#and also. gotta write some soft stuff for em every once in a while

[sefsagentdump]

🌃

junko was on the couch. emiko had no clue why, but it was likely because she just wanted to be there. it was colder in the living room, though.

the bed, for once, was not cramped.

emiko looked beside her.

naoki was knocked out. her mouth was wide open, teeth exposed.

sleepyhead, emiko thought.

her ankle was no longer wrapped with an elastic bandage. it had come off, sitting right beside her foot.

emiko lay simply. her arms and legs were basically straight, and she was on her back.

reluctantly, she rolled over, picked up the bandage, and rolled over twice to put it in the garbage bin sitting under naoki's desk. it was overflowing, as it always was.

weird. neat in most but this one can.

emiko couldn't sleep in the position she was in. she could hardly ever sleep, even less if she wasn't close to someone.

she looked at naoki again.

would she be okay with it?

hopefully. the first night, emiko was an octopus. she was basically right on top of naoki, and she didn't say anything about it. to be fair, that was likely to be nice, but still...

emiko crept closer. she tried and failed to move in—she'd only seen this in a few movies and some of the books she read.

naoki yawned. she went to scratch her back but found somebody else there. her arm moved back to where it was—being smushed underneath a squid-shaped pillow.

"hm."

she went back to sleep.

emiko smiled.

inklings are so silly.

she wrapped her arms around naoki, leaning on her back.

and there, she slept just fine.

[harrysgoldenline]

Hi lovie 🧡 First of all, let me just say how wonderfully amazing your writing style is. It truly takes my breath away. Keep on writing because this fandom (Harries) needs brilliant people like you to reenact our fantasies. Secondly, I saw that you were asking for requests, so I've got one for you: could you please write something (either a one shot or series) based on friends to lovers trope, where Harry's in love with his friend who's also a poet. It would be marvelous if some scenes took place in Japan, if that's possible. Once again, thank you for your work. Wish you all the best 💐

OMG YOU ARE SO SWEET!!! that is literally the sweetest thing in the whole world. thank you so much love, genuinely. 

Comments are always highly encouraged and appreciated! I love seeing what you guys think of the writing!

Support me and my writing here!

Writing with You

“Y/N, you’re finally here!” You heard Harry exclaim and you drop your bags as you seem him run towards you, literally sweeping you off your feet and spinning you around his rental home.

He had been beginning you to come and visit him and Japan and you could only use work as an excuse for so long until he came up with an elaborate plan, now here you were. 


After a few moments, he sets you back down on your feet, a massive smile on your face as he looks deep into your eyes, “I’m so fuckin’ glad you’re here.” he beamed, reaching down and grabbing your bags and cocking his head to the side as he lead you through the house, “Your room is right across from mine, if that’s alright. If I snore too loud just come in and hit me with a pillow.”

“Happily.” You laughed, giggling up at him as you followed him throughout the home, taking in the space around you, admiring his small touches he added to the rental home, “What have you been up to lately? Anything exciting?”

“Oh, you know just living the rock star life” He winked, setting your suitcase on the bed before laying down on it, extending his arms and making grabby hands at you until you lay next to him, which you happily do, “I’ve been sleeping in, writing, recording and going to bed early.”

“You are such an old man.”

“Hey!” He playfully scolded, fingers digging into your sides, “You menace! I only brought you here because I thought you would be nice to me!”

“Someones gotta keep your ego in check,” You teased, “tell the fans I say you’re welcome for the ‘arrogant son of a bitch’ lyric.”

“Yeah yeah yeah,” He chuckled, shifting his body weight and laying a bit closer, eyes looking deep into yours, faces a mere foot apart at most, “speaking of, have you been writing much lately? I’d love to pick some more out of that beautiful mind.”

“I have a bit,” you blush, sitting up a bit and digging into your backpack, flipping through the pages of your notebook, seeing if anything stands out enough to show him now, but you end up just throwing it on a nearby chair and laying back down with a yawn, “I have stuff, not sure if it’s third album worthy.”

“Oh please,” he started, furrowing his eyebrows at you, sincerity in his eyes, “you are an incredible writer, I love writing with you. I’m sure the studio tomorrow will be magic. But! You need some sleep, you’ve had a long day. Can I get you a snack or drink or anything before bed?”

You shook your head, eyes closing with another yawn and your heart sinks as you feel the weight of the bed shift as he crawls out of bed, eyes fluttering back open and you give him a tired smile .

He smirked, flipping off the switch as he reached the bedroom door, “Sweet dreams, love.”

***

“I am officially mad at you,” Harry said the second you entered back into the studio that was connected into the home that he was renting, to coffees in hand.

“What did I do?” You gasp, handing him his coffee as you plopped down next to him in the studio, taking a long sip as he shook his head at you.

He remained silent, pulling your notebook out of his back pocket and flipping through the pages, his long fingers trailing along them as you could see his lips move, silently reading them to himself. He looked back up at you, closing the notebook and handing it back to you.

“These are all incredible! What do you mean none of ‘em are good enough for the album?”

“Really?”

He smiled and nodded quickly, snatching the notebook back from you as he flipped back through the pages while drinking from his mug. Soon, he hands the open notebook back take you, swallowing the warm liquid as he tapped on the open page, a love poem on the page.

“This one…” he began, “is breathtaking. Most definitely my favorite.”

It’s about you. You wanted to say, looking up at your best friend, but instead you say, “help me finish it? I have some more ideas for lyrics but you are the musical mastermind.”

“I would love to.”

So you two worked together, hours passing as if they were minutes as you huddled together at the piano, thighs pressing together as Harry practiced different melodies, the sound of his voice calming you further.

You couldn’t help but close your eyes as you listened to his voice, humming along where he requested so he could help visualize different melodies. Drifting off into the music, you leaned your forehead against his shoulder. Harry kept playing away at the piano, stopping every few measures or so to scribble away on the sheet music, testing out different melodies and lyrics the two of you pieced together.

“I love this so far…” he whispered, looking at you quickly, “I haven’t felt this excited about a song in so long. Thank you.”

“Harry, you wrote the majority of it!” you laughed, playfully shoving him, “I just had, like, a verse and a half.”

“You inspired what I wrote!” He chuckled, glancing down at you, eyes softening, “in more ways then one.”

Your quickly help your heart beat accelerating slightly, looking up at him wide eyed as you struggled to find the words.

“I mean…” he slowly began, adjusting his body so he was fully facing you, “I mean… your words inspired me to write but… it’s also just you, Y/N… You inspire me.”

His eyes were pleading with you, gnawing on his bottom lip as his hands trembled, praying that you understood what he was saying.

“You inspire me too.”

“Did I inspire this song? Is it… about us?”

You slowly nodded, looking down at your shaking hands, “look, I understand if you don’t feel the same but-“

You were cut off with a kiss, two strong hands grabbing your face as your best friends lips crashed onto yours. You kiss back in an instant, hands coming up to his shoulders, tugging on the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Is this okay?” he asked softly against your lips and the second you nod he’s kissing you again, as if to try and make the years of waiting pay off in a single kiss.

Which he was able to accomplish.

He pulls back slightly, pressing a few soft pecks onto your lips before you two look at each other, a blush covering both of your cheeks.

“So…” he smiles, his fingers dancing over the back of your hand before intertwining your fingers, lifting your hand and kissing it, “will you be mine? Finally?

“Yes.” you smirk at him, a hand coming up to his face as you kiss his cheek before letting out a laugh, “So… you gonna give me writing credit this time?”

Harry let’s out a loud laugh, standing up at the piano bench and throwing you over his shoulder and carrying you back into the house, “I knew I love you.”

[shyneanon]

So like the skeleton simp community (it’s basically its own fandom) has really changed me, I never used to write romance, but I just... reaaaally love the Bonely Hearts Club thing where Red bakes in secret, so like... @bonelyheartsclub I may or may not have written x reader fanfiction before the full game is even out??? Oh gosh I’m going to write so much fanfiction when the game comes out help me

Anyway here’s Reader finding out about his hobby

----

You were falling asleep on Red’s shoulder when he spoke up.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

“Mm?” you mumbled, blinking awake. Red had paused his game to talk to you. He was usually fine with speaking over the game, so this wasn’t just casual conversation. You (reluctantly) lifted your head off his shoulder so that you could actually make proper eye contact, and once you did, you realized that he looked strangely serious. “Yeah?”

He seemed to hesitate a moment, breaking eye contact, then said, “I… I was thinkin’ I could show ya somethin’.”

Well, judging from how uncharacteristically tentative he seemed, it wasn’t sexual. “Yeah,” you said. “Anything.”

“But you gotta promise not tah tell anybody. Not the other skeletons, nobody…. Got it?”

You raised an eyebrow. Red, hiding something from everyone? He was always pretty loud about things that most people tried to keep discreet. What could he possibly be hiding that would be private even to him?

“As long as you didn’t murder someone,” you said with a smile. He started to close the game, so thankfully, no, he hadn’t murdered anyone.

When he stood up, you moved to get up with him, but he stopped you. “No, it’s in here, I’ll jus’… grab it.”

You watched as he went over to a disorganized pile of… lots of things. Books, video games, magazines, dirty clothing. His room wasn’t as messy as it used to be, but Red was still a Sans. Lazy was their thing.

He started to dig around and eventually fished out several books. You already knew he was a scientist, so they couldn’t be physics books. Were they… porn or something? Like, some really weird kind? No, that wouldn’t make any sense, why would he show you that? You didn’t really need to know the details of his habits in that department.

When he headed back over, you could see an actual blush on his face. Seriously, what was this? Was it romantic? Was he trying to be romantic? No, you’d seen that before, and it was adorably awkward, not… tense, like this.

“So,” he said, “please, just… promise ya won’t laugh at me.”

Why would you laugh at him? Not that you never had, but it had never been spiteful or condescending. “I won’t laugh at you. I promise.”

“... Cool.” He looked down at the books. You couldn’t even get a good look at their spines. Alright, now you had to know what this was about. If he backed out you were going to be really frustrated.

“So,” he said, “y’know how Rus sometimes likes bakin’ stuff, and ya told me that sometimes it’s better than other times?”

… What?

What did this have to do with Red? Still, you nodded-- albeit slowly, and you were sure your confusion was visible on your face.

“W… Well, the times you said it was better, Rus didn’t bake ‘em.”

For some reason, you didn’t put the pieces together at this point. Probably because you were too busy being confused that he had brought up such a mundane topic when being so secretive. “What?”

He made a small sound of frustration, though it wasn’t directed at you, and then held the books up so that you could see their covers.

Recipes.

Baking recipes.

“Wait,” you said, “you bake?”

He looked like he wanted to bury his face in something. “Yeah.”

You bit your lip, but it was no use; you started to giggle. He looked surprised, and you forced yourself to stop when he shrank back a little in embarrassment.

“N-- no,” you said, “it’s not like that! I’m not--”

“I know it’s lame, ya don’t hafta pretend it ain’t.”

“No, Red, I’m just… This is it? This is the secret you wanted to tell me?” Surely there was more.

“Yeah.”

There wasn’t more. You snorted. “Why is this so embarrassing?”

“I mean… it’s not real on-brand fer me, it’s a real soft hobby.” He kept avoiding eye contact. “Stuff like that.” It sounded like there was a lot more on his mind, but you knew Red had a hard time talking about how he felt. You wouldn’t press him about it.

You shrugged. “I mean, it’s unexpected, yeah, but that’s not a bad thing.” You nodded at the books. “How long have you been doing this for?”

“Started a while after we ended up wit’ all th’ other skeletons, livin’ together. It’s actually… kinda nice, tah do somethin’ soft.” His toothy smile returned. “Kinda like a weird middle finger to th’ Underground. Also, I gotta sweet tooth, ‘n this helps.”

His reasons actually seemed pretty Red-like. “A middle finger is totally on-brand for you.”

He was loosening up, his smile less strained and nervous than it was before. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Then you realized something.

“Wait, doesn’t Rus know?”

Red’s smile faltered. “Uh… not exactly.”

Again, what? “Then how…?”

“So, sometimes he fucks up real bad.” His face grew oddly serious. “‘N I mean real bad. Not ‘s bad as Boss’s cookin’, but that’s not sayin’ much. It can be a real disaster. Or jus’ flavorless, ‘r whatever. So, I, uh… I may or may not toss it out, ‘n then bake a replacement.”

You snorted and let out another laugh, this one louder than the giggling from before. “And he doesn’t know?”

Red’s grin widened. “‘E’s got no idea. Thinks it’s just a stroke ‘a genius.” Some pink crept onto his cheeks again. “But… ya can’t tell, OK? The others’d make fun of me.”

“No they wouldn’t.”

“Some’a them would.”

… OK, yeah, maybe some of them would. “OK, I promise I won’t tell.”

“Thanks.”

You stood up. “You said doing soft stuff was a middle finger?”

He looked a bit curious as to what you were getting at, but he answered, “Yeah.”

You headed over to him and wrapped your arms around his neck before kissing his cheek.

“Can we cuddle?” you asked in a small, gentle voice that you knew seemed to crack him every time.

He was surprised for a moment, then dropped the books on the floor in his typical fashion. You wouldn’t tell him to put them up-- not now that he was wrapping his own arms around your waist.

“Ah… d-- doll,” he mumbled shyly.

His face had somehow gotten redder, and the usual edge he had to his smile was gone. His eyelights were large and fuzzy; you always loved when he looked at you like that.

“Y… Yer the only thing I really need tah help my sweet tooth,” he said quietly.

He was always so timid when he said anything romantic. You nuzzled him. “You’re so cute,” you told him.

“Don’ say that, ‘m supposed t’be bad.” You could tell he didn’t mean it-- he was smiling.

“Whatever you say, bad boy.” Bad boy. Psh. He was adorable. So adorable that he was going to be the death of you. “We should bake together sometime.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. We could make brownies when no one’s around. And then eat them with ice cream.”

His grin became a bit mischievous. “Yeah. It’ll be our dirty little secret, huh?” It softened again and he placed his forehead against yours. “You said you wanna cuddle, sweetheart?”

“Mhmm. A middle finger to the Underground, right? Screw the Underground.”

“Yeah,” he said, pulling you close and nuzzling you, although it was a bit rougher than necessary. “Fuck that place.”

He was still learning how to cuddle properly, but you didn’t care. You just liked being in his arms.

[socialwriter]

Simp

**Gif by @rafecameron​**

Idea by @ptersparkers​: the x times rafe/jj is caught being soft and refuses to admit it and the one time he does bc i’m a sucker for that but can someone write it because i want it but i don’t wanna write it 

Part of my week of fluff

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Female Reader

TW: Soft boi Rafe 

1.5k+

Summary: 3+1 of the three times Rafe didn’t admit he was a softie (simp), and the one time he did

Requests featured: 

@anonymous0writer​: hi bubs. week of fluff: ““I know I’ve kissed you like, ten times, but just like another ten, please.” w soft rafe or topper?? ty bubs

@softstarkey​:  “Would you mind if I kissed you?” w rafe 🥰

anon:  could you maybe write something about being super cuddly with rafe? your one w pope got me🥺🥺🥺

@butgilinsky​:  cooking dinner for rafe😪 or vice versa i’m not picky. also ily💓

A/n: I am now feeling the pressure of having five people’s wants in one fic, but i shall suffer in silence, also this is my first x + 1 fic so I hope it doesn’t suck oop

You and Rafe were both lounging around, your head on his chest and his arms around you when you looked up at him and noticed something you hadn’t before. “Woah, you have long eyelashes.”

He looked down at you, quirking a brow. “Do I? Huh, never noticed.”

“Yea, they just go blond at the end so you can’t see ‘em. You know...I could fix that for you.” You tell him, a devilish glint in your eyes. He furrows his brows, slightly scared as to what you had in mind. “What do you mean…”

You don’t answer his question, instead getting up out of his bed and walking into the joint bathroom, sifting through your makeup bag until eventually you find your mascara. “Aha!”

Rafe sits up, now curious as to what you were planning on doing. “Babe, what are you getting in there?”

You casually walk back into his bedroom, an excited grin plastered on your face as you crawl into bed once more and sit in his lap, wrapping your legs around his torso. “I’m gonna use mascara on you!” You exclaim, showing him the black tube.

His eyes widen, and he shakes his head violently at the very idea of wearing makeup. “Nope, there is absolutely no way I am doing that. You’re tripping babe.”

You pout, jutting out your bottom lip in the way that always got you what you wanted when it came to your boyfriend. “But baby, you’ll look so pretty and it’ll make your beautiful eyes pop even more.”

He frowned, staring at the tube of makeup. “Does it hurt?”

“Not one bit baby.” You assured him, pushing back some of the hair that had fallen in his face.

“Ok alright fine, if you want to do it I’ll do it.” 

You squeal, clapping your hands together and giving him a quick kiss on the lips. “I swear you’ll love it.” You get to work applying the makeup quickly before he has the chance to change his mind. He surprisingly doesn’t flinch much while you’re applying, but that all changes when you’re applying the last bit of mascara and Wheezie walks in.

“Hey Rafe have you seen m-oh my god.” She exclaims, an amused grin forming on her face. “What are you doing.”

“Wheezie get out of here!” He screams, unable to actually get up and push her out so of course, she stays to tease him.

“Wow, Y/n, really gotta hand it to you. You did the impossible and turned Rafe Cameron soft.” 

You giggled, resting your head on Rafe’s shoulder and kissing his jaw. “Thanks Wheezie.”

Rafe scoffs loudly, glaring at his youngest sister. “Both of you shut it! I am not soft!”

You snort in response to his words, giving him a soft kiss on the neck. “Of course not, baby.”

Wheezie giggles, holding her hands up in mock surrender. “Ok ok, you’re not soft. Whatever you say you simp.” With that she leaves Rafe’s room, shutting the door behind her.

“Y/n?”

“Mhm?”

“What does simp mean?”

“Don’t worry about it babe.”

----

“Rafe?” You asked softly, quietly walking into the bedroom of the Cameron household. Kelce and Topper were over, playing video games, but Rafe had promised you cuddles after htey left, which was supposed to be over a half hour ago. 

“Yea babe?” He asked, never tearing his gaze away from the screen. All three boys were very into whatever was happening in the game, muttering insults at each other every once in a while.

“It's getting late, are you almost done?”

“Yea babe, just 5, 10 minutes, tops.”

You pout, crossing your arms over your chest. He had said that 20 minutes ago. An idea pops into your head that if you couldn’t get him upstairs to cuddle with you, then you would have to just cuddle with him down here. You walk around the couch, crawling into his lap and latching onto him like a koala. Both Topper and Kelce glance over for a second, rolling their eyes at the unexpected PDA from the two of you. “Baby I wanna go upstairs.” You mumble against Rafe’s neck, nuzzling your head further into him. 

“I know you do baby, just give a minute to beat these guys and I’m all yours.” He tells you, earning shouts of protest from both boys sitting next to him. “Are you wearing my shirt?” He questions when he glances down at you, to which you nod in response. 

“Your shirt and nothing else babe.” You say, a smirk finding its ways to your lips. He stiffens at your words, taking an audible gulp before quickly turning of the TV

“Hey man!” “What do you think you’re doing!” “Are you serious!” 

“Ok boys, time for you to leave,” Rafe tells the other two who both get up from the couch, grumbling about their game and how they were ‘so winning’. 

“Dude, you are so soft.” Topper tells him, rolling his eyes at the older boy.

“Like seriously, what's happening to you man.” Kelce adds, grabbing his stuff from the floor of the living room. 

“I am not soft, and I suggest you leave before I make you.” Rafe growls, moving to stand up. You, however, do not like this plan, whining and clinging to him tighter, mumbling a soft ‘no’. He listens to you, earning a look from both Topper and Kelce. 

“Dude, seriously, you’re such a simp.” Topper says as both boys leave the house.

“SERIOUSLY WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN.”

----

“Rafe!” You call out for him, having your boyfriend run into the kitchen where you are a minute later. “Yeah babe, whats up?”

“Today, I’m going to teach you how to cook.” You tell him, earning a groan from him “What, why? I like everything you cook so much.”

“Flattery ain’t getting you out of this one. C’mon, we’re starting simple, it's just eggs. It would take an idiot to screw those up.” 

“Idiot at your service.”

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. “You gotta stop doing that.”

“Doing what?” He asked, brow furrowed in confusion.

“Tearing yourself down. You’re not an idiot, you just never learned how to cook is all. And that’s what I’m here for, to teach you how.”

He gives you an apprehensive look but nods, accepting the fact that he was doing this whether he liked it or not. “Ok so where do you start with eggs?”

“Well, first you’re going to get the eggs.” You tell him, earning a helpless look in response. “They’re in the fridge babe.”

“Right, right, I knew that totally.” He mumbles, going over to the fridge and getting the carton the eggs stored inside. Eventually, you had gotten him through scrambling the eggs and now you were ready for the stove, which he looked at with fear in his eyes. “Babe, maybe you should take over from here.”

“Rafe, you can do this. You’re a master chef, I believe in you. Now use that oven!”

He gave you one more glance before putting the pan of yolks onto the stove you’d already turned on for him. “Make sure you turn it over so it doesn’t burn babe.”

“Can you show me how?”

You nod, grabbing a spatula and placing it in his hand before guiding him through the motions of flipping the eggs. “You’re doing great babe.”

“Yeah?” He asks, grinning at you. You nod at him right as Sarah walks into the kitchen, having to do a double take. 

“What's going on?” She questions, not really believing that her brother is actually cooking a meal.

“I’m teaching Rafe how to cook,” you inform her, turning back to the stove to make sure that you didn’t burn the eggs. 

“Um, Rafe, didn’t you once tell me that you would pay for your own personal chef before you learned how to cook for yourself?”

Rafe’s face turns a bright red as he looks down at the floor. “Well yea...but Y/n wanted me to learn how to cook so I’m doing it.”

Sarah’s mouth was left slightly ajar, shocked by the fact that a girl was able to change Rafe so much. “Wow Rafe, didn’t know you’d gone soft for your girl.”

Rafe pouts, jutting out his bottom lift. “I’m not soft, I'm just a chef.” 

Sarah snorts, raising her brows at her brother. “Sure you simp, if that helps you sleep at night.”

“Why does everyone keep calling me that?!”

----

“Y/n?” Rafe asks, tracing small circles on your hip bone. 

“Mhm?” You respond, not looking up from your phone.

“I love you.” His words cause you to look up from your phone, eyes softening when you see him looking at you with nothing but love and adoration in his eyes.

“I love you too baby.” You say, giving him a soft smile.

“Can I kiss you?” He questions, lips only centimeters away from yours. You don’t respond, instead closing the gap between the two of you and pressing a short and sweet kiss to his lips. He, however, decides that’s not enough, giving you kiss after kiss, causing you to giggle against his lips. “Rafe!”

“I know I’ve kissed you like, ten times, but just like another ten, please.” 

You laugh at his words, shaking your head. “Rafe, you really have gone soft, haven’t you?”

He shrugs his shoulders in response, giving you a grin. “Only for you baby, only for you.”

“Wow, you really are a simp.”

“Aww come on!”

Taglist: @normatural @beth-winchester21 @julialucena5  @drwstrky @brightcosmos @jiaraendgame @copper-boom @sunwardsss @starksweasley @trashmouthpogues @allielozoya @vindictive-hearts @kaitieskidmore1 @teenwaywardasgardian @diverrdown @lynniep @apoguecalledjj @dancer0614 @jjtheangel  @rafecameron @paradigmax @anonymous0writer @x-lulu @futuretaxcheat @olsenholic @jjaybank @starlightstarkey @girlsru1eboysdroo1  @Theyrealldruggy @pit-zuh @tomfreakinghollandneedsaoscar @simonsbluee @outerbongs @stfukie @yxseminx @ilovejjmaybank @abbiesthings @captain-molls-of-the-small-world @kikinuke2 @maddymfperez @pogue-writings @rudths @i-love-scott-mccall @strangerthanganfiction713 @jj-iz-bae @sguymon21 @thelocalpogue @rae131415 @goldenhanna @scandalousfemale @obx-direction-sos

Frenz: @sortagaysortahigh​ @ad-infinitums​ @butgilinsky​ @bricksatanakinswindow​ @multifixx​ @drew-starkey​ @downbytheouterbanks​

[fakeloveaskblog]

[Hello The Local Demon's here! Well, it does indeed seem like Tumblr has eaten my ask. I am disappointed at this hellsite, but not surprised. I'll have to rewrite it, I guess, wait a hot sec! Think I'll sent it in parts this time, so at least some of it is bound to make it in.

(Also I saw the Tuxedo Mask meme and loved it! It got a chuckle put of me, and I want it back in the reply to this if you still have it please.)

Oh and congrats on the gender, btw! You're right that the reason you're getting those early isn't the best, but honestly I'm just glad you are getting 'em! SUPER HAPPY FOR YOU!! LIVE YOUR BEST LIFE!!! I shall now stop screaming support at my screen at 1AM, but know that it is very much given!]

:(( im sorry tumblr ate the ask. i dont know how much time y'all people spend on writing these asks but it still sucks no matter how fast theyre done. Is it possible for you to maybe like copy paste them into a notes app or something before sending them so theyre saved even if tumblr eats them? or like taking screenshots of them before sending them. i sure know that the moment i hit post i forget every word i've written hdfkjhdf so it might help? i dunno just brainstorming. Also thanks for the congrats! 🐹🧡

"And one snake goes here and one snakes goes there and a truckload of snakes fall into the river" Remus singsang while braiding Janus' hair.

Rowan had left for her flight this morning and Janus had come over soon after. They were laying on their back on the couch with their head leant in Remus' lap. Keeping his hands busy with their hair helped against the dissociation, though it wasn't nearly as bad as yesterday.

"HEllo!!! Demon!!!" Remus exclaimed when he saw the dark void like appearance filling the corners of the room "I love you too!!"

Janus gave you a wave "Greetings Gemon"

The shadows spread over the floor and weblike spirals grew onto the entrance door. A loud creak boomed as the door seemed to contort for just a second before going back to looking perfectly normal while the shadows returned to the corners. No Oswalds would ever be able to go through that door ever again.

Remus froze at the mention of the name. He stared blankly at the door. Janus quickly took his hand in theirs and massaged their thumb against his palm.

"Thanks Demon" They replied in his place.

He shook his head around and blinked over and over to focus "Sorry, zoned out a little. Thought about uhhh butt stuff" He blurted out.

Remus was actually sitting crosslegged on the couch and was turned towards his friend. So when you dropped the octopus near his feet it landed directly onto Janus' face.

He flailed around for a few seconds before the octopus turned into a squishy soft plushie. His face was still dripping with octopus liquid as Remus grinned down at him.

"How did it feel? I've always wanted to get suffocated by an octopus, ever since I saw Octopussy's octopus strangle a dude"

"I only understand half of those words" They replied while wiping their face. Remus helpfully rubbed his t-shirt against their cheeks "It felt...slimy"

"OHOHOHOH! Great!" He picked up the plushed octopus and hugged it "It feels so octopus like!! like a water bed! Oh I'm loving this duder"

The shadows near the walls started to move closer towards the exit as your message continued.

"We are still friends indeed!! Never worry about that!" He made grabby hands towards you "I would super love a hug!"

The shadows swallowed him and limbs somewhat resembling arms emerged to hug him. Janus tentativelys at up to see if he was welcome to join. A third limb emerged to pull him into the hug.

Before suddenly all the shadows all at once retreated once more and the last part of your message came out. Remus waved you goodbye.

"Good luck with the rescuing!! Salt helps to get rid of blood stains! Just so you know in case you gotta pummel some people!"

The shadows respectfully opened the entrance door, stepped out and closed it again. Right after you had left Remus turned to Janus and held up the new octopus plushie.

"Wanna go get your pet snake so we can test out how she reacts to different kinds of plushies??"

Janus squinted at him "That.....That does sound interesting. I'll ask Logan if he can get her, he loves this kind of experiment stuff"

"Like a nerd"

"Like a nerd yes"

[underfell-crystal]

~~Dangerous Woman~~

Another oneshot starring an AU pairing of Harp and Copper, this time in the MafiaTale universe! @avtfol came up with the idea, and I've decided to put it into writing.

TW: Massive creep vibes, sexual harassment, shady mafia stuff

Goldie may have been the don of New York City's largest human mafia, but there was somebody else who could rival his power. His most favored member, who went by the nickname of 'the Lady Boss'.

Her mere presence commanded respect, and she radiated cold confidence. Nobody but her don knew her real name. As Goldie's closest confidant, she knew all the inner workings of the mafia. But, for being such a stoic woman, there was one thing that she couldn't hide, and that was the fact that she HATED being around Goldie. Being around him made her nose crinkle in disgust and her eyes narrow in contempt.

But it wasn't like she could tell him outright to fuck off when he got handsy, his hands sliding down her waist with a look full of lust.

He knew where her family lived. In fact, he'd even ordered a group of his men to always keep tabs on them just to keep her from leaving, effectively trapping her. She hated being trapped.

But she also loved her family. She would do anything for them. If that meant putting up with a pervy don, killing people, and dealing with constant, suffocating paranoia every day?

Fine. She'd do it.

------

"We're going to the gala tonight, angelbird. Eight p.m, sharp."

Bee didn't look up from the papers in front of her. "Mhm."

"I picked out a dress for you. You'd look absolutely breathtaking in it."

Ugh. She'd prefer not to show off ninety percent of her body, thank you very much. "I'll think about it."

"Please do, angelbird." The don turned and marched from the room, probably to spend four hours pampering himself and getting ready to meet with the other dons. Bee huffed and brushed a strand of her short, pitch black hair behind her ear, only for it to fall back into place a moment later. So much work to do...

.

.

.

As she thought, the black dress Goldie had picked out for her was far too risqué for her taste. Sure, she didn't mind showing off her body a bit, but she didn't need any more men leering at her tonight. Goldie was more than enough. So, she settled on something far better: a beautiful red, floor-length gown with a slit up the side of it and some gold jewelry with red gemstones to match.

Fixing her hair, she sat at her vanity, carefully applying eyeliner, lipstick, eyeshadow, and mascara. She rubbed her lips together and opened her mouth with a popping sound, the blood red a beautiful contrast to her icy blue eyes. Bee looked over her reflection critically before sitting back with a soft, pleased smile. She looked beautiful.

Satisfied with her appearance, she stood up and slipped into her red heels, gliding from her room and to the elevator. Outside the penthouse was a black car with a driver waiting for her. She sat down in the back, taking care to not catch her dress in the car door. As soon as she was situated, the car took off.

Hopefully this night would go without a hitch.

.

.

.

The hall where the gala was being held was already full of people when Bee's black car arrived. The car parked in front of the entrance, and a man outside opened the door for her, inclining his head to her as she stepped out, gracefully standing up. "Welcome to the gala, Madame."

"Thank you." Polite and simple. That's all she needed. She swept from the bottom of the staircase up to the main hall, keeping her eyes straight forward. She could see Goldie at the other end of the hall, talking to the other dons, including several monsters she hadn't seen before. One of them was a skeleton with a strange collar that was glowing green around his neck.

Ugh. Fantastic. More people Goldie got to parade her around to. She kept a pleasant smile on her face as she walked up to them, sliding her arm through Goldie's. She could feel his smirk widen. "Hello my darling."

She hummed in response, tilting her head against his shoulder. If she said anything, she'd probably start cursing him out. Goldie turned his attention back to the others. "This is my beautiful angelbird. The brains behind the operation, if you will."

His hand slid down her lower back. This greasy bastard.... She felt her eye twitch, though her smile remained pleasant. She glanced up and saw the skeleton looking at her oddly. She quickly averted her gaze, pretending to be shy. Please, God, just let this be over with quickly...

.

.

.

Three hours later, and Bee was done. She had abandoned Goldie as quickly as possible after his little stunt in front of the other dons. She was currently hiding from the other slightly-less-powerful mafia members in an attempt to not socialize. She just wanted to have a few drinks, then go home, wash all her makeup off, and go to sleep. She raised her half empty glass of wine to her lips again, her gaze flicking around the large hall.

She heard footsteps approaching from the side and glanced out of the corner of her eye. Oh. It was the skeleton with the glowing collar. He leaned against the wall next to her, silent for a moment. "You looked quite angry."

Ah. So he noticed. Her voice didn't change. "Sorry? You must be mistaken."

He chuckled, swirling his own wine glass. "Nah. Could see it in yer eyes, doll. You hate that guy... Goldie, was it?"

She didn't say anything, just took another sip of her wine. "If you want something from me, say it and leave."

"Quick to cut to the chase, eh? Sure. I wanna help you."

Bee turned her head to look at him. "I beg your pardon?"

The skeleton stared back. "He's the don. Even if you do most of the work, he's still the head honcho. Which means you gotta do what he says."

"Mentioned that fact, did he?"

"Oh yeah. Got some real creep vibes from him, too. Sayin' some nasty things about you."

Bee's grip on the wine glass tightened. Of course he would go behind her back and make disgusting jokes about her body. How very like Goldie. She could feel the glass in her hand starting to crack when the skeleton spoke again. "Like I said. I wanna help. I can help."

"Thanks for the offer, but I've been doing this for a VERY long time. I know what I'm doing."

"You hate it, though. You hate HIM, specifically."

He nodded at the blond still talking and laughing with the other dons. Bee sent Goldie a cold glare over the top of her wine glass. "... Fine. What's your offer?"

"Some of my guys are already working on being accepted as new members of pretty boy's mafia. I want you to try and convince him to let 'em in so they can get to tearing his empire down from the inside. In return, I'll help ya get away from Goldie."

He must've seen the look on her face, because he hastened to speak again. "I know ya've got things keepin' you from leaving. Rest assured, whatever you need, I can help."

Bee looked him in the eye sockets. "How do I know you won't snitch to Goldie as soon as I walk away."

He chuckled. "Aww, don't trust me, doll?"

"Absolutely not."

He barked out a laugh. "Clever lady. Alright. I'll give you my word, I will not say anything to him."

"Your word won't mean anything to me if I'm being beaten into a bloody pulp."

"Can see why yer the brains of the operation... Alright, here."

He took a ring off one of his phalanges and offered it to her. "Keep this until you know I'm not gonna rat ya out."

It was a 'don ring'. A physical representation of his status. She examined it, then slipped it on. As long as nobody looked too closely at her new ring for the rest of the night, she would be fine. "This will do."

"Sure. Hey, I wantcha to meet the guys who are gonna be 'joinin' yer mafia. Tonight. Now, if ya got nothin better to do."

"... Fine. Let's go. I never caught your name, by the way."

"Ya can call me Res, doll. What about you, you got a name?"

"You may call me Vee."

"Vee, huh. Welp, alright. Let's go."

He strode off with purpose, back toward the entrance of the gala. Bee followed him, not caring whether Goldie saw her leave or not. She didn't have a responsibility to be here anymore. She and Res got into a black car rather similar to her own, and the driver briefly glanced at her before taking off.

While they were traveling, Res gave her the rundown of who would be attempting to join Goldie's mafia. Several dog monsters, a flame monster, and another skeleton: Copper, Res' brother. After Res finished with explaining who was trying to get in, it was Bee's turn to explain the 'process' of getting into Goldie's mafia.

It... wasn't a pretty one. Dangerous, too.

Res furrowed his nonexistant brows. "And you're SURE they'll be fine?"

"Of course. Entry is brutal, but everyone going in has lived. And once they're in, there's practically no other security measures. You're part of the 'family' now. You can make your way up through the ranks, but it sure as Hell ain't easy."

"How'd you do it?"

"I've been stuck with Goldie for over a decade. I'm competent at what I do. But as much as I hate to admit it, Goldie favors me, so I get special treatment."

Res nodded slowly. "So... Jus' try and stay on his good side?"

"Yeah, basically."

"Thank you, Vee."

"Yeah. Sure."

Another fifteen minutes, and they had arrived at a large manor. Res got out and opened the door for Bee, and she stepped out, goosebumps crawling up her arms as her bare skin met the cold air. Res motioned for her to follow him, ascending the stairs up to the entrance. He strode inside, waving off his guards to let Bee pass. Inside, he called for his brother as Bee looked around. It was rather nice. Expensive looking, too, but that came with the benefits of being the head of a mafia.

A minute later, someone very tall appeared at the top of the second floor railing, looking down at Bee and Res for a moment before turning and walking down the stairs.

Wow. Okay. He was VERY tall. He easily dwarfed her, standing at.... eight feet, at the bare minimum. He looked down at her, mismatched eye sockets crinkling slightly. "Well ain't you a pretty lil thing."

Great. Another Goldie. She smiled sweetly at him. "This 'pretty lil thing' is your ticket into the biggest human mafia in the city, so keep your comments to yourself."

He blinked at her, then turned and looked at Res with a raised bone-brow. Res cleared his 'throat'. "Copper, this is Vee. Vee, this is Copper. I apologize for his lack of manners."

"Hm. Show me the others."

Res led Bee away from Copper, who watched her leave, an intrigued expression on his face. She had barely spoken to him, but he could already tell.

She was one very dangerous woman.

[jobean12-blog]

The Dollhouse

Pairing: Bucky x reader (1940s!Bucky Dad AU)

Word Count: 2,286

Summary: It’s your daughter’s 4th birthday and Bucky is making her the best surprise ever! 

Author’s Note: This is for the HBC’s @the-ss-horniest-book-club​ HBC Dad AU Day! I want to give a special thanks and lots of love to my beautiful friend @sallycanwait68​ for talking through this with me, reading it over and sharing so many beautiful ideas and images with me. You’re always such a wonderful inspiration and I’m endlessly thankful! She also made the gorgeous moodboard!! Hope you all enjoy, I really loved writing this one. Much love always! ❤❤❤

Warnings: Fluffy love, sweet softness, light smut (fluffersmut), Bucky being the cutest dad and husband ever, little girl cuteness :) 

You weren’t sure if was the rain that woke you or the lack of warmth in your bed. Maybe both. Sliding into your slippers you padded with soft feet toward the kitchen. It only took a few steps in your small Brooklyn apartment to reach anyplace and you barely noticed the light coming from under the door of the ‘spare room’ as you walked by.

It wasn’t until you heard the quiet curses of your husband that you realized he was hidden away in there, the soft illumination of the lamp casting a warm glow on his cheek as you watched him from the doorway. He was working on something incredibly special, handling it with the utmost care and his pained mutterings were making you giggle.

“I hope I didn’t wake you, doll,” he whispers, his long fingers delicately holding the smallest door you had ever seen as he gave you a sweet smile over his shoulder. “No, baby, just missed you in bed, I was wondering where you were. How’s it coming?”

He carefully attaches the door, opening and closing it a few times before standing and holding out his hand. “Well, now that I got that on, much better! Come here, have a look.” You shuffle over, handing him a warm cup of tea that he eagerly sips from as you look over his handiwork.

“Oh, Bucky, it’s just so precious and beautiful. Rose is going to be SO HAPPY!” You throw your arms around his neck, forgetting all about the tea as some of it spills onto his pants. “Ooooo, eesh, that’s hot,” he grits out, “but worth it.”

You let out a quiet laugh, “oh, baby, I’m sorry! I’m just so exited!” He places the cup of tea on the floor, picking you up and bringing you onto his lap. “Do you wanna see what I’ve done so far?” he asks, his tone proud.

“You know I do, Buck, show me everything please,” you reply, kissing his warm cheek. He spends the next hour going over all the special details about the dollhouse. Each window shutter is painted with precise detail and attached in just the right spot, the archway over the door and the window flowerpots giving it such charm you could barely stand it.

“I want to live in this house, Bucky, it’s so beautiful! It looks like you’re almost done!” Bucky gives you a wide grin, his hair falling in loose strands over his forehead, “well, sort of, I still have to paint the shingles and do all the furniture!”

“You’re so handsome, you know that,” you whisper, slowly pushing the hair from his face and tracing your fingers down his cheek. Even in the dim lighting of the old lamp you can see the softness in his eyes, “it’s a good thing you married me, then, huh,” he teases, nuzzling his face into your neck.

“Can I help you with any of it?” you ask, as your fingers massage his scalp, “I’d be happy to.” He finally looks up, his eyes looking a bit more tired now, “actually, maybe you can help with some of the shingles then we can go to bed.” “Deal,” you say, sealing it with a kiss.

The two of you spend another hour painting shingle after shingle in a soft pink color, each one no bigger than Bucky’s thumb nail. After doing about 50 you start to lose focus and instead start watching Bucky. His movements are meticulous as he picks up each tiny piece and holds it between his fingers, taking the paintbrush in his other hand and covering every spot in the pretty color.

“What happened, doll, worn out?” he asks with a smile, still concentrating on his latest shingle piece. “Hmmm, oh, well not exactly…” you trail off, running your fingers up his thigh. Placing the piece down he looks you over, “not exactly, what baby?” Biting down on your bottom lip and giving him innocent eyes, you state simply, “I was just enjoying watching you work with your hands, that’s all.”

Bucky washes off his paintbrush, placing it on the towel. He crawls over to you, his hands sneaking under your nightgown to touch the smooth skin of your thighs. “My hands, huh. Something else you’ve got in mind that I could use them for?” Leaning up to brush his lips to yours he runs a finger over the damp patch on your underwear, sucking in a breath, “aw, baby, all this just from seeing me paint shingles.”

Your eyes close and your head rolls back as he continues to rub you through the thin fabric, “let me show you what else these hands can do.” Bucky dips his fingers into the waistband of your underwear, his touch languid as he teases you. “Gotta be quiet for me, doll,” he whispers into your neck before he spends the rest of the night taking you apart with those hands.

You awake to the sound of small feet slapping against the floor as Rose skips into your bedroom, bright eyed and very ready for the day. “Mornin’ mommy! WAKE UP DADDY!” she yells, climbing onto the bed with her stuffed bear. She crawls atop Bucky and sits on his back, “Daddy, daddy, whatcha doing still sleeping, the sun woke up already!” Rose continues poking him as you try to hold back your laughter, the late night leaving you both very satisfied but very tired.

Bucky starts to move his hips, Rose bouncing high into the air and squealing. He quickly flips over and grabs her by the sides, tickling her until she’s screaming in laughter. “DADDY’S UP!” he yells, throwing her small body over his shoulder as he stands up. “And I’m hungry, for tiny feet!” He grabs her feet, bringing her toes to his mouth as he gently nibbles. She erupts into another fit of giggles, calling to you for help.

“Who wants pancakes?” is all you offer as you walk into the kitchen. “Oooohhh pancakes,” yells Bucky, “I do.” Rose’s tiny hands grab hold of Bucky’s hair, “Daddy, if you’re gonna have pancakes, then you don’t gotta eat my toes, right?” Both you and Bucky start laughing, his arms circling your waist as you work at the counter, Rose still dangling off his shoulder, “you’re right baby doll, I’ll have those instead.”

He places her down on the floor, ruffling her hair before grabbing plates and milk. “Ok, good, I think I need my toes. What would I put in my shoes if I don’t have ‘em?” Bucky looks down at her, her smile mirroring his own, “hmm, good question, baby.”

Once breakfast is made and the three of you are settled at the table, Bucky leans over to you, mouth full of pancake, “sweetheart, you think we could send Rose to your Ma’s for a little today, I uh, have some stuff to do.” You smile over at Rose, her small mouth stuffed full and whisper back, “yes, definitely, I have some party prep to do myself.”

Rose was more than happy to go to Grandma’s, leaving you and Bucky the afternoon to prepare for the big party tomorrow. You blow up balloons, make streamers, and a ‘happy birthday’ sign. Taking a break, you search for your husband, finding him once again crouched down on the floor, placing the last shingle on the roof.

“Bucky, it looks perfect!” you squeal, clapping your hands together and running over. You lean on his back, peering over his shoulder as you both admire his work. “Is the furniture next?” you ask, before peppering his jaw with kisses. “Yea look at this,” he says, holding up a tiny little bed and dresser. “And I have a table and chairs and a couch, some bathroom stuff, even a doghouse!”

“Aww it’s all so adorable baby, she is going to love it.” You continue kissing down his neck, gently massaging his shoulders. Grabbing you and dragging you into his lap he stares down at you, “if you want me to get this done before she gets home you better stop distracting me. You remember what happened last time we were in this position,” he purrs, his hand snaking up your skirt. “I’ll just go bake the cake then,” you breathe out, stopping his hand before it gets too high. He swats at your ass when you stand, sending you running into the kitchen with a shriek.

The sweet smell of baking drifts through the house, Bucky’s stomach grumbling as he sits and paints the small dresser for the bedroom. “I brought you a bite of cake to taste,” you hum, sitting down next to him. His tongue darts out to wet his lips as he concentrates on the finishing touches. “Bucky…,” you whisper, lost in the sight of him.

Turning his face to you he opens his mouth for a bite, his moan sending shivers down your spine. “Delicious, doll.” You stare at each other for a minute while he finishes the bite, chocolate frosting on your fingers and the side of his mouth. “You got a little something here, baby,” he says, taking your hand and pulling your fingers to his mouth. He licks the tips clean, eyes on yours the whole time.

You put down the rest of the cake, winding your arms around his neck and kissing the side of his mouth, licking off the frosting. “If watching me work with my hands gets you this turned on, I’m going to be building Rose every damn thing out there,” he says against your mouth. “Mmmhmmm, maybe you could just stop talking and put those hands to work again…”

Bucky’s hands card through your hair, his lips trailing down your neck and he dips your head back. “MOMMY! DADDY! I’m back, where are you?” Rose’s shrill voice surprises you both, Bucky’s wide eyes springing you into action. “Quick, Buck, clean this up, I’ll go head her off, so she doesn’t come in here.”

You fly out of his hold, rushing to the front door, arms wide open, “hi baby doll! Did you have fun at Grandma’s?” Thanking your mother, you listen to Rose chatter on and on about their fun afternoon, only placing her down once you see Bucky emerge from the other room.

She takes off running, throwing herself into his arms and burying her little face in his neck. “Hi daddy, I missed you.” He cradles her close, blowing raspberries on her cheek, “me too, doll, did you have fun?” Rose begins her story all over again, this time with some changes and you laugh as you start to prepare dinner.

Rose’s excitement for her party keeps her up later than usual, both you and Bucky exhausted but excited just the same. Once she’s finally asleep you and Bucky decorate the house together, placing the dollhouse front and center on the table. “I can’t wait to see her face, y/n. I hope she really does like it.”

Resting your head on Bucky’s chest you squeeze his waist, “she will, it’s a dream come true.” He kisses the top of your head, pulling you closer and wrapping you up in his arms, “come on to bed, baby, I want to finish what we started earlier.”

Once again, you sleep later than intended, the day, and night’s events catching up to you. “IT’S MY BIRTHDAY! EEEEEEEEE!” you hear from Rose’s room, causing you to bolt out of bed to stop her from seeing any of her surprises without you.

“Morning my birthday girl! Should we go get daddy so you can start your day?” Rose grabs her stuffed bear and jumps into your arms, “yes, yes, yesssssss, hurry, hurry mommy!” You take her into your bedroom just as Bucky sits up and rubs the sleep from his eyes, “there’s my beautiful birthday girl.” Holding his arms out for her to come, she hops over the bed and settles in his lap. “Ready daddy, can we get up now, pweeease, pweeease!!!” Bucky falls back on the bed, pretending to snore and trying to hide his smile. Rose’s scream most likely wakes the neighbors as she starts pulling on his arms, “NOOOOOOO DADDY, GET UP.”

Bucky lets out a loud groan, rolling over on top of her and squishing her into the bed, “ok, ok, I’m up! Let’s go.” He carries her into the kitchen, watching as her eyes go as wide as saucers and light up. “WOW,” she whispers, looking in every direction and trying to take it all in.

He places her down, her little feet moving before she hits the floor. Rose runs to every balloon and streamer, touching them all reverently as she talks a mile a minute, cooing over the colors. She finally gets to the table, her small body stopping short as she stands in front of the dollhouse.

“Daddy,” she breathes out, clasping her tiny hands together and jumping up and down while twirling in circles. “DADDY!!!!” she squeals out again, grabbing Bucky’s hand and pulling him down to sit with her. “Daddy, LOOK, it has a bed and chairs and windows and flower thingies and….” Her high-pitched happy voice rings out through your small apartment as she goes on and on about the dollhouse, taking each piece out and showing it to Bucky.

Bucky’s smile matches her own, your eyes watering at the sight of your little family, everything you’ve ever wanted right here in this moment. You sit down next to them and Bucky puts his arm around you, holding both you and Rose close. His eyes meet yours in understanding, no words necessary, the love you feel stronger than anything that can be said.

@aesthetical-bucky​ @book-dragon-13​ @eurynome827​ @hiddles-rose​ @hailmary-yramliah​ @ikaris-whore​ @itsunclebucky​ @jewelofwinter​ @jewels2876​ @jhangelface0523​ @loricameback​ @littledarlinhavefaithinme​ @littleredstarfish​ @marvelgirl7​ @mushyjellybeans​ @marvelandotherfandomimagines​ @nano--raptor​ @randomfandompenguin​ @sallycanwait68​ @softpeachbarnes​ @the-wayward-robot​ @when-the-hell-is-bucky​

[descendantofthesparrow]

Encore - Harry Hook x reader - part 20 - developments

=

Huh….well that’s….interesting?

“Dove and Thomas broke up huh?” you muttered to yourself, scrolling through your Tumblr as most of the Descendants fandom blew up about the two actors' separation. The two had split up two months ago and had been keeping it secret for their privacy, you snorted, remembering when the rumors of Thomas cheating on Dove with you when you and Harry were spotted walking around (where u live) which had surged up again in a different way when the fans (wrongly) accused Thomas with cheating on Dove with his costar, who was forced to reveal her own relationship to get Dove fans off her back.

You had met dove before, and she was….nice enough, but her “fans” were really something else, a lot of them couldn’t get it through their heads that people were allowed to not like Dove and her characters. You had seen them message death threats to some of your mutuals just because they said “oh I don’t like Dove”

There were definitely some that were more mature and left others alone but more often than not they were fucking insane. So, you did your best to stay out of that crowd.

You heard the usual sound of Harry's heavy steps behind you and held up your phone for him to see. He made a sound of confusion and gently pried the device from your grip and scrolled through the article.

A few moments of silence later loud boisterous laughter rang through your apartment. You turned, giggling as Harry hopped around the apartment in a way you haven't seen since the after-party for Mals Engagement Party.

“celebrate good times come on~” Harry sung to himself,  spinning around midair and grinning at you. You just laughed and shook your head.

“what are you so excited for?” you asked, pressing your lips together to prevent any more bursts of laughter to escape your mouth.

“now those shipped me and the purple imp together got no ground ta stand on~” Harry cackled. You couldn’t hold it anymore, loud peals of laughter escaping you as Harry continued to dance around your living room.

“oh, my gooood!” you giggling, falling to your side and holding onto your stomach. Harry side hopped over the couch and landed in front of you, setting your phone down on the coffee table behind him and grabbing your face. You squeaked and giggled as he pressed multiple little pecks to your face and lips “you-“ you tried to get a breath, once again deterred by your laughter “why-don’t you even feel a bit bad for them?”

Harry pulled back, looking off to the side and pursing his lips “I guess” he shrugged, turning back to you “I mean, they did end an….how long were they together?”

“About four years” you hummed, reaching under his arm and grabbing your phone.

“okay yeah, they did end an almost four-year relationship, I would guess they would both feel iffy about tha’ so tha’s all I feel bad abou’ I  guess? I never saw wha’ they were like together so I have no say on if they were happy but…yeah, I feel bad that they were probably sad about it ending or something but now I don’t gotta deal with all that Mal x me shit” he shivered, scrunching his face a bit.

You snorted and rolled your eyes, pressing a kiss to his nose and wiggling out of his arms “whatever, I gotta go” Harry whined and wrapped his arms around your waist, tugging you back towards him.

“whyyyyyyy” he huffed, pouting up at you and giving you his famous puppy dog eyes. You rolled your eyes and ran your fingers through his hair.

“I have a thing with Evie for….well you know” Harry perked up and quickly released you, his eyes shining with excitement.

“well wha’ are yeh waitin’ for! Go!” you snorted at his quick change of behavior and shook your head, turning and going into your room to grab your key and tablet which held your concept art.

“Okay, I’ll be back soon! don’t burn down the apartment!” you heard Harry groan in “frustration” and a thump on the floor as he dramatically fell back onto the floor.

“damn it! Now I gotta think of something else ta do!” you rolled your eyes at his response and pushed your key into the lock on your closet door, smiling at the usual glow of the portal that bled through the cracks of the door.

You pulled it open and stepped through, tossing one more ‘see ya’ at Harry before closing the door behind you.

Moments later you stepped out into Evie's greenhouse turned workroom. She spun around, grinning at you. “hey (y/n)! let's get started shall we!” she made grabby hands at your tablet and danced in her seat as you passed it to her and leaned against her sewing table.

She pressed the power button and grinned “beautiful, I should hire you to be my second designer (y/n)” you laughed and shook your head.

“nah, I like designing but only as a pass time heh” Evie nodded, zooming in on the details and writing down notes on a pad next to her.

“understandable” she hummed as she stood from her seat and walked over to her fabrics “any particular fabrics?”

“uhhhh” you narrowed your eyes in thought “breathable……flows easily….not heavy?” Evie giggled and shook her head.

“a wonderful visual designer but you know nothing about fabrics, well how bout chiffon for the sleeves and train around the waist leading to the back of the dress?” you nodded and picked up the note pad Evie had been writing on.

“That sounds good, um, what about tule? I know it helps with form and stuff but every time I wore it as a kid it was itchy as all heck and I couldn’t stand it” Evie shook her head, pulling out a thick roll of white shiny fabric.

“no that’ll ruin the form, make it more of a bulb shape than letting it flare out, Mikado would work better, it keeps it’s form on its own and flows pretty well” she held out the roll for you to touch. You smiled as the soft fabric brushed against your fingertips.

“Yeah, I like that, M-mikado?” Evie nodded at your guess of the name “yeah that, let's go with this for the main fabric” Evie nodded again and set the fabric to the side, grabbing the notepad from you and writing down something before handing it back to you.

You glanced down and smirked

Main Fabric - Mikado

sleeves and skirt train - chiffon

jewels on neckline - ?

waist overlay - rhinestone (sew just beneath bust and drape over hips and flow of skirt)

shoes - ?

“okay (y/n), jacket off and arms up” you glanced at Evie and wiggled your brows, laughing as she rolled her eyes and smacked your arm. “you and Harry, minds always in the gutter, now I gotta get measurements okay?” you giggled again and shrugged off your jacket, letting Evie finally get your measurements.

After a few minutes of Evie manually pushing your arms and body around, filled with fits of laughter and your torso twisting halfway around, she was done. She picked up her pencil and grabbed the note pad again and scribbled down her findings.

“Alright that’s that, I’ll start making the form, while you” she handed you a red folder “take that to Harry, and don’t look. if he can't see your dress you don’t see his suit” you snorted and rolled your eyes.

“yes, ma’am. Do you want me to leave my tablet here for a bit?” Evie gave a smile and nodded.

“if possible, yes” you nodded back and shrugged your jacket back on, digging out your key from the pocket.

“Alright then, just text me when I can come pick it up, see ya!”

“bye~” Evie gave you a little wave and turned back to her sewing table, muttering fabric measurements for your dress.

You stepped into the main hall, gave a wave to Dizzy and Celia, stuck the key into the closet door, and stepped through the portal back to your world.

You stepped back out into your room and shut the door behind you, you took your jacket back off and tossed it on your bed, setting the key on your dresser and taking the folder to harry. “hey, Evie said to give you this” Harry perked up from his spot on the couch and grabbed the red folder, a soft smile on his face as he looked over the design Evie had made for his suit.

“looks perfect” he muttered to himself, closing the folder and pulling out his phone to text the aforementioned designer. As he talked with her you busied yourself with making lunch.

While you did so thoughts of the wedding came to mind.

What day was it going to be? Where were you going to get married? Who was going to marry the two of you? Would you get married here or in the Descendants world? Who was going to be in the wedding party? Who was going to give you away?

So many questions with little to no answer.

“hmm” you muttered to yourself “well, Uma’s maid of Honor, no question there, Emma, (bff name), Jazzy, and Lily will also be bridesmaids….Dizzy and Celia as junior bridesmaids? Cj too, but the twins….ring bearers?” you sighed, rubbing your face as your head pounded at the millions of decisions you were going to have to make. “I’ll have aunt Tonks take me down to Harry….ummmm shit, the rest I’ll have to decide with Harry”

“decide what with Harry?” the pirate himself hummed, wrapping his arms around you and tugging you into his chest, laying his chin on your shoulder.

“wedding stuff” you muttered, reaching up and running your fingers through his hair. He hummed again, eyes drifting down to your food.

“well, Harriet’s gonna be meh best maid” you snorted at that “beasty boy, Gil, the pup, and Jay are gonna be the groomsmen, haven’t asked ‘em yet but yeh know. Smee twins are gonna be meh junior groomsmen aaand that’s all I've thought about” Harry snorted, leaning back from you and starting to make his own lunch.

“That sounds good” you sighed, leaning against the counter and picking up your sandwich, taking a bit out of the side.

“soooo……” Harry turned to you and perked a brow up “where? Are….are we getting married in my world or yours” Harry shrugged, turning back to his sandwich.

“I don’ care’ either way, but I….I think it would be more sentimental in the meh world..since well…we fell in love there” you grinned as Harry slowly turned red.

“Aww, you are so dang cute” you teased, setting down your sandwich and walking over to him, pressing a quick kiss to his warm cheek.

He pouted and grumbled, pushing your face away. “hey!” you laughed, smacking his hand down and jumping back at him, your soft laughter turned into cackling as Harry tumbled back and yelped, arms quickly wrapping around your waist and holding you against his side.

“ye are so fuckin’ lucky I love you” He grumbled, setting you down on your feet and pecking your forehead.

“I love you too” you giggled back, reaching up and patting his cheeks twice. He blushed and looked away, grabbing his sandwich and walking to the living room.

“he’s so cute” you hummed to yourself, grabbing your lunch and following him.

-end of part 20-

Holy shit 20 parts?! Thas crazy! So max of 10 chapters left! It will end with the wedding and these last couple will lead up to it!

readers dress 

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[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

Top 10 favorite things about TFS?

Bold of you to assume I can narrow it down to just 10 things, but I’ll try my best. 

Here’s a list of things I LOVE about The Final Season of TWDG, starting from #10 and working my way down to #1.

10. Rosie is best girl and doesn’t die 

Listen, okay? If you give me a game with a doggo companion that I bond with only to have said doggo die for dramatic effect... you automatically lose 2 outta 5 stars on your rating. Case in point: Season 2.

However, tfs knew not to kill Rosie off for dramatic effect, knew it’d be cheap. Plus, Rosie is a sweetheart and I love that she helps Clementine come to terms with her past trauma with dogs and genuinely bonds with her. Rosie is best girl. 

9. Over the shoulder camera/controls 

They’re the best of the series, having come a LONG way since S1. Like, look... Don’t get me wrong. S1 isn’t unplayable or anything, far from it, but they’re not the greatest either. They’re pretty wonky at times, the fixed camera can get annoying when you’re moving around, and sometimes button presses don’t register. It’s definitely something I have to get used to whenever I go back and replay the entire series, and like I said, it’s not the worst controls in the world... but oh man, compared to TFS?

Have you ever played S1 and then jumped straight into TFS just to get a direct comparison of the two? Because I have and it’s jarring how much smoother, accurate, and overall better everything is in TFS.

Just... props, guys. Thank you for the over-the-shoulder, movable camera, thank you for the polished button prompts, and thank you for a run button that has Clementine go into a nice jog rather than a comical run or, eh... does nothing [lookin’ at you ANF... Javi slow].

It’s just so effortless to play. The most trouble I ever have is with doors but that’s a given- Doors make no goddamn sense in this series and I’ve given up trying to learn their secrets. Oh, and speaking of more improvements! 

The shooting mechanic in this game is leaps better than in S1. Y’all remember the Motor-Inn shootout? The one that was such a frustrating pain in the ass?? So much death and anger...

I still die sometimes when shooting the walkers with the bow, especially the ones that are on fire, but it’s nothing compared to the shooting mechanic in S1, so the biggest THANK YOU for that one. It’s actually enjoyable to shoot stuff this time around.

8. Collectibles 

You as Clementine get to pick up various collectibles to decorate her and AJ’s dorm with and it’s great. One of my favorite bits about this game is seeing Clementine wake up in this empty, lifeless room, and see it get brighter and brighter with every collectible you place throughout the game until you reach the final scene with AJ where the room is just FULL of life and personality. Like... it’s officially theirs. It’s such a good feeling! 

And the devs totally didn’t have to add the collectible system in, but I’m so thankful they did. I’m one of those people who gets every single collectible every single time I play. 

7. Ericson’s Boarding School for Troubled Youth

Y’know, I honestly can’t think of a better place for Clementine and AJ to end up than Ericson’s Boarding School for Troubled Youth. It’s awesome, I love it, what a great idea. I also love the sense of wonder when we step outside for the first time and see the inside of Ericson, as well as the others, walking around. Like even Clementine is taken back by it.

Because of course it makes sense for Clementine to end up in a school surrounded by people closer to her age rather than with a group of dumbass adults like in the past three games.

Here it feels like they’re all about on the same level. There’s no older person here belittling Clementine because “she’s just a child and doesn’t get it,” they’re just people, y’know? Hell, if anything, Clementine’s now the most experienced one!

The school’s great! I wouldn’t change a thing about TFS taking place here. The environments are beautiful and I love exploring the world. 

6. Marlon as an antagonistic character/final confrontation 

I have an entire Marlon character discussion/study so I won’t put too much time into this one, but I will say that I love Marlon’s part in tfs. I love him as a surprise antagonistic character, I love how chill he is in the beginning, I love the final confrontation at the end of ep1... I just really like Marlon, y’know?

Ray Chase gives a damn near perfect performance as Marlon, so much so that I wish he survived past ep1 just so that I could hear more of his acting. Marlon himself in an interesting look at a leader character hiding his shame and guilt while trying to maintain control over everyone [including himself] around him, only to be broken down when he’s found out. 

5. James 

I know people tend to be pretty split on James, but I personally really like his role in tfs. I love that they included a character who was apart of the Whisperers, and hell, if anything I’d like to know MORE about James’ past with them. 

I just find him and his whole “walkers are sort of people? kinda?” beliefs. Again, I know some people get annoyed with him because of his beliefs but I think he adds an interesting spin on the whole thing, y’know? Though I do love what a bitch he is if you don’t agree with him hahaha

James is a bitch and I love him, okay? I love his dumb walker mask, I love his dumb boyband hair, I love his whispery voice, and I love his backstory with the Whisperers and Charlie. I love this he’s trying so hard to be this pacifist that he ends up doing the literal thing he said he doesn’t want to do-- hurt people. Y’know... like attempting to kidnap AJ and threatening to break Clementine’s leg in the caves if he’s alive. 

Which, by the way, that whole cave scene is a thing. It’s wild and I love it but not for the reasons the devs probably wanted. Like... it’s a little hilarious? I know it’s not supposed to be! But I can’t take James seriously when he’s walkin’ around his hands on his hips all huffy and puffy, okay? It’s just wild. 

Anyway, I love James and wouldn’t get rid of him. Hell, I’m still waiting for my James with the Whisperers mini-series, Skybound. 

4. Ericson Crew

There isn’t a single character from Ericson that I don’t like, or that I’d get rid of, which is rare with these games. Thinking back to the previous games, there’s always at least one person I could do without or that I didn’t like. I adore all of them!

The Ericson crew just feels closer than previous groups. For starters, they’re way more likable than most in our previous groups. Even when there’s tension [and boy is there tension at points] you still get the sense that they don’t hate each other, unlike in our previous groups. They do in fact love each other as a family and will do what they can to protect one another.

Plus, they’re all interesting. They’re troubled youth and I love all of them! 

Aasim keeps a daily journal where he chronicles everything in hopes of learning from past mistakes to prevent future ones, he’s damn good with a bow, and he’s got a neat little soul patch on his chin.  

Ruby is the tiny yet fiery medic of the group who adamantly believes in manners yet used to chase teachers around with pitchforks. 

Brody is caught up in the twin mess with Marlon but she’s also shown to want an escape, a road trip where she and her friends can go see the beach, but she also suffers with anxiety and panic attacks and isn’t afraid to knock Marlon on his ass or swear at Clementine. 

Mitch is a grumpy, tall boy who looks after Willy like a brother, knows how to make bombs out of manure and propane, and used to fight his neighbors because they didn’t like his face. 

Omar is a sassy chef who has to have every ingredient just right otherwise he’s salty for a week and he can take a bullet to the leg like a champ. 

Willy’s a goober who can climb trees like you wouldn’t believe and he made a bomb of his own in Mitch’s honor that completely wrecked the delta’s ship. 

Tenn is a soft, naïve boy who draws and reads but isn’t afraid to stab a walker bitch if he has to. 

Violet was sent to the school after witnessing her grandmother’s dead, she used to date Minerva who is now “dead,” has abandonment issues,  tries to give off the appearance of a grumpy grump but like once she’s comfortable with you she’ll tell you her life story and do romantic shit like dancing and painting you a pin. 

Louis was sent to Ericson because he was a rich brat who broke up his parents marriage because they wouldn’t let him take singing lessons and has felt like garbage ever since, using humor to cope and push people away, and keeps the façade on until someone’s willing to see past it in which he’ll finally bare his soul to you, name a song he wrote after you, and do everything in his power to keep you and everyone else safe over himself. 

I just... Love ‘em all. 

3. Clementine and AJ’s dynamic 

To think that they almost killed AJ off, or kept him a minor character. That would’ve been a shame and an absolute waste because Clementine and AJ’s dynamic is super fucking good in tfs. 

It’s actually a little baffling that AJ’s as good as he is, from his writing to his voice acting, he’s just great. And his relationship with Clementine is definitely one of my favorites to come from this game. It’s not perfect, but I don’t want perfect. 

I love that AJ looks to Clem for guidance and I love the way our choices affect him, even when it’s a case of the bridge scene. Hate the bridge scene knowing that I gotta sacrifice a character I care about for another I love, but I can’t deny that I love how that choice is made. After everything, do you trust AJ or not? 

Plus, their conversations are so well done, their chemistry is through the roof, and I wouldn’t change it. 

Oh, and the barn scene? Gets me every time, even though I already know everything’s fine and gonna work out. Still gets me. 

2. Clementine is Bisexual

I’ve talked about this in the past, but lemme just say that I love the fact that Clementine is canonically bisexual. 

Doesn’t matter if you’re dating Louis, Violet, or no one, Clementine is still bisexual. The game confirms it through it’s text/subtext and Clementine’s actions that we don’t have control over, and the devs confirmed it. She ain’t straight, she ain’t a lesbian, she is bisexual. 

I can’t express how happy that makes me. Just... 💗💜💙

And with her being bisexual comes her two great love interests: Louis and Violet. They’re amazing, and such an improvement over the previous game’s attempt at love interests... ahem, y’know... Kate.

1. Louis as a character/his relationship with Clementine 

I mean... c’mon. Y’all knew what #1 was gonna be. Do I even need to explain? This entire blog is just me gushing about Louis/clouis. 

Look, Louis is my favorite non-playable character across the entire series. Hell, even when you factor in playable characters, he’s STILL my absolute favorite. Like, even outside of his relationship with Clementine, I find him to be such a compelling character by himself. 

Like I mentioned above, he came from a stupid rich family who gave him everything he ever wanted, but when his father wouldn’t let him take singing lessons, he literally worked for over a year to break up his parents marriage because “you get to be happy or you get to be rich, can’t be both.” 

He gets sent to Ericson where the apocalypse happens, he never gets to make up with his parents, and he ends up using jokes and piano as a coping mechanism to deal with everything, falls into a cycle of being unreliable and the butt of the joke, and lives one day at a time without much thought for the future. 

He puts on the happy jokester persona to push people away from knowing the real him and rarely shares much about himself. Hell, when Clementine does hunting and decides to take care of the walker with him, he actually does let down the wall for a minute to share his view on “this moment” before looking away like “Oof, shared too much-- HEY, GO CHECK ON AASIM :D I’LL BE OVER HERE :D FIXING THE TRAP :D and adjusting the wall ahem--” 

It’s so interesting because you’d think that he’d be more open about his past with Marlon or the twins or whatever [like Violet is] but no, he doesn’t tell you shit about his past until EPISODE 3 and you have to work to get that story. 

I just... I just love him. Could talk about and analyze his character for hours. And I love his relationship with Clementine. It’s just so good. The piano scene where they finally admit their feelings for one another?? That shit has my entire heart. Their entire relationship is my favorite. What else is there to say? 

[heartofsnark]

This Is Love (Chapter Ten): The Snakes We Don’t See

Notes: Kinda been sitting on the two most recent chapters, since I like started to write some cyberpunk 2077 stuff. So, thats why its been a while, but given how short the prologue for that fic is, I decided to go ahead and update this this month as well. 

Word Count:  13277

Chapter Warnings: Child Abuse (excerpts from the book of joseph), Suicide (non-graphic but still), A body horror dream (my favorite) with some symbolism/implications of sexual assault, discussion of religion, and really really way too blunt on the nose foreshadowing

For chapter one and the warnings about this fic’s overarching themes, please click here!

For the previous chapter; click here!

The church and compound look beautiful in the moonlight, Dahlia can’t help but note as she drives Cassie towards it. The modest white buildings and the silver gate work looking beautiful beneath a blanket of stars. It’s not a steady bustle of activity like it was last time, thanks in large part to the late hour, she’s sure. But there’s a few church members meandering around the outside of the church, beyond the gate. Which, to her dismay is being watched by Theodore. It had to be one of the two members who hate her, didn’t it? Because life can’t just kick her in the teeth once and call it done, no, it has to throw in a few extra hits for good measure. The towering man is glaring at her as she comes to a slowed down stop before the gate. 

“Though I doubt it’s why you’re here, service is over, so save me a headache and scram.” 

“No can do, I gotta talk to Joseph.” 

“Pfff,” he scoffs at her, “you arrest me, ruin service, and then come around demanding an audience with The Father. Gotta hand it to you, nothing else, you got balls.” 

“Technically, Hudson arrested you, I wasn’t hired yet.” 

“You think that helps?” 

“Come on man, this ain’t about me.” 

He looks past her to Cassie, still holding onto Dahlia’s back, face ducked down to hide away from his amber gaze. Dahlia can see gears turning in his head and he sighs, rolling his eyes. 

“Fine, you can come through, but only ‘cause The Father likes you.” 

“Thanks,” Dahlia parks her bike, Cassie handing her back her helmet before the pair walk into the compound. 

“That guy at the gate is kind of…a lot.” 

“Eh, he doesn’t like me much, but he’s not that bad. Lonny’s probably the biggest d-bag I’ve met here, Jacob and his…friends, if you can call ‘em that, are a bit rough. But, even then, I’m seen more friendly faces than I’ve seen cruel ones.” 

A few people recognize Dahlia from the barbecue, giving her a kind smile and a friendly wave as she passes by in search of Joseph. She returns the kind gestures but stays focused on her goal. Dahlia isn’t quite sure she’s ready to fulfill her promise of stepping foot into the church just yet, but if they’re freshly done with service, that’d be where she’d find him. 

“Deputy,” a soft angelic voice speaks out, Faith walking through the compound  yard towards them, her hair is done up in plaits with flowers twisted in them, “is everything okay?” 

“Uh, not really? I was hoping to talk to Joseph? If he’s around.” Of course he’s around, she’s not sure why she’s acting like there’s a chance he’s not here. 

“Sure, I’ll go get him right away.” 

She breathes a sigh of relief when she sees him, walking out of the church with Faith beside him, she’s never been happier to see a preacher in her entire life. Dahlia looks over at Cassie and sees the raised eyebrow, which is understandable. Joseph is Joseph, strange and weird, shirtless with a myriad of sins and tattoos etched into his skin, and yellow aviators on despite the silver moonlight that covers them all. But at the moment, that moonlight gives him a halo, a saving grace for a shitty night. 

“Deputy, I’m surprised to see you so soon,” Josephs greets her,

“Yeah, I’m sorry to bug you, but I…we,” Dahlia looks back at the still timid Cassie, duffle bag held out in front of her lap,  “need some help. I didn’t know who else to turn to.” 

“Of course, if there’s anything I can do to help, I will.” 

“Well, Joseph, Faith, this is my friend Cassie, Cassie this is Joseph and Faith,” Dahlia first introduces them

“Hi…” Cassie gives an awkward nod of her head. 

“A pleasure to meet you,” Joseph responds with a warm smile, “though I feel there’s more to this than friendly introductions.”

His gaze lingers on Dahlia’s knuckles, still stained with Liam’s blood. 

“Okay, so, Cassie’s home life is,” Dahlia pauses and looks to Cassie, searching for words that she might be comfortable with the deputy using, “bad, she’s not safe there. That’s all I’ll say. So, I was letting her stay with me but….recent events mean it ain’t too safe there either.” 

“I’m so sorry, I’m sure this has been difficult on the two of you.” 

“Difficult is a word for it; but more importantly, I hear Eden’s Gate takes folks in.” 

“Deputy…”

“I know it’s a lot to ask, I know it’s short notice, and I-“ 

A large warm hand grasps her shoulder and she doesn’t flinch, not this time.

“I’m honored you’d come to me for help.” 

And she feels his sincerity in his touch, hears it in every word, and sees it in his eyes. It’s hard to believe how much she distrusted him at first, she curses her past for coloring her view. He’s strange certainly, but he’s good.

“So, I take it you can help?” 

“Of course, my child.” 

“We have plenty of space at the convent,” Faith chimes in with a soft smile, looking from Joseph to Cassie. 

“Thank you, thank you, seriously, thank you so much,” Cassie gushes, relief swimming in her dark eyes. 

“We can get you settled in tonight.” 

“That’s so sweet, I can’t thank you enough.” 

“We’re happy to help,” then Joseph’s eyes turn to Dahlia, “will you be alright though, deputy?”

Joseph suddenly catches her hand in his own, brushing his fingers over her bloodied knuckles, no sign of hesitation at the rough sight. Brows furrowed in concern. 

“Oh yeah, it’s not mine, don’t worry, uh,” she catches herself, “that sounds bad, but like dude was gonna torch my trailer so, it was like okay to punch him, I think.” 

“Wait, what?”  Cassie’s eyes go wide as she looks to Dahlia, she must not have seen Liam with the lighter, only Dahlia striking him. 

“Yeah, dude was gonna fuckin’ torch the place, so I blacked his eye. More than fair, if you ask me.” 

“Okay, first,” Cassie starts and Dahlia smiles as a bit of the girl’s personality peeks through her fear, “I didn’t know it was that bad. Secondly, I don’t think you’re suppose to talk like that in front of a church and it’s preacher.” 

“I also shouldn’t have worn a shirt that said ‘hail satan’ to their sermon.” 

“You what?” 

“Look, in my defense,” Cassie is covering her mouth and laughing, a welcomed sight, “I don’t think, okay, you think I think and I just don’t alright.” 

Dahlia is laughing through her own words, face flushed red at being the butt of the joke, but if it can bring a smile to Cassie’s face right now she’d make a thousand more mistakes like it.  Faith’s little melodic giggles ring out behind her own hand. Joseph doesn’t laugh but he does smile. With the tension of Cassie’s housing eased, everyone seems in a brighter mood. 

“And despite all that, you still like her?” Cassie asks, looking up at Joseph and Faith.

“I’d get mad but like, fair fuckin’ question.” 

“I’ve forgiven sins and transgressions far greater than yours,  deputy,” Joseph says and his eyes are intense, kind, but the word sins makes the hair on the back of her neck stand up. It’s not a fun word, but most religions have a ‘everyone’s born a sinner’ mentality. So, surely she can’t be too upset. 

“Your patience is both staggering and appreciated, I assure you,” Dahlia tells him, her smile a bit more forced than it was a moment ago. If he can tell he doesn’t say anything. 

“Come on Cassie, I’ll introduce you to everyone and we’ll get you settled, okay?” 

“Yeah, that sounds nice.” 

Faith grabs Cassie’s hand and leads her away with a giggle, the sigh of the flower adorned woman leading her away in the night reminds Dahlia of her odd dream before. The draw of Faith, the siren pulling someone away in the moonlight. But that’s silly, Dahlia tells herself, they’re climbing into a pickup truck drove by another church member, yelling goodbyes to Joseph and Dahlia with smiles on their face. Yet the image of a siren dragging a victim into the sea pricks at her mind, despite how asinine it may be.  

Dahlia shakes her head, wondering why her nerves have suddenly ticked up. She’s over this, isn’t she? Eden’s Gate is good, she reminds herself, one of the few good things in this county that’s actually helping people instead of letting them drift into the cracks. Despite everything she’s heard, they’re good.  Her personal issues is just fucking with her, that has to be it. 

“Are you certain you’ll be okay, Deputy?” Joseph asks as the truck rolls down the curves of the road, disappearing over the horizon, Cassie gone with it. 

“Uh, yeah, gave the guy a hell of a shiner so he should cut the shit for a while. Should be fine.” 

“Is it?” 

“Fuck if I know, but what am I gonna do, sit around and cry about it?” 

“I certainly wouldn’t expect you to, but if something does happen, you know you can come to me.” 

“Yeah, uh, it means a lot,” Dahlia scratches at the back of her neck, his gaze too intense again, “and thanks again for helping out Cassie. It means a lot, I really don’t know if I can thank you enough.” 

“You could always attend church, if you wanted to show thanks.” 

“Patient but persistent, I see, but, uh, not quite ready to cash in that promise yet.”

“I understand but, I’d be remiss if I didn’t caution you. My patience may be staggering, but the world is not so kind. Time is finite and you window for finding salvation may be closing quicker than you know.” His voice is fevered and impassioned,  hints of a southern accent peeking through as his intensity rises, awash in moonlight the glow of it around turns from a halo to an eerie glow.

“Okay, not holding back, are you?” Dahlia tries to laugh it off, religious folks are just like this sometimes, aren’t they?

“I would be doing you a disservice if I did.”

“So…you think the worlds ending?” She asks, trying to keep her tone light, the only other interpretation of her window closing is Joseph’s convinced she’ll die soon.

“You don’t?” He questions, brows furrowed, as if the idea of the world not ending is ridiculous. And…she kind of gets that.

“I didn’t say that,” she moves to lean her back against the church building, standing next to Joseph instead of before him, looking at the stars, “I mean eventually humans are gonna destroy the planet, climate change, corporate pollution, not to mention us just trying to kill each other half the time. And even if we don’t fuck it up, eventually time will, sun’s going to go to the next stage and destroy the earth. So…”

“You sense it coming, too..”  He presses his back against the wood next to her, no longer focusing his stare on her but the moon, maybe he sense her unease with his gaze…

“Yeah…I guess, don’t know when or how, but eventually…”

The itch of nerves under her skin is too strong, she digs a cigarette from it’s pack and lights it, smoking against the church building. John warned her it’s forbidden by Eden’s Gate, that Joseph wouldn’t like such an act, but he doesn’t stop her in the moment. Whether it’s another moment of him showing her kindness or just consideration for her not being apart of the church, she doesn’t know.  

“Yet, you still put off salvation.”

“Okay,” she exhales a plume of smoke, “I’ll bite, what’d that fix?”

“When the world collapses those who’ve followed the path to Eden, confessed their sins, atoned, and made their sacrifice will be the ones who walk into the garden, into New Eden. A world cleansed of sin and turmoil. The world will be pure again, free of pain.”

New Eden sounds like their heaven, essentially, to Dahlia. So, nothing truly new by any religious standards. Almost every Christian religion has a doomsday, revelation, apocalypse, end of the world and those who do what god wants get to be super happy in some magic paradise, while everyone else burns. Same stuff, new label.

“Well, as much as your concern for my immortal soul is appreciated, I’m gonna have to pass.”

“You’ll come to understand eventually… I just hope it’s not too late.”  

She scratches at the back of her neck again, his words leaving a bad taste in her mouth that mingles with the nicotine, it feels dismissive of her… Like he claims to know her feelings and where they’ll end up better than she does. There’s a habit among those older than her to assume they know how the world works more than she does, she chalks it up to an old man thing, and lets it roll off her back. He still helped her, despite his faults. 

“We’ll have to agree to disagree, but I do appreciate everything, I’ll have to when I get a chance call Cassie and see how she’s settles in.” 

“I’m afraid that won’t be so simple.” 

“What?” She turns to look at Joseph now, raising an eyebrow, why wouldn’t she be able to call Cassie?

“While Cassie is staying with us, we do expect her to abide by our rules. There are no cellphones permitted in the convent, I’m sure you understand.” 

“Oh,” Dahlia blinks, “guess that explains why not a single person was on their phone at the barbecue.” 

“Smartphones and social media have eroded people’s values, they’re more concerned with it than they are their own family.” 

“Okay, okay, I get it; the convent have a landline or Satan manage to get through that too?” His expression hardens, unimpressed by her quip, though she can’t help but smile. After a moment, he sighs. 

“There is a landline available there, but it’s typically reserved for church matters. If you wish to check on her, visiting and writing letters would be ideal.” 

“Got it, I’ll keep that in mind,” she moves from her spot against the church exterior, “thanks again, Joseph. I’ll talk to you, later.” 

“Have a nice night, Deputy.” 

“You too.” 

Dahlia stubs out her cigarette once she’s outside the compound’s gates, climbing onto her motorcycle. She didn’t realize how isolated Cassie might be there, if she’s not even allowed to call her friend. It just doesn’t sit right. But, Joseph’s far from the only old religious man to claim technology is bad. And if Cassie is living with them, it’s natural to expect her to follow the same guidelines as everyone else. It was already asking a lot for them to house her, it’d be unthinkable to expect special treatment as well. 

The trailer park is far calmer when she rides through, damage already done, Dahlia sighs at the sight of all the havoc they caused. It’s already well past midnight, but her night is far from done. There’s glass to be cleaned up and windows to be covered until she can get supplies to fix them properly. She could care less about the spray paint and if needed she can sleep through the chill, but she’d at least like to not sleep on broken glass. 

She’s parked and locked up her bike, walking up her porch when she hears the crush of steps, someone clearing their throat. Liam stands, hands in his pockets and a mottle of bruises across his eye. His blues eyes look anywhere but her. 

“Dude, seriously, just go. I-”

“I’m sorry…,” he mumbles, clearing his throat again, searching for words, “I didn’t know she was in there, I really didn’t. Clyde said she left out and he hadn’t seen her come back, we thought the place was empty and-”

“And? You could have killed her, ignorance don’t cure third degree burns!”  She’s taken steps towards him, nearly yelling in his face now, she can see hurt in his face. He may not have meant to take a life, but in one dumb moment he nearly did and he damn well needs to know that. 

“I know, I know, I just…no one got hurt, she, she ain’t hurt, right?” 

“No, thank fuck, but that doesn’t make it okay? Even if you didn’t hurt you, you scared the fuck out of her, this was suppose to be a safe place for her and you destroyed that!” 

“I’m sorry, okay, I… I can’t fuckin’ say sorry enough and I mean it. I just we were drinking and thought we’d see if we could run ya out of here, it got out of hand.” 

“You hate cops, I get that, I do and quite frankly you wanna give me hell, have at it. There ain’t anything you can do to me that hasn’t already been done. But shit like that doesn’t just affect me, hell, you could of set the whole damn place on fire.” 

“Yeah, I, fuck I nearly pulled a Sharky.” 

“I’m…not sure what you mean by that, ‘cause last thing I saw that man do was…very different. But, uh, if you’re doing that too you should stop.” Her stomach churns at the reminder of Boshaw in his jeep, she really was hoping she repressed that. 

“I don’t even wanna know,” Liam shakes his head, “but I am sorry about Cassie…I’d like to apologize to her, if she’s around.” 

“Fat chance of that man, I found her another place to stay, she’s somewhere safe and far away from your ass.” The convent isn’t particularly far away, but he doesn’t need to know that. 

“I deserve that.” 

“Fuck yeah, you do.” 

“Well, I said my piece, I assume I’ll be seeing the inside of a cell tomorrow?” 

She chews her lip for a moment, he strikes her as genuine, in both his remorse and ignorance. He wasn’t trying to become a murderer, he only mean to run her out of the trailer park. And at the end of it all, Cassie is safe. 

“Nah man, it’ll  be fine, so long as you don’t pull this shit again. You do and I’ll be in jail for killing your ass.” 

“Gotcha…thanks…I think.” 

“Now, fuck off, I got a mess to clean. Unless you care enough to help?” 

“Hell no,  have fun, narc,” Liam scoffs at the idea and leaves, clear his remorse was only ever for Cassie’s sake. Asshole.  She watches him vanish into his own trailer before finally walking into her own to start on her night of work. 

That night and next day are monotonous, mess cleaned up and windows covered just as the sun starts to rise over the horizon. Muscles aching and a damp sweat clinging to her skin, she showers and catches a few hours of sleep. When she wakes up she’s off to the local hardware store and buying what she needs to fix the windows, as well as some damage done inside the trailer. 

The sun is setting on the next day by the time all the damage is attended to, well everything but the graffiti of PIG across the outside of the trailer. But, she doesn’t have the energy to wash it away. Lounging around her living room after another shower, Dahlia finds her mind drawn back to Cassie and The Seeds. 

No phone calls, only letter writing. It seems so unnecessarily archaic in the modern age, though she may mostly be whining because her handwriting is completely illegible. It’s too late to drop in on the convent, plus she doesn’t particularly want to move. After last night, she likes the idea of a lazy night. And with her long at time hard to predict workdays, it may not be possible to swing by for more than a moment until the weekend. 

She doesn’t have to write her letter, at least not by hand, she decides as she opens her laptop. She’ll type it up and print it out at the station, then she can send it like a proper letter, to appease Joseph’s hatred of tech. 

“Hey, Cassie, Deputy whatever (did I tell you my last name, legit can’t remember?) here. Joseph said you guys can’t like call? I guess? But you can get letters, so given my handwriting, typing it instead. I just wanted to check in on you, make sure you’re settling in. Maybe this weekend I can visit? I’ll treat you to lunch.”

That sounds alright, she decides, saving the typed letter. She drums her fingers against the table, searching for something else to maintain her attention. The Book of Joseph with her drawing tucked inside of it is still nearby, Joseph’s lecture of last night coming to mind. Maybe, she could write him a thank you letter? He seems like the kind of guy who’d appreciate that, she opens another document. 

“Dear Joseph,

That’s how you format a letter, right? Sorry, social media has “eroded” my soul and the art of letter writing is lost on my generation. That’s a joke, I hope it’s somewhat funny, if not sorry. My handwriting is atrocious, so I hope a typed letter still fits into your beliefs, since I’m trying here. I just wanted to thank you in some small way, despite some of our different beliefs, you’ve been incredibly kind to me and my friend. I read somewhere that drawings can be like gifts? So, I drew something for you. I hope it’s a nice gesture and not creepy, but it can’t be as creepy as the portrait in your book and creepy is kind of your thing, so. Also a joke, I promise I’m trying to be funny not mean… I’ll end this now, thanks again, Me, Cassie, and my eroded damned soul appreciate it. “

Dahlia saves the letter to Joseph, it’s messy and awkward, but so is she. She’ll print and mail them both out tomorrow. Hopefully, she won’t have to put her proper name on an envelope to send it. The idea of no one knowing her name is fun, she wants to play into it. The mysterious deputy who no one knows, sounds way cooler than she is. 

She stretches her arms out and puts her laptop aside, grabbing the Book of Joseph, the conversation with Joseph has renewed her interest in learning more about his beliefs. Even if they don’t align, even if she’ll never believe in god, the least she can do is try to understand. She made harsh initial judgments and still struggles with her past effecting her thoughts, making what could be nothing into red flags, this is a way to make amends. Even if Joseph isn’t able to see her efforts, it means something to her, growing as a person. 

“Not ice cream trucks, not social services cars, not even police patrols.

In any case. In these parts, people kept their noses out of other people's business, even when that business took place on a porch out in the open.

The father thrashed his arms furiously while the boy, young Joseph Seed stood with his head bowed, contrite and seemingly fixated on the floorboards. If he had looked up, he would have seen the kaleidoscopic colors of an old issue of Spiderman flashing by, alternating with the smooth black leather of his father's Bible and the ruddy face of the father himself. He would have seen the grey teeth-few and far between-of Old Man Seed, as the locals called him, or Old Man Seed behind his back, as Josephs big brother Jacob had snickered to him. Dental care was not a priority in the Seed household. The money was needed for other things. So, his father's teeth always reminded Joseph of the rocky crags that pirate ships washed up on in picture books at the library.”

She tries to see them, a young Joseph and Jacob on their porch. It’s both easy and difficult all at once. A part of her can easily see in her mind, the two young boys with freckled faces and bright blue eyes, one ginger and the other brunette. But, connecting that to who she knows to be Joseph and Jacob Seed is more difficult. It’s always weird to imagine old people when they were young, old to her she should specify.  To imagine the mountain that is Jacob Seed as a young boy, laughing behind his abusive father’s back. To see Joseph as a little boy reading comic books and pirate stories. The images seem so far removed from the tall intense older men she knows now. 

The life they’ve lived is one she knows well, no media beyond the bible, and beatings for breaking rules. But, her own abuser was more hidden, pretending to be a pillar of the community with his wonderful little church while beating her black and blue behind closed doors. Behind a church following service was the most brazen he ever became; it’s hard to imagine a man bold enough to beat his children in broad daylight on his porch. Though, she has no doubt what she reads is true. She’s seen Joseph’s back, his distaste for shirts making every scar a public display, she knows the lash marks well. Her own back marred with them as well. 

It makes her wonder, how they could be so different in their takeaways… Joseph if anything has turned to religion, leading his own church and group, taking issue with the sinfulness of modern media. Though, by no means an abuser, it’s hard to debate that he now shares qualities with his father, if only regarding religiosity. 

Dahlia once heard that people grow up to be their parents, particularly their same sex parents. Which is an all at once terrifying prospect for most people, but especially for people like her and the Seeds. The prospect she could be anything like her mother, watching passively as her own child is abused, bending to the will of a man and losing herself completely; is downright terrifying. Dahlia is determined to not let that happen, but it’s still a fear. She can see ways they match; both physically and in certain traits. Dahlia wonders if Joseph sees the way he matches his father and if those qualities scare him too. If he worries his faith has turned him into that same monster. She wonders too about Jacob, if his surliness is a part of that, if he sees any of his father in himself. 

“The priority in the Seed household, as everyone in the neighborhood knew, was cheap whiskey, which the father drank from dawn 'til dusk. The more whiskey that went in, the more Bible verses that came out -and the more often his children felt the switch. 

The cause of the paternal fury was simple: comics were forbidden in the home - comics and books, records, magazines, radio, and television. Only the Bible was allowed. 

Once, when the entire elementary school went to see Gone with the Wind at an old theatre in town, Joseph's father had leapt up in rage like a drunken jack-in-the-box, and before stunned teachers and students, launched into a rambling sermon condemning the sins of Hollywood, insisting this Babylon had long perverted the most fragile of minds and was responsible for the downfall of all of America, with Joseph under one arm and Jacob under the other, he stormed out of the room still hurling curses.”

Dahlia doesn’t have many blessings to count, but Monroe never dragged her from school with a sermon. Only making her withdraw and begin homeschooling the moment he learned the public school had the nerve to provide even shoddy sex education. But she’d take a quiet withdrawal from the system over being physically dragged out before everyone. 

“This time, when they arrived home, he beat Jacob only, because he was the eldest and thus responsible for his younger brother. At least the brothers had had time to see Atlanta burn. Thus, when Old Man Seed stood on the porch and began sliding off his belt, the child simply removed his T-shirt, folded it carefully, and bent over to offer his pale, delicate back to the worn-out strap of leather. 

Joseph's head was turned toward the well maintained- at least by local standards - house of a quiet, gentle widow. He considered it a blessing, if a small one. Facing the other way, he would have had to look at the other neighbor's house, which even by local standards was so run-down as to be hideous to the eye. When they were younger, the widow used to bake them cakes, probably out of pity for them. The children's mother wasn't exactly an impressive chef. She wasn't exactly a loving mother either. But the widow didn't bake much of anything anymore now that she was dying of cancer. Instead, she spent her days in her porch rocking chair, rain or shine, tottering gently. Jacob and Joseph argued over whether the groaning came from the wooden rocking chair or the old women.”

Dahlia closes the book, marking the page at that point, she can’t deny the intensity of the content and the impact it has on her. She can only stomach so much at a time, trauma too close to her own. Talks of a lackluster mother and the kindness of strangers only adding to it all. Maybe one day she’ll talk to Joseph about this, how he can bless those who hurt him in such a way,  how he has managed to be so open about it. It all seems to be a level of maturity she can’t imagine reaching, how much work and growth does it take to accomplish that?

She falls asleep that night thinking of just how much work she has left to do, just how far she has to go as a person. How long will it take her to be okay with her past? Thoughts fade to black as she succumbs to her heavy eyelids. 

The sun is bright and high in the bright blue sky, deceptively cherry for what her and Pratt are being called out to. Despite shifting opinions on Joseph, she can’t deny that the statue still creeps her the fuck out. As they drive further upward, the sheer scale of the cement monument takes her breath away. How much time and work went into that? Joseph doesn’t seem to have an ego, but to an outsider this downright makes him look like a narcissist. They don’t go fully up the mountain, where the trail forms stone circular steps and rings around the base of the statue. From where they park, she can see gazebos with flowers woven into them that line the open space around it. 

There’s a small crowd waiting for them at the base of the mountainside the statue is built on, a section of it just beneath the stone Joseph’s hand is carved slightly down. Ledges with spots to grapple along comes down to the ground. The statue blocks out the sun when they stand beneath it, the visage of Joseph towering over them like a kaiju is both terrifying and hilarious to the young deputy. 

The ambulance is already there, body bag being brought inside of it, sparing the deputies from seeing what remained of the person after they jumped. Rocky ground where the man would have hit is painted with a white Eden’s Gate symbol, blood now staining the dark rock and white paint. 

Faith and a few Eden’s Gate members are nearby. The youngest Seed sits on a stone, adorned in one of her delicate white dresses, her blonde hair pulls back in a soft ponytail today. Her feet are still bare, as if someone’s blood isn’t mere inches from her, as if a body bag isn’t being rolled into an ambulance. Faith leans back on her hands, humming softly, kicking her feet gently in tune to her little song. Does this even faze her?

“Not much to do here,” the EMT tells Pratt and Dahlia, “another suicide, guy hit his head off the cliff before he even reached the ground, dead on arrival.” 

“This happen a lot?” Dahlia asks, looking between Pratt and the EMT. They talked as if this happens every day. 

“Kinda, “ Pratt admits, “I mean, it’s easy to access and tall as fuck, people have been jumping off to die since the peggies finished building it.” 

“Hope County’s version of The Golden Gate Bridge.” 

“That’s…fucked.” 

“We gotta get to the morgue, call the next of kin, don’t know if there’s much else for you all to handle.” 

“Alright, thanks for the help.” 

Pratt and Dahlia wave off the EMT as the ambulance drives away; leaving the deputies with Faith and the Eden’s Gate members. It’s only natural to ask the owners of the statue a few questions, if they saw or heard anything. Faith seems to know this, given her soft smile as she waits for them, this really must be a normal occurrence. 

“Hello, deputies,” she greets them as they wander off, “it’s a shame really, that a symbol of hope is used by the hopeless to end their own suffering.” 

“I’m sure your heart is breaking, but, don’t suppose there’s any chance you saw anything?’ 

“No, I’m afraid no one was here this morning or late last night.” 

“Of course,” Pratt says, more annoyed than anything and if this is the typical, Dahlia can understand why. There’s not much they can really do, it’s a tragedy, but unless there was another party involved it’s not really a police matter. 

But, Dahlia wonders why the statue is so enticing a spot for suicide? It’s tall of course, the fall is a certain death. But, there are so many bridges around as well, not that she’s in that mental state at the moment but she imagines falling into water to die would be more enticing than hitting rock. And it’s odd as well, that the impact spot is marked with their symbol.

“Why is the ground painted?” 

“Hmm?” Faith hums out an inquisitive noise, blinking at the deputy’s sudden question. 

“The ground here, your church symbol is on it, I was just wondering why? Doesn’t seem like you can or would do much in this exact spot?” 

Dahlia’s reminded of a bible passage, one of many she recalls from her childhood. The story of Satan trying to tempt Jesus to jump from a high cliff in Jerusalem, that if he’s truly the child of god he’d be safe, to give a leap of faith. It sticks in the back of her mind, nagging at her, surely that wouldn’t be a thing? 

“Oh, I know it’s silly, but we like to put our symbol of hope and faith wherever we can, even in the smallest of places.” 

“Uh, this isn’t like a thing, is it?” Dahlia asks before she can stop herself. 

“Rook,” Pratt scolds her for the accusatory question. But Faith giggles. 

“You really have a vivid imagination, don’t you, Rook? I don’t imagine we’d keep many members if we were pushing them off a statue.” 

“Yeah, sorry,” that was dumb, Dahlia realizes the second she hears it out loud, “I think I’ve been watching too many horror movies.” 

“Next, you’ll be accusing us of drugging our members,” Faith says, giggling with a soft smile on her face and Dahlia laughs along, yeah, she’s being ridiculous. 

“Okay, well with that out of the way, we’ll get out of your hair,” Pratt speaks up, ready to go back to the station, not that there was much for them to do. 

“Uh, actually, I did wanna ask you something, real quick, about Cassie,” Dahlia pipes up, before they leave. Pratt raises an eyebrow, looking at Dahlia. 

“She’s settling in really well, she already feels like a part of the family, I assure you.” Faith squeezes Dahlia’s shoulder, warm in it’s reassurance. 

“Thanks, I’m hoping I can visit before too long.” 

“Oh, that’d be wonderful!” Faith captures both of Dahlia’s hands this time, grinning and stepping into the deputy’s personal space. Her and Joseph are both so touchy, it catches her off guard. 

“Well, it’s been nice talking to you Faith, but we really need to be headed back now, c’mon, Rook.” 

“Coming,” Dahlia calls out following behind a fast walking Pratt, one final wave goodbye to Faith. 

Dahlia is fastening her seat belt in the cruiser, Pratt starting up the engine and taking them back down that winding road. There’s a palpable tension that eases with every step away from that statue. Whoever at Eden’s Gate approved it is ridiculous. 

“Didn’t know you and Faith were so close.” 

“We get along alright, her and Joseph helped me out this weekend.” 

“What, you ditch the barbecue to hang out with peggies?” 

“No,” she rolls her eyes, “my friend Cassie was staying with me, some shit happened at the Moonflower, they offered to help her out.” 

“Since when do you have friends?” 

“Hahaha, hilarious. Look, it’s not like I planned for shit to go sideways, why do you even care?” 

“I don’t.” 

“Sure seems like you do.” 

“I don’t, you wanna run around with peggies, that’s your business, but it’s not gonna do you any favors around here.” 

“Oh no, are the popular girls not gonna like me if I sit with the peggies?” Dahlia says with mock worry, pressing her hand to her chest. What kind of high school bullshit is this?

“Shut up, I’m fuckin’ serious, the only people who like peggies are peggies. Since when do you like that shit anyway?”

“I don’t like it, I’m not into religion, you know that. Just, I don’t know, doesn’t mean they aren’t chill.” 

“Eden’s Gate is not fuckin’ chill, they’re weird and a pain in the ass.” 

“They’re definitely weird, you know social media has eroded my soul?”  

“What they find out you shared John’s shitty commercial on Twitter?” 

“Huh, no? How’d you know that?” Dahlia’s careful to keep herself hard to identify online, her Twitter has no name, job, or location. Though, unless Eden’s Gate is broadcasting their cheesy crap all over the nation, that’d be easy for a Hope County Native too figure out. 

“Petunia’s your icon on there.” 

“I didn’t realize you could tell the difference in opossums.” In Dahlia’s defense, Petunia looked adorable eating her lunch that day and again, she assumed anyone would just think it was a random opossum picture. 

“I know Petunia when I see her, give me some credit,” he rolls his eyes, “you know John’s gonna kill you if he does find out.” 

“Well, it’s a damn good thing Eden’s Gate doesn’t use social media then.” 

“Ah, yes, because as we all know no one ever disobeys their religion. I for one am still a picture perfect altar boy.” 

“Loo-you’re Catholic?” The realization hits her and she looks bewildered at her partner’s profile. Granted, she rarely thinks about anyone’s religion, but for Pratt it seems all the more confusing. He hardly seems religious by any standard. 

“I was raised Catholic,” he specifies and she nods her head, “Joey was too.” 

“Neither of you are anymore?” 

“I really can’t be bothered to give a fuck about it anymore, it is what it is, pretty sure Joey completely gave up on any of it.” 

“There’s not a lot of practicing Catholics in this area, is there?” She’s pretty sure Montana is mostly protestants. 

“No, the church in Falls End is Hope’s Catholic church, and it’s always been small. Me and Joey were damn near the only kids even.” 

Dahlia can’t help but smile, thinking of Hudson and Pratt as kids. She always had the feeling they’d known each other for a long while, both talking about Hope County like they’ve been here all their lives. Hudson is a little older, but not much, so it just makes sense that in this small a place they’d known each other as children. 

“How long have you guys known each other?”  

“We playing fifty questions or something?” 

“I’m curious!” 

“No, your turn asshole. You wanna grill me on religion and shit, you get it back.” 

“You already know how I feel about religion.” 

“I know you didn’t wanna go to church and were a weirdo about it, that’s it.” 

“Uhh,” she breathes, he’s right that it’s only fair to answer the same questions he answered for her, “my actual dad was Catholic, my mom  was Jewish, then she remarried a fundie Preacher, Pentecostal, so that’s how I was raised, unfortunately.” 

“So, you were zigzagged all over as far as that goes.” 

“Eh, I mean, before she remarried, neither my mother or dad were like devout or felt they had to raise me a certain way. Like, I think I vaguely remember getting both Christmas and Hannukah when I was three?”  She tries to pull up the fuzzy memory of when her mother, back when she was a true mother, helped her light a menorah and her dad hoisted her up to put a star on a modest Christmas tree. 

“You believe in anything nowadays.” 

“I consider myself an atheist at best.” 

“At worst?” 

“Well, if god does exist, he’s an asshole and I’d like to break his nose.” 

That gets a laugh out of Pratt and Dahlia grins, she knows it sounds silly, but it’s true. How she genuinely feels, she doesn’t think anyone is watching over them, no singular or multiple gods, but if any creator can watch idly by as everyone suffers… Not someone she’d want to be worshipping, quite frankly.  

The day winds down with little else for the deputies to do. Beyond the station windows the sky starts to turn pink, sun setting on another workday. Dahlia is fiddling with her phone, walking out of the station. 

“You coming to The Spread Eagle tonight,” Hudson asks her, “I know you haven’t really been since that asshole gave you a hard time.” 

“Oh uh, yeah, I could tag along.” Dahlia scratches at the back of her neck, feeling the heat climb up her face. She can see concern in Hudson’s olive-green eyes, which isn’t helping the blush across the young deputy’s face. 

“C’mon then, probie,” Pratt calls out, giving Dahlia a playful smack on the shoulder as he passes by. 

It’s the usual sight as Stray walks into The Spread Eagle; rock-folk music on the Jukebox tonight, couples dancing or sharing drinks, workers in flannels and dirty boots grabbing a drink after a long day. They slide into their usual seats, the youngest deputy between her two superiors, there’s a warmth to the  low lights and wood interior. Mary May’s soft smile greeting them as she serves the rest of the patrons. 

“I don't care if it rains!

Let's all go to the bar!

I don't care if there's a hurricane!

Let's all go to the bar!”

“I’ve been stuck on desk duty all day,” Hudson speaks over the music, starting the evening conversation with a groan, “so please tell me you two had something interesting happen.” 

“Suicide out at Joseph’s statue, that’s about it.” Dahlia shrugs, nothing else really of note. 

“Ugh, if I was near that statue I’d kill myself too.” 

“It gives my heebie jeebies the heebie jeebies, not gonna lie.” 

“Really, Rook, but Joseph’s your new best friend, remember?” Pratt cuts in to taunt the Junior Deputy.

“I have a finger for you.”

“You aren’t buddying up with the Seeds, are you deputy?” Mary May’s voice rings out as she sets drinks and food in front of the three officers, they hadn’t even ordered yet. Dahlia’s seen her do it with Hudson and Pratt, knowing the two deputy’s order inherently after years of routine. But it’s the first time she’s done it for Dahlia, knowing the youngest deputy’s favorite burger and soda. It’s nice and she’d love to spend a moment appreciating the coziness of it, but the weight of the bartender’s question hangs in the air. 

“No,” Dahlia assures her, though a part of her feels guilty, as if she’s compromising loyalties, “they helped me and a friend out, that’s all.” 

“Eden’s Gate doesn’t help anyone without expecting something in return, I know you’re new around here, deputy, but you need to be careful around them. They’ll do anything to have another cop wrapped around their finger.” 

“Woah woah,” Dahlia holds her hands up in mock surrender, “it was just a little favor, nothing big I promise.” 

“You don’t get it, that fami-“ 

“I think Merle is trying to flag you down for another beer,” Pratt interjects, saving Dahlia from the rest of the lecture. 

“Yeah, uh, just be careful, deputy.”  With that Mary May leaves them to serve Merle, some man with a mullet, another beer. 

“Sorry about that,” Pratt says, “forgot how weird she gets about the Seeds.” 

“Can’t blame her for it though, John Seed’s had it out for her family since they came here.” 

“I would like to change the subject.” 

“Pfft,” Pratt stifles a laugh at her blunt declaration, “alright, we can do that.” 

“Well, okay, how’d your break go?” 

“Mostly boring, other than when Pratt took me flying.” 

“You took her up in the helicopter?” Hudson asks, raising an eyebrow at the male deputy over Dahlia’s shoulder. 

“Don’t look at me like that.” 

“You seriously pulled that move on her?” 

“Shut up.” 

“Move?” 

“Pratt has a habit of bringing girls up in the helicopter, don’t you?” 

“I plead the fifth.” 

“Oh, uh, I don’t know it was fun, though.” Dahlia shrugs, she doesn’t really care if he brings other people up in the helicopter. She’s not really sure how it’s relevant or what Hudson means by it being a move; she had fun with her friend and he cheered her up. 

“Hear that, Joey, it was fun. Don’t put weird ideas in Rookie’s head. “

“Oh yeah, blame me.” 

“So, anything interesting happen at the station while I was gone?” 

“Well,” Hudson smirks, mischief in her eyes as she glances at Pratt again. 

“She doesn’t need to know about that.” 

“I think she does, the day after you went on leave-”

“I’d like to change the subject,” Pratt cuts Hudson off, mimicking Dahlia from earlier. 

“I don’t even know what the subject is yet!” The youngest deputy objects, laughing. 

“Well, a certain someone’s mom felt the need to come down to the station and let Whitehorse know just how wrong he is to put her precious son in harm’s way.” 

“Oh my god,” Dahlia says, unable to resist smiling, while Pratt’s buried his head in his hands, “your mom came to the station?” 

“Yes, yes, laugh it up.” 

“You call me a child and you have your mommy checking in on you at work?” 

“I didn’t invite her!” 

Pratt’s face is flushed bright red while Hudson and Dahlia laugh at his expense, but despite the embarrassing aspect, Dahlia can’t help but think it’s a little endearing. His mom must really love him. 

“She worry about you a lot?” Dahlia asks, core aching from laughing.

“Ugh, that’s a fuckin’ understatement.” 

 “Mama Pratt’s always been a little too worried about her baby boy,” Hudson taunts, reaching over the table to pinch at Pratt’s cheek, only for him to smack her hands away. 

“I’m sure that went over great when you went into law enforcement.” 

“She still gets furious at Whitehorse for putting us in danger.” 

“Us?” 

“She wasn’t very happy about me becoming a cop either,” Hudson admits and that makes sense, given what Pratt’s told Dahlia about them being close as kids, surely she’d be close to his mother. 

“And if she meets you, she’ll be in Whitehorse’s ear again.” 

“Huh?” 

“I can hear it now, ‘how could you put that little girl in danger, what’s wrong with you?’” Hudson tries her best to mimic Pratt’s mother, grinning at the ridiculousness of it, and despite herself…the idea of his mom doting on her the way she would Hudson. As if Dahlia could be as close to either of them, even if the idea of being seen as a vulnerable little girl is a bit patronizing. 

“Not gonna lie, I really want to meet your mom now.” 

“No.” 

“C’mon!” 

“No, not in a million years, I get enough hell from Joey and Beau, I don’t need it from you too.” 

Their conversation continues late into the evening as it so often does, just a few hours shy of staying until closing, early mornings the only thing that keeps them from staying later. Around the same time as they have every other night, they leave and say their goodbyes. Pratt and Hudson heading back to the small set of apartment housing that resides in the little town, while the youngest deputy rides back to the trailer park. 

She stops at the mailboxes, in the registration building, rows of them with their lot numbers associated with them. The printed letters for Cassie and Joseph heavy in her pocket. A part of her does feel guilty, mostly to Mary May, but it’s not as if they’re close friends and the bartender can’t expect Dahlia to avoid an entire family because of hearsay. And it’s not as if she’s joining up or spending every moment with them.  She shakes her head, stupid feelings, it’s not as if she has to choose sides. She can be thankful for the Seed’s help and still get along with Mary May. She tucks the letters inside her mailbox to be sent out then heads into her trailer, throwing herself down on her couch to sleep for the night. 

Hands on her, groping and prodding on Dahlia’s bare body. She screams and fights against them, unable to see whom they belong to, a mystery hidden by the logic of a dream. They feel different, but she sees no difference, each pair ink black as if monsters reaching from the void to defile her. They claw and grab; scratching over her ribs, locking fingers around her throat, squeezing at her thighs, and pressing over her mouth. The hands are everywhere and they smear black across her skin, smears and filth, reminders of their violation. They stain her skin, mark her flesh, and leave the aftermath of their violence on her body. 

And she fights. She kicks and she pulls, but it only spurs them to grab her more. Dahlia lashes out at the void that touches her, but it does not retreat. She bites at the ink fingers that push into her tongue, but the digits only press deeper in, sliding into her throat. 

She can’t be sure if she breaks away or they let her go, but their touch is gone, Dahlia dropping to her knees as if they were the only thing supporting her. Inky black slick across her skin where they touched her, heavy even on her tongue, finger prints within them. 

And she wretches as flowers bloom from the stains they’d left on her. Small blue flowers blossom forth bursting through the flesh of her tongue, sprouting from her throat and gagging her, soft petals falling from her lips. Those same vibrant blue flowers burst forth from her throat where she was choked. 

Red flowers bloom out from the flesh of her ribs, stacked blossoms along a single stem cutting through the tender skin, like blades. They follow the curve of the bones within her, just long beneath her breast where rough hands had torn at her skin. 

White petals, the most familiar as they recur so often and are a constant sight within the county. They grow through the plush of her thighs, not even blood or black tarnishing them as they push through her skin. They wind and weave as they come through like petal ropes around her . 

And her heart staggers a beat as a sunflower grows within it, then through her chest, a vivid yellow. Her eye burns, a pressure behind it as another great yellow bloom grows behind it, piercing the fragile membrane, blood falling from her socket, vision in the eye obscured from the flower that’s taken it’s place. 

She’s awash of yellows, blues, whites, and reds. Turned into a cruel art piece, body aching as her skin is open, her lungs choked, her heart stuttering to beat, and body protesting in agony. 

And she snaps awake, not jolting from her couch but twisting with a heavy cough, phantom tickles within her throat. She gags on something that doesn’t exist, heartbeat thundering and lungs burning. Dahlia takes a moment to gather herself, a cold sweat still clinging to her skin. Her clock informs her it’s four in the morning. 

She pushes back the hair that’s fallen into her face and lights up a cigarette, inhaling nicotine to ease her shaky body and frayed nerves. These dreams have only been getting more frequent and they’re starting to fuck with her. She can’t live with having a heart attack every other night and barely getting sleep. 

Once she’s filled her lungs with smoke, let the burning cigarette nearly singe her fingers before she tosses it out. Dahlia throws on the lights, blinking through the way it blinds her after so long of darkness, but she ignores the sleep heavy in her eyes as she grabs her drawing pad, sitting at her coffee table on the floor letting her mind lead her hand. 

Sunflowers she knows, the flower iconic enough in identity for her to know it and with the white flowers being so around the county, she could easily be able to figure out what they are. She thinks they’re called moonflowers, given the name of the trailer park and that a field of them surround them. But she sketches them out, along with the other flowers she saw. Four types of flowers on the page. She needs to get them on paper while they’re fresh in her mind. And then in the crux of them all, she draws out the layered ones from her previous dreams. 

She plans on looking them up, flowers have significance and meaning, she’s heard that before that people can plan bouquets to communicate messages. She’s never cared about flowers in her entire life, so she has no idea why on earth they’d such a recurring theme in her dreams be. 

Dahlia feels more relaxed now that she’s smoked and gotten the images of the flowers on paper. She’ll search for her answers later, after she’s gotten more sleep. Nerves and body relaxed, she curls back up on her couch, letting herself fall into a dreamless sleep. 

It’s a few hours past noon the next day, a slow day of just tickets, the young deputy’s head is against her own seatbelt. Her eyes are starting to close despite the amount of energy drinks she’s consumed. She managed to salvage a few hours of restful sleep, but not nearly enough to keep her awake through an already boring day.  Her eyelids are impossibly heavy, each blink growing longer and longer. 

“Rook!” 

“I’m awake!” Dahlia says with a jolt, Pratt’s voice and a shake of her shoulder waking her back up. 

“Are you?” Pratt asks while laughing and she pinches at the bridge of her nose, a headache coming on. 

“I didn’t sleep well last night.” 

“What were doing?” 

“Wasn’t doing nothing; just bad dream,” she tells him, shrugging. 

“Units near the Orchard please respond,” Nancy from dispatch’s voice crackles over their radio, they’re still in the Valley and maybe five minutes from the giant orchard.

“Deputy Pratt responding.”

“Debbie and Doug called in a robbery, suspect has fled the scene, but they’re still requesting an officer to file a report.” 

“We’ll be there shortly,” he hangs up the receiver, “wake up, Rookie, we have to actually work today.” 

“Maybe.” 

“Maybe,” he admits, acknowledging that it’ll likely just be an hour of talking, writing down a report, and then leaving. 

They drive past the pumpkin farm, Dahlia unable to resist smiling when she sees Boomer playing with his owners, weaving through the gourds. She’s reminded of her first day, stopping to pet the dog to dispel her own nerves. Then the apple trees filter in, bright red and shining in the light. Each tree is overflowing, a few crates out fill with the fruit, apples that have fallen on the ground. 

Pratt pulls up to the orchard’s packing facility past the market stall that advertises cider tasting. There’s a man and woman standing in front of the large open packing facility; the building painted red with green roofing, the open doors showing the crates and machines. The smell of crisp apples hits Dahlia as she gets out of the cruiser, mixing with the fresh air, she feels more awake than she was before. Rarely, but sometimes, the beauty of the county manages to lift her spirits. 

“What’s going on?” Pratt asks the couple. 

“Someone,” Debbie gives a pointed look at her husband Doug, arms crossed, “left the office key in the stall again, next thing we know, someone cleared out our safe.” 

“Hey, don’t blame me.” 

“Well who the fuck am I suppose to blame?” 

“That fuckin’ church would be a goddamn start.” 

The tension is palpable as the couple argues, body language tight and wrought with frustration. Stray can’t tell if Debbie is about to cry or scream, maybe both. Doug looks as if he’d like to rip the earth up and bury himself beneath it. 

“Everybody calm down, did anyone see anything suspicious?” 

“John fuckin’ Seed and his band of goons were here earlier, no one saw him grab the key, but no one else would have. Son of a bitch has it out for us.” 

“Alright, you wanna take me back to the office, I’ll have a look around,” Pratt asks Doug. 

“Yeah, no problem.” 

“You mind staying out here and talking to me, Debbie?” Dahlia offers, she’s not the most comforting person in the world, but the older woman clearly needs to get some stuff off her chest. 

“Yeah, I can do that.” 

Doug and Pratt go back to the office within the packing facility, leaving Dahlia alone with Debbie. 

“Lets find a place to sit down and just breathe for a minute, alright?” 

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Debbie agree and Dahlia places what she hopes to be a comforting hand on the woman’s back, guiding her into the market stall where she saw benches. 

She settles in across from Debbie, who wrings her hands together. 

“No pressure and you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to, but if you need an ear, I’m willing to listen.” 

“Don’t even know where to start, ever since John Seed set his sights on the orchard, it’s been a nightmare.” 

“He been making life hard for you?” 

“That’s the understatement of the god damn century, that church has been buying up properties since they got here. The railyard, the old summer camp, the veterans center, the conservatory; list goes on…I use to wonder why everyone sold out to them, but I fuckin’ get it now.” 

“They’re persistent?” 

“They’re fucking heartless. Me and Doug built this place from the ground up; John Seed made an offer and we said no. Next thing we know; roads are blocked so our shipments can’t go out, they buy up the fertilizer plant and we can’t use it to help the new crops, cargo trucks are toting away product in the dead of night, and now this shit. We’ve been hemorrhaging cash ever since he set his sights on us. Got an attorney involved and all they did was charge us.”

“I’m so fucking sorry, I can’t even imagine how hard this is for you.” 

“We had a good year for crops, thought we’d break even if nothing else, then what little we got was taken. I can’t even pay my god damn workers, we’ve had to let go of folks who’ve been here for years because they couldn’t keep working for free cider.” 

The woman lets out a breath, body deflating as she finally gets everything off her chest, but her blue eyes are brimming with tears. Dahlia offers her a tissue from her pocket, not sure what else she can do, watching the woman dab at her eyes. Despite the help Joseph and his church has given to Dahlia and Cassie, this sort of behavior can’t be enabled. Theodore was stealing booze from The Spread Eagle, on the order of John Seed, when she first came here. Lonny hasn’t exactly been shy about insinuating he should just be allowed to take her motorcycle. So, it’s not far fetched to imagine them getting greedy. As ironic as it is to attach a sin to church goers. 

“They can’t do that shit.” 

“But they do, no evidence though, nothing can be done. If the cops even bother to show up, no offense, but a lot of your station ain’t doing their fucking jobs.” 

“No offense taken, I’m not gonna sit here and tell you every cops here for the right reasons. But, uh, if there’s something I can do to help, I want to.” 

“Short of a miracle, I don’t think there’s much we can do. Take John’s next offer, try to fuckin’ survive.” 

“There has to be a way for you guys to keep the orchard,” Dahlia murmurs more to herself than Debbie, at the end of it all the young deputy doesn’t have a dog in the fight. But, her heart does break for the couple and she wants to find some way to help. 

“I’m willing to try anything at this point.” 

“Ever think of doing any kind of apple festival or something? I mean people do that, sounds nicer than one for testicles.” 

“Pssh,” she laughs a little at the way Dahlia wrinkles her nose, “it’d take a lot of work to get something like that set up.” 

“I mean, do you really think the rest of the county won’t come together to help, you can do stands, have food, games, charge some money. I mean, it’s an idea.”

“We got stands for the market, don’t know if I can cook for a whole county though, if they even show.” 

“Do you think Casey or Chad would help out?” Dahlia brings up the cooks from the Spread Eagle and Grill Steak. Small communities are suppose to come together in times of crisis, that’s the hope at least. Lloyd always told her that’s what he loved about Hope County and Reinette, everyone’s willing to pitch in. 

“Maybe… Casey knows the runners of the Testy Festy too, he could help up get vendors and games set up, I…ya think we can actually do this?” 

“Way I see it, best case scenario, it gets you through the rough spot, sticks it to John Seed, and you could do it every year for an income boost. Worst case scenario, you go down swinging, having some fun,  and with friends by your side,” Dahlia tells her honestly with a shrug, she doesn’t want to give false hope, but even in worst case scenario, it’s worth it to go down swinging. 

“That’s,” she smiles, tears clearing, she looks hopeful finally, “that’s hard to argue with, you gonna help?”

“Of course, I can see about talking to Casey tonight even.” 

“Deb?” Doug’s voice calls out and the women leave the market stall, Doug and Pratt have come back from the office Pratt raises an eyebrow, eye drifting from the now happy Debbie, to Dahlia. Silently asking her what the hell happened. 

“There wasn’t anything that can pin it on anyone, no security footage or prints, sorry,” Pratt tells her. 

“I figured… Doug, me and Deputy….” she searches for Dahlia’s name only to realize she doesn’t know it, “…her have been talking, what do you think about throwing together a festival?” 

“A festival?” 

“Yeah, we could get the county together, might just be what saves this place. I…just…I don’t wanna give up yet. She said she’d help, I think, I think we can do this.” 

“We’d need to move fast and a festival take a lot of time to set up.” 

“I mean, we get enough people on board, I can’t see why we can have it ready to go by, next Friday, the 10th?” Dahlia cuts in to help, that’d give them a little over a week, short notice but not impossible. 

“You planning on helping?” 

“Of course,”Dahlia beams, but no reason she can’t volunteer some more help, she throws an arm over Pratt’s shoulder, “we’d both be happy to help anyway we can.” 

“What?” Pratt asks blankly and she just gives him a friendly smack on the chest, if he can force her into a church barbecue, she can damn well rope him into helping a local business. 

“Well then, I think next Friday could work,” Doug admits. 

“We could hold it Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. An entire weekend for everyone to come together, have some fun and maybe save this place,” Debbie tells him, smiling wide.

“Okay, lets do it.” 

“Hell yeah.” Dahlia grins, the formerly frustrated and desperate couple are now smiling bright as can be. Warmth is burning in the rookie deputy’s chest, proud that she can help them get those smiles back. 

“Yeah…well, guess I can help,” Pratt admits, still glaring at Dahlia in his peripheral, she’s just amazed he hasn’t pushed her off of him yet. 

“I’ll try to talk to Casey tonight, if the bars too busy, I’ll try tomorrow. Then I’ll get in touch with Chad, ask around about music, games, anything we could need.”

“Gotta find a way to advertise it.” 

“I’ll figure it out,” Dahlia tells them, confident she can put it together, “you guys worry about getting the orchard set up, getting food, cider, prices, and all that figured out. And if you need anything just call down to the station and ask for Rook.” 

“Thank you, seriously, both of you.” 

“No problem,” Pratt says, though there’s a sigh in his voice, “our probie here just loves to help people.” 

“Well, it is my job, speaking of which, you said the church is blocking the roads?” 

“Yeah, our trucks can’t even get a shipment out.” 

“Do you know where they’re set up?” 

“Yeah, the road that leads from Holland valley out to Missoula, if you follow it far enough, why?” 

“Public roads legally can’t be blocked,” Pratt explains for her. 

“So, we’re gonna pay them a quick visit.” 

“Thanks again, we’ll be in touch, Deputy.” 

They wave off the couple, saying their goodbyes as they climb back into the cruiser. A beat of silence passes without Pratt starting the engine. 

“What the fuck, Rook?” 

“What?” 

“You know your getting yourself into deep shit, right? Pissing off the church right after they helped you out?” 

“Them helping me out ain’t a free pass to do whatever they want. I can get along with someone and still hold them accountable for their bullshit. They have no right trying to railroad Debbie and Doug like that.” 

“And you have no right dragging me into it.” 

“You volunteered me for the fuckin’ church barbecue.” 

“That’s different.” 

“How?” 

“We were off the clock, not work hours.” 

“What about trying to pressure me into going to the Rye barbecue, while at Redlers, technically on the clock.” 

“That was also different.” 

“How?” 

“’Cause you’re the rookie and I’m allowed to be mean to you.” 

“No, that is not how that works!” 

“Is too, the entire point of hiring rookie cops is to hassle them, you don’t get to hassle back.” 

“Well, too bad, fucker we’re throwing an apple festival.” 

“Jesus christ.” 

“It’ll be fun.” 

“It’ll be a pain in my ass,” he says, grumbling as he starts the engine, taking off out of the orchard. 

Dahlia sticks her tongue out at him as they wind through the roads. Apple trees become the usual firs and pines, road signs starting to indicate they’re in route to Missoula. The young deputy watches the woods pass by, where the trees meet the blue sky, farmland occasionally breaking the landscape with cows meandering around. 

It’s not long before they come to a stop and sure enough, large slabs of concrete are across the roadway. White trucks bearing the Eden’s Gate symbol are slotted behind them, black flags with the symbol in white stream from the back, and sturdier white vans are nearby as well. Members of the church are gathered there, woman with overgrown hair and men with hairy faces, a few she recognizes. All looking at the stopped cruiser with some measure of anger or worry. 

“Hey, deputy,” it’s Waylon who greets Dahlia, smiling at her, “what seems to be the issue?” 

“Your blocking public roads,” Pratt is the one to answer. 

“Oh, see the thing if, the church is having some property worked on nearby. So, we really can’t have anyone driving through here, it’s temporary of course.” 

“You can’t do that, though,” Dahlia explains, “if you need to fence off private property, you need to do it along the property line. Unless you have permission from the state, you cannot block public road access.” 

“Deputy please, surely you understand.” 

“Waylon,” she puts a hand on his shoulder, “you know we get along and I don’t have anything against the church, but blocking the road affects everyone else. If you really need roads blocked off, you need to contact the right people and get permits first, okay?” 

“Understood.” 

“Okay, then, just clear out and everything will be fine.” 

He doesn’t seem happy, none of the church members do, but that’s the rules. She can’t even understand why’d they ever need to block the roads, if she didn’t know any better she’d think they were trying to keep people from leaving. 

They drive the trucks and vans away; Dahlia and Pratt even helping move the concrete blockades off the road. Why do they even have those? 

There’s still a sour note in the air once the block is cleared and the deputies have pulled away. She hates this weird back and forth; the church helping her but then doing something that gives her reason to doubt them. Wanting to be their friend but needing to put her foot down; wanting them and both the people who hate them to like her. Torn between the two as well as her child; like an unfortunate child in the midst of their parent’s divorce and she’s being forced to choose one. 

It’s getting close to evening, when they pull up to the station to put in the report. The usual folks are in the bullpen, Hudson working at her computer with a mug of coffee and Brennan at his desk as well. The faces she’s come to know the best outside of Pratt. He plops himself down into his chair at his desk and Dahlia decides to grab another energy drink from the kitchen first.

She’s managed to rummage through the collection of tana cola bottle to find it, cracking it open with a yawn as she leaves the kitchen. 

“…it wouldn’t have been so bad if Rook didn’t volunteer me for some bullshit.” 

“Don’t be so fucking dramatic.” 

“Jesus fuck,” Pratt jolts in his chair, nearly toppling it over, “that’s it, we’re getting you a god damn bell!” 

“Didn’t know you were into that, Staci,” Brennan says with a snicker. 

“Shut up.” 

“Oh, please, no one’s buying it,” Hudson says, rolling her eyes. 

“There’s nothing to buy, Rook is an annoying shit, who just grabbed me and volunteered me for bullshit.” 

“You’re such a baby.” 

Dahlia reaches out and flicks his ear, laughing when Pratt grabs her hand, fingers intertwining as he tries to push her back. She brings her other hand up, trying to reach out and flick him with her other hand.  But he grabs it in the same way, the two pushing against each other, both grinning like children. She’s not even sure what the goal is and Pratt probably doesn’t either. But then his office chair wheels slide back from the force and she’s found a goal, pushing Pratt across the room. No particular reason for it other than the idea of watching him sail across the bullpen makes her giggle.  But he won’t let go of her hands enough that she can push him without him dragging her too. 

“The hell are you two doing?” Whitehorse’s voice booms out when he walks in to see the two deputies horsing around. 

“Being idiots.” 

“I don’t know, looks like flirting to me.” 

Hudson’s insult and Brennan’s teasing makes red flush up the two bickering deputy’s cheeks. They’re technically holding hands and leaning into each other’s personal space, Dahlia realizes. Pratt suddenly drops her hands, jolting away as if her skin has burnt his, and pushing his chair away from her. Nearly toppling over a trashcan in his haste. 

“Yeah why the hell you holding my hand, Rookie?”

“You grabbed my hand first, asshole!” 

“No, I didn’t.” 

“Yes, you did.” 

“You did.” 

“You absolutely did.” 

Hudson and Brennan agree with Dahlia, Pratt’s face going from pink to scarlet. Whitehorse rolls his eyes, no doubt questioning his hiring decisions. How any of them still have jobs is a mystery, except Hudson. 

“How’d things go at the orchard?” The sheriff asks, adjusting his cowboy hat. He really does look like such a stereotype. 

“We couldn’t find any evidence of who broke into the office, they grabbed the key, so I told Doug he should look into changing the locks and investing in some security cameras. They’re dead set on it being John or someone with the church though,” Pratt explains, rolling his chair back up to his desk. 

“You know it was,” Brennan scoff, “damn church is destroying the whole county.” 

“Now, now, you can’t go making accusations without evidence, I just hope Debbie and Doug can bounce back.” 

Dahlia doesn’t miss the roll of Brennan’s eyes and the sneer on his lips, he doesn’t like Eden’s Gate or Whitehorse’s attitude towards them it seems. She’s rarely seen the officer without a smile, but lips curled and leg bouncing, he seems a moment away from flipping the desk in front of him. 

“Well, if Rook’s plan works, they’ll do fine.” 

“Your plan?” Whitehorse looks at her with a raised eyebrow; her fellow deputies and Brennan all look at her expectantly as well. She scratches at the back of her neck, skin prickling at the attention. 

“Oh, uh…well, I figured they could do like an apple festival, be fun for the county and help raise some money for ‘em.” 

“That the plan you were bitching about, Pratt?” Brennan raises an eyebrow at him. 

“It’s a pain in the ass and the Seed family is gonna be pissed.” 

“So, apple pie and pissing off the Seeds, I’m fuckin’ sold,” Brennan sticks his fist out to Dahlia and she bumps her knuckles to his, grinning, “anything I can help with, just say the word.” 

“Seriously, see why can’t you be my partner?” 

“Hey, rude.” 

“’Cause we’d never get Pratt to stop whining about it.” 

“What the hell, you’re suppose to be on my side, Beau.” 

“I don’t remember agreeing to that.” 

“I’m willing to help out too if I can,” Hudson cuts in between the banter, eyes soft, “I still remember going apple picking there with my family, I don’t wanna see Doug and Debbie lose that place.” 

“Yeah…that place has a lot of memories for everyone,” Pratt admits, hazel eyes deepening with nostalgia. 

“Still remember the first year you came with us,” Hudson grins, “Mark tried to lift you up to grab an apple and you just started sobbing.” 

“Your brother was trying to kill me and I stand by that,” Pratt smiles as he pretends to defend himself. 

“When are Deb and Doug planning on having the festival?” Whitehorse asks Dahlia. 

“Aiming for the next Friday, the 10th, they wanna see if they can do it the whole weekend too.” 

“Lot of work to get done if that’s gonna happen.” 

“I know, I’m planning on talking to Casey as soon as I can. See if he’ll help cook and if there’s any testy festy supplies or vendors he can help with.” 

“Mary May has a live band that plays once a week, they might be willing to play,” Hudson offers. 

“Think they’d work cheap or free? I’d hate to stiff anyone and I’ll pay whatever I have too out of my own pocket, but the last thing we want is the festival costing more than it makes,” Dahlia explains, leaning against the wall as she talks it out. 

“If they’re not willing to work any or all of it, we could always talk to Wheaty too.” 

“Wheaty?” 

“Kid who lives up North,” Brennan points in the general North direction, “he’s been obsessed with starting a radio station for years, he’ll basically DJ anything for free just to show off his vinyl collection.” 

“That could work too.” 

“Addie would probably help with money for it, honestly, just throw some advertisements up for the Marina.” 

“Hell, if me and Staci ask her, she’d probably do it anyway,” Brennan gives a wide toothy smile. 

“Gross, but true.” 

“Didn’t Grace use to do those shooting competitions at fairs and shit, letting people pay to try and outshoot her?” 

“Yeah,” Hudson nods to Pratt’s suggestion, “she hates the attention, but if it’s for a good cause I’m sure she’d do it.” 

“I don’t think the Fowler brothers would bring Cheeseburger, since they gotta watch what he eats, but they might be willing to bring down some animals for people to see.” 

“Hell, if we could convince Rae Rae to bring Boomer; people will show up just get a picture of him.” 

“Pie eating contest would draw people in too.” 

“Lorna would probably make pasties for it if we asked.” 

Dahlia can’t help but grin at all the ideas and suggestions; a fire seemingly ignited in everyone. There’s a warmth in her chest and a swelling sense of pride that she could get everyone on board. The orchard means a lot to the county, not just Debbie and Doug. And she may actually be able to save it. 

“Woah woah, hold on now,” Whitehorse calls out and Dahlia stiffens, this technically isn’t police work, “is anyone writing all this down? Not gonna do anyone a lick of good if we forget something.” 

He smiles, blue eyes soft as Hudson grabs a piece of paper, writing down the ideas that’ve been said so far. Whitehorse is giving his stamp of approval and that pride in her chest only swells bigger, thumping against her ribs and making her smile widen. 

“Rook.” 

“Yes, sheriff?” 

“As long as you keep an ear to your radio, don’t see any reason you can’t work on some of this during work, alright?” 

“Yeah, absolutely.” 

“Good, Debbie and Doug deserve the best and we’re damn well gonna give it to ‘em, that’s an order.” 

The sheriff ruffles her hair before he leaves and her face hurts from smiling so much. She pulls up a chair to the desk, sitting with Hudson, Pratt, and Brennan as they keep working on ideas. All four stay past their shift hours; scribbling down all possible ideas, who they should reach out to and who should be the one to talk to them. Dahlia smiling the entire time as they talk late into the evening. 

[astromechs]

meant to write something for @murdockquills ‘s birthday a bit back, but since i ran into a horrible case of writer’s block and it’s now so far past that date, we’ll just call this a dedication. 💙

vaguely currentish canon, you can think of this as a vague sequel to this little story; also out here ignoring half the shit bendis did because the joint memorial is important to me, ok

Sometimes, his therapist has told him over multiple sessions, with an unending patience that Rich thinks has to be up there with the greatest mysteries of the universe, you have to close some doors so others can open. Have to face the past to step into the future, because otherwise, there’s always going to be some kind of gravity pulling you back.

Months of therapy have made him more open-minded to things like this, no matter how pointless they may sound, or how much of a waste of time they may seem, at first; honestly, his therapist has yet to let him down so far. He gives some serious thought to it in his idle moments, between council meetings and doing his part to maintain tenuous intergalactic peace. What doors should he close? The Cancerverse itself has already been taken care of now, for good, so that’s not it. Robbie is still out there, and — no, he’s not ready for that one, as horrible of a person as that makes him, because that still hurts too much.

While enduring one particularly boring meeting at the Proscenium, as Zoralis Gupa, once again, spends half an hour stumbling over his own words to find his point (and really tries what little patience he has with politics to begin with), Rich finally gets a flash of an idea.

It’s one he’s going to need a little help with — and he’s slowly getting more open-minded about accepting that, too.

One quiet afternoon (local time), he touches down onto the surface of Hala, with the Bowie breaking atmosphere about ten minutes behind him. They could’ve gone on the ship together, but maybe there’d been a point to prove, a point that, by all indication, he has proven; the Human Rocket can totally beat this ship any day of the week.

A satisfied smile tugs on his mouth to greet Peter as the other man finally disembarks and makes his way over toward him. Peter, in turn, pulls a frown, clearly exaggerated for comedic effect, before sticking out his tongue.

They’re two mature and dignified war heroes; they swear.

Which, incidentally, brings them to the reason why they’re here.

The helmet feels too stuffy for this, somehow, so Rich takes a second to peel it off his head and collapse it into his hand, reaching the other toward Peter as they begin to walk among the monuments to people they’d once fought beside — some returned, like them, others lost forever. His partner in every conceivable way, Peter is of course there to meet him, threading their fingers together; it helps, it really does, especially when the floating statue of Phyla makes his throat go particularly tight, and he begins to question even coming here in the first place.

You have to close some doors, he reminds himself, coming back to the moment and drawing strength from their connected hands, so others can open.

He’d never really put much thought into what it’d be like to see his own face in stone, to see himself towering over everything else, but it just — feels weird, mostly, he realizes as their feet finally come to a stop at the base of their destination. No, this is completely separate from him, from them; images from a storybook telling the legend of some great hero who’d never actually lived at all, but still represents something big to live up to, all the same. Rich swallows, and there’s a profound heaviness in his chest all of a sudden, but —

“They don’t even look like us.”

Thankfully, Peter has saved him — just like always. Taken the words right out of a mouth that hadn’t quite figured out how to form them.

Rich tilts his head. “You’re right,” he says, doing his best to keep his voice light. “Yours actually makes you look handsome.” 

That, and the smirk that forms on his mouth, get him a light punch to the bicep. He starts laughing, and a beat later, amends with, “Kidding! Seriously — if either of us went around looking like that much of a prick, I’d have done everyone else a favor and just kept us both in the Cancerverse.”

Peter laughs, too, and with that, some of the weird tension in the air begins to lift. A more comfortable silence settles between them.

For a while they stay like that, each wandering in their own thoughts — but connected by their hands, ensuring that neither will go far.

At one point, Rich feels a light, but deliberate tug on his fingers; following the unspoken signal, he turns to find Peter grinning at him, more than a glint of mischief in his eyes when he asks: “You wanna draw dicks on ‘em?”

The laugh that bursts out of Rich this time isn’t the same breathy, awkward thing from before; this is one that starts in his core and moves all the way through him, shaking his shoulders and bringing actual tears to his eyes. That… that’s exactly what he’d needed in this moment, and when the laughter finally subsides and he manages to catch his breath again, when the last of the residual tears are wiped away, the gratitude is written all over his face — not just for this, but also for so many other things that he can’t even begin to express.

“I love you. Marry me.”

The words fall out of his mouth like they’re nothing, and in the immediate, he’s stunned. Not horrified, definitely not horrified, but — stunned, because the thought has honestly never crossed his mind before. (At least, not fully consciously.) He has a couple of options here. One, he can play it off like a joke before they both move on; that’s probably the better way to go, since it avoids some potential weirdness. But as his thoughts drift more toward the second one, really embrace the idea….

He thinks it feels right.

Before he thinks any more about it, Rich breaks their connection and crouches down until he has one knee in the grass, setting the helmet down beside him. He takes one of Peter’s hands again, this time with both of his own, and repeats, with all the soft, bright-eyed conviction in the universe: “Marry me?”

Peter’s eyes widen and he doesn’t say anything at first, and there’s just enough space for the doubts to start creeping in. Stupid, stupid; of course he isn’t ready for this, neither of them are ready for this, probably never will be, and it’s fine, it’s not like they need it, that’s just movie stuff, they’re —

Before he can really register what’s happening, Rich finds himself pulled off of the grass and into the tightest of embraces. Feels lips press against his before responding in kind.

Sometimes, Rich thinks, before all thought blissfully fades, you gotta close some doors so others can open.

[just-a-creep-babe]

Matchup!

Commissioned by @creepy-carrion, thank youu! I hope you enjoy emh & tt if you give em a shot ;))

Also the nsfw part is a bit short, so I made the sfw longer, hope that’s ok!

~Requests are closed~

Masterlist: x

I match you with: Jay Merrick

Jay’s not the most experienced with relationships tbh

It’s not that he doesn’t want or appreciate them, he just,,,, hasn’t had many

So his life gets 5x harder when he realizes he’s developed The Feels™️ for you

He constantly stumbles over his words, being a big, flustered doofus when he’s trying to hold a normal conversation with you

It’s like he loses control of his mouth and his words and his personality and his actions

And he’s just constantly mentally hitting himself for not being as suave~ as he wishes he could be to woo you

You’re just,, so kind and caring and funny and interesting and really attractive and cute and god how he’d love to hold your hand and kiss your forehead and call you his and

Every time you make him laugh, or give him an understanding/patient nod when he’s fumbling for words, it just makes his chest,, feel really warm?

And he’s filled with this light, bubbly sensation, like he’s on cloud 9, and there’s just something that’s got him fundamentally addicted—hooked on your presence

He loves listening to you talk about your interests tbh

Just hearing how enthusiastic & passionate you are about random shit lets him take his mind off things & makes everything seem alright, yknow?

When you start dating, he becomes even more enamored with your cute lil ramblings

Sometimes he gets a lil freaked out thinking he might be overbearing & clingy, so he tries giving you lots of space to make up for it

Which is when he comes to appreciate your unfiltered honesty the most, since he knows he could just ask if he’s being too much

He still panics a bit about it tho, since he knows you sometimes need to be alone to recharge & he doesn’t wanna be responsible for exhausting you

Boi’s also a bit more on the tentative side when it comes to being verbally affectionate

He sometimes struggles with expressing himself, so he likes giving you lil gifts & trinkets to show how much he loves & appreciates you

As soon as he learns about your adoration for hyenas, he’ll go through hell & back searching for any hyena-related items to give to you

Anything to keep winning over your affection

He’s not really sure why it’s gotta be hyenas in particular they’re so damn hard to find

But he finds it pretty adorable ngl

Like he can’t help but chuckle at the though & he finds himself really really liking hyenas too now cause they remind him of you??

He just loves how your eyes light up with that big grin when he shows you what he got—it makes the whole search for them so very worth it

If he knows he’ll be staying at a certain location for an extended amount of time, he’ll even scour the webs & order online to surprise you

Speaking of, because of his paranoia, he finds it very hard to settle down in one place for too long

So routines aren’t much of an issue

It’s not always hectic, where you constantly have to pack up & move away in fear of being kidnapped or stabbed in your sleep

But there’s certainly enough action to keep you from getting bored

He knows you tend to get anxious from time to time, so he might force himself to stick to certain plans so you know what’s going on & it’s not always a surprise

He tries to do anything he can to reduce anxiety-inducing stuff to a minimum, but that can be a lil hard, considering the situation he’s in and that he’s dragged you along in whoops

But again, words aren’t his forte, so he’s more the type to wrap you in a blanket with snacks & some random geek movie to cuddle to when things get too much

Honestly, anything you need, he’ll give to you

Hates seeing you upset—you’re his ball of sunshine; he wants to keep you bright & happy

The insomnia means he’s also addicted to coffee

And while he’s perfectly fine with the cheap nasty kind, he goes out of his way to get that good stuff 👌just for you to enjoy

He’s always careful to bring along plenty of paper & writing/drawing supplies because whenever he’s stressed, watching you draw and write helps relieve his nerves

He’s tried giving art a shot a couple of times but it’s really not his calling, so he just likes watching you instead

Also Jay says fuck gender roles so he’ll never ask you to be more feminine

As long as you’re alright with him not performing up to hyper masculinity, it’s all a-okay 👌

He’s pretty impulsive & prolly falls somewhere on the adhd/add spectrum (or maybe it’s mild autism?) so the two of you keep really good vibes together

There’s that mutual understanding and desire to help through rough patches, yknow?

Y’all could either be an insanely scary hyper focused duo or a totally chaotic dummy duo

He really appreciates your input so fucking much when it comes to dealing with #lyfe, you have no idea

Even when you have arguments just because of general tensions with the situation, he’s usually p good at reaching out & apologizing when all is said and done

He just doesn’t wanna lose you ;-;

Your his light in the darkness tbh, and he often wonder where he’d be without you probably dead lol

NSFW

Oh boy

So as I’ve mentioned, he’s not very experienced with this kind of stuff

So he would definitely need you to take initiative at first

Once he gets more comfortable with intimacy, only then does he eventually gain the confidence to take over

He’s really not much of a dom, but he honestly can’t deny how excited he gets when you moan so submissively beneath him

It encourages him to move his hips faster into yours, holding your hands above your head while he buries his face into the crook of your neck

Honestly, even if he sometimes isn’t sure what to do when domming, he really likes seeing you so obedient at the whim of his command

He does develop a taste for it, but he sometimes still enjoys it when you take more of a power bottom-kinda role

He’s a pretty Soft Boy™️ so he leans more on he lovemaking side of things instead of no-strings-attached kind of fucking

But every now & then, his frustrations about the Operator reach a peak and he gets really aggressive and controlling

Either way, his aftercare is 👌👌

He’ll wanna know how he did & if you enjoyed yourself, all the way wrapping his arms around you and cuddling or sometimes asking to be the little spoon

He’s pretty gentle with his touches & likes lavishing you with plenty of kissies, his hands nearly worshiping your form as he goes along

He loves hearing you praise him while he works into you tbh

He’s pretty vanilla ngl, but is willing to try a couple of things out if you’d like

He has cameras everywhere, so it’s highly possible he’s accidentally left one on while the two of you were having your fun & now he’s unintentionally got a sex tape??

He’d wanna keep it & rewatch it

But he’d honestly feel too bad about it & he’d have to come clean

Doesn’t have the highest sex drive, but cuddles are pretty much always in high demand

He feels the safest when he’s with you, and if anything were to happen to you, he’d go to the ends of the earth to bring you back uwu

[gothpanda]

A Little Bit of Attitude Ch. 18: Purple Moon

WORD COUNT: 5.1K

A/N: I’m unintentionally making this a PLL/Motley/The Dirt fanfic and I ain’t sorry Enjoy and thank you!

WARNINGS: Drugs, Language

TAGS: @madamsixx​

READ ON AO3 

PREVIOUS/NEXT

July 1984

 "Number 325" someone announces from the inside of the advising office. Sammi rested her head against a bulletin board with inspiring quotes for students and reminders of the new semester. She looked down at her ticket, seeing 334 in bold black letters that made her groan in her seat. "Number 326 for Mrs. Stogger," the speaker said in the lobby of the academic building. Sammi looked around at the people waiting to speak to someone just like her, a mix of ages in the hall. People brought books to read or sketchbooks to draw, or had their friends pass the time. Sammi only carried her notebook that was filled with tasks to do at Elektra. In terms of school, she was officially alone. She read over what she needed to get done by the end of the week. She also flipped through to see what she needed to finally have a degree in her hands. She interrupted her train of thought when Sammi heard someone elegantly sit on the wooden chair next to her. Sammi glanced up from her notebook for a moment to find a familiar face. A tall slim girl with long brunette hair read through her journal, writing down at a fast pace. Sammi looked over at her scholarly sense of style, appreciating it from afar like always. Sammi went back to keeping her eyes to the front of her, trying to keep her mind occupied. 

 "Oh hey, you're Samantha. The new secretary, right?" the girl said, making Sammi's eyes grow to her. She had a friendly smile to her, with soft dark eyes. Sammi smiled shyly at the girl, picking at her nails, and nodded. 

 "Yeah, it's Sammi outside in normal life. And You're one of the interns at work?" said Sammi politely. 

 "Of course, and yes, I'm Sabrina," said Sabrina, extending out a hand to Sammi, which she gladly accepted. "I didn't know you studied here. I thought you would've already graduated by now," 

 "I almost was but decided to be adventurous and travel earlier in the year. I'm kinda surprised also to see you here. I've never seen you around on campus before," said Sammi. 

 "Well that's because I just transferred from Sacramento, I really needed a change of scenery. I'm happy I have another familiar face to talk to while on campus," Sabrina said, putting her notebook in her messenger bag. 

 "Honestly, me too. I would see you around the office but never got a chance to talk" said Sammi, soon seeing a long dark haired tan girl who looked as tall as Sabrina walk towards them. She threw her bag to the floor and dropped herself onto the chair next to Sabrina, gaining her attention. The girl looked like a full athlete, with toned arms and legs from whatever they did. She tossed her hair over to one side, fixing her grey tank top. 

 "Hey S. Do you gotta wait long?" the tan girl said, peeking over Sabrina to see the small Samantha, knees tucked under her. "Oh sorry, I didn't see you there! I'm Emma," the girl extended her hand to Sammi, gaining a smile. She tilted her head for a moment, trying to remember the small girl.

 "Sammi. Um, have I seen you before?" Sammi asked, raising an eyebrow to Emma. 

 "Yeah we went to the same high school. You were on the volleyball team, right?" Emma asked, tying her shoelaces together. 

Sammi nodded, "Yeah I was, were you a grade below me?" 

 "Correct on that, I was also on the swim team. You're one of Tommy Lee's sisters, right?" asked Emma

 "Yep I am, now I'm getting that question asked a lot," Sammi chuckled along with the girls. 

 "I'm sure you do. Since it looks like you know Sabrina, do you wanna go get a bite to eat after this? Unless you have other plans to do," Emma asked, Sabrina, smiling at Sammi to try and get her to say yes. 

 "Totally!" Sammi said, in perfect timing for her number to be announced. 

October 26, 1984

 Sammi and Sabrina walked down the halls of Elektra records, passing the records and plaques hung up on the walls. Sabrina held eight hot coffees while Sammi scanned at the multiple folders that were in her hands. Both of the young women entered an empty conference room, a long, mahogany table in the middle of the room. They placed each coffee with a folder on the office chairs, even matching the assigned names. 

 "You don't have to stay for this meeting, do you?" Sabrina asked, throwing out the cardboard coffee trays into the trash.

 "No, Mr. Harrison had let me go early. Em's heading to your place at 7, right?" Sammi asked, fixing her blouse a bit from any wrinkles and pushing up her glass from slipping off.

 Sabrina nodded, adjusting her ponytail. "I don't know why she wants to go to this club so bad. She would not stop blabbing about it in class," 

 "Because you've never had a night on the strip yet even though you've lived here long enough," Sammi muttered, peeking down the hallway. Soon a team of suited men appeared marched in unison towards the young women. Mr. Harrison, a man who was taller than everybody with every inch of hair white as snow stepped in first, seeing Sammi and Sabrina. He scanned the office, nodding in approval and patting them on the shoulders. 

 "Thank you, girls, for the setup," Mr. Harrison said, rubbing his hands together. 

 "You're welcome, Mr. Harrison," Both girls said in unison. 

 "I would say you're free from being my shadow, Samantha. Have a good weekend for both of you," said Mr. Harrison, walking away to sit at the table's head. All eyes immediately went straight to him. Sabrina and Sammi smiled professionally at everyone, closing the door behind them on their way out. 

 "Okay well, maybe I'm busy with stuff of my own? You haven't thought about that?" Sabrina asked Sammi, throwing her hands in the hair as the two walked to the rest of the office. They walked past all the cubicles of co-workers, some they've never even talked to since working at Elektra. Sammi passed Sabrina's desk, grabbing the water bottle she left there by accident.

 "Studying doesn't really count if you're a walking encyclopedia, S," Sammi said, walking into the empty breakroom. She sat down by a big circular table, taking a sip of her water. Sabrina sat right next to her, grabbing an apple in the middle fruit basket.

"And what's wrong with wanting to study more?" Sabrina asked, sticking her nose in the air with pursed lips making Sammi give a tight-lipped smile to hold a giggle.

 "Nothing, but it's healthy to breathe fresh air. Even if that fresh air just has a bit of tobacco smoke in the mix," said Sammi, checking her freshly done red manicure. "Plus, we deserve a little fun. Midterms ended, and I already know I did great so I'll just reward myself," 

Sabrina shrugged with a growing smirk on her face taking a bite of her apple. "Are we gonna meet up with your people?" 

Sammi looked up to think for a moment, "Athena said yes. Tommy is in love with Emma, so yes. Vince will go anywhere I'm at. If Nikki isn't in a mood, he'll come. And Mick isn't feeling so good. I dropped off some food at his place before work," said Sammi, holding five fingers to Sabrina. 

"Awe Tommy is so dumb to think Emma would love him back like that," said Sabrina, pouting out her lip like a sad child. 

"You don't mind that we're gonna be with them, right?" implored Sammi. 

Sabrina raised an eyebrow, "No? They're all pretty cool, crazy beyond belief, but I still like them. Nikki seems like a tough nut to crack, though. And Emma seems to love everyone," 

"Awesome. I'm glad you and Em like everyone. For once I don't have to worry," 

"And you shouldn't. If I didn't like them, I probably would have only hung out with you at school or here. Plus, I like to see people go batshit crazy sometimes. It's like free front entertainment," Sabrina said with a smile. Sammi felt at ease with Sabrina's words, not worrying about the happiness and comfort of others on the Crue. "Oh, by the way, you're doing Em's hair," 

Sammi rolled her eyes, "At this point, she's gonna need to pay me to be her hairstylist," said Sammi, making Sabrina laugh.

* 

 In the cozy warm apartment that was reasonably close to their college, the three girls looked in their bathroom mirror to get ready for their night. Sammi sprayed the last bit of hairspray into Emma's loose curled hair, running her fingers through it to make it perfect. Sabrina wiped any extra nude lipstick from the corner of her mouth, feeling happy with her look. Emma leaned closer to the mirror, smudging a bit of black eyeshadow on her waterline to make her bronze eyes pop. Sammi pulled down a bit of her low cut blue velvet dress, checking her rear in the mirror. Emma tied a thin white scarf around her flare blue jeans that matched her pink top perfectly. "Where'd you get the bell bottoms, Em?" asked Sabrina, adding a necklace that matched her white dress. 

 "Found them at a garage sale! Pretty groovy even a decade later, right?" said Emma, walking out to put on her silver chunky heels in Sabrina's bedroom. Sammi smiled at Emma, spritzing some of Sabrina's perfume on her that smelled of crisp lilies from her nightstand.

 "Okay, you ladies ready for the night?" asked Sabrina, clapping her hands together as she walked into her bedroom. 

 "Someone seems finally happy to be going out," said Emma, bumping her hip against Sabrina with a smile. 

 "I don't want to be a Debbie Downer for most of everything. Besides Sam was right, we should have fun," said Sabrina, grabbing her perfume from Sammi's hands to spray some for herself. "Do you when Athena was gonna start heading over to Purple Moon?" asked Emma. 

 "No idea, but let's just wait and see when we get there!" said Sammi, swinging her black purse over her shoulder. 

* 

For being open for only two months, Purple Moon was the craziest club in all of West Hollywood. Let's Go Crazy blared throughout the two-story club with laser color lights jumping off the walls in the darkness. The three brunettes danced in the sea of people, bodies of strangers pressed up against each other. Sammi swayed to the beat of the music, feeling happiness around her already feeling the buzz of her drinks. As Emma looked out from the sea of people, her eyes grew with excitement when seeing three cool people. Athena, Nikki, and Tommy pushed their way to meet the girls. Nikki had a growing discomfort with this crowd, unlike Tommy loving the music. Athena turned Sammi around, engulfing her in a big hug with a smile on both faces. 

"This place is so cool!" shouted Athena, giving hugs to Emma & Sabrina as she danced around the sea. Tommy hanged his arm around Emma's neck, kissing her on the cheek while Emma shifted her gaze to the girls. Sammi couldn't help but look past Nikki in hopes of finding a shaggy-haired blonde with them. She hugged Nikki, tip-toeing to his ear. "Where's Vince?" Sammi shouted, scrunching her eyebrows together. 

"Your boyfriend didn't like the idea. Wanted to hang out with our friend Razzle," Nikki shouted, shrugging his shoulders. He eyed Sammi up and down, wrapping his hands around her waist. "You look beautiful. Didn't think a girl your size could feel up a dress like that," Nikki smirked, pulling Sammi into him. Sammi dropped her shoulders, slightly pushing away from Nikki. Athena grabbed Sammi's hand, twirling her around as the music changed to another upbeat song. Sammi glanced over to Nikki's discomfort, seeing him find his way to the crowded bar with Tommy behind him. Sammi tried her best to dance with the girls around her, but she couldn't remove the disappointed look on her face. 

"You okay?" Sabrina asked, leaning down to Sammi. 

Sammi shrugged her shoulders, "Yeah… Just wish Vince would've come," 

"Ignore it. Go get a drink and relax," Sabrina said, turning Sammi on her heels to the direction of the bar. Sammi smiled as she walked away from the dancing girls and passed the sweaty bodies. She squeezed between Nikki and Tommy on the bar, resting her chin in the palm of her hand. 

"Here Sam, have my drink and smile!" Tommy shouted, hanging his arm around Sammi's shoulders and slid her a random cocktail. Sammi smiled, taking a sip of the drink and wrenched at the taste of the alcohol. It was more potent and something that could get anyone drunk fast. It was precisely what Sammi needed for this night. As Tommy disappeared into the sea to find his new favorite girls, Nikki sipped his drink, eyeing Sammi with the color lights bouncing off her. 

"Really didn't think you'd let a guy ruin your night," Nikki whispered loudly into Sammi's ear, making her turn to his direction. Sammi sipped the random drink, thinking about Vince. "Wanna head upstairs? Fewer people to be annoyed by," Sammi looked over her shoulder, seeing all their friends enjoy their time together. Sammi thought they wouldn't miss her if she went away with Nikki. She nodded to the bassist getting a smirk and a hand to hold as he led them through the crowd. The second floor was designed mostly to be a balcony with some space to dance for overpacked nights. Even with a 'do not cross' sign up, Nikki and Sammi sneaked up the dark brick stairway. Dropping herself onto a small leather loveseat, Sammi laid her legs in Nikki's lap as she downed the rest of the strong drink. From the second floor, the music wasn't loud in comparison, seeing no speakers around them. Nikki rested one arm on the loveseat's head and the other playing with Sammi's heel strap. The two stared silently at each other for a moment until Sammi felt Nikki's hand rise up her leg. She tossed her legs off him, sitting up straight while lowering her dress a bit. 

"You're good, Nikki?" Sammi asked, feeling the buzz of alcohol go to her head and batting her eyes. 

"I am now that I'm with my best friend," Nikki slurred, draping an arm around Sammi and pulling her to his side. Sammi chuckled and rolled her eyes, dropping her head back. "What? You don't believe me?" Nikki asked. 

"Do you make out with all your best friends?" Sammi smirked at Nikki. Nikki scuffed at Sammi, taking the rest of his drink. "If I am then thanks," 

"My ass wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you, unlike some people," Nikki said, raising his eyebrows for a moment. Sammi's smile went away from her face, looking out at the balcony in front of them. 

"Fucker should've told me he didn't want to come," Sammi mumbled under her breath, picking out her cigarettes from her purse. "He really just said he didn't like coming to a fucking club?" Sammi asked, lighting the tobacco stick. Nikki nodded, making Sammi roll her eyes and checking around to see no one catch them up there. 

"Yeah I think he was gonna show Razzle the Tropicana on Hollywood Boulevard. Apparently, that ain't got that in England," 

"So he wanted to go see half-naked girls basically 10 minutes away from me? That's fucking nice," Sammi spit out with annoyance, blowing smoke into the atmosphere

"But hey you like that so you gotta deal with the rockstars. A nice boyfriend," said Nikki, pulling out his stash from his back pocket. He poured a short chunky line in the back of his hand, snorting it like a healthy routine. Sammi looked over to Nikki, biting her lip for a moment as her eyes shifted to the drugs. Nikki could see the curious little face Sammi had one, making him smile mischievously. Nikki poured a bit more on his hand, not even needing to say a word for Sammi to understand. She closed one nostril and snorted the chunky line, feeling the string hit her. She hadn't done drugs since the beginning of the year, and her body was already feeling it. Her eyes began to water, making Sammi pinch the bridge of her nose to stop any tears. Nikki snorted some more before finally moving back into the loveseat. 

"And then he fucking asks why I still keep a distance!" Sammi shouted, flicking her bud into the dark corner. "Next time you all are on tour, you better keep an eye out for me on him!" Nikki chuckled at Sammi, slowly getting closer to her.  All of a sudden, Sammi jumped up onto her feet, almost losing balance as she pulled Nikki up from the sofa. Nikki felt immediate dizziness from the sudden movement, ultimately colliding against Sammi. He hung onto her waist, seeing her face so close yet so far away. Sammi slightly moved away from Nikki, trying her best to maintain distance. 

"Come on, let's go back dancing!" Sammi shouted, pulling Nikki by the hand as they stumbled down the stairs. Nikki tried his best to feel comfortable, happy the coke was making a bit of an effort in doing so. The crowd felt bigger to Nikki now, unsure if it was always like this while pushing past everyone. Sammi was oblivious to her surroundings, just trying her best to find their friends. Nikki let go of Sammi's hand for a moment, holding a tight grip onto her waist, trying his best to not lose her. Sammi didn't react, she felt great and happy, and being with people she loved made her more comfortable. Sabrina could finally see Sammi and Nikki again, making their group yell with excitement. Alcohol filled in their systems with possibly a mix of drugs could help any situation for this night.

* 

 "Why is food so much better when you're buzzed?" asked Emma, tossing a tater tot into the air and catching perfectly into her mouth. Athena, Sammi, and Tommy clapped alongside Emma as the six of them all sat together in a dark red restaurant. The Rainbow Bar and Grill, where girls offered blow jobs right as they saw Nikki and Tommy. Of course, they wanted to be one ounce respectful and turned the offer down just to have a bit to eat.  Sabrina rolled her eyes with amusement, sipping on her orange soda while Nikki chugged a small whiskey bottle. 

 "Because carbs love alcohol. It's a science I can't explain," said Athena, chewing on a chicken tender. 

 "We probably burned all the food we ate today from dancing, so eat up," said Sammi, glancing at Nikki right beside her. "You're not hungry?" 

 Nikki draped his arm around the young girl's shoulders, stealing a french fry from her plate. "I might be hungry for something else," Nikki winked, making Sammi only chuckle and stuff another french fry into his mouth. Sammi squinted her eyes to Nikki's other arm, trying to see the red mark in the dark. 

 "Hey did you go to the doctor or something? What's with the marks?" asked Sammi, almost grazing her finger before Nikki winced away from her.

  "Don't worry about it, Princess," said Nikki. 

 "Be careful, Sixx. Remember Sammi has a boyfriend now," said Tommy, flicking Nikki's ear with a dumb giggle. 

 "Yeah, who would rather see a mud wrestler with his other friends than me," said Sammi, feeding another fry to Nikki. 

 The girls around them all raised their eyebrows to Sammi, confused, and surprised by the thought of Vince's decision. Tommy shot a dagger look at Nikki, hitting his leg under the table as a form of communication. Nikki only shrugged his shoulders and took a bit of what was left on Sammi's plate. 

 "You mean that mud strip club up on boulevard?" asked Sabrina, pointing out towards the window in the direction of it. Sammi nodded as she took a sip of her cocktail. "Okay now, your sour face makes sense," 

 "Damn didn't think Vince would piss you off that fast," said Athena, turning her head as she felt a hand on her shoulder. As if by magic, Vince and a long-haired British man wearing a top hat stand right in front of the group's booth, holding drunken smiles. They both had drinks in their hands, almost already finished. Sammi pursed her lips at Vince, looking away to see Tommy quiet and glancing at everyone. 

 "Oh Vince! Razzle! How were the mud wrestlers?" shouted Nikki with a smile on his face, not bothering to move away from Sammi. Vince's smile soon disappeared as he looked at Sammi's scowling at him with a glare. 

 "Oh it was great! I never knew America could be like this!" said Razzle, his thick accent, making it hard for some to understand in their intoxicated states. He hung onto Vince, happy as a child in a candy shop. "Hey youse are some gorgeous women. What are you all's names? Especially this dark-haired beauty," said Razzle, kissing Emma's hand only to make her cringe. Sabrina and Sammi covered their mouths to hold in their laughs to Emma's discomfort. 

 "I'm Emma. This is Sabrina and the girlies over there are Athena and Sammi, Tommy's sisters," said Emma, yanking back her hand from Razzle's grip. Razzle raised an eyebrow to Emma, smirking down at her. 

 "How do you do, I'm Razzle. A nice gentleman from England who would adore any woman like yourself," said Razzle. 

 "Yeah well… no thanks. So Vince, how was your night?" asked Emma, tilting her head. 

 "Um it was good. Listen, Babe, can we go for a smoke outside?" asked Vince, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jean jacket. Sammi shared knowing glances between Emma and Sabrina, motioning them to let her out of the booth. Sammi gave an icy look to Vince, heading straight for the door. Nikki kept a smirk as his eyes followed Sammi, shrugging to Vince. As the two walked out, Razzle sat next to Emma as he tried to put on the charm. Athena and Tommy eyed the couple walk away, slowly growing with worry. 

"You know if you didn't want to hang out with me, you should've said something when I called you," said Sammi, crossing her arms as she faced Vince outside the busy sunset strip. 

"It's not that I didn't wanna hang out, Razzle came by my place all of a sudden, and I couldn't say no. Come on, Sammi, don't be mad at me," said Vince, wrapping his arms around Sammi's waist and leaving soft pecks on her cheek and neck. Sammi only pushed him away from her, clenching her jaw at Vince. "I didn't fucking do anything! You're really gonna be pissed I saw chicks?" 

"Yeah because your dumbass didn't fucking tell me! Nikki said you didn't want to come! Besides, I never liked seeing other girls before I got with your ass!" shouted Sammi, about to walk away from Vince until he got a hold on her arm. 

"Oh really, Nikki told you that? And you also don't think I could be mad at you for having Nikki's arm around you? You really think I like seeing that? You're gonna believe him?" shouted Vince, looking right into Sammi's eyes. 

"Tommy fucking hit Nik when he ratted you out, just fucking admit it," slurred Sammi, looking past Vince instead of giving eye contact. Right away, Vince was able to see Sammi's pupils bigger than usual, making her eyes almost black. "Are you high?" asked Vince. Sammi yanked her arm out of Vince's grip, almost stumbling onto the concrete. 

"So what if I am? Are you going to be more 'pissed' at me now," said Sammi, scowling at Vince. Vince scuffed at Sammi, shaking his head as he looked away from her. 

"Why do you keep doing coke?! Why do you keep listening to Nikki?!" hissed Vince, stepping right into Sammi's face. 

"Oh shut the fuck up about Nikki giving me some coke, it's getting old. You can't say shit if I want to get high. Because I'm pretty sure if we went a fucking drug clinic, you'd be way worse than me," slurred Sammi, trying once again to move away from Vince. 

"Oh don't give them that, Sammi. We're both two completely different people when it comes to that shit," said Vince, wrinkling his eyebrows together in a frown.  

"Oh really? Because last time I checked, I'm a rockstar's girlfriend who works at a record company," said Sammi, returning to her icy stare. "Just admit you're wrong for leaving me hanging for some big tit bimbos, and we can go back inside," 

"No, I'm not gonna fucking apologize. From the looks for it, you and Nikki seem to have gotten close like always tonight. Pretty sure if I asked A, she'd tell me," said Vince, matching Sammi's face. 

"You've got to shut up about Nikki and me every single time I'm around him. If you didn't want us without you, you would've fucking come!" said Sammi. 

"Fuck this, I'm out of here. Tell Nik and Tom they can take care of Raz, and call me when you're done being fucking stubborn," said Vince, shaking his head and beginning to head down the strip. 

"In that case might as well find a new girlfriend!" yelled Sammi at Vince, glancing around at some of the people staring right at her. She combed her fingers through her hair, marching back inside as the heels of her shoes clunked on the wooden floor. Walking closer to her table, she could see Emma had already moved away from Razzle and closer to Athena. Everyone reacted like foxes, turning their heads as soon as they saw Sammi come over. 

"Where's Vince?" asked Athena, scrunching her eyebrows together. 

"Gone. Stubborn ass didn't wanna say sorry," said Sammi, holding out her hand to Nikki to retrieve her purse. "I'm sorry guys, but I'm gonna head home, it's getting late anyway," 

"Wait, do you want us to come with you? We could crash at my place if you want, Sam," said Sabrina, looking up at her as she glanced over to Emma. 

"Only if you two want to, I don't want to ruin your guys' fun," said Sammi. 

"Trust us, Sam, you aren't. Do you wanna head with us, Athi?" asked Emma, smiling playfully to the other girl beside her. 

"Athi?" asked Tommy, frowning at the two girls. 

"Totally if Sammi's in a mood. Later boys. It was nice to meet you, Razzle," said Athena, sliding out of the rounded booth and waving toward the English man. 

"You boys have fun tonight, don't get too crazy without us," said Sammi, passing air kisses to all the men. 

"Goodbye loves, hope to all your pretty faces very soon," said Razzle, smiling happily at everyone. Sabrina chuckled along with Razzle, hooking her arm around Sammi's.

"Get home safe, ladies. Take some Advil, Princess," said Nikki, finishing his drink and motioning for another to the waitress. 

"We will," announced Sammi as all the girls headed to the strip, feeling the California breeze hit them right away. The four girls trailed down the street, Athena trying her best to haul a cab for them. Sammi suddenly felt the lows of her high go away, developing a headache with all the noise around her. She leaned on Sabrina for support, trying her best not to look suspicious to Athena. 

"What's it gonna be, my place or yours?" asked Sabrina, glancing at Sammi. 

"Mine. I have PJs to spare for you all," said Sammi, crawling into the small backseat of the cab.

"What did you tell Vince while you were arguing?" asked Athena to Sammi, looking over the two girls. 

"To find a new girlfriend because I'm not gonna say sorry for being around Nikki," mumbled Sammi, leaning her head on the window and shutting her eyes. Athena, Emma, and Sabrina all exchanged looks almost trying to read each other's minds. 

"Well, in that case, tomorrow morning should be fun,' said Emma. 

"Yeah, I doubt I'll see his ass tomorrow," mumbled Sammi.

One week later 

A knock on the door surprises Sammi, looking up from her pile of books on the small dining table. She checks the watch on her wrist, wondering if it could be Athena fresh out of work. The knocks got a bit stronger, finally made Sammi walk over and look through the peephole. She immediately rolled her eyes, swinging the door open with a hand on her hip. In the hallway stood a sheepish Vince, holding a dozen red roses. He didn't look right into Sammi's eyes, only extending his arm to pass on the flowers. 

"That's it? You're not gonna say anything?" asked Sammi, crossing her arms and scowling at her boyfriend. 

Vince scuffed, scratching his head before straightening up. "I'm sorry for going out and not telling you. And I'm also sorry for being a jealous little bitch," 

Sammi unexpectedly chuckled at Vince, calling himself a bitch, taking the roses out of his hand. "I'm sorry for being stubborn and telling you to find a new girlfriend. I hope this isn't your way of telling me you did." said Sammi, smiling carefully at Vince. He walked into the apartment, engulfing Sammi in a tight hug, happy to feel her accept it. 

"I don't think I'd call anyone my girlfriend if I fucked this up," said Vince, kissing Sammi with such love. "I know I can't get mad at you wanting to have a little fun like me or be around my friends. I just like to see you still be the same Sammi as I met," 

"Vince, I'm gonna be okay, but I do love that you care. It really does mean a lot. Besides, that was my first high since the beginning of the year, I'm not gonna go crazy," 

"And you're right, you're a grown adult who is way more responsible than most of the people my age I know combined. Also, my house is getting a little lonely without you," said Vince with an adoring smile. 

"Well that's what happens when you buy a mansion for one person that's also drastically far away from me," 

"So we're good? We can go out tonight and head over to mine?" asked Vince, wrinkling his eyebrows together in worry. Instead of a verbal answer, Sammi kissed Vince deeply, wrapping her arms around his neck. 

"Yeah we're good, dumbass…" muttered Sammi. 

[mikkock]

Uhm??????? Unacceptable?? Please tell me more about your OCs in that last art? I demand it? I want a full report on my desk before morning? Cite your sources please?

Oh no,, you’re asking,,, about my own faves,,, sorry to everyone, but I guess im never going to shut up ever now. (i already don’t shut up ever, what have u done, im now going to speak so much that society will collapse AT LEAST)

But for real. I enjoy pretending I don’t have faves, I love all my kids the same, buT WE ALL KNO THAT’S A LIE, those two my fave bitches (they snatched that title from the last two faves, rip to them, and they also snatched, n I must really make that clear, the title of “the bitches with the most AUs from the previous previous faves. Their power.)

SO. Get ready for a ride, table of content: them, their respective character, their story, and the pLETHORA OF ALTERNATE STORIES I GAVE THEM because i must yell about all the versions of my kids i have (non-exhaustive cause its that serious bro, but ill take extra time for the universe depicted in that art just for u bby). (tbh if clamp is allowed to sprinkle their fave gays in all their universes so am i, except they aint secondary characters there, every story is just theirs. love that concept.)(itll be so long you’re getting a whole novel even if i have to post it in two posts)

So~ Em twos. Dari n Wei-wei as I call em, or Dumbass n Egg if you wanna get friendly.

They’re my proudest instance of “oops i made a squad of characters, and two of them just accidentally were so perfectly compatible and complementary oh no I guess they’re in love now.” And then they became my favourite. Cause I guess their potential was too much (jk its bc they hot)

cuties.

I spent ten minutes wondering which to introduce first cause dang son, I want to talk bout them both so much shefjgfdg

First, as I technically designed him first (like ten minutes before the other), my man weiwei. if u ever saw my art its impossible that you havent seen him at least once. cause i’m legit always drawing him. cause im in love bro.

Demonstration : here are my computer scribbled weiweis of 2020 so far (with a few daris there n there they’re a package deal), that i could find, and they do not include all the paper sketches that i’m too lazy to take pics of. (i just been drawing him with so much hair these days that’s illegal, his brand is baldness)

But anyway, he’s CHEN Chia-Wei, he’s 21, he’s Taiwanese n I love him. Two very important facets of his character when you meet him: he doesn’t talk, and is absolutely, in every single dimension, built to make you fall head over heels for him.

He’s (in the “canon” storyline if i may call it that since it’s def not my most developed one but oh well) an art student, mostly paints but is also great at photography and videography (his vibe is busy hectic pieces with strong bold colours, lots of harsh edges, and very people focused).

Aside from that, he’s also super into fashion, and because he’s part of the rich boy squad (the “im broke so im giving half my characters wealth in compensation) he Can and Does exhibit some quite funky fits when he feels like it. (maybe a reason I draw him a lot, since my fave thing is pretty boys in weird ass clothes)(and then i also draw him in just casual shit cuz tittiful men in plain white tees you know. there’s just something about it.)

Small compilation of outfits. ft me and my band handwriting roasting outfits that id also kill to own but ok u know.

He digs music. (i make playlists for my OCs and i gotta say, his is the best one, i spent so many hours researching it, “arranging” it etc n its still a work in progress but dude. she got many moods my fave part is when it suddenly turns into so many cheesy ballads also she’s enormous cause im as wordy in playlists as I am in writing.) listens to a lot, n also he can play piano n guitar. cause you know. heartthrobs got to win your heart with a song (and if he’s alone he can even mumble some songs, who knows maybe even sing em softly, definitly a sight to stumble on accidentally). Big main artists that have his vibes are Hello Nico, No Party for Cao Dong, n Circa Waves’s “what’s it like over there” album.

He does a lot of sports. He ain’t fit through magic, rip to him. He’s got a serious routine, and it’s a time he likes to use alone, cause nothing like running at the break of dawn, alone with your thoughts, which you can just easily forget through the exhaustion of a workout session afterwards.

he also eats. A lot. Food is just good, bro. (the canon story is def happening some place europe aka his biggest struggle is how expensive food is here. outrageous.)

He secretly loves super cheesy movies. the dramatic romcoms??? the cute shows that are just so cute and worriless?? anything involving soulmates??? yeh dude. he watches it, he reads it, he listens to it, and he may cry about it, but no one will know. That’s the one true guilty pleasure. (and he definitly has a collection of romance dvds, books n manhuas in his old room back at the family home. where no one can see it. perks of studying abroad. no one can see ur hoarding of material that clashes your image. “yes i watch edgy experimental things haha yes i love those smart people movies of course wow the philosophy…” and then immediatly goes to watch the trashiest predictable but oh so sweet dramas all night)

While he doesn’t speak (as in with the mouth) he can communicate in a bunch of language, due to having moved around quite a bit. On top of his native mandarin and hokkien, he’s fluent in English, so he can use those to write, and is also fluent in TSL, and pretty good in HKSL (and from that, other close-in-syntax sign languages). So he doesn’t have trouble getting around, but then he is also overall quiet in public (with close friends and over text though, that’s another story, that’s where he gets chattier, and also where you may get more of his true personality). Also, he can speak with his sister. That’s pretty cool bro.

I was going to say he’s a very “hides his true colours under a shell” type of character but you know, for an egg character, that’s pretty ironic. We love poetic cinema.

He presents himself as a very laid back, chill detached dude, going with the flow and all that great stuff, and masterfully mixes just the right doses of mysterious, flirty and calm to just go around vibing. But ain’t that jUST THE MILLENIAL’S ILLNESS, those dANG KIDS, going around, gettin relationships but never intimacy 👏😢 (there’s more to it dont leave)

First of all, before you see the Drama, the Turmoil, the first thing you notice when you really do befriend him is that he’s c h i l d i s h, he gets sulky when things dont go following the plan, he gets whiny n jealous for not getting attention , he gets competitive over stupid challenges, and way too playful if you start teasing, and when he gets flustered too…you think you get cool stoic dude but actually you get a dude who’s reacting to things with way too much intensity, and boi i thought u were gon be mature what’s that why have you been pouting for three days over losing a bet come on- That’s mostly coming up when he interacts with his sister, but the closest you are to him to more of it you get to see.

He’s also an affectionate dude actually. Like physically. As in you’ll get spontaneous hugs. He’s come nap on your shoulder. That’s a perk of befriending him if you ask me.

Also he tries to look so cool, so tough haha. He’s actually a lil sensitiv boi. he gets fluffy, he gets flustered, he heart eyes. you turn around and he’s gazing at ya as if you were the whole universe. he gets a mini crisis for holding hands with his crush. ya know. he’s secretly a softie.

nerd.

Then in the “what he doesn’t show” (my fave part), where you stock all the anxieties, all the trauma… Obviously there’s a lot of anxiety here (selective muteness being a symptom of it, he hides the other ones very well) mostly fear of inadequacy, of abandonement and of loneliness. mmmmmmmaybe that’s why he was v reticent to continue pursuing that one guy he was into when he realised he was just a tad too into him oh no is that some,, like?? some lovey-love?? cant have that im afraid of gettin heartbroken bro. Aint that sad for a someone who’s one true goal is just findin someone to love and to be with forever, the struggles of yearnin for a soulmate when there’s nothing you fear more than getting attached to a person and letting them see you and your flaws.., delicious.

Now tho (because its so alone speaking about a character on their own and i just wanna get to the part where i can speak bout em together and how they bring out bits of each others ya kno, the good kush….), Dari…

He’s pretty, i must say, and got the funniest hair to draw, and comes from the most opposite background to weiwei’s.

Darian Andriev PARVANOV, also 21, comes from the remote Bulgarian countryside, but i still love him (this makes it sound as if i wouldnt normally love someone from the bulgarian countryside. its not what i meant. by default ud remind me of my son so you’d start being liked if u came from the bulgarian countryside) Now for the first instance of “wow, the complementarity”. The first thing i thought making Dari was that he looked too cool, and that he obviously was a dumbass, and mostly that he was physically unable to shut up. (o fuck he’s me)

best picture i could find of him. He’s got the dilemma of “wow he looked so pretty n cool until he opened his mouth” 

He’s ALSO an art student (cause they were initially created for the purpose of filling the gap of “i have ocs in every field except the one i sorta know that’s so stupid”), painting major (def vibes differently than weiwei though, he’s doing those soft pretty landscapes n flowers, everything real pretty and peaceful, we got some impressionism nerd in here folks). 

He was/is a real country boy, farm family, he helped tend the fields, he worked in plantations for pocket money, he knows how to take care of cattle and chicken and goats and all the cool babies you can take care of, he can tell whether the soil is good or not, he can drive a tractor, and doesnt fear dirt.

but then also he’s kind of a neat freak, he hates getting paint on himself, so the duality of man, dirt ok but paint? disgostin. his spaces are real neat and spotless, he likes cleaning (its relaxing) and does it nearly too often.

his dumbassery comes from lack of common sense and impulsiveness, aside from that he’s actually what you’d call “mad smart”, dude had em good grades, he can memorise pages upon pages of the most trivial information, he has an accumulation of knowledge beyond limits, and is good at problem solving. so he can recite all the words of the F letter of the dictionnary, but would also put a curling iron in his mouth to see if it would curl his tongue. (side note, he does have a problem with heat n fire, most his “oopsie how i wound up hurting myself on acccident” story involve burning -that stove was just too tempting…)

while he doesnt feel very attached to his home country, he does feel strongly for his family. he’d do anything for his mum (and actually does everything to make her proud already, that’s his one main goal), and he’s ready to sacrifice a lot for her (as in, spend years working non-stop a really uncomfortable job so his mother wouldnt have to pay a cent of his expenses even though she said she could by doing some sacrifices herself,and then being ready to come back as soon as needed if anything happened, and potentially drop his career and dream n go back to the farm life to provide for mama)(also he still does hold onto some parts of his home country’s traditions, and does sometimes feel homesick but more in a ‘i left the most beautiful landscapes n the city feels cramped and claustrophobic and i dont know people and i dont feel in the right place cuz im a forreigner with a thicc accent who doesnt master the language of this place and straight up have different body language communicators due to cultural difference oh lord i wanna be home where a nod means no and a head shake is yes i keep misunderstanding everything”)

if you want background noise he’s the perfect pal to call over, he’s just so chatty, he got hours and hours of non stop speech ready for you. you can shut him up once you’re done listening with the offering of food. works everytime.

he’s definitly not shy. neither in terms of talking to people, nor when it comes to making decisions. he’s quite bold, and rarely hesitates to go towards something he wants. he’s direct in his approach to most everything.

he likes partying. mostly the socialising part, talkin to people is just fun ya feel. and being in the crowd, doing whatever, pressure free? ya can dance n enjoy yourself, and people wont notice? yeah that’s nice. but doesnt do it super often cause broke bitches aint got the party time n budget. 

he likes arm. (just an excuse for me to drop this thing here cuz i like it)

While he’s an overall bubbly looking character, with a cheery loud personnality, he does carry some youth trauma that has him more reticent to engage in happiness, he comes from what you could call “not the wokest background” and he may have fallen victim of it : he’s kind of a flashy noticeable character, both physically and in his personnality, and doesnt exactly matches the expectations of dudes in the area he comes from (delicate, emotional and sweet guy? that doesnt exist bro). He went through it, and it has definitly had some impact on his confidence in many aspects. But he’s 100% the type of guy to put on the fake happy front because if feeling bad is sad, making the people you care about sad for you too is Unacceptable Right??? relying on friends?? what???

But then what are we supposed to be doing with such charming characters huh,,, 

Make them fall in love obviously.

Their story obviously has to do with falling in love and workin a relationship cause if I dont write romance i literally die, but I make the center pivot of all of it communication, and barriers in communications. Most obvious being them coming from wildly different cultures, having different native languages, and also the ways you adapt to muteness (what i love most bout that part is even then they fucked up given the easiest quickest small body language things to communicate are head nods n then i managed to make one come from the one country that reverses those like iconic how do they even understand each other -through a lot of work and love bro) but also on more “introspective” points, how to say things that you are even afraid to think about, how to open up and share your burdens and trauma with someone, how to say words you’ve been convinced you weren’t allowed to, the inner turmoil of communication in short. And then also communication through art, and through alternative unusual ways. If i were snobbish i could call it something like “a thinkpieces on how humans overcome obstacles in communication, and adapt, all for the sake of pursuing love” but fact is its mostly boys being in love n learning how to speak, figuratively and also quite literally. And also its me having fun with making characters evolve from each other, be able to influence each other for the better, helping each other be more comfortable with themselves and express the true things of their personnality, and discover new aspects. I just wanna write intense and soulful love bro.

So in less concept and more facts, weiwei meets dari, dari being his puppy self just immediatly strikes a conversation and weiwei gets interested cause “oho nice pretty boy? very good. i want some of that”. they get closer because you cant fight off the Power of friendship (and also the power of “what your friend is bestie with my friend?? guess we hanging out”) and then friendship and interest turns into pining, held back by respective dread of what romance with the other would mean (as in “romance?? cant have that we cant feel” and “with him?? cant do that, convince yourself he’s just a friend immediatly what would the family think”) but eventually they do have to just crash into one another cause that’s just the gravitational pull bro, its physics bro. and from then on its all unlearning destructive behaviours, bettering oneself with the help of the other, and getting over trauma to finally live ur best life. and gettin fckin married bro they’re both cheeseballs theyll wanna wed

BUT MAKING EM FALL IN LOVE ONCE ISNT ENOUGH time to make 3894853 alternate universes about em.

Lets speak bout my fave of those for a hot second.

First of all, the one of the art that brought this ask, guess i could call it “Pretty Tribes” AU, bunch of tribes live and do their things, having nature and energy powers. Dari n Weiwei’s tribes are bros, the latter’s powers needing them to move around to get energy from different places, enabling them different abilities. So basically they get to hang at the other’s place while the regenerate energy from there, and in exchange they help them out with various tasks (dari’s tribe is a rly farmer oriented one, with plant magic, while weiwei’s got more poyvalent powers, and have very good healers notably, so it comes in handy). The two boys were born a few months apart in their respective tribes, so naturally, anything the two clans meet, they’re put together to play and all, and from that they became besties, and each time they meet, after the gaps of time separating the two groups, they feel more and more of a little something else~ story is themed round growing up, friendship between clans, their traditions and cultures, and pretty boys in pretty clothes in pretty landscapes interacting with nature.

The superpower AU, i fuckin love it bro. Its an old one, made for other characters, but i just love it so much that i had to inject my faves in it. Its got a grimy ugly setting, bad government, propaganda, and fights between super-people (heavily mediatised for entertainment and reinforcing the idea that “look at these evil villains thank god us the good government protects you from them”), with a side of bad ethics in science. In all that, those two have the role of “those two young enemy warrior and villain, they were so powerful and fought so hard”, public figures, legendary and admired by both sides, everyone followed their fights, til one day they presumably died in one of their showdowns. (haha sike they actually found themselves talking for 5 seconds and realised they lived in a society, n built a plan to run away). The main characters get to find they’re alive because one of em had history with super-warrior-golden-boy and go to seek their help to overthrow the Big Bads. (stealing them from their nice gay cottage hermit life smh so rude)

Mermaids. I like those. Sailor weiwei sees merman dari, they both save each other in different occasions, they grow fascinated with each other, they’re at sea, water romance. Amazing. AU made half cuz i just like water n fish. and shirtless sailors.

(i couldnt find art of it in five minutes so have a link to that lil animatic piece i made of it once)

Indie band AU, where i was listening to songs that vibe so well with those two in general n then my brain was like “what if they’re the ones playing”. They’re (along with the rest of the art squad) a nice little alternative rock band, doing their thing, then one of their songs blows up, and they get quite the attention, to the dismay of dari who wrote that song in a moment of “oh no im so in love with my bandmate but i cant tell him what if i ruin everything we have going on ill just have to love from afar and deal with that” and now has way too many people interested in who he wrote it about and theorising from his every move when performing it (a mix of music, secret crushes and social media) (ft a picture of neither of them but its the least ugly art i found of this AU cuz its old and instruments are the bane of my existence)(also kelana is so pretty i gotta flaunt her around)

in kind of the same vibe, as in we’re in a music world overexposed to social media, i also integrated em to an AU i did for fun, “boyband AU” as its called aka idol based band system cuz you kno, i got a hobby, lets apply it. Band boy Dari and bodyguard Weiwei got a thing going on, but can’t really act on it in any way, because they’d just destroy the whole band if it ever came public. Featuring annoying bandmates, catchy pop songs and people making fanaccounts of that one hot Mr.Bodyguard cause dang he hot.

(all the art of this one so ugly im sorry)

SPY AU, one of my fave brand. They spies, they get assigned on the same mission, they work real nice with each other. spies hot. fights. strategy. i just like the concept. Gays taking down the worst traffics imaginable??? I love that song.(i actually have so much on this cause s p i e s are fuckin great)

Fashion. U kNOW i have an AU for fashion. Supermodel and his private stylist, trying to maintain the line of professionalism. And failing to do so. Lets make out in unpractical designer clothes.

Have an highschool AU for a bunch of characters, injected them as “spinoff”, start chatting online being art buddies, fall in love without meeting (ft. all the iconics of internet friendship like knowing tiny details of their personnalities but not the fact that they have a sister or “waIT ur a GUY i thought u were a girl wow wild good news for my gay ass”)

n those are my faves as far as i remember, i got a fuckton of small other ones that arent fleshed out enough, or some that are more of a guilty pleasure universe, and some that are more like “projects that i can expend on as soon as i run out of daydream material” (like u kno those hospital drama shows with super innacurate medicine n shit like idk scrubs or whatever, yeh i want some of that but im keeping it for later)

[nozomijoestar]

 I had an idea for Violentine eventually getting married and because society as we know it has been dead so long they just get creative about the whole thing

Also time jump from the end of the game and Texas Two is now Big, AJ is a preteen, Clem and the older of the former kids can now pay their taxes if those were still a thing

BGM if you like that when you read, lyrics here

“Been a while huh Tenn? Everything’s so busy these days I haven’t had the time. I’m sorry.”

She sat cross-legged on the partly overgrown ground. A small wreath of fresh flowers hung from the top of a cross. The wood was faded and weather-beaten, but the name carved there could never leave her memory.  From her pocket she pulled a paper, unfolded it, then placed it. Violet sighed, even her smile seemed exhausted. Her eyes threatened to brim over with tears she thought she’d long left behind.

“AJ made that for you. He’s gotten a lot better at drawing you’d probably love it. He’s a little past your age now. Shit I’m, I’m taking too long to get to the point aren’t I?”

The breeze picked up making the trees rustle as though they communicated the will of ghosts. She looked around. The crosses had multiplied through the years, each one a new nick on her heart. She chewed her lip and fiddled with her bun. Now wasn’t the time for death. Her stomach churned butterflies. A genuine smile bled into her voice.

“I wanna ask Clem to marry me. Just saying it out loud feels weird and amazing all at once. I honestly didn’t think she’d want me this long but life kept happening.”

In one motion she laid spread eagle and stared into the pink clouds that signaled dusk. She closed her eyes as another sigh fell from the trees. The sound of people beyond the graveyard drifted in voices, laughter, and song. Though the years since there’d been largely silence were gone she could never shake a need to be prepared. Even if the walls had expanded far past the former Ericson gates, danger never slept. It was something Clementine loved to reinforce. 

The thought of the way her face went stern and her voice deepened made Violet chuckle. She rose to her feet and dusted herself.

“I should get a move on. It was great talking to you again.”

After a final readjustment of the wreath she passed through the yard. A flag decorated with many stitches flapped in the wind reading ‘Texas Two’. Sometimes she looked up at it and still laughed at its ridiculousness. Though since she’d been responsible for it, that was the same as laughing at her old self. Her old self, she pondered, the Violet who hadn’t dared to entertain the thoughts she did now. When had that person changed? She didn’t think she’d ever know.

Inside the old admin building echoed a section of Chopin’s ‘Winter Wind’ in A minor. The anxious dance her nerves were doing calmed. Louis would be finished teaching piano lessons for the day. Her stride became confident. If she was going to make a sappy fool of herself it would be out of public view. Of her old mannerisms she could at least keep that one. 

He sat continuing to play though he knew she’d come by the pattern of her gait. His lack of a tongue elevated a need to pay notice to the finer things in other ways. She leaned against the doorway and folded her arms. They carried on in silence. Violet closed her eyes again, taken by her imagination. The shrieking highs and nervous lows seemed to pull every worry she’d ever had like threads off a loom. 

She saw Clem’s head bashed open like a ripe fruit, or the paling of her bite ridden skin and its missing chunks. Right behind it came the thought of AJ’s neck dyed red as he took Tenn’s place at the bottom of a herd and picked clean. Their home at the bottom of smoldering ashes. Worst of all above the extremes, she would bare her soul for Clem greater than she already had to see her spirit fall. In one moment for some reason or other everything they’d made of love would fracture, and Violet might as well quit the venture entirely. 

As if reading the tone of her thoughts the music stopped. Her eyes reopened to find Louis scribbling on a scavenged notepad. With a grin he turned it to face her. His eyes twinkled with their unquenchable charm.

‘That get your attention?’

She tucked her raw feelings back into their cage. The processed version rolled off her tongue.

“A little too hard Lou. Guess that means you’ve graduated from sucking.”

She finished with a soft laugh seeing him flip her off. The way he wiggled his eyebrows told her he found it funny. He gestured for her to come over and made room on the piano seat. She sat with her hands folded and stared nervously into her lap. Her stomach churned while the words she wanted to find were slow to come. At the touch of his hand on her shoulder she shook her head.

“It’s nothing bad I’m only overthinking again. I just...tonight I’m gonna propose. I want to. What do you think?”

He smiled and stared wide eyed filled with glee. A rush of air she guessed equated to a gasp came as he clapped. It made her blush and seem sheepish curling into herself. The sound of Louis scribbling excitedly refocused her attention.

‘About damn time! I almost thought you’d never bring it up. My advice, take her to a spot important to you guys. Get her thinking about all the deep stuff you’ve done together. If you’re really feeling it serenade her. That’s what I’d do.’

“I want her taking me seriously not laughing her ass off. By now my singing’s gotta be shitty.”

‘Oh come on Vi, live a little. Singing or not the point is you may never do this again. Make it a memory. You two were doing just that all this time anyway.’

Violet sighed and rested her forehead against the piano, defeated. The keys she pressed let out a wail. Another note was put before her.

‘Don’t sulk tell her how you feel. Clem’s gonna love you more than she already does.’

“...How do you know she won’t say no?”

He cocked his head and interrogated her with a bewildered stare. Her stomach sank; her voice had been whiny like a child’s. In the end, she was being silly. It made the confidence she’d mustered drop in shame.

‘We don’t know Vi but if she’s stuck around this long it means something. Clem’s the kind of girl to take off if she really didn’t believe in what she sees.’

She groaned and the keys played an ugly sound. 

“You’re right. I’m being a coward. I fucking hate it. I thought that side of me was done with.”

‘It’s ok to be scared. This is a big deal! You know how you’re guaranteed to fuck it up though? Having a negative attitude. Positive vibes Vi, positive.’

“Yeah yeah. You’ve given me an idea. If you see her tell her to come to the bell tower tonight. That it’s urgent.” She said with a lazy smile.

They bid each other goodbye leaving Louis to start up the piano solo of Kreisler’s ‘Liebesleid’. He’d reached halfway using a laser-focused concentration when another, larger presence filled the door. His deft hands stopped. Clementine smiled and clapped as she walked towards him. Without a moment to waste he ripped out the used pages of his notepad; they were stuffed into his coat pocket. It didn’t go unnoticed when Clem raised an eyebrow but gave no comment. 

She stood balancing her weight on her natural leg and leaning against the piano. Were she anyone else, even Violet, Louis would’ve sooner scolded her for lacking manners. He looked down to find her prosthetic ( a newly improved design of Willy’s built with higher mobility in mind ) still in good condition. 

“Caught ya.” She said giggling.

He looked up at her strong face, thick eyebrows, and overwhelming mane of curly hair. She had a stern beauty that always caught him by surprise for its rarity and strength. Violet sure knew how to pick ‘em. 

‘Wanted to make sure your foot was ok. Doubt Willy would screw it up but still y’know?’

“Thanks. Listen Louis...are you free for a little while? There’s something I wanna talk about. I want your honest opinion.”

A glint in his eyes betrayed his excitement. His gut instinct gave him an inkling of what hovered unsaid. He almost laughed at the coincidence of it all. She slowly sat at his invitation and fiddled the keys. After a meandering pause she cleared her throat; he wore a grin.

“You know Violet and I have been together a while now. Longer actually than I ever thought possible. I’m grateful for it everyday. It’s sadly not something a lot of people can say. That’s why...I don’t know if this is still the right word but, I want her to be my wife.”

She stared at him and twiddled her thumbs. Rarely had he seen her hesitate, much less be meek. The sight made him sit up straighter, listen harder. From the corner of her eye she caught his expectant stare. 

“I guess regardless of what it’d be called these days that’s what I want. She’s too important for me to lose. It’s time she really knows it and how I feel.”

For a moment she gauged his face for the slightest reaction. The intensity radiating as if a conjured aura from her body reminded him of someone constipated; he again fought a laugh. It was as though she resigned herself to a do or die mission. A determination not a far cry from what she summoned up before a supply run. In his opinion, they both were taking this to lengths so ridiculous it bordered on comical. That however would remain a secret.

He nodded with enthusiasm and that seemed to lighten her worry. On his notepad this time he thought hard before writing. 

‘It can mean whatever you want it to Clem. You love her, that’s the most important part. I say go for it. Any plans on how you’ll ask?’

“Well there’s really only one way right? I have to tell her outright, just not sure where to do it.”

‘Y’know she asked to meet with you tonight on the bell tower. There couldn’t be a better spot if you ask me.’

“Did she? That makes this easier.”

She sighed in relief and rested her head on his shoulder.

“I love her Louis. More than she might know.”

‘Tell her not me.’ he said with a smile.

After dinner the night air blew warm embracing the essence of summer. Clementine found Violet pacing in front of the ladder they’d once helped construct. She remembered seeing her like this then too, anxious over everything turning out right. Her suspicion turned on and her eyes narrowed in concern. She had yet to be noticed from a distance. 

In seconds that weighed like minutes she sighed and mumbled to herself. 

“Alright Clementine all you have to do is talk. Sure Clementine, like it’s that simple. You’re stalling now. Get yourself together.”

“You sure don’t mind keeping a girl waiting.”

Violet’s voice seized her attention from the grasping hands of her thoughts. Before she could say another word laughter filled the silence. It made her blush even as she frowned in mock irritation. 

“I didn’t think you’d notice.”

“I wouldn’t have if we weren’t the only ones here. Feelin ok?”

“Yeah just was wondering what’s on your mind to have us meet at this place.”

She smiled feeling a kiss on her cheek. Violet wore the look that always came when an idea longed to burst out before it drove her mad. Clementine slowly trailed her eyes up and down as though they were meeting for the first time anew. The demure air in her posture broke the obscuring fog of Clementine’s own nerves. Her expression softened into a look of curious wonder. 

The streaks of moonlight cast across Violet’s face bent her grin toward the mysterious. She ran her thumb over Clementine’s knuckles and gestured at the ladder. 

“Come with me and you’ll find out.”

Above them the stars filled the horizon into an infinity none would ever measure. The moon aided their brightness and bathed all it touched in an ethereal glow. The ground beneath her feet shined as though she walked on a river of silver; as though she were weightless. A breeze carrying the scent of flowers and wood-smoke, of life below, rustled Violet’s hair. Clementine felt her heart thud louder. 

The bell tower had remained untouched through the years save for a few new cracks and crumbling bricks. Vines entangled a section of broken stone railing, the same as the first night they’d sat together. She dared to imagine the ghosts of their old selves caught in a roller-coaster of teenage emotions; each burning more intensely than the last into love. They stopped and leaned against the railing beside the spot. 

They were gazing at the sky when Violet spoke first; her thoughts tumbled from her like a waterfall. A part of Clementine was relieved. 

“So uh, Clem, I wanna be real honest with you. These past seven years went by so fast some days it feels like my head’s spinning keeping track. All this below us? All these people? If you’d told me before we’d be dealing with this I’d have called you crazy. Hell, if you’d told me there’d be a time where I could have nights not having to worry something would break into the school, I’d never believe it.”

She took a break to breathe and look over the dozens of smaller lights in varying buildings that stretched into the pushed back treeline. Each one signified a condensed hope and dream from those it kept warm. Their numbers lifted Violet’s spirit to continue. Clementine stood mesmerized, her eyes trained to Violet and Violet alone. It was as though each word revealed a deeper truth than the last.

“We wouldn’t be here right now if it weren’t for you. I know you can say it was a group effort, it’d be true, but you’re our motivation. I don’t think I’d be half the person I am today if I hadn’t met you and AJ. Point is...remember when I said once I couldn’t imagine life without you?”

“...Of course. It took me completely by surprise.”

“I still feel that way. Clem, I want you in my life till it ends someday.”

The breeze stirred into a mild wind as Clementine’s eyes widened softly. She stumbled to speak then went silent when Violet leaned closer. Her entire body pleaded a need for recognition, as if another chance would never come again.

“Marry me.”

Without hesitation Clementine pulled her into an embrace as their lips met. Her hands wandered to cup Violet’s face and not let go. They pressed together and sunk slowly to their knees. When at last they separated neither cared if anyone below had seen. Violet’s eyes shut in bliss feeling a gentle stroke on her chin and kisses peppering her face. There came a whisper on the verge of tears into her ear when Clementine hugged her tighter.

“You beat me to it you ass.”

“Heh, I can still keep you guessing.”

“Troublemaker.” came the reply with a grin.

AJ stood watching Ruby arrange bundles of wildflowers with the same care she gave all things. Though only twelve he’d nearly reached her height. He’d lost some inches shortening his hair to a buzz cut hidden beneath Clementine’s faded baseball cap. It was something he continued to be reminded of when Ruby’s motherly presence loomed so large. 

“Hey there shorty could ya give me a hand? These bouquets can get real messy.”

“Sure, but it’s Alvin Junior.”

“I know I know. Reminding me ain’t gonna help us no faster. I’ll tell Clem if you do good.” 

That made the hint of sourness in his expression bloom into an excited smile. Around them a small team of five busied themselves with the same task. They moved as Ruby directed to arrange each in a circle open only at the northern and southern sides. A myriad of colors blue, white, orange and so on occupied the center of the restored sports field. AJ sweated hoisting another bundle for the ring and nearly dropped it. Wordlessly Ruby caught it before it hit the ground and with that the last of it lay in place. 

They stepped back performing a final check several times until Ruby proved satisfied. On a clear spot amidst the flurry of activity around them (an army of chefs led by Omar; Willy’s team arranged benches) AJ rested. A sheen of sweat covered his face and exhausted eyes. The first clue he’d received for what lay ahead came when Louis slipped him a note and a wink at breakfast one morning. ‘Congrats on the new mom kid!’ he hadn’t understood what it meant; a part of him still felt he didn’t even when Clementine explained that no, weddings weren’t something you ate. 

As he felt the day’s work burn in his muscles he concluded whatever it looked like had to be worth the aches. He spotted Aasim approaching with a squirming bundle in his arms; AJ sprung to his feet. Every lecture he’d ever received on slacking echoed in his mind in unison. Aasim towered over AJ’s stature exuding an almost regal air were it not for the slight gruffness of his beard. In his shadow AJ straightened himself and stifled a laugh when a baby’s hand swatted his chin. His stare spoke of a sense of urgency matched in his baritone voice.

“Have you seen Ruby around AJ? It’ll be her turn to look after Susanna during the ceremony. Seems like that’ll start any minute now.”

“We worked on the flowers together but after that I’m not sure. Maybe she went to check on Clem and Vi-”

“The brides are ready Aasim, just had to go fetch ‘em after their fittins’.”

From behind them Ruby appeared with a blushing Clementine and Violet in tow. She pressed a kiss to Aasim’s cheek before reaching for the baby. 

“Guess everything’s ready. I’d have come sooner but we had to finish cataloging that cache of recovered books in the library.”

“It’s alright I’ve got her, you just focus on those two. Lord knows they’re eager to get started and I don’t blame ‘em.”

Susanna piped up in her mother’s arms and stretched a hand toward Clementine.

“Ba!”

“Hey there Susie you doing ok?” Clementine cooed as she let her nose be patted.

“Guuu-ba!”

“Looks like you’ve got a way with kids that aren’t AJ too.” 

“Well Vi she’s not Auntie Clem for nuthin’. Go on and say bye to Auntie Clem and Violet, Susanna.”

“Baaba.”

They waved in parting as Ruby left for the quickly filling crowd. Dozens well over a hundred sat chatting among themselves; more than a few stole curious glances to center stage. A hundred and so on more joined soon after. Clementine felt Violet graze her arm and gesture at a dazzled AJ. His eyes held awe that grew when Clementine pet his head. 

“Ruby told me you were a real help goofball. I appreciate it.”

“You guys...you both look amazing...”

“Thanks kid. The rest of it’ll blow your mind if you stick around and watch.”

Without needing to be told further AJ nodded and made way for the benches; he looked back only once wearing an encouraging smile. The field was bare save for its key players, and the crowd fell into silence. Aasim signaled to take places then addressed those seated with a wave of his arms. Clementine and Violet stared at one another on opposite ends of the ring; Clementine’s grin made Violet blush and stare at her feet.

“Good afternoon everyone! We’re here today to witness the ceremony of a union; one long in waiting. This couple wishes to affirm their love for one another through a promise of lifelong devotion. You may both enter the ring.”

They obeyed having eyes only for each other; it formed a safety net against the pressure of so many others upon them. Softly Violet mouthed “It’s ok.”

“We’ll begin the professions of love. Clementine you may start.”

She cleared her throat and traced over every inch of Violet, of her flowing hair and single braid that whipped up from the back of her tunic in the breeze. The blue fabric lined with white threaded patterns complimented her pale green eyes. A crown of flowers adorned her head. Every detail was memorized.

“For as long as we’ve known each other you’ve supported me; even if you took time to open up. There’re so many moments, so many close calls where I’d never have made it out if it weren’t for you. Each day makes me feel more alive than the last. Not just because of our friends, or because of all we’ve done, being able to know you’re there is enough. I dedicate this dance to your affection.”

Slowly she took a step forward then pivoted into a practiced twirl. A dance of passion sent her traveling about their arena. Sweat flew from her brow and splattered in places on her belt’s spinning tassels. One misplaced step threatened to topple her but slyly she recovered before worry could disturb Violet. 

With a grin she launched into a new phase. Her arms spun and, where able, her legs kicked. The movements blended so fluidly few could pinpoint the moment aggression gave way to softness. To even fewer it revealed its heart; a reflection of her lover’s metamorphosis. 

There were moves describing sarcastic defenses, cowardly silences, sections mapping the rush from kind words and intimate quiet. As if anew they were pulled into the haze of honest kisses, the whirlwind of lovemaking that went deep into sleepless nights. On occasion they were plunged headfirst before icy fear and protective worry that pricked to the bone. Those moments would be quickly broken by a return to memories of the warmth in living.

Almost instinctively the full result of a week’s practice strengthened its control as she neared the end. Her mind sank into an empty plane, speaking only what little remained unsaid through her rhythm. When it was done the sight of Violet brimming with tears told her everything. Wordlessly she gathered herself then bowed.

Aasim stood in entranced silence. The edges of his solemn eyes had grown misty, defying his self restraint. He gestured and caught Violet’s attention away from her thoughts.

“Feelings have been expressed that require an answer. Violet, you may give your reply.”

“I’ve heard them. Clementine you taught me it’s alright to feel; that holding everything in and running from help is what makes a coward. Choosing who I want to be in life by learning from others is a gift that takes courage. You kept trying even when I wanted to shut you out. I’d never seen anyone so dedicated. Because of you I remembered the people who care about me, away from the ghosts I wanted to chase. I dedicate this dance to your strength.”

This time the was an elegant start defined by tight turns and precise footwork. Each move linked firmly to the last and the next. Clementine’s chest tightened as she watched; her breath caught in her throat. Within the dance she felt herself be peeled back. There was the Clementine she saw herself as, steel willed and cautious, in places fragmented. It morphed to show the rare moments of worry and the storms that wracked her in anxiety. In a few moments that still churned her stomach she felt a lurking shadow of the cruelty that’d tumbled so easily from her whenever she’d been cast astray. 

Her body grew hot, her shoulders heavy before she saw the dance shift and the feeling passed. There was a return to gentleness and the power in mercy. Like glittering bubbles memories flooded her mind fresh as they days they’d been reality. She’d cried and screamed and torn her hair each time someone had been lost; yet she pressed forward hopeful. She’d witnessed distrust seize people’s eyes as they coveted rather than strive for understanding; yet never closed her ears to humanity. She’d cried awake sunken to the floor and teeth grit replaying each life she’d taken, each selfish need she’d served; yet her remorse was proof she retained a soul. 

Tears trickled down her face, and she felt not a care to stop them. The sensations of the present returned only when Violet had finished. In an instant that moved in her vision like slow motion she was embraced. Aasim’s voice grounded her beyond the sensation of Violet’s heart beating in time with her own. 

“We have witnessed them speak to each other’s deepest self. In this they have found unity, and taken hold of that which they seek for themselves in another. It is time for the final step. Let them now dance together and display the bond when two become one. Music for them, if you’d all please.”

Clementine felt Violet shift against her the crowd clapped a beat. 

“You ready?”

“Yes.”

They took up position smiling through their flushed faces. The dance moved slow and contemplative as if longing to savor each moment. All else began to fade replaced by a rhythm that held a peaceful trance. Neither kept track of how long they swayed until Clementine said,

“Why don’t we show them what we’ve got?”

“Ready when you are partner.” Violet replied grinning.

In one motion they separated still holding on by one hand, throwing themselves into a spin that ended in a twirl. Violet laughed finding herself again in Clementine’s arms then out once more. She took her turn twirling Clementine, her eyes sparkling and heard racing. They spun holding each other then separated to link arms each facing the other’s back but continuing to lock eyes. It prefaced another separation as they spun alone only to jump back together. At this they laughed.

Violet’s vision was filled by the bright sky when Clementine dipped her then leaned close. Violet wrapped her arms around her neck and pressed their foreheads together.

“I love you.”

“Love you back.”

“Promise?”

“Hell yeah.”

Their kiss found Clementine with hands roaming her hair but she didn’t care. A ways away the roar of the crowd filled their ears. Beside them Aasim clapped and wiped his face. He turned one last time to project his proud voice.

“I present to you all a married Clementine and Violet! May they have a happy life together.”

“That better not have jinxed anything Aasim.” Violet teased with a snicker.

“Shut it and go have fun with your wife. You guys deserve it.”

“Thanks for all this, really.”

“Keep treating her right Clem.” he replied smiling.

The after party blew quickly into a spectacle. Louis had attracted a cheerful gathering as he played pieces back to back. Clusters of people filled the admin building to the seams; further groups had piled into the school yard. The campus in its entirety lay at the heart of town from which hundreds of simple houses, storage, and shops fanned out. The multitude of guests had been guaranteed with more passing colorful banners AJ had overseen. 

A few carried weathered but functioning instruments, guitars, harmonicas, large and small drums. They formed a small band that led the tune of those dancing in the yard. A sizable banquet had been prepared from their surplus; beside Ruby chatted with Aasim while Susanna sucked on her bottle. From the balcony at the admin building’s face Clementine stood observing. Out of her regal wedding attire she nearly blended into the revelry were it not for her commanding presence. 

Any tension soon melted from her when she felt Violet’s arms around her waist. She smiled and leaned into the nuzzle against her neck. 

“How’s it feel? Thinking of anything?”

“I was wondering how things are closer to the wall and that group we sent out a day ago.”

“You mean Randy.”

“None of us can afford him screwing up. He’s been very...vocal lately. It’s giving me bad thoughts.”

“Hey none of that ok? Today’s our day to celebrate, we can worry about later when it comes.”

Clementine closed her eyes and pressed their foreheads together. 

“Where’s AJ?”

“With the other kids. Us grown ups are too intense for him right now. I don’t blame him, he seemed happy though.”

“I can think of one reason to justify that.” Clementine teased in a husky voice, her hand wandering below Violet’s waist.

“Clem not while everyone’s around.” came the reply followed by a giggle.

“Just teasing. We can go over it all later.”

“In that case you’ve got my interest.”

“Really? How about something like this to start.”

She pulled Violet closer and leaned her back against the railing. She studied the way Violet tilted her head as their lips met; saw the beauty in how her hair framed her face. Slowly she traced her fingers along her jaw, welcoming the feel of Violet grabbing a fistful of her shirt. They broke off at the whistles thrown at them from below. One glare and eye roll from Clementine silenced them. Violet chuckled. Her arms wrapped lazily around Clementine’s neck. 

“I’ll never forget today.”

“I hope not. If you ever do I’ll remind you.”

“Heheh, yeah.”

The music and chatter came to a sudden halt with a banging at the yard’s iron gates. Shocked dancers parted a pathway for a team in neat ranks, their boots marching in step. A man with a thick trimmed beard and thicker hair led them and adjusted the grip of his spear. It had a long curved edge akin to a beast fang and tassels that jiggled in time with the pistol on his belt. The well kept armor he wore, decorated in the motif of a cougar as his rank allowed, enhanced his bulk. His burly arms were defined by gnarled scars that betrayed his continued Old World hobby of rigorous exercise. 

He signaled a stop by raising his fist and was immediately obeyed. His beady eyes stared at Clementine without faltering. She read the challenge within them clearly and stood stiff backed,unwavering. From the crowd she felt multitudes looking to her in surprise that yielded to fear. Beside her Violet’s expression hardened and simmered with open disgust. The man spoke, his voice embed by a natural cunning.

“We’ve returned from our expedition with a generous offering from the community to the west.”

“Welcome back, I trust everything went well along with it.”

“Yes, yes of course. Nice to see we’ve been missed.” he said letting a sarcastic bite slip into his tone as he looked around.

“C’mon Randy we can talk about this anywhere but in front of everyone. There’s no need to put on some kind of show.” Violet added. 

His eyes studied her in frayed patience then flit back to Clementine. He made a gesture and his group dispersed.

“Sure I can be civil and play house with those wearing the big pants. Let’s have a private chat.”

He disappeared into the admin building. Clementine sighed deeply and let herself slacken. Tenderly Violet touched her hand, she took it without hesitation. She stared into the sky gathering herself until at last all her courage was summoned. With a nod she followed Violet’s lead into her office, something more animal than man fast approaching.

[lloydskywalkers]

two a.m. tea

This is for the wonderful @kipskiff , who recently did some fantastic art of Lloyd and Nya and Pixal getting tea at two am together, which is a concept I really wanted to write something on, so here we go! This is...technically an AU, because Lloyd and Nya know about Pixal before season 8, but you know what it’s a good AU that should be canon, because I love these three.

Nya is a lot of things, but one thing she definitely isn’t is blind.

(…most of the time.)

So when the new Samurai X crops up, in her armor, and promptly refuses to answer any questions about their identity, Nya spends a week or two flailing about before she gets serious. If someone’s got her mech, no matter how well-meaning their actions seem (saving Lloyd definitely won them points, but still) Nya needs to know who it is. It’s just a safety thing, and with their track record, it’s better to be safe than ambushed and nearly-slaughtered by someone they thought they could trust in the middle of the night.

So Nya cracks down and really starts studying the new samurai, mentally cataloguing the way they talk and how they choose to fight, what weapons they’re picking and the mannerisms they use, and eventually she’s able to pin down who it is — she’s promptly torn between utter shock and wondering why she didn’t think of that earlier, but she thinks she handles it pretty well.

Ironically, Lloyd figures it out five minutes before she does. (Or at least she thinks he does — he looks suspiciously calm about the whole thing, and he’s been the most unconcerned from the start. And he does have a track record with figuring out the identity of Samurai X, so…)

At any rate, Nya’s pretty sure that her and Lloyd are the only ones to have figured out Pixal’s secret, so by the time they all head off on their Find-Master-Wu missions, it’s easy enough for Nya to stop back into town every once in a while and meet up with them for tea at the hole-in-the-wall shop in the rougher part of town that Lloyd picks out for them.

He claims it’s where his uncle used to go sometimes, but Nya’s still too suspicious that Lloyd never entirely outgrew his past to believe that. He also claims that it’s the only place in town to get a decent cup of tea at two in the morning, which Nya is much more inclined to believe.

“-and then he tried to run, likely because he realized he was outmatched, but he must have forgotten we were on the twentieth story, because he tripped over his own feet and ran straight off the edge of the building, still clutching the money as he went.”

Nya grins as Pixal continues to detail her story to them, her eyes lit up brightly as she gestures, looking as enthusiastic as Nya’s seen her. Lloyd is listening in rapt attention, laughing at all the right parts as he sips at his own cup of tea — which very likely has too many sugars in it to be healthy, but what can you do. He’s in his new gi, the bright green one with the stitching she’d seen him working on a while back. It looks nice — it kinda makes Nya want to change up her own gi design, actually, she’s been feeling blues lately, for some reason…

She spares a brief glance at her current outfit, and shrugs. Sweat pants are comfy, and it’s not like she’s here to impress anyone, anyways. It probably looks pretty funny, actually, Lloyd in his gi and Pixal in her armor, then Nya seated between them looking like she just rolled out of bed.

“I like your glasses, by the way,” Lloyd mentions to Pixal, after they’ve finished with her story (she caught the guy about three flights down, which is less than Nya would have let him fall for).

“Oh!” Pixal’s hand drifts to the large-rimmed glasses she’s wearing. “Oh, thank you, I had forgotten I still had them on.”

“I told you they looked good on you,” Nya says, with an air of satisfaction. “You should keep ‘em.”

“Really?” Pixal says, hesitantly. “But I don’t really need them. My eyesight is perfectly fine.”

Nya shrugs. “Kai doesn’t need hair gel.”

“Jay doesn’t need ten blue jackets,” Lloyd chimes in.

“Cole doesn’t need sleeves.”

“Nya doesn’t need Starfarer socks.”

“Lloyd doesn’t need seven of those extra soft blankets.“

“Yes I do, there’s seven nights in a week,” Lloyd defends.

Nya shakes her head. “The point is, you might not need them, but you can want them. And if you want them, wear them! Simple as that.”

“Oh,” Pixal says, turning this over in her head. She finally nods. “I will keep them, then.”

“Nice!” Lloyd raises his teacup. “To Pixal’s glasses, then.”

“Hear, hear,” Nya clinks her cup against his. Pixal looks slightly confused, but she clinks her cup against theirs nonetheless. Lloyd snickers, and Nya leans back, sipping at her cooling tea.

“So, how’s it been on your side?” Nya asks Lloyd, nudging him.

Lloyd’s expression falls a bit, though Nya can tell he’s trying to look content about it. “Oh, it’s good,” he says, his cheer sounding forced. “There’s, um. There’s some late nights and stuff, but it’s not…it’s not bad, or anything. It’s good. Good times.”

Nya trades looks with Pixal.

“That was a terrible lie,” Pixal says, turning back to him.

Lloyd buries a hand in his hair, leaning back. “Ugh, fine. It’s a little lonely, that’s all, okay?”

Nya’s heart dips, and she bites her lip. It’s been lonely on her side, too, traveling the countryside by herself, but Lloyd has always taken that sort of thing harder.

“You know you can call us whenever, right?” Nya reminds him. “And Pixal’s here too, if you wanna talk to her,” she adds, as Pixal nods.

“Yeah, I know, it’s just-“ Lloyd sighs. “I dunno, it’s harder to enjoy stuff when it’s just you,” he mumbles, shifting his teacup in a circle on the table. “And like, I love protecting the city, but it’s a little more difficult to do it on your own.”

“I actually miss the guys and their dumb catchphrases, too,” Nya admits. “It is less fun on your own, huh.”

Pixal looks between the two of them. “I’ve never been part of that,” she says. “So I cannot empathize, I’m afraid.” She sighs, brushing a tuft of silver hair from her face. “I do wish to experience it someday, though,” she says, quietly.

“You should join up with us, then!” Lloyd says, eagerly. “When the guys get back, you can be on the team too-“

“Lloyd,” Nya says, quietly. Lloyd looks at her, then at Pixal.

“O-only if you want to, that is,” he says quickly, deflating a bit. “If you wanna…reveal yourself, and stuff. It’s up to you.”

“Thank you for the offer,” Pixal says, smiling slightly. “I’ll consider it. But in the meantime-“

The TV in the shop corner suddenly scratches, warbling out the tinny alert of a news update as a reporter’s harried voice comes through.

“-violent activity in the northwest city quarter again as another bank is hit, suspected to be attributed to the recent rise in biker gangs. Police are on their way to the scene as we speak-“

“In the meantime…” Nya mutters. She meets Lloyd’s eyes, then Pixal’s. She carefully sets her cup of tea down. “Anyone up for a little team bonding right now?”

Pixal and Lloyd look at each other. “Yes,” Pixal replies enthusiastically, standing. “Let’s go kick butt!”

Lloyd’s face splits into a grin. “Yeah, that’s what I’m talking about!” he says, shooting up from his own seat. “Let’s show these guys who’s boss. The uh - the bosses. Multiple bosses, ‘cause there’s three of us.”

Nya snorts, but she stands as well, shouldering her katana as she does. Looks like she’s fighting crime in sweatpants tonight.

“Was that too assertive?” Pixal whispers to Nya, as they trail out of the restaurant.

“Nope!” Nya grins proudly. “You’re doing great. Kicking butt is the number one ninja requirement.”

“Oh, good,” Pixal says. “Samurai, as well?”

“Pix,” Nya says, slinging an arm around her shoulder. “Here’s the thing you gotta remember. Ninja kick butt. Samurai? They do it better.”

*********

There wasn’t really a conscious choice, per say, to split their team up like they did — a lot of it ended being convenience, timing, Jay and Cole arguing so much nobody else wanted to deal with them, and that sort of thing — so it’s not like it was a purposeful decision that Nya and Lloyd got stuck on solo missions.

Well, just Nya gets missions, really. At least she gets to travel, and stuff — Lloyd is stuck babysitting Ninjago City on his own, which is slightly funny and even more concerning, because Lloyd should not be babysitting anyone when he’s the one that needs babysitting.

(Look, Ninjago City has never claimed it was “perfectly fine” after taking a crowbar to the head, then tried to double-flip over to the next building and ended up nearly cracking its skull open on the dumpster it fell into instead.)

(Lloyd has…a questionable track record, that’s what Nya’s trying to say.)

So it’s more than a little relieving that Nya knows Pixal is there to keep an eye on him.

“-I mean, what if she hadn’t been there, Lloyd?” Nya says accusingly, as Pixal carefully wraps Lloyd’s wrist from where she sits across the table from them. “What were you gonna do? Take another twenty fists to the face?”

“Id wasn’ twen’y fisds,” Lloyd mumbles into the napkin he’s got pressed against his nose, which is just barely not broken.

“It was certainly close,” Pixal pauses and frowns, studying Lloyd’s wrist before continuing to wrap it. Nya gives Lloyd a pointed glare, and he wilts into the booth.

They’ve chosen a 24-hour breakfast diner this time, one of those ones that looks like it’s been there since the dawn of time and will likely be there until the end of the world itself. The circular lamps that hang above their table cast them all in an odd yellow lighting, that makes Pixal’s hair look almost blond, and the bright green in Lloyd’s eyes look like it’s glowing. The linoleum floors beneath their shoes are cracked, the walls of the diner coated in plaster layer upon plaster layer that’s been half-heartedly hidden behind old music posters — and this one old picture Lloyd likes that’s got a cat eating a bunch of pancakes.

It’s around four in the morning when they meet there — because that’s when Pixal yanked Lloyd out of the drug bust — so their only other companions in the joint are heavy-eyed truck drivers and half-conscious people who are probably regretting hitting up as many bars as they did. It’s nice, though, because the employees seem like they’ve served hell itself with a bored expression, so no one really looks at the two ninja and a samurai crammed into the vinyl booth twice.

Lloyd pulls another bloody napkin away from his nose, making a face as he replaces it with a new one. “I’m fine, ‘kay,” he says, voice muffled as he winces, trying to stop the blood flow. “Id’s nod a big deal. I had id handled.”

“I hope that isn’t what you all consider ‘having it handled’,” Pixal says, gently tying off the bandages around Lloyd’s wrist. “There. All done. Ah, I believe that ice helps alleviate the pain, if you wish to…?”

“Yeah,” Lloyd flashes Pixal a small grin — Nya cringes at the blood on his teeth — as he takes the napkin-wrapped ice from her and sets it against his wrist. “D’anks, Pixal.”

He finally pulls the napkin away, prodding cautiously at his nose before deciding it isn’t going to bleed anymore. Nya gives him another pointed look, and Lloyd sighs, gathering up the bloody napkins and walking them over to the trash can.

“Thank you, seriously,” Nya mutters while he’s gone, rubbing a hand across her temple. “I was so far out, I don’t know what I would have done…”

“Of course,” Pixal says, patting Nya’s hand a little awkwardly. “I will always help Lloyd if he needs it. And I promised you I would keep an eye on him, right?”

“Yeah,” Nya smiles at her. “Thanks. You’ve been stellar.”

Pixal smiles lightly, and takes another sip of her tea. She immediately wrinkles her nose. “This is…not as good as the other place.”

Nya makes a face at her own cup of tea, which is sitting untouched. “Yeah, it’s not the best,” she says, braving another sip. Ugh, nope, hasn’t gotten any better in the last five minutes. “We’re kinda just here for the food,” she says, apologetically.

Pixal shakes her head. “That’s perfectly fine,” she says, as Lloyd ducks back into the booth with them. “Food is good as well.”

She’s spoken not a moment too soon — a yawning server makes their way to them, flipping at his notepad apathetically.

“You gonna get anything to eat?” he asks, sounding like he couldn’t care either way.

“Hi, yes,” Nya speaks up, before Lloyd can. She cuts him a you’re grounded look, which Lloyd sinks lower into the booth at, sulking. “I’ll have the biscuits with a side of bacon. Pixal?”

“I’ll have the, um, biscuits as well, thank you,” Pixal says.

The server nods, scribbling away. He looks back up. “Anything else?”

Nya is highly aware of the plaintive looks Lloyd is giving her.

“…and we’ll also take two chocolate-chip pancakes, extra whipped cream please,” she sighs. Lloyd beams.

Geez, it’s like watching a puppy, she thinks in amusement, studying him. A puppy with hair that probably needs to get cut pretty soon, she notices, watching the way the blond locks now fall into his eyes.

Lloyd remains oblivious to her stare, too busy stacking the little syrup containers into a geometric-shaped tower.

“You better not be using all of those,” Nya says, narrowing her eyes.

Lloyd shifts. “Of course not,” he scowls, but she notices that he very visibly moves the syrup packets closer to him. Nya snatches at them before he can all but sweep them into his lap, and a muffled battle over the packets ensues, with Nya emerging victorious and Lloyd left with a mere two small packets.

Lloyd gives a miserable sigh.

“Here,” Pixal says, sliding the five — five?! — packets Nya had somehow missed over to Lloyd. “You can have mine.”

Lloyd lights up. “Thanks, Pixal!” he says.“You’re my favorite sister tonight,” he says, shrewdly glaring at Nya.

“Excuse me for not wanting you to go into cardiac arrest at the young age of thirteen,” Nya grumbles.

Lloyd turns pink. “I am not thirteen-!” he yelps — and immediately claps a hand over his mouth as his voice cracks. Nya bursts into snickers as Lloyd sinks back into the booth, pulling the neck of his sweatshirt up over his scarlet face.

Oh, Kai’s gonna be so mad if he gets back and Lloyd’s gotten over his awkward voice-crack stage without him, Nya thinks.

Pixal, however, isn’t snickering, or even smiling bemusedly like she normally does when she doesn’t get something at first. Instead, she’s staring at Lloyd with an odd look on her face, almost like surprise.

“Pix?” Nya asks, her laughter dying off. “Everything okay?”

Lloyd looks up as well, emerging from his sweatshirt a bit, rubbing at his bandaged wrist as he does.

Pixal shakes her head. “Yes, I just-“ she blinks, staring at Lloyd again. “You…you called me your sister.”

Lloyd turns a bit pink again. “Oh, uh, yeah,” he says, hesitantly. “Is that - was that okay? I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, or anything, I just-“

“No, no, that is not it!” Pixal says, hastily. “I just — I didn’t think you…saw me that way.”

Lloyd’s still pink, but he looks a little less hesitant as he shrugs. “Well, yeah, you’re family, right?” he says, in that innocent way he has, like it’s obvious.

Pixal blinks rapidly, but the start of a smile edges its way up her face. “Oh,” she says, looking down as if to blush. “Right.”

Nya feels a grin edge up her own mouth, watching the happy smile that plays across Pixal’s face as she sips at the tea, Lloyd digging in to the pancakes beside her, still sniffling occasionally but otherwise happy.

Fine, Nya decides. She’ll let him off the hook for this one.

*******

The next time they’re able to meet up is barely in passing, crammed into a tiny shop Pixal spots on the riverfront while on patrol one night. Between the three of them they’ve been hopelessly busy — Lloyd and Pixal have had their arms full looking out for Ninjago city lately, crime having picked up drastically. They keep talking about this new bike gang that’s been showing up, which is apparently giving them both a lot of trouble and a few killer headaches. Nya would offer to take a look into it, but she’s supposed to head out for the rural villages later this morning, and it doesn’t sound too concerning. Lloyd and Pixal assure her that it’s probably just a gang on a vicious streak, that’s all.

They can handle it, that’s the message Nya’s getting. She’ll take their word for it, for now.

The riverfront shop is right where the nicer quarter meets the rougher edge of town, and that’s illustrated in the shop’s decor, gold-trimmed wallpaper run with cracks, the dark wood tables nicked and dented with scratches and scrapes. It’s got a nice view of the river, though, and the tea’s pretty good, so they decide it gets a thumbs-up in their slowly growing list of places to get tea without being immediately recognized.

They get there in the early hours of the morning again — the sun is just peeking over the horizon by the time they start on their tea. Lloyd’s finishing up telling them about Jay and Cole’s last check-in, laughing as he recounts Jay’s reaction when he realized the monastery they’re checking out is on top of the mountain, not at the bottom.

“And how are Kai and Zane?” Pixal asks as he finishes, visibly hiding her interest.

“They’re good, too,” Lloyd says, brightly. Nya knows it’s because he got to talk on the phone with Kai last night — really talk with Kai the other night, which is always good for the both of them. “I think they’re hitting some of the southern villages, Zane was talking about wanting to double-check on some rumors there about crime and stuff.”

“That sounds like him,” Pixal says, fondly. “Thank you,” she tells him.

Lloyd nods, stifling a yawn as he does and rubbing at his eyes. The gesture makes him look younger, but not by much. He’s looking older every time she sees him, Nya thinks with a pang, baby fat almost entirely gone, his voice pitching deeper by the day. Lloyd doesn’t seem to think much of it, but it pulls at Nya’s heart — Lloyd’s been the family baby for so long (he always will be, regardless), and it’s hard to think that he’s actually capable of doing something like growing up. He’s been living on his own, too, so he’s more independent than Nya remembers him. What’s next? A girlfriend?

Nya wrinkles her nose. She can’t imagine Lloyd dating anyone (much less anyone deserving him, at that, but she’s a bit biased).

But Lloyd isn’t the only one to have changed. Pixal looks different too, her hair pulled into a new style today, glimmering little earrings flashing when she moves. She looks like she’s finding out who Pixal is, something Nya had suggested several cups of tea back, and there’s no bittersweet edge in her happiness as she notices that.

“And there’s still no news about your uncle?”

Nya blinks back to the present at Pixal’s question — it’s something she’s been wondering herself.

Lloyd shakes his head. “Nothing,” he says, looking troubled. “I haven’t even heard from my mother yet.”

Nya twists her teacup in her hands, eyebrows furrowing. Misako doesn’t have…a great track record, but she’s at least been steady at letting Lloyd know how and where she is. The radio silence is probably concerning.

“Hey, I’ll keep an eye out for her while I’m traveling, okay?” Nya says, reaching out and briefly squeezing his hand. “I’ll let the guys know, too.”

“Thanks,” Lloyd says, with a weak smile. “Appreciate it.” He glances over at Pixal. “We’ve got the city in the meantime. We’ll make sure it doesn’t burn down while you’re gone, or something.”

“With Kai abroad, I think we’ll have even better chances,” Pixal says with a hint of a smile, and Lloyd snorts.

Nya chews on her lip as she watches them. Lloyd doesn’t just look older, he’s quieter now, too, more subdued. It’s making her heart hurt — and weirdly, making her feel even more protective. Like she needs to stay here for a little longer, keep a closer eye on things, instead of setting out just yet.

Or maybe she’s just tired.

Nya watches him spoon sugar into his cup, and feels a slight flare of relief. At least he’s not totally grown-up.

She glances at her watch, and sighs. Lloyd notices the action, and his face falls a bit. “That time already?”

Nya nods, heart sinking. “I wish I could stay longer,” she says, regretfully. “I mean, there’s another bus I could take this evening, but-“

“Nah, you don’t wanna get stuck in rush hour traffic,” Lloyd says, with all the wisdom of someone who’s spent too much time on the Ninjago streets.

Pixal nods, looking serious. “They’ve closed a few roads for construction, too. You won’t get out for ages.”

“Alright, alright, I see how it is,” Nya grumbles, draining the rest of her tea. “I’ll get out of your hair and let you two get back to running the city already.”

They both burst into protests, and Nya laughs, half-heartedly swatting them away as they embrace her. She lets them hold on for a second longer than usual, though, and perhaps holds on a bit longer herself.

It won’t be that long, she tells herself. Things can’t change that much more any time soon, anyways.

********

It’s a while before they’re able to meet after that, to the point that they almost forget entirely about their late-night tea meet-ups. They spend a good deal of time with each other in the early days of the Resistance of course, plotting against Harumi and Garmadon and trying to piece themselves back together, but they’re far too heartsore for any real conversation, and it’s hard enough getting Lloyd to eat or drink anything during that time.

But they make it through — battered and bruised and slightly worse for wear, but they make it through alive and unbroken. So by the time they’ve made sure all the Sons of Garmadon have been rounded up, and the guys have talked themselves into what’s probably much-needed sleep (Nya hasn’t seen Kai with dark circles that bad in ages), their spirits have picked up enough that they don’t sit in completely depressed and despairing silence at the coffee shop they find that’s miraculously still open amidst the chaos.

They do, however, spend a good few minutes sitting around in utterly exhausted silence, slumped around the battered table.

Nya’s not entirely sure why they’re even here — they haven’t even changed from their Resistance clothes yet, much less slept or showered. And they need it. Nya’s uniform has tearing holes that stretch over her left shoulder and lower arm, and Lloyd’s green uniform is colored black in places where it’s been charred, sporting as many, if not more tears than hers is. Pixal’s armor is dented and dirty, and she’s got her own charred spots from when she crashed the mech into Garmadon.

It’s not like they were trying to escape the recently-returned guys, either — in fact, the only reason they’re not currently with them is because they’re all dead asleep at the moment.

Something, Nya supposes, none of their trio really want to do at the moment.

Lloyd finally stirs, giving a low moan as he stretches, wincing as his shoulder shifts and rubbing briefly at it. Pixal stares into her tea cup as if it holds the answers to the universe, her eyes glassy-looking. Nya herself is about two minutes from face-planting into unconsciousness in her own tea, so she clears her throat, wincing briefly as she speaks up.

“Anyone want food?”

“Mm,” Lloyd hums absently. Pixal shrugs.

Nya tries again. “I was thinkin’ noodles.”

Lloyd gives a loud, sudden snort of laughter, closing his eyes and rubbing his hands over them. “Anything. Anything other than noodles.”

Pixal looks up, less groggy as she smiles ruefully. “I think we’ve had enough of those to last us a lifetime,” she says.

“We’re probably indebted to Skylor for a lifetime,” Lloyd mutters into his hands.

“Nah, those were all on the house,” Nya says. “We can put it on Garmadon’s tab if we want, though.”

Nya wants to bite the words back as soon as they escape her mouth. Bringing up Garmadon is exactly what she’d reminded herself not to do, an error matched only by mentioning Harumi.

Lloyd just lowers his hands though, shaking his head wryly. “Maybe,” he says, quietly. Pixal trades a look with Nya as he goes quiet, and Nya is considering changing the subject to something drastically different when Lloyd speaks up again.

“I think he only eats souls of the innocent right now, though.”

Nya gives a loud snort as Pixal breaks into quiet giggles. Lloyd just grins, an exhausted, weary grin, but one of the more genuine ones Nya’s seen in the last month.

Nya cuts her laughter off just as she feels it turning hysterical, threatening to turn into tears, and Pixal’s dies off soon after. They fall back into silence, but it’s more companionable this time, less horribly tired.

“Thanks,” Lloyd suddenly whispers. Pixal looks up at him, but neither of them really need to ask what for.

“For everything,” he continues, after the beat of silence. “I owe you guys.”

“We only did what you do for us,” Nya says. “Besides, we gotta stick together, us three.”

“That’s what family does,” Pixal adds, and Lloyd gives her a smile that’s only slightly edged in pain.

Their conversation dwindles off again, leaving only the sounds of people crowding the streets outside, sirens and construction and large trucks moving by. The sounds of life are loud in comparison to the unnatural, terrified quiet of the last few weeks, but they blur into a comforting sort of white noise with the soft piano music of the shop. Nya feels her eyes drift shut, bone-deep exhaustion leaving her feeling almost weightless.

“Hey,” Lloyd suddenly says. “D’you think I can still get my car back?”

Nya blinks up at him, opening her mouth then closing it. Pixal frowns, tilting her head.

“Did you get a parking pass?” she says. “I heard they’re strict about that at Kryptarium.”

Lloyd’s the first to give in, bursting into infectious giggles, so terrible as the joke is Nya follows right after, her loud laughter joining Pixal’s. It’s laughter edged in exhausted hysteria and the suppressed emotions of the past weeks, and this time Nya does let a few tears fall, but-

It’s real laughter, the kind that reminds Nya that they’ve won, and that gives the shop a pretty high spot on their list from that alone.

The tea’s not half-bad, either.