward the main door.

"We cant leave yet! We have to go see upstairs! Management will have my head if we cower and cut the trip short!" You said, slightly annoyed at Joe.

"Are you serious? You look like your gonna pee in your pants a few minutes ago!"

"I'm serious, Joe. Get up here." You said, already climbing up the stairs.

The second floor wasn't much different as from the first. The wallpaper still had the faded sky blue design, the air still felt stuffy, and it still was dusty everywhere. You quickly moved through rooms, narrating about the various deaths that allegedly occurred there. Joe was quiet the whole time.

You reached the master's bedroom. Despite being dusty, the furniture in this room was grand. The bed was a large four-poster bed, still equipped with embroidered cushions and bed sheets. There were several paintings of people on the wall, Joe went over to see them. You, however, opened a plain-looking door adjacent to the bed. As the door creaked open, Joe looked over to you.

"Its a nursery." You said, spotting a crib in the room.

You stepped in the room to find a tall shelf filled with Victorian-age wooden dolls. You moved closer to the shelf in order to get proper footage. Suddenly your eyes caught some movement at the top corner of the shelf. Shining a light, you felt goosebumps rise on your skin as you witnessed a doll blink twice.

"Shit!" You started to bolt toward the door when it slammed shut, almost smacking you in the face.

"Joe!! Open the door!" You screamed, slamming your palm at the door. You felt the room shake and see the dolls fall to the floor. The room is filled with manic laughter coming from the dolls as they seem to move closer to you. You've now sunk to your knees as you continued to scream and cry for help.On the other side of the door, Joe was trying to twist the doorknob but it wouldn't budge. He was also panicking upon hearing your screams. He faced the painting of a woman in black clothes and screamed "what do you want? What do you want from her?!" The face in the painting smiled.

Suddenly everything was quiet. The only sound was your sobbing and the creaking of wood against Joe's shoes as he pulled the door open. He saw you on the floor and didn't hesitate to pick you up and carried you downstairs, through the exit and into the SUV he drove on the way here. Both of you were still catching your breaths as Joe sat you on the passenger seat.

Tears still kept flowing from your eyes, your cameras and microphones still recording, and hands still trembling. You closed your eyes and counted down to one in order to calm yourself.Joe was looking at you, feeling relieved like never before. He was never a believer of the supernatural, but for a moment he had to make a bargain to save you. You.

Joe looked back at the second floor to see the old lady dressed in Period clothes standing by the window, staring down at him. He stared back fiercely as he pulled his phone out of his pocket, swiped up to the camera app and took a picture of the house, the lady still visible.

"What are you doing?" You asked Joe, finally feeling better.Joe looked to you and smiled. Your eyes were still red and rimmed with tears but he thought you were very beautiful. And brave.

"Nothing. Let's take a selfie!" He said, flipping to the front camera and snapping a picture.

The sun was slowly creeping by the time you pulled out of the mansion's driveway. Warm yellow sunshine taking over the darkness of that horrid night felt like heaven, You smile contentedly as the sunlight hits your face through the windshield. "Mcdonalds?" Joe asked. You nodded enthusiastically.

Three weeks later, Joe was contacted by his agent to come at the office to see the edited video of your vlog before it gets posted on your channel. He was holding a hot cup of coffee as he entered the office, greeted his agent and took a seat. His agent brought out a laptop and faced it to him as the video started playing.

"Who edited this?" He asked, halfway through the video.

"Y/n herself." He was surprised that most of her scaredy-cat moments weren't edited out. He thought y/n was a very brave person for being able to face her fears and not being afraid to show that she does get scared sometimes. He had no qualms about the video so it was bound to be posted within the hour.

Joe took out his phone and opened instagram to post two pictures. One was an enhanced photo he took of the mansion where the victorian lady can be clearly seen through the window, and the second photo was the selfie of him and y/n.

joe_mazzello: spent a crazy weekend at a haunted mansion with @y/ig/n who proved herself to be one of the bravest people I know. INSANE GHOST HUNTING ADVENTURE link in bio!

#after what i did to joe in the last fic #joe mazzello x reader #joe mazzello imagine #joe mazzello

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master-sass-blast · 5 years

Text

Salt of the Earth

Well. Hello. Welcome to my salt.

So, this is a fic that definitely fits into the series and everything, but it is also a direct byproduct of my salt at Netflix cancelling “The Punisher.”

It’ll make sense once you read the fic.

Rated T for: Multiple injuries, car accident (singular), kidnapping, mentions of child abuse, and just angst in general.

Pairings: Piotr Rasputin x Reader (and kinda sorta Frank Castle x Karen Page; it’s not outright stated, but it’s very strongly implied that they like each other).

Song lyrics are from “Zombie” by Bad Wolves; bible verse is Matt. 5:13.

@marvel-is-perfection

“It’s the same o-ld thing/ in 2018/ In your head/ in your head/ they are dying…”

You sing along with the music blaring through the store speakers under your breath as you glare at the stack of sketchbooks sitting on the shelf in front of you. You’re at an art store in the small town area Piotr likes going to for outings –the very same place the two of you had your first date, in fact—and you’re trying to pick out a good birthday gift for your dearly beloved boyfriend.

Because Piotr is, without a doubt, the world’s most fantastic boyfriend, and you are not about to be shown up by your own partner.

You know, not to mention the fact that you want to get him something good. Something he’ll like.

So, first step. Art store. Always a good place to start, considering that Piotr is an artist and loves getting any art related gifts.

And, bonus! You can get there legally, without Piotr’s help, because you have a driver’s license! One hundred percent legally obtained! Go you!

The money in your bank account that will be used to buy the gift/gifts isn’t legally obtained, because it’s a mix of funds from Wade and your uncle, but the cashier isn’t going to know that and you know Piotr isn’t going to berate you for it because he understands that your situation’s a little –a lot—fucked up to begin with.

Anyway. Back to the point

You’ve made it to the art store. You are currently in the art store. You are exactly where you need to be –which, if it wasn’t clear, is the art store.

Unfortunately, there are no steps after “get to the art store” because you have no idea what you’re doing.

Yes, you do art; you’re not on Piotr’s level, but you hold your own –and, dare you say it, but you’re improving!

But Piotr’s always handled the ‘supply buying,’ as it were, and now that you’re staring down what seems like thousands of options, you’re completely lost at sea.

Okay, you tell yourself. Think. What does he need replaced?

Pens. He’s always burning through pens –and erasers, come to think of it—with how regularly he uses them.

You smile to yourself as you dart over to the proper aisle. I’m gonna own the fuck out of this.

Once you get your footing, you nail the shopping session. You’re gonna have to hide the receipt from Piotr because you definitely went a little nuts, but he deserves and you have more than enough money so why not?

You hum happily along to the pop song of the moment as you drive back to the mansion, gifts safely tucked in the shotgun seat of your car. You’re flying down the highway –not literally, in the sense that you can actually fly or the sense that you’d be speeding—and—

There’s not a single other car in sight.

And that’s… a little weird. It’s early afternoon on a weekend. You’d think you’d see more travelers on the road.

Before you have too much time to overthink it, a massive black SUV comes up on your tail out of nowhere.

You yelp and lay on the horn when it rams into your bumper. “What the fuck, asshole?” You wrench the wheel, trying to stay on the road, and press the gas pedal down harder.

The SUV keeps pace with you, barely keeping off your back bumper as it tails you down the empty road.

You honk again and shift into the other lane before slowing down.

The SUV simply speeds ahead –and spins so that it’s sitting across both lanes of the highway, right in your path.

You shriek as you stomp on the brakes, but it’s too little, too late.

Your car slams into the side of the SUV, and everything goes dark.

The first thing you register is pain. So much of it, everywhere. Your head feels like it’s been put in a vice until it cracked, and your ribs ache with every breath you take.

The second thing you register is that you’re laying on your side in some sort of cramped, stuffy compartment. You can’t sit up, can’t really even move without bumping into a barrier of some sort.

The third thing you register is that whatever you’re in is moving.

Oh, dear sweet Cthulhu have mercy, I’m in the trunk of a car. You groan as you check your pockets for your phone and swear when you come up empty handed. “Shit! Okay, taillight. Find one of the taillights.”

It takes forever, between the pain you’re in and the cramped quarters, but you manage to find one of the taillights. You rip the carpet covering it away, then use your powers to punch it out.

You’re in a city, which is better then being on some backroad in the middle of the woods. City means people, which means phones, which means you’ve got a shot at calling someone and getting back to the X-Mansion. You suck in the fresh night air –you’ve been out for a while, which isn’t good—and try to formulate some sort of a plan. Maybe they’ll hit a light soon, and then I can break the hood open and get out—

The sound of tires screeching fills the air, followed by a heavy burst of gunfire.

You suck air through your teeth –part in surprise, part in pain—as the car comes to an abrupt stop.

“The fuck was that?” one of your abductor’s voices shouts from the cabin of the car, muffled but extremely pissed off.

You know about as much as they do, it would seem, and while you’re not fond of getting out of the car while there’s active gunfire, you know you’re not gonna get a better chance.

You slam the hood of the car open, sending it flying into the air, and bolt for the nearest alley before your kidnappers can react. You barely make it two feet into the shadows before you collapse against a wall, head spinning with blinding pain. Fuck. I think some of my ribs are broken. You pant and gasp through the waves of agony, trying to keep from vomiting.

“Where’d she go?”

“She won’t have gotten far. Find her!”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck fuck fuckfuckuckfuck—

You grit your teeth and fly up to the nearest roof top. You do actually vomit –and almost pass out in it—once your feet hit the flat, paved surface. You collapse to your knees, arms shaking, and groan as you force yourself to your feet. Push through it. Come on. You need to find a way to call Piotr.

You manage to run across the roof top, away from the sounds of your kidnappers’ voices, tears stinging your eyes at every jolt your body takes. You round a corner, hoping to find some sort of door inside—

You run into a black clad figure –literally, full body contact and everything—and scream as the two of you go down together. Adrenaline surges through your system, and you lash out at the person wildly.

“Woah –woah! Hey!”

You stop with a gasp when you see Frank Castle’s face –a little bruised and bloody, but not too much worse for wear considering his line of work—staring down at you. You groan and go limp. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you.”

“The fuck happened to you?” he grunts as he scans your various injuries.

“Car crash. Kidnapped.” You wince. “You know, the usual.” You flinch when you hear the voices of your abductors shouting –they’re getting closer—and shoot Frank a desperate look. “I need help. Please. I lost my phone, I can’t call anyone for help—”

He pulls you to your feet and hooks one of your arms over his shoulders so he can support some of your weight. “I’ve got a van in an alley nearby. Let’s go.”

You do your best to keep pace with him and look over your shoulder jerkily when you hear more gunfire. “The fuck is that?”

“I made some friends,” he grunts as he guides you across the dark rooftop. “Left.”

“Sure sounds like it.” Gunfire pierces the air again –closer, you’re both being closed in on—and you shift your arm so that it’s around his waist and squeeze him against you as much as you can. “Which way’s the alley?”

“West, two blocks –Christ!”

If you were feeling better, you’d smirk at Frank’s exclamation when you launch the two of you into the air. As it is, you grimace and focus on not crashing into anything or dropping your only ticket out of here –here being Hell’s Kitchen, apparently.

You manage to find said alley and van –both of which could be charitably described as ‘creepy looking.’ You and Frank tumble to the cracked pavement, and then you’re retching against the dirty asphalt like a cat trying to hock up the biggest hairball of its life.

Frank gets you up on your feet an into the passenger side of the van in a matter of seconds. He mumbles an apology as he buckles you in, then gets into the driver’s side equally as fast and starts the engine.

“I’m gonna apologize in advance,” you gasp. “In case I throw up in your van.”

Frank makes the grunt equivalent of a shrug as he peels out of the alleyway. “Not the worst thing it’s seen.”

He stops behind a massive apartment building about fifteen minutes later, cutting the engine as he unbuckles himself and opens the door.

“What’re we doing?” you mumble. Now that you’re sitting down and not actively working on getting away from your kidnappers, exhaustion’s setting in. Fast.

“Can’t use my car to get’cha where you need to go,” Frank explains as he unbuckles you and half-drags, half-scoops you out of your seat. “We’ll need to borrow a ride. That, and you need some first aid for your head faster than you need a ride home.”

You frown as you touch your head, then blink when your hand comes away red and sticky. “Oh. Party.”

Frank chuckles as helps you stagger towards the fire escape. “Always is.”

“Wait, you’re gonna make me fucking climb all that?”

“Guy like me can’t exactly use the front door.”

“How high up are we going?”

“Floor fourteen.”

You give him a flat look. “I hate you.”

He chuckles again. “That how you thank all your rescuers?”

“It is if they make me climb up fourteen floors after going through a car accident.”

“Suppose that’s fair.”

You wince as you hook your arm around his waist again. “You’re gonna have to count; I need to focus on not dropping us.”

You manage to get up to the correct floor without dropping Frank once. He does, though, have to practically drag you to the right window. You whimper as he sets you down and taps on the glass pane.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Hang in there.”

You can hear movement inside the apartment, and then the window opens.

A slim woman with shoulder-length blonde hair and wide blue eyes gives the two of you a horrified look. “Frank –what the fuck?”

He jerks his head at you. “She needs help.”

You stick out your hand –it’s not like you’ve got any better options. “I’m Y/N.”

Karen shakes your hand before backing away from the window so Frank can lift you inside. “I’m Karen Page. Let me grab my first aid kit.”

“I’ve got it,” Frank says as he shuts the window. “She needs a phone to call her boyfriend.”

“I lost mine in the car crash.”

It says something about Karen that she doesn’t even blink at your comment. Instead, she digs her phone out of her purse, unlocks it, and hands it you. “Here.”

“Sorry if I bleed on it,” you mumble as you dial Piotr’s number –you mentally thank your uncle for making you memorize phone numbers from an early age on—and try to avoid smearing Karen’s phone with blood as you lift the speaker end to your ear.

“It’s fine.” Karen nods in the direction that Frank went. “I guarantee you he’s done worse.”

The phone rings a few times before Piotr picks up. “Ya sluchu vas.”

You start crying; after the day you’ve had, hearing his voice is the best damn thing in the world. “Piotr?”

His reaction is immediate, relief so evident in his voice you can practically see the expression on his face. “Y/N, where are you? I have been trying to reach you all day—”

“I got in a car crash; some chickenshits tried to run me off the road, and then they threw me in the trunk of a car, and—”

“What? Slow down. Wait, are you safe? Where are you?”

You groan as Frank and Karen help you sit on her couch, then laugh when you realize how fucking ridiculous the story you’re about to tell is gonna sound. “Yeah. You’re not gonna believe who I ran into.”

Frank takes over the phone once you’ve recapped everything for Piotr and reassured your darling boyfriend that, yes, you’re as okay as you can be and you’re in a safe place; he works out the details of how you’re getting back to the mansion while Karen works on getting you relatively cleaned and patched up.

And Karen, to her credit, doesn’t seem all that alarmed by your –or Frank’s, for that matter—injuries. Concerned, yes, and maybe a little strained, but not scared.

She smiles weakly when you remark as much. “Yeah, well, you can’t really let all this freak you out to much if you associate with him.” She nods at Frank again.

“I didn’t think the Punisher had associates,” you mumble as she applies another bandage to what seemed to be a nasty cut on your forehead, if Frank’s and Karen’s reactions were anything to go by.

She huffs out a laugh at that. “I didn’t either, until I realized that I was one of them.”

“Yeah… yeah. No, we’ll get ‘er to you. Probably safer that way… nah, I’m sure. We’ll finish getting ‘er stable, and then I’ll drive her out. See you in a bit, Rasputin.”

You peer up at Frank as he ends the call and hands the phone back to Karen. “How’re we getting out of here?”

“I’ll drive you back once you’re patched up.”

Karen snorts and gives him an incredulous look. “I don’t remember saying you could ‘borrow’ my car. Again.”

“I’ve got a ride—”

“What, your murder van?”

You giggle; it’s an apt description, really.

The corner of Frank’s mouth turns up –and holy shit the Punisher is actually smiling. “What’s wrong with it? It’s got four wheels, it drives, it brakes, it steers. What more do you want?”

“Upholstery that doesn’t have bloodstains on them?”

“Aw, c’mon. It adds character.”

And, even with your probable concussion, you can tell that Frank and Karen are flirting. Hardcore flirting, even.

And that’s… interesting. You knew that Karen had to be someone that Frank trusted to even go to her in the first place, but you hadn’t banked on him liking her, too.

“Frank, you won’t be in Hell’s Kitchen. If you drive Y/N to the X-Mansion in your murder van, people are going to call the police. We’ll take my car.”

“‘We?’”

Karen shoots him a defiant look. “You aren’t ‘borrowing’ my car again, Frank.” She moves out of the way so he can take over your ‘patching up’ and disappear somewhere out of your field of vision.

Frank crouches in front of the couch, still grinning as he rifles through Karen’s first aid kit. He pauses for a minute –and you recognize the look on his face as the ‘I’m about to be a little shit’ expression, which you’ve learned to identify from spending so much time with Wade—then says “Technically, I didn’t borrow it the first time.”

“Not helping your argument, Castle.”

You bite back a smirk as Frank huffs out something that, on another person, might be a chuckle. Very interesting.

Once Frank declares that you’re unlikely to bleed on the interior of Karen’s car, she and Frank help you down to the parking garage of her apartment building. Frank crawls into the back with you –to make sure you don’t fall asleep, given your probable concussion and whatnot—while Karen gets into the driver’s seat and turns the car on.

You wince as you try to sit in a way that doesn’t hurt, then give up on it and settle for letting your head rest against the car door.

You’re tired. Now that you’re not running for your life or in the warm glow of Karen’s apartment, all you can process –feel—is your exhaustion. You haven’t eaten since breakfast, you’re uncomfortable, and every single tiny move you make hurts.

You are, however, wearing one of Frank’s hoodies; Karen had produced it from somewhere in her apartment –add that to the list of interesting details about whatever dynamic Frank Castle and Karen Page have going on—and wrapped you in it to hide the worst of your injuries from any passersby. It’s ridiculously soft, funnily enough, and is only adding to the exhaustion weighing down on you. You nestle yourself in as much as you can to the back seat of Karen’s car and make to close your eyes.

“Hey. Hey, hey! Do not fall asleep right now!” Frank grabs your hand and squeezes hard enough to be uncomfortable. “Keep your eyes open, you hear me?”

“Fuck you, I’m tired,” you whine. You open your eyes anyway.

“How’d you end up running into Frank?” Karen asks from the front seat as she carefully navigates out of Hell’s Kitchen. “You said something about crashing your car?”

“I didn’t crash my car,” you grouse. “Some assholes pulled out in front of me on a highway and stopped.”

“And no one called the police? Or an ambulance?”

“I’m pretty sure it was all planned ahead of time. The highway was dead empty just before it happened.”

The car goes silent for a moment, and then Karen says in a voice that’s just a little too steady “I knew working with the X-Men could be dangerous, but I didn’t think things were that crazy.”

“I don’t think it had anything to do with them,” you admit. “I’m not really an X-Man, either.”

“But you live at the mansion. And you’re a mutant.”

“I am, but being at the mansion is more for my own safety,” you say with a bitter laugh. “I, uh, grew up in an anti-mutant home. Left once I figured out there was a place that would accept me.”

“You think it had something to do with your parents?” Frank asks.

“I mean, they’ve sent bounty hunters after me before,” you grumble. “It’s not like it’d be the first time.”

Frank tenses next to you. “Who are you parents, ‘xactly?”

You don’t have to guess about why he’s suddenly so uptight. This is the man that spends his life gunning down gangs and crime families and other scums of the Earth; if you were him, you’d be worried about what sort of shit the person you randomly helped save might drag into your life—

Or the life of someone like Karen Page.

If there’s really something going on there, you muse, he’s gonna be protective of her. “They’re no one. Just a couple of assholes who didn’t want their kid when she was growing up, but now that’s she gone they’ve figured out they don’t want anyone else having her either, much less for her to have a life where she’s happy.” Tears start stinging your eyes, and then they’re trickling down your cheeks as you start crying. “They used to lock me in my room –my dad would beat with a belt when I had trouble controlling my mutation—” You choke back a sob, then pain racks through your body from the movement jarring your ribs.

There’s the click of a seatbelt unbuckling, and then Frank’s sliding over so he’s next to you, holding your shoulders steady so you don’t jerk yourself around unnecessarily. “Hey, hey. Deep breaths. Easy.”

“I can’t ‘breathe deep,’ asshole,” you say with a choked laugh. “Ow.”

“Is abuse really all that common towards mutants?” Karen asks from the front seat. “Not that I don’t believe you or believe it happens, it’s just… disheartening to think about.”

“Unfortunately, it is,” you say as Frank slides back to his seat and buckles himself in; you’ve calmed down again, which means you don’t need to be restrained. “There’s obviously the good families, but we’re kind of scum to society. Freakish abominations.”

“But there’s nothing wrong with you,” Karen insists. “You’re just people.”

You let out a dark laugh. “Tell that to the founders of Harmony.”

Frank’s eyes are on you again. “What?”

“An anti-mutant settlement about an hour from Xavier’s. They actively kill any mutants they can get their hands on; they’ve got a compound out in the middle of the woods where they do it.” You go quiet for a moment. “They would’ve killed Piotr, if we hadn’t rescued him.”

“I didn’t realize things were that bad,” Karen says softly after a moment. “How are people even getting away with that shit?”

“How do people get away with committing atrocities anywhere? They think they have a right to hurt people, and others agree with them. Unfortunately for us, the ‘others’ who agree with them happen to be the people in power.”

The car goes silent again, and something tells you that the wheels in Karen’s head are turning. You don’t know her that well –don’t know her at all, really—but something tells you that the woman that Frank Castle is –seemingly—interested in isn’t the type to roll over all that easy.

Then, Karen clears her throat. “Who’s Piotr?”

You smile softly. “He’s my boyfriend. He’s the one I called at your apartment. I was actually out getting him some presents for his birthday today.”

“That’s sweet. What were you getting him?”

“Art supplies. He’s an artist, so I like to help keep him stocked up.” You blink owlishly when you realize that the bags with everything you’d bought are probably still in the wreckage formerly known as you car. “I’m gonna have to rerun that errand. Right after I get a new ride.”

“It’ll all work out,” Karen reassures you. “How long have the two of you been together?”

“Uh…” You try to figure it out, even going as far as to count it out on your fingers—

“She’s concussed, Karen. Maybe don’t make her do math,” Frank says with a chuckle.

“It’s been longer than a year,” you add. “Definitely longer than a year.” You think for a moment, then let out a soft laugh. “Y’know, I never thought I’d find anyone. I grew up thinking I was unlovable.”

“Anyone can be loved,” Karen says.

If it were any other situation, you’d write it off as a supportive statement.

But Karen’s voice is just a little too pointed, a little too intentional, and Frank suddenly gets very interested in staring at his shoes.

Probable concussion or not, you know you’re not seeing things. But, there’s nothing you can do or say now that won’t make things awkward, so you tuck it all away for later, for when you can dish it all out to Ellie, Wade, and Yukio to get their opinions on it all –which, to be clear, you’ll only do because you know they’d never blab about it.

But yeah, later. Right now, all you want to do is get back home to Piotr.

Karen keeps you talking for the rest of the ride, asking questions about Piotr and your new life at Xavier’s until she pulls up the gravel drive of Xavier’s Institute for Gifted Youngsters.

The front door opens before Karen even puts the car into park and then Piotr’s sprinting out towards you, followed by a couple of healers.

Frank gets out and directs him to the side where you’re sat—

And then the door’s opening, and Piotr’s there next to you, and you’re both crying.

A couple that cries together, stays together. Isn’t that how the saying goes?

Frank helps Piotr unbuckle and get you out of the car, and then you’re being made to lay down on a stretcher by one very blue, very furry Dr. Hank McCoy.

“Hey, doc,” you manage. “How bad do I look?”

“I’ve seen worse,” he says with a small smile. “Let’s get you fixed up.”

You can breathe without your ribs hurting.

It’s the small things in life, really.

Lucky for you, aside from the fractured ribs –and the concussion; you did, in fact, have a concussion—there weren’t any other major injuries. The healers fix you up, Hank checks you over, and then you’re being discharged with a meager amount of painkillers to help with the stiffness and soreness that’ll linger for the next few days.

It could’ve been worse. It could’ve been so much worse.

Piotr sticks by your side for all of it; he holds your hand, lets you squeeze his when you need to, and offers encouragement when he can.

Hank leaves so Piotr can help you get dressed in clean clothes, and you start crying as soon as the door closes.

Piotr’s by your side in an instant –not that he had wandered far from it in the first place. “Moya lyubov’, what is it? What’s wrong? Are you hurting?”

You mash your face against his shoulder and sob. “I’m sorry –I’m sorry that I didn’t call, and that I worried you, and that—”

He’s quick to shush you, gentle and loving as he rubs soothing circles on your back with his hands. “Nyet, nyet, nyet. This was not your fault, myshka.” He kisses the top of your head. “Let’s get you dressed, and then let’s get you food. Da?”

You sniff loudly and nod. “Yeah, okay.”

He kisses each of your eyelids. “What sounds good?”

“I want a burger. With fries.”

He chuckles and kisses the bridge of your nose. “Khorosho.”

“A lot of fries. Like, a metric ton of fries.”

He laughs again and helps you start changing out of your shirt. “We’ll see what we can do.”

Karen and Frank, surprisingly enough, are still around when Piotr walks you over to the main side of the Institute. Karen’s talking to Professor Xavier while taking notes in a little notebook, while Frank just generally looks uncomfortable and seems to be set on finding the best places to stand that’ll draw the least amount of attention to him.

He also looks a lot better, too, which means the healers must’ve gotten a hold of him.

Good.

Karen looks shocked when she sees you. “Oh, wow. I didn’t think you’d be walking at all.”

“I’ve always bounced back quick,” you say with a shrug. “But having healers that can literally make your wounds close themselves by touching you doesn’t hurt things either.”

She nods. “Yeah, I bet they don’t.”

Frank rolls his eyes, but the corner of his mouth lifts in a grin anyway.

You manage to make eye contact with him –no small feat, since he seems hellbent on memorizing the grain of the wood flooring—and nod in greeting. “Thanks for helping me out.”

He nods back. “Any time.”

“You guys alright? You need anything to eat?” You point in the direction of the kitchen. “I’m gonna have a burger—”

“Actually, we should probably head out,” Karen says. “I’ve got work tomorrow, and I still have an article that I need to wrap up before morning hits.”

The relief on Frank’s face at being given an out is palpable, so you drop it. “Alright. It was nice to meet you. Thanks for letting me bleed on your couch.”

Karen laughs and nods. “No problem. It’s definitely not the worst thing that couch has ever seen. Hopefully, if we run into each other again, it’ll be under better circumstances with less blood involved.”

“We can always hope.” As you watch them leave, an old memory flashes into your mind’s eye:

“You are the salt of the earth; but if the salt has become tasteless, how can it be made salty again? It is no longer good for anything, except to be thrown out and trampled under foot by men.”

Normally, any memories from your childhood are liable to send you reeling –especially any that connect to the countless times you were dragged into your town’s church and told, over and over, how you were a perversion of God’s creation.

But now, instead of panicking, you can’t help but regard Frank and Karen in quiet contemplation as they walk out the front door of Xavier’s; the two people that, without really knowing you or having any investment in your wellbeing past the general goodwill that decent humans possessed, had spent the past couple of hours helping you get to safety.

After a life of being beaten down –specifically by non-mutants—it’s an interesting turnabout.

You smile to yourself, just a little, as you watch Frank open the door for Karen and usher her out into the night. Salt of the earth indeed.

You wind up on the couch, nestled against Piotr’s side, happily munching on your burger while the two of you watch old Mythbusters reruns.

(You did, in fact, get a small mountain of fries –and decent servings of fruit and vegetables, because Piotr made your plate for you.)

“How are you feeling?” he asks, voice soft as he kisses the top of your head.

“Sore. Tired. Hungry.” You set your burger down. “I’m gonna need a new phone. I lost mine in the crash.”

He rubs a hand up and down your back. “We’ll get it figured out.”

“I’m gonna need a new car, too. And to replace everything in my purse.”

He wraps his arms around you as you start shaking and presses his lips against your shoulder. “Breathe, myshka. Everything will be taken care of.”

Your lower lip trembles and you squeeze your eyes shut. “I had presents for your birthday picked out and everything. I lost those, too.”

He kisses your temple, then your forehead. “I would rather have you than presents.”

“Yeah, I get it, I just—” You sniffle and rub your hands over your face. “I’m just upset about it. I get it’s not even that big a deal in the grand scheme of things, but I still just—”

He gently settles you in his lap when you start crying and rocks you back and forth. “It is okay to be upset. You had upsetting day.”

“I was just really happy with what I picked out, and now I’m not gonna be able to leave the mansion again until we figure out who went after me and why, and I really just want to be able to buy you a birthday gift, dammit.”

“I am very flattered, myshka, but trust me when I say it does not matter to me. I will not be hurt if you cannot get me gifts.”

“I know, but it matters to me.”

He goes quiet at that, opting to just hold you and rock you back and forth while you cry.

It’s been a shit day. Your car was totaled, you were kidnapped after being forced into an accident, you had to spend over an hour in the medical bay at the mansion to get your ribs patched up, and now you’re down a phone, an ID and debit card, a car, and your gifts for Piotr.

You know that you’re lucky. That things could be much, much worse. That if you hadn’t run into Frank on that rooftop, you’d probably be in the trunk of another car right now.

You’re alive, you’re healed, and you’re back with Piotr. You’ve got a lot to be grateful for.

And, in the morning, you will be grateful for it.

But it’s been a shit day, and right now all you want to do is cry over the fact that you can’t buy your boyfriend a damn replacement birthday present.

So that’s what you do. You’ve earned it.

Crying’s healthy, anyway.

#sass writes #piotr rasputin x reader #colossus x reader #frank castle x karen page #tw: child abuse #tw: kidnapping #tw: car accident #tw: injuries #this has a happy ending #it's just a very emotional fic #with lots of pain #but everything works out in the end #also frank castle DESERVES FRIENDS DAMMIT #deadpool fanfiction #x men fanfiction #punisher fanfiction

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