for fake fic titles - 'trapped in the photo frame'
Lear is sent back in time to his childhood—but trapped within the confines of his child body. He cannot leave to find Hoopa, he cannot escape to Unova to meet Cheren early. All he can do is sit in his tutoring classes, and remember the kind future he will someday have.
As the tutor’s droning speech about macroeconomics continues, Lear finds himself losing his mind. The images of his friends linger, but they’re beginning to blur.
Rachel and Sawyer are still here by his side, of course, but they’re not the same. Their meekness had been beaten out of them by adulthood… but they aren’t adults yet. Far from it. He’d had to beg his father to let Rachel be his retainer; he hadn’t had to do that in his real childhood.
He’s starting to forget what Cheren’s face looks like.
Lear’s arm cross over his chest and linger there until his tutor glares at him. “Master Lear, sit at attention. This is very unbecoming of a prince,” they sigh before smiling. “I should tell your father about this.”
Lear bows his head like a terrified kid. “I’m sorry, sir.”
when they'd been shown to the cabin the first time, their bag and the minotaur horn had been in the middle of the floor, surrounded by a handful of others. it was fine, for a moment, but then declan was suffocating, and something about the look on their face must've screamed please don't make me do this today because negotiation for a spot against the wall goes quicker than they thought it would. they wrap the blanket around their shoulders and huddle against the wood, staring at a spot that's been painted and re-painted so many times that the chips are coming off in every color they can think of.
"hey," someone says, a little like they're trying to coax some scared animal. declan turns their head to stare, and staring back at them is a kid their age with bright green hair and darker brown roots, smile pulling at the scars covering half his face. "hi, yeah, you. declan, right?"
"yeah," declan answers quietly. they try for a smile and regret the effort immediately - it comes out wobbly and makes their eyes water, and they duck their head away again, blinking. "hi. sorry."
"'s whatever. 10 throws me at all the traumatized new kids, i'm used to it." that startles a giggle out of them, and he grins, all cat-who-caught-the-canary. "and now you know why. 'm echo."
"does that work on- everybody?"
"about fifty-fifty. you care if i sit?" he's already settling next to them on the sleeping bag as they nod, tugging at the blanket until they acquiesce and pull themself away from the wall. his eyes catch on the horn, tucked against their chest, and they instinctively clutch it closer. "don't worry. if i wanted to steal it, you wouldn't notice."
declan's nose scrunches, and they move it between their thigh and the wall, where they can feel every groove of the keratin, the jagged-sharp edge where it broke off. echo snorts. "they left it out- in the open in the thief cabin," they mutter, "i don't know why 'm bothering. i don't want it, anyway."
"if you say so," echo hums, disbelief evident. they look back at the wall and he sighs, poking at their shoulder until they stop. "nobody's gonna try n' take it for a while if they know what's good for 'em, trust me. you've got me, you've got 10, and 'm pretty sure rassel's been stalking you from across camp so if anybody's got dibs it's them. you won it, fair and square."
"i don't-" their voice breaks, and they bare their teeth at him, fists clenching. "my fucking dad died- and all i got was some- some credit to pass around a summer camp? i don't want it. i don't care what happens to it, i don't care-" what happens to me- "the minute i see the- i'm gonna kill them."
echo blinks, slowly. stays silent.
"i'm gonna kill them," declan repeats, miserable and tired and angry, angry like they've never been before. "whoever- whoever- i dunno. i dunno." there's bile at the back of their throat, and the longer echo looks at them the worse they feel, guilt at snapping closing up their throat. "sorry. sorry. that- 's not your fault."
"you should keep that anger." a note of approval marks echo's voice, even his expression sharpens. like there's respect, there. "camp's easier that way. and- if you find them? we'll help."
they don't know what to say to that. so they nod, again, and lean away from the wall, resting their shoulder against his. he doesn't move away - just reaches over to grab the horn and set it in his lap, instead.
[ID: a drawing of Lucretia from the shoulders up, against a white background with a blue and white circle behind her head. She is a dark-complexioned woman with an off white buzzcut and lots of freckles. She’s wearing a red jacket with the collar turned up, ace flag pins on the corners of her jacket collar and a shirt with the lesbian flag on it. She is looking off to the right and smiling slightly. END ID]
A gift for @dvcknewtons, created by @encrypted-cryptid!
hi you already know. 9. pressing their face into the others neck, hiding from the world with dec and echo
the aftermath goes a little like this: declan sees echo sitting in the grass, hair loose and the pink faded from their outfit, and he very nearly trips and eats dirt in his scramble to get to them. "e-e-ch-o," he warbles, far from coherent through the wailing static, then he's throwing himself down onto their lap and holding on as tight as he can without hurting them.
"dec- god, dec, i'm sorry, i'm sorry, hey, hey-" echo wraps their arms around him, hand reaching for his hair and then aborting the motion to trace little circles along his spine instead. "you- you found me, you got it, we're- we're okay-"
their voice cracks. that's all it takes for declan to start bawling, record scratching as speech cuts completely, all his i'm sorrys and i love yous stuck being conveyed by the way his fingers scramble for purchase in the back of echo's shirt. he hears echo choke on a cry of their own and tries to lean back, only for them to pull him right back close.
declan, through blurry tears, can see the small drops of dried blood along the side of echo's neck where his claws had broke skin. they've already closed up enough to not need scabs, but it makes him want to file his claws right down to the skin anyway. he presses his forehead into the skin—if the blood flakes off onto him, that's only repayment for how badly dec must be ruining echo's clothes with 5's—and squeezes his eyes shut.
neither of them say anything for a long, long while. until both of them are cried out, guilt-ridden feelings scooped out with a tear-shaped spoon. when they do, it's quiet. agreement to go inside. they don't let go, hands locked together tight as ribbon. when declan stumbles at the doorway, abruptly and horribly scared and feeling horrible that he does, echo squeezes his hand and looks at him, clear green.
also 26. bumping shoulders into each other with dec 10 because i miss them
"ow!" declan drops the bundle of fabric and paper they're sewing into their lap, sticking their finger in their mouth with a tiny frown. 10 glances over from the other side of the couch.
"cringe."
"shu-ut the- up ple-ease-" they pick it back up and scrounge for their sewing needle, eyebrows furrowed. they look up once at herbert across the room before returning to the work, adjusting their position on the couch to knock their shoulder into 10's. he sighs and looks over fully, lips pursed. "ho-ow's it looki-ing?"
"hm. looks fine." he sets down his pen and picks at the stitching. "any gold?"
"ca-an't touch it ei-eith-er! bu-ut i'll tr-ry, if he'd li-ike it."
"he would."
"'ka-ay! do-oes that go for ev-verything?"
declan waits patiently as 10 considers that, both of them glancing back over at herbert. the kid trips over a segment of carpet and rolls over, still focused on the scrap-fabric plushie in his hands.
"no. he likes that well enough. just clothing. and not a lot—"
"yo-ou need to pi-i-ick him up, i kno-ow!" declan grins as 10 rolls his eyes, leaning away; they fall onto the couch cushions with a soft thud. "di-ick. i'm ma-aking up fo-or lo-st time, i wo-on't mess it up."
"obviously. and watch it."
"he's hea-ard worse fro-om you!"
10 shrugs, returning to the notes he's sketching out in his journal. declan sighs exaggeratedly and sits back up, settling back against his side, brushing their hands over the spot on the overall straps where gold buckles might fit well.
'this world has only one sweet moment set aside for us' for fic titles ??
this world has only one sweet moment set aside for us – the broderick & 10 wedding piece. declan builds the venue by hand; it's distinctly his style of work, petals falling from the trellis ceiling and all, but the colors are all right and really 10 thinks its better like this anyway. even when rassel slips on stray petals. (especially when rassel slips.) the food he preps tastes like home. broderick doesn't have anyone to give the best man speech for him, so echo does both, and balances the playful shovel talk on a knife's edge for both of them too. rassel fills the afterparty with the most harmless displays of magic they can manage, silent-enough fireworks and fog across the dance floor, and their wedding gift to 10 is a handful of shed scales and a fridge of enough enderman blood to last him a year. broderick's gift from them is a normal wooden duck. there's no real family structure to do all the ordered dances for but declan sweeps broderick into a clumsy, loose dance from his village's festivals and echo stands on 10's feet while they waltz to bug him. and 10 and broderick dance after, of course, slow and steady. rassel and declan and echo do some strange three-person dance in the background and collapse giggling. they get pictures and paste them into each scrapbook. they could live in this moment forever.
15. gently kissing the others knuckles with evan eli? i cant get the stupid 'we should go on a date to annoy our partners' idea out of my head
evan goes to pick up eli at their house for the date, even if they'll both have to go back to electrasweet anyway to get to the restaurant. they had rock-paper-scissor'd for the honor, and he's always been a little shit at it, in a way that's only ever made his life slightly inconvenient or slightly more comedic. eli is standing out on the porch, leaned over the railing, wearing a button-up and a suit jacket with a glittery, fluffy black skirt that would touch the ground in the back if it was anyone else wearing it. as it is, it reaches eli's ankles, which is impressive enough. their blue tie is undone, ends dangling down from around the unbuttoned collar, a stark spot of color.
a few months ago, seeing this would've made evan feel deeply underdressed. nowadays, with a wardrobe full of secondhand fineries (that he really needs a bigger place for), he... well. he doesn't, though he has to fight off the feeling anyway, smoothing his fingers down his dress. as he walks through their front garden, he can see the sparkle of an earring; the matching one to his, from a set they had bought for him for this very bit. it eases the tension in his shoulders, a little.
"you look great," they call, unwinding themself to their full height to meet him at the top of the stairs. he smiles, resisting the urge to rub the back of his neck, and tilts his head to the side a little.
"you too. though- don't you know how to tie a tie?"
eli stays silent, doesn't meet his eye. evan drags over one of the porch chairs and climbs up onto it, ignoring the flicker of movement from the living room curtains, the flash of blue-green. they don't even have to lean down, with this vantage, though from up here he can see the way they have to stop themself from doing it anyway, habitual.
he knots the tie quick, leaves it loose for a moment to button their shirt. "covering up my assets, huh?"
"what assets, your neck? i'm not a vampire."
"could be. i don't know electrasweet's vampire population, it's entirely plausible."
"wouldn't be doing this, then, yeah?" evan steps back down and watches as eli presses their fingers against it. it- almost feels too intrusive, to watch the expression that slips across their face, strangely touched and vacant at the same time. he glances away for a moment, and when he looks back, they're back, that usual almost-cheshire smile tugging at their lips.
"now that my tie situation is remedied, are you ready to go to the restaurant?"
"yeah. we'd better leave now, actually, i'd- hate to miss our reservation." evan takes a step down the stairs and then thinks for a moment - back to that flicker of movement, back to the look on eli's face - but only for a moment. he turns a little, holds out his hand palm up. "eli?"
"evan," they answer, "you're- sweet." they put their hand in his and let him guide them down the stairs, pausing on the bottom step. evan looks up at them, breath catching for a moment at the way the night, the angle, their eyeliner makes their expression change, all too intense. then they smile, all teasing, and the moment is gone. "hey, loverboy. you have a finale for the first act?"
"i have to do everything myself around here," he answers, and as their grin widens, he brings their hand up and kisses it, smiling against their skin even though his lips linger for a second longer than they strictly have to. eli's ears go red, and he knows he probably looks a little flushed - cheesy, cheesy, cheesy. he isn’t a romance novel protagonist, he doesn't know why he did that -
but when eli takes that final step and compliments it softly, gaze cast back towards the house, evan feels-
well. they've got their plan going, and he's doing a damn good job with it.
