#and since the book is unfinished they had so much room to explore

[laurapetrie]

THE LAST TYCOON (2017) I’ll stand there and bloom. After he kisses me - I bloom, I told you. How often do I have to tell you I bloom? - F. Scott Fitzgerald

[goosewriting]

Across the Galaxy and Beyond

summary: some time after the Mantis crew split apart, Cal has an unexpected reunion with reader on Koboh

relationship: Cal Kestis x gn!reader

warnings: spoilers for Jedi Survivor, vague-ish mention of events from the Battle Scars book but i don't think it counts as a spoiler, hurt & comfort, flashbacks, kissing

word count: 8.9k 👀💧 ...i am unwell about this man what can i say

A/N: started writing this when i first started jedi survivor, and finally got around to finishing it now that i finished reading battle scars and the cal kestis brainworms are attacking me again. story doesn't follow the game exactly. also this could be read as a separate story from my wherever you go, i go trilogy, but i like to think it's the same reader and timeline lol so go read that if you haven't c:

Navigation: Part 1 (you’re here!) | Part 2 (wip)

(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)

— — — Part 1: Just like old times

After Cal's escape from Coruscant, the Mantis was pretty shredded. The main problem was the gyro, but upon entering Koboh's atmosphere, all systems started failing and the Jedi had to make an emergency landing somewhere on some cliffs. 

It took a lot of climbing and wall-jumping and fighting the aggressive local fauna, but after a couple of hours, Cal and BD finally made it to the outpost where Greez' cantina was located. On the way there he also encountered bandits who called themselves the Bedlam Raiders, as well as old Separatists battleships and battle droids, of all things. Just what has Greez got himself into?, Cal thinks to himself after saving a local from Rayvis, the leader of the Raiders, and outing himself as a Jedi in the process.

When Cal and BD finally enter Pyloon's Saloon, they meet with Greez. Since the Raiders have just been at the saloon (and the place doesn't look all too inviting either), there are no customers, so Cal and Greez catch up at the bar. The Latero is extremely happy to see the boy and his droid in one piece after all this time. Over a drink, the redhead tells him about the last job on Coruscant gone wrong, how only two of them made it out. He expresses his frustration, how the Empire is only growing stronger and everything he does feels pointless. Things haven't been easy since the Mantis crew split up. 

After catching up a little, Greez tells Cal that he has some spare parts and will take care of the ship. He'll send someone to bring the ship to the landing dock behind the saloon. In the meantime, he should take a breather and explore the outpost. Cal doesn't like feeling like he's wasting time, but with the state the Mantis is in, there really isn't much else he can do. 

The Latero shows him the room in the basement, telling Cal he can stay as long as he needs. Greez wasn't kidding when he said he had a room just for Cal: there was a meditation area in the middle of the round room, and even his old clothes and some unfinished tech projects were all stashed away in a big chest. 

They both sit down on the edge of the bed, and it doesn't take long for the conversation to take a direction Cal doesn't like. Not because what Greez is saying is wrong; on the contrary, he's probably right, but the redhead doesn't want to hear it. Not right now. Greez, in a genuinely concerned tone, goes on about how the game is rigged and Cal should walk away while he can, maybe even settle down somewhere. Cal lashes out for a moment, claiming someone has to keep fighting.

— — —

You approach the stable in the outpost riding on your nekko, humming a happy tune to yourself. You're lost in thought, letting your trusty mount walk the last stretch to the stalls by himself, as he knew the way. Once you reach the structure, you get off and start putting away your haul; you just came from a successful hunt. You'd skin and prepare everything later though, so you pack the preys away in special boxes where everything would be preserved for a couple of days. 

“Hello master,” a robotic yet chirpy voice greets you. 

You turn around with a smile, facing the Separatist battle droid you had found and reprogrammed to help you out at the stable.

“Hey there, Connor,” you greet back. You've told him several times not to call you that, but he insisted, saying you saved him and now his purpose was to serve you. You take a moment to inspect his blue and black markings that have started chipping more noticeably; maybe it's time for a new paint job.

“Did I miss anything while I was gone?” you ask, taking the saddle off your nekko and placing it onto the designated wooden beam. 

“Yes, in fact,” Connor replies, placing new food and clean water in the trough. “There's a ship on the landing pad behind the saloon that I've never seen before.”

“Is that so? What kinda ship?” 

“A modified S-161 Stinger, and it's pretty busted up. I'm surprised it even made it this far.”

You stop in your tracks, your grip tightening around the halter you just took off the nekko, which is now happily munching away on its fresh feed.

“Interesting,” you remark, putting the rest of the equipment away and turning around to face the droid. Since you spent most of the day down in some caves, you didn't see or hear anything. “Do you know who was on board?”

“I didn't see who came off the ship, but I overheard some prospectors talk about a newcomer that went one on one with Rayvis,” Connor comments, then leans in closer to you, looking around as if to make sure no one would be listening in on your conversations, when it's clearly just the two of you at the stable. “I also heard Turgle mentioning a Jedi being seen around here.”

“Huh,” is all you manage to say, feeling your heart pounding in your chest. There was no way he was here, right? After all this time? As far as you know, he doesn't even know you're here. So if it is him, he isn't here to see you, but Greez instead. It's probably because of the Mantis; Cal is in need of repairs. This thought immediately replaces the initial anticipation with a strange, cold feeling. 

“Can you believe it?” Connor goes on. “I've never even seen a Jedi. I would love to meet them.”

You take a long look at the droid, remembering the state you had found him in. He had never been in the war, actually. He spent several years in an abandoned Separatist camp, never even getting to be activated. So he only knew his programming: serve the Separatists, fight the clones and kill the Jedi. Yet he had never lived any of it. Reprogramming him had been easy in that regard, as his memory banks were mostly blank. Back then you were looking for a droid companion to help you out at the stables, and even though you know what battle droids mean to the Jedi, you can't help but think that they are kinda cute. The B1 models, at least. The B2 series and commandos are pretty scary. 

So you gave your new friend a name (you couldn't decide between Hank and Connor, but decided to go with the latter as it somehow suited his demeanour better) and a new purpose in life, and he seems content with that. The only fighting program you left in him is for defending the stable and nekkos. First and foremost it is his mission that they are not harmed. You also ordered him not to leave the outpost, for his own safety. You don't want the raiders to find him and get access to his memory bank. They would use the information against all of you at the outpost, and either scrap him or reprogram him to join the raiders. Once they were dealt with, however, you promised Connor you would take him around Koboh first, then show him the galaxy. 

“I'm going to the saloon,” you announce. “Can you take care of the rest?” 

“Roger roger!” Connor replies with a salute, getting to work. 

You find yourself smoothing out your clothes and hair as you make the short trip to the saloon. When you reach the bar you're met with Monk, the witty bartender droid. He greets you with a happy tone and some strange phrase that you don't entirely understand, as he always does. You ask for Greez, and he points towards the door to the side, saying he's in the basement with some old friend of his that just dropped by.

With a gulp and a forced smile, you thank him and head down the stairs. The urge to turn on your heel and run away grows with every step. As you're about to reach the door, you hear voices coming from the other side.

“-to be something more than a lightsaber.” That's Greez, you think. He sounds… sad? “Think of yourself. Settle down, find a home.”

“What home, Greez?” You swear your heart actually stops beating and accelerates at the same time when you hear the voice, his voice. “There is no home. Home was the Order. It was my teacher.”

You've stopped a couple steps away from the door so it wouldn't open and have you interrupt the conversation, but you involuntarily lean forward to hear better what Cal says next.

“It was everyone I lost… Home was the Mantis with you, Cere, Merrin, and–”

The automatic door whooshes open and Cal and Greez turn their heads towards you as they stand up from the bed they were sitting on. 

“I- I didn't mean to eavesdrop,” you sheepishly state after a moment of uncomfortable silence from everyone, approaching him but staying at a distance. “Hey, Cal. It's been a while.”

“Yeah, it has,” he retorts, and you can't really read the tone of his voice. 

You look each other up and down, taking in how different you both look since… Since the last time you saw each other. Since you split up. 

A thousand thoughts go through your head, and a thousand different feelings resurface, making your heart tighten in your chest, like there isn't enough space for everything it's trying to process.

Greez can't take the tension anymore, so he clears his throat loudly.

“Lemme show you something, Cal,” the Latero says as he walks towards a panel on the far side of the room. He presses a couple of buttons and a section of the wall slides open with a creak, revealing a path behind it. “This is an old smuggler's tunnel, you'll find spare parts in there. Just… be careful, I have a pest problem.”

With that, Greez walks by both of you, giving your arm an encouraging pat, before leaving the room. It's just you and Cal now.

“Spare parts?” you ask, trying to make some conversation. “For the Mantis, I take it?”

“Yeah,” Cal replies, looking at the tunnel entrance but not moving from where he stands. “Gyro's fried.”

You two stand there in silence, and you want to smack yourself in the face. You feel like an awkward 12-year-old all over again, not knowing how to talk to your cr– You stop your train of thought before you dare finish that sentence and potentially embarrass yourself further. The heat on your cheeks that refuses to leave your face since you've laid eyes on the Jedi can't possibly have gone unnoticed by him.

“You know, Greez has had this room set up for you for quite a while,” you tell Cal, shooting him a quick smile. “So I take it you'll be staying for a while, right? The Mantis isn't going anywhere.”

Cal shrugs and shoots you a quick, unsure glance, then casts his eyes back down, scratching the back of his neck. 

“I was just about to head out,” you lie. Your plan for the evening was to have a drink at the bar and unwind, but him being here changes everything. “You could join me and I'll show you around if you'd like…”

Cal looks at the tunnel again, weighing the options in his mind. One is going down there to fix the Mantis as soon as possible, then taking off to who knows where. The other… you're not so sure. And if you're being honest with yourself, you're too scared to ask.

“Sure, why not,” he finally agrees with a sigh and starts walking towards the door that directly leads outside from the basement, but you feel like something, or rather someone, is missing. You look around the room, scanning your surroundings for a certain droid, then turn back to Cal.

“W-Where's BD?” you ask, fearing the worst. You'd really hate it if something happened to him.

“Oh, he wandered off somewhere earlier,” Cal says and you release a breath of relief. After calling for him, the little droid comes hopping down the stairs and into the room.

“BD!” you greet the little companion, and he excitedly beeps at your reunion. He comes running towards you and you pick him up in a hug.

“Oh, how I've missed you,” you spin him around a couple of times, then set him back down onto the floor. “I have a droid of my own now, but you're still the cutest. Don't tell him, though,” you add with a wink. 

“You have a droid?” Cal asks as BD climbs onto his back and you all make your way out.

“Yeah, he helps me out at the stable,” you explain, pointing at the building as you reach the end of the stairs. The stable is practically behind the saloon. From these stairs it's a very short trek to reach the paddocks.

“Those are nekkos, right?” Cal questions, approaching the fence and looking at the two animals chilling in the sun. “I met Mosey earlier. She said she worked at the stable,” he turns around to look at you. “But she didn't mention you.”

You're about to retort by saying she couldn't have possibly known that you two knew each other, but you're interrupted by a chirpy voice.

“Master! You're back already?” 

At the sound of the familiar robotic voice, Cal instinctively draws his lightsaber, and turns towards the side entrance to the stable. You hurry to get between your droid and the Jedi; you don't want to see Connor get sliced today. Not by him. Said droid peeks out from behind the archway, and BD beeps repeatedly, alarmed. 

“Wait!” you exclaim, holding your hands up into the air defensively. “That's my droid!” 

“Your- Your droid?” Cal repeats, clearly confused. He puts away his weapon nonetheless.

“He's reprogrammed, and he's never even been in the war,” you explain, walking backwards as Cal starts approaching the stable to inspect the battle droid further, with you still between them. “He was never even activated. He's good, I promise!” 

“Master, who's this?” Connor asks, walking back into the stable to make room for Cal and you. “Is he bothering you?” The droid activates the blaster you had built into one of his arms, and Cal's hand goes to the hilt of his sabre again, while BD beeps in exasperation. 

“No, stand down!” you order, and the blaster immediately turns off with a whirr. “Will everyone please calm down?”

Still standing between Cal and the battle droid, you let out a huff, looking from one to the other. 

“Cal, BD; this is Connor, my droid,” you start introducing them. “My good and reprogrammed droid, whose mission is to protect the stable and the nekkos, nothing more.”

Cal seems unimpressed, still looking at Connor with narrowed eyes. You turn to the droid.

“Connor; these are Cal and BD,” you start. “And you know what? Cal here–” You look at Connor with raised brows and lower your voice. “–is a Jedi.”

Connor brings his hands up to where his mouth would be, gasping in surprise. 

“You- You are?” he asks, quickly going around you to take Cal's hand and shaking it vigorously. “It's such an honour! I've always wanted to meet a Jedi!”

“So you could get up all close and stab me in the back?” Cal retorts, his voice laced with uncharacteristic venom, and pulls his hand from the droid's grasp.

“What? No, I–” Connor starts but you push him to the side a bit.

“It's okay, Connor. He'll warm up to you, eventually,” you comfort him. “Please go get the nekkos ready for us?” 

You've never heard a sadder 'roger roger' in your life and it sends a sting of pain through your chest. 

While the droid goes to prepare your mounts, you turn around to Cal and frown at him. He crosses his arms in front of his chest defensively. 

“Why would you say something like that? He's genuinely excited to meet you,” you explain. “When was the last time someone was actually happy to see a Jedi, hm?”

“Not a battle droid, that's for sure,” Cal retorts with a huff. 

You look up at him for a moment, holding his rather cold gaze. You wonder just what happened these past few years that had him like this. Sure, you understand why he isn't a fan of battle droids. Normally you aren't either. But there's just something about Cal that's… different. He looks older, but it might just be the beard. He also looks more tired, carries himself differently. With confidence like he always did, but also in a “don't mess with me” way that wasn't there before. Gone is the spark in his eyes, that glimmer of optimism and hope, replaced by the promise of not holding back if anyone were to cross him. 

For several moments, you just look at each other, and you're sure he's analysing you just as you are him, and you wonder what is going through his head. 

“The nekkos are ready,” Connor announces, leading both of them out of their respective stalls by the reins. 

You allow the animals to sniff Cal and inspect him, while you give a short explanation on how to ride and guide them. Cal's mount is white with a dark face and legs, while yours is a dark purple and brown. After thanking Connor and waving him goodbye, you both hop onto the saddle and head out of the outpost. You know your way around, taking a route that would keep you hidden from the patrols, both the imperial ones as well as the raiders. You'd much rather deal with the local fauna. And you do come across a couple of rawkas at the river, and a pack of gorgers when heading further up the Southern Reach. But you two make quick work of them.

In fact, Cal has grown stronger, and not only that, but he also has a new array of weapons it seems; now he double-wields his lightsabers, and he also has a blaster, which completely takes you by surprise. 

Once you reach the base of the big silo, you get off your nekkos and climb the rest by foot, getting on top of the structure and sitting at the edge. It's not a super well-hidden spot; if the patrols under you decide to look up they would definitely see you, but it's a good vantage point to show Cal the different places. You point towards the landmarks, explaining them to him so he can orient himself and navigate beyond the outpost. You tell him about the caverns, the mines, to look out for different patrols and what areas to avoid; be it because of the raiders, like fort Kha'lin, or because of bigger fauna like bilemaws, goroccos and mogus. Especially mogus. They are fierce.

Once you're done with your explanation, you lean back onto your hands with a sigh. Cal attentively listened to everything, but he doesn't seem interested in keeping the conversation going, as he hasn't said anything.

He's looking out, scanning this corner of Koboh as far as he could see from here, taking in the view and probably trying to commit to memory everything you've said. You look at him from the corner of your eyes, your gaze falling onto the holster on his hip.

“So,” you try starting the conversation again. “You now double-wield and you have a blaster. Which, by the way, is pretty uncharacteristic for a Jedi, no?”

“A lot has changed, I guess,” is all you get out of him.

“Do you have any other new tricks?” you ask, and the memory of him re-discovering his Master's lessons after his escape from Bracca comes back to you, making you smile fondly to yourself for a moment. 

“Hmm,” Cal thinks aloud, also leaning back and finally tearing his eyes from the landscape to look at you. “There aren't any new Force-tricks, if that's what you mean. But I do have this.”

He brings one of his arms up, showing you the contraption on his brace.

“Grappling hook. Comes in pretty handy,” he explains, showing you some of the mechanisms. Your hands reach up to gently hold his wrist, so you can inspect the device better, and you could have sworn you heard his breath hitch at the contact. At that moment, you realise that's the first physical interaction you've had since he arrived, and you quickly let go. 

“We should head back,” you say as you stand up, dusting off your legs. “It will get dark soon, plus you must be hungry. I know I am.”

“Yeah, I could eat,” Cal replies, getting up to his feet as well, and BD beeps in agreement.

Cal climbs down the silo first, while you scan the area one last time for any patrols. When it's your turn, just as you're almost at the base of the rather unstable ladder, your foot slips and you lose your balance. You hold onto the next best thing, which happens to be Cal. Seeing you're about to fall, his arm reaches around you and he pulls you towards him while with the other hand he tightly holds onto the railing that goes along the walls of the structure. 

“You okay?” he asks, and when you look up at him this time, you're finally met with a pair of eyes that you recognise. There's concern in his gaze but also a certain warmth, amused at how you were a fierce warrior yet managed to be clumsy in small things like these. He found it cute, which you knew for a fact because he would tell you often, back then…

“Y-Yeah, thanks,” you mutter, separating yourself from him now that you're back safe on the ground. Feeling the heat spreading on your face, you can't help a sheepish smile. “Guess some things never change, heh.”

“Guess not,” Cal says with a small smile of his own, and your chest tightens at the sight. 

The ride back to the Outpost is silent, and you wonder if his body is also reacting as strongly as yours; ever since slipping, your skin feels like it's tingling, and your heart hasn't calmed down in the slightest. 

Once you're back at the stable and the nekkos have been taken care of, Connor mentions that Greez left some food for you, and hands you several small containers wrapped with a cloth. 

“You wanna eat at my place?” you find yourself asking Cal, who's scratching behind the nekko's ear. He turns around to you with raised eyebrows in what you assume to be a surprised expression, but he's quick to relax his face back to normal. 

“I have a room behind Doma's shop,” you explain, holding up the food in your hands and you gesture to it with your chin. “And Greez knows this is far too much food for myself.”

“Yeah, sounds good,” Cal replies, calling BD back to him, who was scanning some stable equipment. “Let me help you with that.”

Cal takes the food off your hands, and you say your goodbyes to Connor, who stays at the stable. It's a quick trip past the saloon's entrance into Doma's shop. She's behind the counter organising some of her merchandise, and returns your “hello” from afar without looking. Only when she hears Cal's greeting does she turn around. She shoots you a look and you know exactly what she means, heat prickling again at your cheeks. You give a curt shake of your head, quickening the pace to evade Doma's questioning, heading for the door at the back that leads to the place you have been calling home for the last year. 

It isn't much, but it makes do: one big room, that's both kitchen and a living space, with two doors at the far side that lead to a small bedroom and the refresher. The main room is decorated, you like to think it's warm, cosy and inviting. You even managed to thrift an old couch somewhere, refurbished it yourself, and it now essentially serves as the centrepiece of the room. There are several rugs on the floor, as well as piles of pelts and leather in the corner that you still have to finish working on so you could sell them. These days that's your main source of income.

Cal stands at the door for a moment, taking everything in, and you suddenly feel very self-conscious. The space is clean, but the fact that you can't read his face makes you a little nervous. To distract yourself, you take the food from him, bringing it to the kitchen counter.

“I think the food is still warm,” you say as you start opening the containers, the delicious smell filling both your noses. “Do you mind setting the table?”

Cal and you make quick work of getting everything plated and grabbing some drinks, then sitting down in front of each other at the wooden table to eat. You make some light conversation between bites, catching each other up on what has been going on in your lives recently. He tells you about some of the missions he's been on ever since the Mantis crew split up, and you tell him of your own solo adventures before you came to Koboh. 

When the plates are empty, your bellies full, and the conversation is about to die down, you ask if you can check out Cal's lightsabre. He unclips it from his belt to hand it to you, and you catch yourself being relieved at the fact he still trusts you enough to just give his sacred weapon to you without further inquiry. 

He's changed some parts and the materials, and you hold the device in your hands with the utmost care, admiring the beautiful design and intricate markings on the wooden accents. Rather suddenly, a feeling of regret and shame spreads out in your chest, thinking about how not only this sabre but also Cal himself went through so many changes, and you hadn't been there for any of it. There's so much you want to tell him, about how sad you are that you weren't there for him, about how sorry you are with the way you left, about how you've been thinking of and missing him every single day. But telling him that wouldn't be fair. You have no right to be selfish like that.

“So what exactly happened that got the Mantis in such a state?” you decide to ask instead, reaching the lightsabre over the table to give it back. Cal takes it with a deep sigh, putting it back to his belt, feeling immediately comforted by its familiar weight. 

“A job on Coruscant that went… wrong,” he starts, telling you how his team was gathering intel for Saw Guerrera, and it had all worked out until the very last moment, where everything went wrong, and he lost his whole crew in an instant. Only him and another person made it out of there. In fact, one of his crew members saved his life by pushing him out of the way and taking the blaster shot herself instead. 

You listen intently, and your heart grows heavier by the second; you can hear the frustration in his voice, the voice of a man who's this close to giving up entirely, because he's just so tired, but he can't. He won't. You know Cal took it upon himself to fight the Empire by himself if he has to. A trait you genuinely admire but also despise. After all, that was one of the reasons you left.

Then he mentions the Ninth Sister, and your attention is fully back to what he's saying. 

“I tried to get through to her, I really did,” Cal says, his voice cracking for a second. “But she wouldn't let up. I had no choice.”

“Did you…?” you ask carefully.

“I killed her,” he says matter-of-factly, but you can tell it's been eating away at him.

“I'm so sorry, Cal,” you offer, reaching across the table and placing your hand on his. “That couldn't have been easy. I'm sorry you had to go through that.”

He doesn't meet your eyes, his gaze fixed on his half empty cup instead, watching the drops of condensation slowly fall along the outside of the glass onto the table, staining the wood. But he doesn't pull away either, so you give his hand a reassuring squeeze.

“You look exhausted,” you finally tell him, and he lets out a breath through his nose, as if saying 'you have no idea'. You offer for him to take a shower here instead of at the saloon before heading back, telling him yours is nicer, to which he chuckles lightly, and he accepts. 

He insists you take a shower first while he takes care of the dishes, so you do just that. Once you're out, it's his turn. You hand him a towel and a change of clean clothes, and you can tell he wonders why you have them in his size, until he realises that they're actually his. It's an old shirt and lounge pants that you would always steal from him and had apparently taken with you. He doesn't comment on it though, instead he simply stares at the clothes in his hand for maybe a second too long, deep in thought. Then he blinks a couple of times, as if he just came back from zoning out, gives you a short 'thanks' and gets into the shower. 

While he cleans up, you take a seat on the couch, pulling up the novel you're currently reading on your holopad. Only now that you're sitting with your legs stretched out along the length of the cushions do you realise how tired you are, both physically and emotionally. Out of everything you could have thought would happen today, meeting Cal was certainly not on the list. Still, you can't deny that you're happy to see him. For starters, he's still alive. And you've missed him, much more than you care to admit to yourself. 

After reading the same sentence of your book over and over, failing to focus, you sigh and look at BD instead, who hops onto the coffee table and tilts his head at you with an inquiring beep. 

“Has he been taking care of himself?” you ask the droid, pointing over your shoulder in the direction of the refresher, where you can hear the water running.

BD lets out a sequence of beeps and boops, and you narrow your eyes at him for a moment. 'He keeps himself busy' he said. Is he dodging your question?

“Is that so,” you reply with a hum, and BD shoots the question right back at you. You're a bit surprised at his concern, and for a moment you consider opening up to the little droid, but you hear the water turn off, so you bring your attention back to your book again instead, trying your darndest to focus on what's happening in the story. The washroom door opens with a whoosh.

“Where should I put the towel?” Cal asks, still standing at the door frame. 

“Just put it in the hamper underneath the sink,” you reply over your shoulder, and in the corner of your eye you can see BD still looking at you, waiting for an answer. Then he tilts his head with an amused boop; he's got you all figured out. 

“Oh shush you,” you start scolding the little droid, but Cal appears, walking around the couch to sit down. Except that your legs are stretched across it, so you start lifting them off the cushions and intend to bend them at the knee to sit properly, but Cal gently grabs your ankles, lifting them off the couch to sit down, and places them over his lap instead. His hand comes to rest on your shin, and you can feel the warmth he irradiates seep through the fabric of your pants. 

“You looked comfy,” he points out, his hand gently rubbing up and down below your knee, while with his other hand he props up his head against the back of the couch. 

You swallow hard, unable to answer, and bring the datapad up to your face to hide behind it. Why is he being so nice suddenly? Is it because you aren't outside where others could see? Or is it because he realised he still has you wrapped around his finger so he's just teasing you? You're beyond confused at the sudden sign of affection after he's been so distant the whole day, like he hadn't planned on ever seeing you again. And to be quite honest, you deserve the cold treatment. After what you did, the way you left. 

Feeling the sting behind your eyes, knowing what's coming, you shrink further into yourself, holding the holopad even closer to your face to hide it from Cal's view. He can't see your expression from where he's sitting, so he gives a light chuckle, thinking you're just flustered. The sound feels like a dagger in your gut, and you unsuccessfully choke back sob.

Now Cal's face changes completely to one of concern, and he pushes the pad out of the way only to be met with your crying face. 

“Whoa, wait-“ Cal says, and he retrieves his hands, holding them both up in surrender. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to- I thought we-“

“I'm so sorry, Cal,” you croak, crying freely now, as you let go of the device and it falls onto the floor with a 'clunk'. “I'm so sorry for everything, for what I did. For leaving you alone.” Your hands wipe away at your cheeks in a vain attempt to dry off the tears, but they just keep coming. 

After the crew split up, the Mantis felt unbearably empty. After the failed mission on Hosnian Prime, after saying goodbye to Fret and Irei, who had definitely changed the dynamics of the crew (you still weren't sure if it had been for better or worse), everything felt like it started falling apart. 

The first to leave was Merrin, saying she needed to recentre her fire and find herself again, to be able to draw all the power she now knew she was able to use. 

Then, it was Cere and Greez. The Latero trusted Cal and left his beloved ship in his hands, telling him to look after it until he'd be back. Except everyone knew that he didn't really intend to. The loss of his arm had hit him harder than he wanted to admit, and for Greez it had been the wake-up call needed to “leave the game while you can because it's been rigged since the start”, as he would often say. Cere on the other hand took off with new-found determination. Her and Cal's goals weren't all that different: the endgame was to defeat the Empire, one way or another. However, Cal believed in taking action now, while Cere had her sights set on the future, being able to help those who would come next, long after she and everyone else were gone. She wanted to build a legacy, as the 'Jedi's knowledge was far too valuable to be lost to time and circumstance. 

After everyone was gone, it was just Cal, BD and you. 

The Jedi had become irritable, like he had already convinced himself that you would leave him soon too, as did everyone, apparently. You reassured him to the best of your abilities that you believed in what he stood for and wanted to stay by his side. However, now that you didn't have a whole crew to count on, you had to be more careful than ever.

“We have to be smart about this!” you'd plead, seeing Cal running head-first into danger time and time again. 

When the nightmares became too much, you'd hold him tightly, kissing his tears away as he'd cry out for his master, Tapal.

“You were just a kid!” you had yelled at Cal one time, when what was supposed to be a quick run-down of the plan had become a big argument. “You act as if the whole universe is counting on you and only you to defeat the beast that is the Empire. Do you think that that's your destiny? As dictated by the Force? We've had our share of big, successful missions as a group. Now it's time to back down, Cal. We're just two people, what do you expect we'll achieve here? It's time to move on.”

Needless to say, those words had not calmed Cal down in the slightest. Now he felt just as betrayed by you as he did by the rest. More words were thrown at each other like daggers finally let free after being pushed back for far too long in an attempt to keep some level of normalcy between you two. But there was no going back. So you did what you told him as well: you moved on. That same evening, you packed your things and left. 

Your heart bled and tears kept streaking down your face with every heavy step you took away from the Mantis, but at the time, you didn't know what else to do. You'd never wanted to leave Cal, and you hated yourself for doing this to him and to yourself, but what you had going on was no way to live anymore. Maybe, hopefully, now that you were gone, he would understand that. 

You know it had been a horrible thing to do, especially like that. After years of telling him how you'd follow him to the end of the world. After telling him every day how much you loved him. After promising you'd be there for him. The worst part was that being away from him was far more painful than it was with him. He left a void in your heart that only he could fill. You meant to go looking for him many times, but were too scared. You didn't deserve to have him back. Not after what you did.

But now he's here.

Between cries, you apologise over and over again, saying how what you did wasn't fair, that you wished you had never left and worked it out instead, that you missed him so much it was hard to breathe. 

Cal doesn't answer immediately, and you force your somewhat blurry gaze up to meet his eyes, and you see he's starting to tear up himself. He leans forward, lifting you up and settling you sideways onto his lap, enveloping you in a bone-crushing hug. You hold him just as tightly, crying into his shoulder.

“I'm sorry,” The more you say it, the emptier it feels, but it's all you can manage for now, and you mean it. “I really am.”

“I know,” Cal says, squeezing you a little tighter. “I felt it. When you gave me the clothes earlier.”

You remember the countless nights you've cried yourself to sleep in the very clothes he's now wearing, the times when you missed him so much you felt like your heart would rip its way right out of your chest, muttering your regrets into your pillow, as if it could carry your apology and bring it to Cal somehow. You groan in embarrassment; you always forget that your stuff also carries imprints he can feel.

“I'm so lame,” you mumble and pull back to look at Cal, giving him a weak smile that quickly turns into a grimace again as a new wave of tears come rolling down your cheeks.

“No, you're not,” Cal reassures you, one hand cupping your face and wiping over your cheekbone with his thumb. You lean into his touch with a sniffle.

“I've missed you too,” he finally says, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. “And I'm sorry—” He kisses your cheek. “—for making you feel like you were less important than the missions.” A kiss to the corner of your mouth. “You're the best thing that ever happened to me and I took you for granted.” His lips brush over yours. “Can we try again?”

You close the minimal gap and kiss him hard, like Cal was the air your lungs needed after being underwater for too long. He reciprocates just as intensely, pushing you down onto the couch and climbing on top of you. When he finally breaks the kiss, you're both panting. You run your fingers through his hair as he trails kisses along your jaw, and you giggle at how ticklish his beard feels against your skin; that's a new sensation you'd have to – no scratch that, want to – get used to. Your giggles turn into a low moan as he bites the spot over your collarbone, and when you turn your head to give him better access, you're met with BD still on the coffee table, now sitting comfortably, looking up at you two as if it was the most interesting spectacle in the world. 

A strangled sound of surprise and embarrassment comes from your throat and you push Cal away a bit by his shoulders, to which he raises his head and grumbles in annoyance for interrupting him.

“We have an audience,” you whine, hiding your face behind your hands, and Cal lets out an amused laugh. BD beeps matter-of-factly.

“What do you mean 'don't mind me'?!” You turn to the droid and you swear that if he had a face, he'd be wearing the cockiest of grins right now. 

“Some things really never change, huh,” Cal comments with an amused smile, thinking back to all the times you'd become flustered when you kissed in front of BD, saying it was inappropriate or something. If only you knew that Cal often did it on purpose because he loved seeing your cute, flustered face.

“Unlike this right here,” you point out and bring your hands to his face, stroking over his beard, enjoying the prickly sensation. “This is new.”

“Do you like it?” Cal asks genuinely.

“You know I like your scars,” you say, tracing over the one on his lower lip. “As long as they're not covered up, I think I can get used to it. It does look good on you.”

Cal smiles down at you tenderly and for a few moments, you simply enjoy each other's presence, taking each other in. Making sure that this is real and it's happening, that you're back again. Until you let out a hearty yawn. 

“Let's get to bed before we fall asleep on the couch,” you say, rubbing your face, but stop to look up at Cal, who seems very content with his current position and hasn't moved yet. “You are staying here tonight, right? I mean, if you want to, you don't have to. Greez has the whole room thing for you, so I understand if—“

Cal interrupts your rambling with a quick peck. 

“Yeah, I want to stay,” he assures you and finally stands up, helping you get off the couch. 

“Let's go, BD,” you tell the droid to join you as you take Cal's hand and guide them to the bedroom. 

You climb into bed, BD at your feet as he would always do on the Mantis, and Cal lifts the covers to get in as well but stops for a moment when he sees the holopicture on your night stand. In the small frame he recognises Greez, Cere, Merrin, Cal, BD and you in the cockpit, all grinning at the camera. Smiling to himself, he finally gets into bed, hugging you to him.

“I have the same picture of us on the Mantis,” he says after letting out a content sigh at finding a comfortable position. “Guess we still were connected somehow all this time.”

You hum in response, a bit surprised at the romantic implication, as if you were lovers who found comfort in looking at the same moon even though you were separated. But you like the idea nonetheless, and you agree. 

The warmth both on your skin and spreading in your heart makes quick work of carrying you off to dreamland though, so before you can even give a proper reply, you're fast asleep in Cal's arms.

— — —

The next morning, you wake up to BD's beeping. You groan, turning over to cuddle a little longer, except that the other side of your bed is empty. You blink away the sleepiness in your eyes, and pout at the lack of Jedi in your sheets. Your nose is quick to pick up the scent of freshly brewed caf however, and the grogginess is quickly forgotten as you get out of bed and make your way to the kitchen, where Cal is preparing breakfast. 

After a quick meal and lots of stolen kisses, Cal announces it's time to go check out Greez's smuggler tunnel to find that gyro. 

“Be careful,” is the last thing you tell him before he leaves. 

“Always,” he shoots back at you with a wink and takes off. You playfully roll your eyes at that, thinking back to the countless times on the Mantis you've had to patch him up after a mission inevitably went astray from the original plan.

While Cal is looking for parts for the Mantis, you go back to your own things, checking in on Connor and the nekkos at the stable, as well as preparing some pelts and sewing up your most recent leather project. 

Time goes by fast as you skilfully work the needle and thread through the thick material, finishing the piece after a couple of hours. Setting it aside, you stretch your arms and back with a satisfied grunt. You check to see if your comms are working; they are, but there's no new messages. Strange, you think, Cal sure is taking his time to find that gyro. Is he not back yet? 

Suddenly feeling uneasy by your own thoughts of how he might have got lost in the tunnels, or how he may have encountered trouble down there, you decide to go check with Greez yourself. 

You quickly make your way to the Saloon, going down the stairs that lead to the bar with such speed that when you reach the end and see someone standing there, you bump into them before you can stop yourself. 

“Whoa,” a deep voice exclaims at the impact, and you push yourself away from the man's back you just ran into. He turns around slightly towards you. “You okay?”

“Yeah, sorry, didn't see you there” you reply, regaining your composure and walking around him to get a better look. 

He's not super tall, but he has a strong and broad build. Although you already felt that when you bumped into him and it was like walking into a wall. You give him a quick up-and-down, trying to gauge if he's friend or foe, but you can't quite read him. He narrows his eyes at you ever so slightly, probably doing the same.

“A new face, how rare,” you start, walking over to the bar and leaning on it with one arm. Your other hand finds its way to your hip, where you realise there is no holster or weapon; you mentally reprimand yourself for leaving your staff at the stable. 

“Care for a drink?” asks Monk from behind you. 

“No, I'm looking for someone,” the man says. 

“Of course you are,” Monk replies with sarcasm. You give the bartender droid a nod; you'll take care of this. As he wheels back into the kitchen, you hear him mutter something about how his bar isn't a lost and found counter. Before the stranger can go on however, the doors at the back of the saloon whoosh open.

“Who's this?” asks Greez as he enters the main room.

“I was just about to ask him,” you reply, your eyes still trained on the man.

“I'm looking for Cal Kestis,” the man in question says instead, and your hand on the bar involuntarily curls into a fist.

“Who? Kal Restis?” Greez asks as he approaches him. “We don't know any Kales. Listen, if you're not gonna order something, get out of my saloon.”

“No, not Kale”, the man says, getting slightly exasperated as he repeats the name slower, and Greez keeps getting it wrong on purpose. 

Just as you're about to intervene and send the man away, the entrance doors open and in comes Cal, a soft smile of self-satisfaction on his face. 

“Cal!” The man greets the Jedi. You hear Greez mutter “Oh, this Cal Kestis” under his breath as they clearly recognise each other.  

“I found the gyro,” Cal announces first, throwing a small mechanical part to Greez, who's taken by surprise but still catches it. Then he turns to the intruder with a smile. “You made it!”

“Good to see you, Cal,” he replies, and the two share a friendly handshake.

“Greez Dritus, this is Bode Akuna,” Call starts introductions, telling this Bode your name as well. You merely give him a short nod in acknowledgment as Cal continues. “He was on Coruscant. Wouldn't have made it out alive without his help.”

Oh, that changes things. 

You leave your spot at the bar and drop your rather cold gaze to join the group. Coming to stand next to Cal, you take his hand, and try your best to give Bode a thankful smile. He returns it, quickly catching on. 

“Wait a minute. Another one?” Greez quips, looking behind Cal. You were so focused on Bode, that you hadn't even noticed the strange looking droid that came in with the redhead. “Cal, you have a very bad habit of picking up strays.”

“I am ZN-A4,” the droid introduces herself with an exaggerated bow. The design and material she’s made of is something you’ve never seen before. “Humble servant of the Jedi Order.”

What.

“Oh, I take it you haven't broken the news yet,” Bode says to Cal, who sheepishly shrugs his shoulders. 

Cal then brings everyone up to speed, telling you how when he was in the tunnels with BD, they stumbled upon this old chamber where the droid was stuck, so they freed her. Turns out she's a droid that belonged to a Jedi from the High Republic, of all things. Her master, Sandari, had sent her to activate the so-called forest array (that strange building the other side of the river that doesn't quite fit in with the rest of the scenery; you've always wondered what it was but never found a way to get in). However, Zee, as everyone started calling the droid, is in really bad shape, and she'll never make it that far. She looks dejected as she says that if she fails her mission, then the key to Tanalorr may be lost forever. 

At the mention of the name, Greez chimes in, telling the group that there's an old prospector legend about Tanalorr being a world filled with treasure. But treasure or not, the important part is that it seems to be a real place, one potentially beyond where the Empire can reach: a safe haven. 

Zee is delighted and very thankful that everyone seems on board with her mission, and the group is quick to formulate a plan: while Monk gets her up to speed regarding the state of, well, everything, and she gets some much-needed repairs, Bode and Greez will take care of the Mantis. Meanwhile, Cal, BD and you will go to the forest array to check it out. 

As you're making your way to the stables, you nudge into Cal's side with your elbow.

“You didn't get hurt down there or anything, right? You sure took your time,” you ask him. It did not go unnoticed by you how in Cal's retelling of events, he skilfully left out how he happened to find that mysterious chamber in the first place. 

“The tunnels were pretty old and unstable, but we're okay,” Cal deflects, shooting the droid a quick look. “Right BD?”

BD beeps in response, and you shoot Cal a glare accompanied by a muted gasp, stopping in your tracks.

“You fell through a hole the equivalent of several stories?!” You can't believe this guy. 

“It's fine!” Cal tries to reassure you, bringing his hands up to your shoulders. “I promise, it's nothing a stim didn't already fix. So there’s no need to worry, okay? We have a job to do.”

You sigh in defeat as he places a soft kiss on your forehead. You first cup his face softly, then pinch both his cheeks.

“Just what am I going to do with you, Cal Kestis?” you ask rhetorically, taking his hand into yours and resuming the short trek to where Connor is already waiting and waving at you both. 

Once you're all geared up and hop into the saddle, you tighten the strap of your staff, adjusting its position on your back.

“Just like old times, huh?” you ask at no one in particular, scanning your surroundings and taking in the scenery; it just never gets old. Cal's nekko trots up next to you.

“Just like old times,” he repeats, with that boyish smile you can't get enough of, and the glint of adventure in his eyes. 

Your nekkos take off, and the freckles on his face seem to shine in the sunlight. They form the ever familiar star map that you'd follow time and time again, finding your way back to him. Because from the first time you looked at him, you knew: you'd follow this man across the galaxy and beyond.

— — —

A/N 2: if you understand the droid name reference you get a cookie 🍪

A/N 3: in the book Battle Scars there’s a part where BD tells Cal, and i quote, “Where you go, I go”, and when i tell you that i screamed omg (the first part of my “wherever you go, i go” fic was actually called ‘where’ but i changed it to ‘wherever’ when i added more chapters because to me it sounded better asdsdf) BD-1 and me sharing one brain cell obsessed with Cal fr😌

~~~~~

🐥 taglist: [link to join in my pinned post!] @dybynyght, @galaxtic-writings, @kalea-bane, @soka-writes-things, @padawancat97, @riddikulus-obsessions, @optimisticprime3, @starilicious, @ivelostmyabilitytoeven, @alternatescififandomelover

[clay-cuttlefish]

Updating the sheet has me thinking about the cameo limbo Vic's currently in, and what DC should do with him.

Vic is in this weird position where I don't really think he should be alive. He's had one appearance that was at all meaningful to his arc and one goofy oneshot since his resurrection, and it doesn't seem like anyone wants to do anything with him other than put him in bullshit spy stuff, so it kinda just feels pointless. Unlike some other ex-dead-mentors, though, it's not like him being around is a *problem* for Renee's development. Killing him off again would just be cheap, and there's no reason not to use him now that he's around. So what do you do with that?

Well. Vic died with his heroic arc complete, having passed on his legacy and made peace with his unfinished business, and now he has to figure out what to do in a world where he doesn't have a history to ground him. As a reflection of both his time seeking a purpose after Hub City and his earliest relationship with Shiva, the answer could easily be "hang out and get into trouble".

See, my annoyance with his current position is because I feel like it's kind of a waste to leave him in a dropped (I think? I might've missed something, but I'm pretty sure the Lois Lane Checkmate stuff has been ditched) team/plotline that kinda sucked, not that I'm upset he's sidelined. As much as I want to see my beloved guy, I don't actually have a problem with him showing up once a year. My ideal status quo for him, short of manifesting my stupid knockoff Birds of Prey pitch into reality, would be something like the handful of appearances in the late 90s/early 2000s where he was wandering around playing poker. No team affiliation, no grand motive, just showing up in backups and cooldown issues between major arcs.

Vic has thrived as a side character in other people's books, and it would open up a lot of possibilities if he was set up in a place where writers can pull him for an issue or two without having to figure out whether any of the Checkmate stuff is still relevant or come up with a great idea for where to take him next. It's not that he couldn't develop further, but I'd much prefer him to stay static as a roaming weirdo than to rehash old arcs or go in a direction that cheapens his existing development. It's fine for him to be a supporting character in the communal toybox now that his story has ended, and he's a lot more likely to stay in people's minds and eventually be a part of something neat if he's hanging around.

That said, there are a few things about where he is as a person that I think would be worth expanding on if he's being set loose into canon to cause problems.

The first is that I want to know how he feels about being resurrected. I'm sure his reappearance would've felt weighty to someone who was a Vic fan when it happened, and focusing on Renee's reaction to him being back in Lois Lane was definitely the right choice, but looking at his appearances as a whole it ends up feeling... almost underwhelming? That might just be because making the spreadsheet broke my brain, but it's something any substantial appearance probably has to touch on. I don't even think it's weird that he's seemingly unfazed by waking up in an alternate universe, unlike some other characters who should probably have more feelings about being resurrected by continuity jank, but I do feel like there's a lot of room to look at *why* he's so chill. Even just as a contrast to a deeper exploration of someone else having a bad time about it, there are a lot of motifs to build from, and there's a lot you could do with how his self-perception has changed after yet another metamorphosis. (Based on the scraps of pagetime he's had, I'd point it somewhere in the direction of "he's been freed from old obligations, blurring the boundary between his Vic and Charlie personas.")

i also think there's a lot you could do with his old struggles with whether he was doing the right thing or just doing violence because he enjoyed it, and how he views himself now that he's stepped into a more Shiva-like role. This isn't a new development for him, but his initial shift into a wandering mentor wasn't something he planned - he initially left Hub City out of necessity, failed to start fresh, then latched onto Helena while seeking purpose. There's some interesting weight to him getting a chance to either have a fresh start somewhere else or return to Hub City without the weight of his history, and instead choosing to fuck around and intentionally get into trouble that has nothing to do with him, without even the excuse of mentorship.

There's also the problem of continuity housekeeping. It's not really necessary for tracking who remembers him since other heroes generally have their post-crisis continuity back, but the vibe of him roaming rather than returning home change a LOT depending on which version of Hub City exists (it tends to depend on Blue Beetle continuity, which is currently fucked), if Tot and/or Myra exist, and how long Vic was dead from their perspectives. Honestly there are a lot of good options here. I love Tot and want him to be a part of Renee's supporting cast, but the idea that Vic's civilian past literally does not exist is incredibly juicy.

Other than that... idk man. Just because I think he's underused doesn't mean I think he has to be important. Use him as a plot device for anyone who needs an annoying guy to make them introspect. Do more goofy oneoff mysteries. Let me write a teamup that sucks. Put That Guy In A Situation.

[random-mailbox]

Random-Mailbox's Favorite Sailor Moon Fics - Week 22 - Friends to Lovers

I think this may have been the post I have been looking forward to the most, so thank you tophat for picking it as this week’s theme (see end of last week's post for the story behind it). Friends to Lovers is more manga than anime characterization in most cases, which is a nice change to the constant arguing we get with the OG anime compliant stories.

As always, my apologies in advance for spoiling some of these for you (Fic Titles are linked to either FFN or AO3 entries).

It's You (I Fell Into) - @idesofnovember

Usagi literally trips over air and falls onto Mamoru on his first day of being the new engineer at the company she works for. As they start to spend more time together both in and out of the office, they get into a pattern that will require clearing up of misunderstandings before someone gets hurt. Also this art piece titled "Before you go in" by @iamcharlotte88 totally fits into the end of chapter 3 / start of chapter 4 of this story.

It's Always Been You - Beej88

In this non-senshi AU, little Usagi finds Mamoru in his hospital room and declares that since he is her best friend he will never be alone again. As he moves through foster care, Tsukinos always keep an eye on him, with him becoming an integral part of the family. Except that to him, Usagi means so much more than that, and she herself doesn’t realise yet what Mamoru means to her.

The Ghosts Of Lake Yokai - @floraone

This is the lemoniest story of the bunch. It is an aged up retelling of the original anime episode, BUT if the Starlight Tower stand-off turned out completely differently, with Mamoru joining the senshi team as the result. This one also features magical healing 🍆, which is always welcome in my books 😏

Not Him, Please? - @uglygreenjacket

Mamoru has long ago realized that he was in love with Usagi but chosen to keep himself in check best he can to stay in her life as one of her best friends. But when mixing alcohol, jealousy and a birthday party, even best intentions can go astray.

Finally Mine - @reispinkoveralls

Having woken up after defeating Chaos at the Cauldron, Usagi rushes to Mamoru's place to make sure he is back as well. In this AU, they have been fighting together as a team, and Usagi chose to not worry him overseas when a new enemy appeared. This one is also a 🍋🍋

Miraculous Musings: Vignettes of a Miracle Romance - Chapter 25: Fairy - @goddessalthena

This one-shot gives us a glimpse of an AU that us readers will hopefully get to see in full one day. The set-up is that our favorite duo has known each other since childhood and Mamoru gets something incredibly thoughtful as a gift for Usagi.

---

Next week's post will cover Valentine's Day themed fics and is our next Holiday post of the series.

Here are the links to the previous Tumblr posts in these series to explore more amazing works based on different themes - make sure to check them out if you haven't had a chance! (Click on title name to go to the post) - I will keep updating the list every week as new posts come up:

Week 1 - Groundhog Day

Week 2 - Established Relationships

Week 3 - Sex Positivity

Week 4 - Unfinished Stories

Week 5 - Darker Stories

Week 6 - Potions 🧪

Week 7 - Reveals

Week 8 - 👻Halloween🎃

Week 9 - Wrong Perceptions

Week 10 - Non-Senshi AU

Week 11 - In-Progress Fics

Week 12 - Mutual Pining

Week 13 - Enemies to Lovers

Week 14 - Slow Burn

Week 15 - Christmas Part 1 - Ugly Christmas Sweaters and Santa!

Week 16 - Christmas Part 2

Week 17 - New Years

Week 18 - High School AU

Week 19 - Slice of Life

Week 20 - Coffee shop AU

Week 21 - Huddle for Warmth

[dasmuggler]

It was a January day in 1967. Nineteen-year-old Tony Baxter was on a break from scooping ice cream in Disneyland and, like he often did, was wandering around backstage by New Orleans Square and exploring. He took an emergency staircase down to what is now the famous jail scene of the Pirates of the Caribbean attraction, trying to get a better look at the audio animatronic characters and the unfinished scenes. 😳

As he was tiptoeing around, trying not to get noticed by anyone, Tony heard a voice call out from down below, "You can't see very much from up there, why don't you jump down into the canal and I'll give you a tour!" Tony walked down into the still dry canal where the boats of the attraction would eventually go. For the next hour, this gentleman gave a 19 year old Disneyland cast member a tour of the attraction that would change Disney theme parks forever. ❤ Tony was docked pay and reprimanded by his boss at Carnation Plaza Gardens, where he was working, but it was worth it! 😁 That chance meeting and tour gave Tony all the motivation he needed to go for his ultimate dream of working in Imagineering.

A few years later, Tony was able to land an interview with WED (the previous name for Walt Disney Imagineering), who had an opening in the Model Shop. He took with him the typical college student art portfolio, but also brought along a contraption he had created that he thought might catch the interviewer's eye. When Tony told the interviewer about the contraption, he was asked to bring it into Imagineering and set it up.

For the next few hours, Tony would run his machine, reset it, and run it again. The men and women of Imagineering would come into the room, check it out, then leave. One Imagineer stayed in the room and asked Tony tons of questions about his most recent Disneyland jobs, working on Adventures Thru Inner Space and the Submarine Voyage. Tony didn't recognize that this Imagineer was the same gentleman who had taken him on the tour of the unfinished Pirates years before. It was Disney Legend Claude Coats, who had been close with Walt Disney and had been with the Disney Company since the "Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs" days.

Of course, Tony Baxter was hired by WED, and he eventually went on to design some of the most iconic attractions in Disney history, including Big Thunder Mountain Railroad 🚂 and Splash Mountain 🪵. Claude Coats had an unbelievable Disney career that I'll have to write about in another post, but his full story can be found in the book, "Claude Coats: Walt Disney's Imagineer" by author and former Disney animator Dave Bossert. I had Dave and former Disney Imagineer Alan Coats (Claude's son) on my podcast a couple of years ago and we talked all about this story and a lot more! The quote also comes directly from that book. Thank you so much for reading another one of these and I hope you enjoyed it!! 🙏❤🙏

The photo I included was framed in Claude Coats' office until the day he retired. Claude is seated and behind him, from left to right, are John Hench, Mary Blair, and Walt Disney. They are looking at Claude's background painting for "Cinderella".

[littlegodzilla]

Hi!!

I'm here again, I have to say I'm feeling better than the last week. My little boy isn't completly recovered but he's doing fine so I'm feel bettee too to write something. I have some unfinished things that I'll post too... other day, but today I was walking to my job and this idea came to my mind again.

Why again?

Well I thought about it time ago and it was Norman and my husband fault. My man is always teasting me for my platonic love with Daryl, he calls him 'Stripper with possum skin thong' and then I found a gif set about Norman talking about what was daryl's job before like a stripper and the squirrels... a-and I couldn't stop myself, I had to write it...

So here it goes!

I hope you enjoy it!!

*

Our past.

Daryl Dixon x FemReader.

One shot.

Warnings: Cheating. Bad language. Awkward meeting. Daryl being an asshole. Fighting. Smut. Rough sex. Unprotected sex.

Words: 3300.

Summary: You made the worst mistake of your life and you thought you'll never see him again but life is a bitch and now you don't know what to do.

Taglist: @phoenixblack89 @browneyes528 @pncnsc @purple-serenity @lilythemadqueen @darylsgarden @srhxpci @xxtinasxxblog @green-eyedladywrites @hail-yourselves

You look your reflect on the mirror like every morning since you found Alexandria.

You never thought you would get this far when the world started to fall apart. Many things had changed before that, you left part of your life behind to start over, you wanted to forget the bad decisions that had truncated your plans, your family supported you and you couldn't judge anyone but yourself. It was all your fault, in fact, you yourself ruined your own plans in a night of heat, alcohol and thunderous music.

You sighed long and wet your face with some water. It's been a long time since you remembered those days, you thought you had buried all that long ago, but those blue eyes keep surfacing. You feel like a fool, you can't understand why it's so hard for you to forget someone you only shared one night with. It was intense, wild, dirty and wrong. But you still can't forget him.

"You look like a stupid teenager." You say to your reflection and walk out of the bathroom.

Alexandria is a community settled behind high, reinforced walls to prevent death from entering and you all end up infected. It took you months to find that place, fighting for your life, learning to defend yourself, to hunt on your own, you are sure that if you had not found that place you would have died sooner from hunger than from enemy fire. At first you were wary of the place, perhaps like everyone who arrived there for the first time, but little by little you began to feel integrated and comfortable with both the community and the people who lived there. Deanna soon found a perfect job for you; you would help the children of the community to get on with their normal lives before the apocalypse. There weren't an exaggerated number of them, but there were enough to be able to have a class in one of the rooms in the main house of the community. Every morning you get up early, grab your books and your own notes and head there to get on with your work. There are children of different and varied ages so you spend your mornings with each group to teach them what they need to know. It's fun and you feel useful, plus in the afternoons you take your own shift watching and sometimes even go out exploring. It's not part of your role there in the community, but sometimes it feels like you need to get out from behind the walls and unwind.

That morning it doesn't look like things were going to change too much. Everything looks quiet in the city, people are enjoying their quiet lives as they continue with the tasks and duties imposed so that chaos and fear does not consume the place completely.

You leave the house, the heat starts to get hotter and hotter as summer arrives, you shake the papers in your hands looking for a breeze of fresh air and get going again. The skirt of your dress dances as you walk towards the main house, sometimes you find it strange to think about the clothes you wear or not, how things change being there to when you go out on patrol loaded with your weapons, dressed in several layers to avoid scratches, bumps and even if they catch you, that it costs them to get to bite your skin. There, however, you feel free.

You start with the little ones that morning, with sheets for them to draw, play, learn by painting and having fun is always easier than with the complicated books you found at the Monroe's house. They are learning to memorize numbers and expand their vocabulary, the class is filled with countless babbles and giggles, it almost makes you feel like you are still at home again.

You're finishing up with your classes, it's almost lunchtime, in the afternoon you'll have another couple of hours with the older students when you hear commotion downstairs in the house, the kids are looking at each other nervously, you want to keep calm when one of your teenage students walks through the door.

"Aaron's back." He reports and has an excited smile. "He's coming with more people and it looks like there are kids too."

Before you can say anything, the commotion forms around you, everyone is excited and curious, a small stampede forms and you are left alone in your classroom. You can't blame them, news of new people arriving is always cause for joy, it means more good people, more people safe, more stability and progress. Of course for the children it means new friends to have fun with and escape from reality, so you understand perfectly the excitement and nervousness of your students.

You have had good times and bad times letting people into the community. Not everyone who had arrived at Alexandria's gates was willing to be dictated to by a set of rules that would make it easier for everyone to live together. But you trust Aaron, he and Eric have never failed to find people. It's like a gift. They know when it's worth it and when it's not and this time they seem to have got it right and from what you've heard it's a large and varied group. To tell you the truth even you are curious.

Getting carried away by the feeling, you gather all your things to put them in your bag and leave the main house to head towards the door of the community, you want to meet the newcomers, maybe there are some women of your age with whom you can make a new friendship or future students with whom you will have to deal with as they grow up and become more rebellious. With a smile on your face you pick up your pace.

Before you arrive you see that people start to gather in small groups to observe the newcomers always keeping a safe distance in case things go wrong, the group assigned to guard the entrance and scouting gate get closer, surrounding the newcomers, making sure to take their weapons away and that they can't hurt anyone. Aaron tries to calm his nerves, Eric comes in injured, he's carrying a swollen ankle and is quickly taken to the infirmary. You move closer, you get along well with Aaron, you feel comfortable with them and like to think you are good friends, so you want to know how Eric is doing and get to know the group. Maybe that will make the rest of them not so tense. As you get closer you realize that this is a large group several women, men, a boy entering his teens and a baby. You have to admit that seeing a baby in such a good looking and well-groomed nomadic group surprises you. They are led by a man with curly hair and a fledgling beard, next to him the teenage boy and the baby, a woman with a katana and a young couple, the group opens with several more people and closes with another man with long dark dirty hair, he carries a crossbow in his hands, a leather vest, but when he looks up your breath catches in your chest and by instinct you take a step back.

It's him.

It can't be. After all this time. No, surely it must be a mistake, but those eyes you would be able to recognize anywhere. Not only that, he also seems to have noticed your presence and his face has transformed into a grimace that you can't describe. There is something that makes you flinch. There is pain in his eyes, they all look devastated but it is clear that he has been through something that he still can't get over. For a second you want to push your way through the group and reach out to him. For what reason? What could you say to him? Memories come back to your mind, that night you went out with your friends to celebrate your bachelorette party and you found him.

"Hey." Aaron's voice brings you back to reality, you look at him and he looks nervous. "Are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"No, it's just..." You don't know how to explain it to them.

How do you tell them that you knew this man from a party so long ago? How do you tell him that you've been unable to forget him even though you've shared so little time together?

"Daryl..." His name makes your heart pump violently in your chest. "You know her?" The man leading them looks at his companion curiously. He bites his lip several times and shakes his shoulders.

"Nah."

You have to admit that you weren't expecting an emotional reunion, a long hug or tears of joy laden with relief-filled whispers, because your relationship was no more extensive than one night, a brief conversation, an intense gaze and your bodies merging in the alleyway of the same pub where you had coincided. But you are also bothered by his definitive answer, maybe he hasn't remembered you, it has been a long time since then and that makes you feel worse because you have been unable to forget him.

Instinctively you take a step back again, standing next to Aaron, clearing your throat and touching the arm of the man who continues to look at you in confusion.

"What happened to Eric?"

"We had a little slip up, it's just a dislocated ankle, nothing major."

"I'm glad." You smile and give him a little hug. "I'm going to see him in the infirmary."

After a few days the new group seems to be adapting to the community, little by little everyone has found a job or stability, some begin to trust the people of the community, others are still distrustful and others pretend to be content but have their walls up waiting for any problem. Despite being well behind the walls of Alexandria, Rick does not understand the lack of weapons, something that some neighbors also share since the world is becoming more hostile and you need to be able to defend yourselves, but Deanna is firm in her decisions and the weapons are always kept in storage except when the patrol groups went to explore, nothing else.

You quickly walk away feeling your breath hitch and your heart pounding violently in your chest. You don't notice Daryl's eyes following you until you disappear.

*

Still no one was able to take Daryl's crossbow from him.

That morning you head back to your first class at the main house, as you pass the house where Rick and his people have settled in you stop. Carol and Daryl are on the porch of one of the houses talking, the man is fixing his crossbow and answers his companion with little grunts and monosyllables. Carol walks away and as she passes you she smiles and waves, you reciprocate and bite your lip before moving towards Daryl. You want to apologize to him, if he isn't who you thought he was you didn't want him to be uncomfortable with you, you would formally introduce yourself and you could remain simple neighbors. When you get to his side you see him tense up, he stops what he's doing for a few seconds, then looks down, he pretends to pretend you're not there and it pisses you off.

"Hello..." You greet him and introduce yourself, he's still focused on his weapon. "I wanted to apologize...for the other day." That gets his attention, he stops and looks at you. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, I thought...I thought that..." You get choked up and stammer, you feel your cheeks start to heat up as you can't find the words. "I thought you were someone I knew, but... I'm sorry." You say quickly feeling your heart pounding. "Can we pretend it didn't happen and... be friends?" You propose feeling like a teenager. He stares at you, those blue eyes get your knees shaking and you're almost sure you didn't miss when you recognized him, but if he wants to pretend it's not, you can accept it.

He shakes his shoulders and nods.

"Sure..."

"Yeah? Great, it's nice to meet you, Daryl. I'll see you around." You smile encouragingly and before he answers you turn around to go in search of your students.

You are dead embarrassed when you finally find out where you are, your friends have taken you to a strip club with strippers and have seated you in a room for you alone where they intend to make you one of those numbers. You have tried to run away on a couple of occasions, but your friends have left you no escape. Between laughter and alcohol your mood is slowly changing and you feel a little dizzy, but more receptive.

"Congratulations for yer wedding." You hear him say behind you and you freeze in your tracks.

-

"I can't believe I agreed to let you guys do this to me..."

"Come on it'll be fun!" one of them encourages you, filling your glass once more.

"I remind you that last time it didn't go well."

"And that's why we've made sure this time will be different. Shut up and enjoy it."

You had to admit you weren't expecting to see a real attractive man, when he appeared on the small platform where he would perform his dance you felt a strange tug in your lower abdomen. His intense blue gaze was riveted on you from the first moment, he was new you could tell it wasn't the job he was most passionate about as his movements were somewhat awkward and uncoordinated with the music, but he was handsome and strong despite being a bit skinny, he wore an open leather vest and a black slip. He didn't let you touch him too much, but admiring him was enough to make you lose your mind.

It was an intense half hour that you knew you could never repeat, or maybe if some other friend got married, but it would be different. Even though the show was over, your party was still going on and the alcohol was still taking its toll on your common sense. You didn't know exactly what time it was, you almost had trouble remembering where you were, but you needed to go to the bathroom and that's where you got completely lost.

When you returned to your friends you discovered the dancer at the bar, he had changed his skimpy clothes for jeans but was still wearing his vest, you licked your lips and staggered a little before moving towards him. You tapped him on the arm, you smiled as you caught his attention by leaning on the bar next to him.

"Thanks for the show." You told him with a chuckle and he snorted.

"I ain't work here." He grunted.

"Oh no? Then there's a guy who looks a lot like you."

"It's been a fuckin' debt." He grumbled and played with the sticker on his beer. "My brother doesn't know how to close his deals without getting me in the middle."

"It's a shame... I liked it..." You said without taking your eyes off him, he turned to you curiously.

"Enjoying the party?"

"Very much, although the night is already ending and that makes me sad..."

"Why?"

"Because as of tomorrow I will no longer have freedom..."

Your gazes connected feeling again that intensity around you, I bite your lip and he smiled half-sideways.

"I-I'm going to cum!" you moaned and clenched around his cock. You heard him grunt and he pulled harder on your hair, pulled you away from the wall and his hand closed over your neck.

Your back bumped against the alley wall, his hands tightened on your waist going down to your ass which he grabbed tightly making you moan as his mouth ran down your neck. Desire and need coursing through your bodies, you were devouring each other, your mouths red from the intensity of your kisses, but you needed more. He turned you around, your hands resting on the wall, lifted the skirt of your dress, ripped your stockings and parted your legs with his. Your pussy pulsed and moistened wanting to feel what would happen next. You heard him spit and you bit your lip as you felt his tip break through inside you thrusting with a single lunge. You moaned loudly, but he didn't give you time to adjust to his intrusion, he began to lunge hard inside you holding you by the waist, tangling his fingers in your hair making your body arch guiding him, totally at his mercy. His rhythm was intense, fast and deep, his fingers digging into the skin of your waist and the pull on your hair was almost painful, but the angle at which his cock pounded inside you sent violent currents of pleasure throughout your body. Your moans hid the wet, obscene sound your bodies made as they moved.

"No..." He gasped in your ear, his hips moving slower. "Not yet." His beard scratched your skin as he rocked his hips against you, moving torturously inside you. Every time you brushed your limit he pulled you away from him turning you into a desperate, needy mess.

"Please..." You moaned, he had stopped completely without leaving your pussy, his sheer size got your knees shaking, not to mention his hand still around your neck and the other in your hair.

"Please? can't ya take it anymore?"

"No... no, please, I need to..." You pleaded and felt him smile against your cheek.

"Easy girl, I know very well what ya need."

He leaned your body forward and thrust hard again, his hands now gripping your hips tightly each time he rammed inside you, hard, deep, with a wild rhythm that brought you both to your limit.

Your body trembled as you gasped trying to catch your breath, still dizzy from your orgasm, beside you he dressed without taking his eyes off your body.

"Congratulations on yer wedding."

Slowly you turn to look at him again. Daryl is standing on the porch, he has put his crossbow aside and is looking at you with intensity. You are confused and at the same time you feel annoyed. It was him, you had not failed in your suspicions and yet Daryl had led you to believe the opposite. You frown and walk back up to his position clenching your fists.

The next morning you woke up with those thunderous words piercing your ears. The memories, the images, your aching body, everything about the previous night fell on your consciousness like a huge slab that you were unable to lift. You weren't even able to look your fiancé in the face, you had made a big mistake.

*

"Yes that was you, why did you say we didn't know each other?"

"'Cause we dunno each other. We ain't friends, we ain't even acquaintances. We just fucked one night." He says shrugging his shoulders, you feel your cheeks redden. It's clear he remembers it too.

"You could have said yes, you didn't need to explain yourself..."

"Nah, always have to explain, besides what if yer husband found out?" He asks you in a husky voice, raising an eyebrow, crosses his arms and shifts his body weight from one leg to the other. You mute for a second and lower your head.

"I didn't get married..." You whisper.

"What?"

"That I didn't get married." You say louder and raise your head to look at him.

"Why not?"

"Why not? How could I get married after what happened?"

"Dunno, ya could have moved on with yer life."

"Of course not, I couldn't do that to him! I-I cheated him, it wasn't fair to him..." You stammer and fidget nervously, Daryl stares at you tensing his jaw for a second.

"Maybe ya didn't love him as much as ya thought ya did and getting laid with the redneck would help save yer ass." He says and you look at him with wide eyes.

"You're such an asshole..."

"Ya didn't care when ya were suckin' my dick so fuckin' good I thought ya'd pull my fuckin' soul out through the tip."

You act without thinking, unaware that you've slapped him until you feel your fingertips sting from the impact against his cheek. Daryl doesn't move, his face turns toward the direction of the blow, his hair swirls covering his eyes, but he doesn't say anything. You feel your tears fill your eyes and you take a couple of steps back and then speed away.

-

I hope you liked it!

See you in the next stories!!❤

[luminari-mc]

4 Female with satan

Late Night Rescue (Satan x f!MC)

Prompt 4: “I know it’s 2 in the morning, but do you want to...”

Genre: Fluff, Slice of life

Warnings: N/A

A/N: First Satan piece! Coincidentally enough, he has been growing on me a lot more lately. I hope I get to work more on him in the future so I can explore other parts of his personality (I just think he's neat).

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

It was with a long, deep groan that MC's forehead met with the surface of her desk. Three long hours on this homework, and she still couldn't see the end of it. When the teacher had first said that the entire class was about to "taste true suffering" for getting a low score on the previous assignement, she didn't think he would actually be this serious. But what was she expecting, really, when it came from a demon teacher?

With a hand that had turned stiff from writing down notes since the beginning of her study session, MC grabbed her phone and slid it close to her face. She sighed upon seeing the time flash on her screen, reminding her of her grim reality.

2:13am.

"Aaah, and we have to wake up in 5 hours..." the hard truth fell from her lips as she painfully straightened herself in her chair. If Lucifer knew she was still awake at this hour, no doubt she would get a full-blown lecture after coming home from RAD tomorrow. She ran her hands over her face in an attempt to wake herself up as she groaned. She wasn't about to get any sleep tonight, was she?

"What's this coffee made out of, seriously?" Frowning, a pout birthed on her mouth upon looking down at her notes. The pile of books next to her only let her see how much more she would have to write before finalizing her assignment, and giving it back to the teacher tomorrow afternoon.

"It's not doing shit." MC propped her elbows on the desk- maybe a bit too loudly given the time-, and placed her head into her hands. If only she hadn't made a detour to the store with Asmo after school! But she had desperately needed new skincare products, and Asmo's puppy eyes had proven to be way too effective against her. Ugh, she could have been in bed already...

She felt her heart skip a bit when the phone under her hand began ringing, the soft ringtone she had set for nightly calls much welcomed to her ears. Although, a small knot took form in her throat as she began to wonder who could be calling her at such an hour. Maybe a wrong number?

She instantly placed the phone against her ear, her tired mind making her forget to check the name appearing on the screen. "Huh, hello?"

"Ah, so I was right. You are still awake after all." The voice, warm and affectionate in its tone, gave MC the impression that it was the first person she was speaking to in a week.

"Satan?" She asked, rubbing a wrist over her eyes.

"You know, I had a hunch it was going to take you some time to finish your work, after you've left dinner so quickly to close yourself in your room. But to still be going at it at this hour..." The demon clicked his tongue. "Did you even take a break since then?"

"No... I mean, I've finished most of my regular assignements. But I've been stuck on this one for a while now." MC replied as she turned around on her chair to stretch her legs, before curiosity took over her. "How did you guess?"

"I went to the kitchen to grab some water." The blonde answered over the phone. "That's when I noticed the light from under your door. I didn't want to bother you, in case you had fallen asleep with the lights on, so I didn't dare knocking."

Looking back at the door, MC felt lucky it had been Satan who called, and not another one of the demons. The Avatar of Wrath had always been one of the few men in the house who had always respected her boundaries whenever she asked to be left alone, especially more when it was to work on something. Yet, she couldn't help but clutch the phone a little more against her ear, feeling grateful that he was checking up on her in the middle of the night.

"Well, I'm definitely not sleeping right now." She giggled slightly. "But what about you, though? Were you asleep before going to the kitchen? I wouldn't want you to stay awake because of me."

Satan's laugh brought a warm feeling in her stomach as it entered her ear. "Actually, I wasn't. There's been a particular problem that's been keeping me awake, you see. So I've been trying to find an idea as to how I can resolve it."

"A problem?" MC blinked, her eyes opening a bit wider.

"You left dinner relatively early today, so you didn't catch up on it." Satan explains. "But I've recently noticed the presence of a kitten in the cemetary. It's been there for a few days now, and as far as I know, it doesn't seem that it left the area to return to a home, so it's just been taking shelter in one of the mausoleums. I told Lucifer about possibly bringing it inside to give him in a warm place so it can sleep and eat, but of course, he refused on the spot."

MC arched an eyebrow. "I thought you of all people wouldn't care about Lucifer's rules when it comes to cats."

The demon laughed in response.

"Oh trust me, I'd love nothing more than to defy his rules on a daily basis. But I've sneaked cats in the house in the past, and it usually doesn't end well for me, and the cats eventually have to leave. It also wouldn't be easy to bring this kitten inside, now that Lucifer knows about it." Satan sighs loud enough for MC to hear over the phone. "No doubt he would be on my tail if I were to try anything."

She mimicked the demon, letting a puff of air escape her nose in frustration. Lucifer was very stubborn when it came to having animals in the House of Lamentation, the only exception obviously being Henry 2.0 since he was a small goldfish. Even Mammon had been yelled at whenever his crows would enter through the windows to drop freshly stolen goods at his feet, but they'd usually only stay for a couple of minutes. So convincing the first-born to let Satan take care of a kitten... would prove to be challening, no doubt.

MC didn't have the time to offer her support, than Satan immediately started speaking again.

"But you know, MC." The smile in his voice seemed to have doubled in an instant. "I think I may have found a solution to this problem of mine. Now, I know you're still stuck on your homework... And I know it’s 2 in the morning, but do you want to..."

Satan let the end of his sentence unfinished, probably waiting for MC to guess it. Her mouth stayed agape for a few seconds, until she finally took the hint.

"Do I want to... help you?"

"We all know Lucifer has a soft spot for you." MC could hear Satan move around his room as he continued to explain his plan. "I take that if you and I were to go and bring this kitten to one of our rooms, he would be a bit more mellow than if I were to try on my own. Would you be up for it?"

MC weighted the ups and downs in her mind. On one hand, getting caught by Lucifer could result in a punishment her exhausted body wouldn't probably be able to take. But on the other hand, she was the only one at this hour who could help Satan with this predicament. And MC would be lying to herself, if she said she didn't want to see this kitten and give it a better home than a cold, damp mausoleum.

"Ah, and if you need a bit more convincing-" Satan's voice pulled her out of her thoughts, "I'll help you finish that assignement of yours tomorrow morning. Whatever it is, I can assure you we'll be done before lunch."

"You would?!" She found herself gasping as if she had just heard the best news of her life. "Satan, that would help so much!"

"It's for Curses and Hexes, isn't it?" Satan's chuckle felt like honey to her ears. "That teacher really is as sadistic as Lucifer, so no wonder you're having a hard time with it. Don't worry, I'll even complete the assignement for you if we need to."

"I'll help!" MC declared, practically jumping out of her chair to go grab her shoes near the door. "B-But, I was going to accept even before you offered me your help, just so you know!"

"Haha, I know MC. You are truly kind." Satan's words felt sincere. "Now then, shall we meet by the entrance? Be careful not to make any noise on your way there. This rescue mission depends entirely on our discretion, after all."

"I'll be so silent, Lucifer might as well think I turned into a ghost." MC grinned while crouching to put her shoes on. "See you soon, Satan. Let's help that kitten together."

"Thank you, MC. I'm really looking forward to do this with you. I will see you there." As Satan hung up, MC could swear all of the exhaustion she had previously acquired in the past few hours vanish in an instant. Who cared in the moment if her back ached a little? Something much more interesting than taking notes was about to take place.

As MC grabbed her jacket and flipped it around her shoulders, she found herself smiling upon stepping out of her room, this innocent but sneaky rescue mission with Satan making her the most excited she had been in weeks. And with him getting to help her tomorrow... it seemed like, for the first time in a while, her stubbornness had worked in her favor.

[raymondebidochonlifechoices]

Are you confident Bughead will be endgame on this show? That’s literally the last strand I’ve been holding onto, but the thread is weakening. I really can’t believe that they would take this ship, their absolute most popular and loved one, and just end it like this forever. I am so angry with the writing!!

Hey there, anon! It is unbelievable, isn’t it?

What a tricky question you ask! confidence + prediction + the Riverdale writers ... As Jughead would say: yikes!

The thing with these writers is that they use a lot of words without knowing their meaning. “Endgame” is one of them. “New” is another. “Exciting”. “Darkness”™. “Adult stories”. “The message”…

Dangling the bughead “endgame” carrot at the end of one or two seasons of no bughead or -worse- of b*rchie and j*bitha f.e. is not an endgame. The general definition of endgame -outside of chess- is: the last stage of a process. If the process (i.e. the season’s content) isn’t about bughead, then bughead coming together at the very end is not an endgame, it's a peripeteia i.e. a sudden or unexpected reversal of circumstances.

In shipping, endgame is a couple that will inevitably end together (for ever and ever and ever). In order for something to be inevitable, you have to create that sentiment, you have to build the couple up.

There’s an article about the misappropriation of the word “endagame” that I find particularly funny, as it starts by mentioning Riverdale!

Anyway, this is a long-winded way to say that, yes, I do believe that the show will end with bughead and varchie as their main canon couples. It’s just that, like you, I’m so very tired with these story lines. There is satisfaction to be had at the notion of endgame but a seasonful of investigative bughead would be infinitely preferable. For me (and I can only speak of myself) the journey is more important than the destination -even if for the simple reason that -in TV show time- it lasts longer!

Why do I think bughead is still … that word? Everything’s under the cut, so as not to clutter your dash!

1. A lot of people have been theorising that what happened in 5x18 was not the original plot. I agree.

Let’s start with 5x18 varchie.

Their break up came completely out of left field. Its unexpectedness is reminiscent of 4x17. I make fun of how s5 is a reboot of s1+s2’s leftover ideas, so another copy-paste shouldn’t feel out of place, and yet … really? Another repetition? To what end? If the season’s goal was not varchie, b*rchie was already there waiting at the beginning of the time jump! Why abandon that plot? In terms of romantic varchie time, that was extremely limited, since after their kiss in 5x7, Veronica’s divorce kept them apart until 5x17 … Why have Archie being extremely jealous of Chad, Veronica getting involved in all of Archie’s schemes (firefighters, bulldogs), Archie getting involved in Ronnie’s (rescuing daddykins) or Veronica telling her father she chooses Archie over him in 5x17? Also, for those who remember, there was this by the-writer-who-shall-not-be-named.

The reason of the break up is as ludicrous as Veronica moving into Archie’s childhood bedroom (with its effing slanted roof!) on the premise that long term the Andrews’ residence has more room! (By the way, I don’t know what surprised me more: that Veronica thought that Archie and uncle Frank would know who Ina Garten is or that Jughead didn’t.) Why is Veronica astounded by Archie’s involvement in the same activities he has been involved in all through the season?! For f***’s sake, she’s the one that gifted him the fire truck!

Ok. Now let’s give 5x18 j*bitha a try.

For me, 5x18 could either have gone bugheadwards or j*bithawards. J*bitha had some heartfelt talks, a hand touch, a hallucination and a kiss. Bughead had one unfinished heartfelt talk (the only one in the whole season for Betty), two shoulder touches, two hallucinations and Jughead attempting to reconnect with Betty (without specifying what his intent was, it's true).

While I do think that j*bitha is a ship that has been adequately teased, the way they were explored in 5x18 was … not underwhelming exactly (after all, they’re not my ship, so I didn’t have any expectations about them) but … maybe lukewarm is the word? They had but minimal dialogue, only enough to establish that Tabitha’s parents were in town. Then a song where Tabitha initially rejects Jughead, although she had been supportive before. Then another song, where the lyrics were heavily altered and didn’t make much sense anyway (we hadn’t been properly introduced to the Tates) but where the original lyrics were very compatible with Bughead’s history and state of being as of 5x17. The kisses were ok, I have no problem with the actors’ chemistry. But -and this is strictly a personal opinion- Jughead’s flirting scenes (not the make-out ones, you perverts!) with Cora were better and so was the j*bitha kiss in 5x10. For the 5x18 j*bitha to flow, more dialogue and more flirting was necessary (always a persona opinion). So, no, I don’t think j*bitha were supposed to sing what they sang in 5x18.

Production for s5 wrapped up one week after the official announcement of the 5 special episodes for Riverdale and The Flash: “we expect it will take us until Fall 2022 to get back to a regular schedule” was the official quote. Re-organising the cw’s overall schedule didn’t happen overnight. Yes, more likely than not, the writers knew about the specifics of s6a before shooting 5x18-5x19 and had time to re-write them.

2. The couples spoilers for s6 do not make sense plot-wise.

If the end-goal for 5x19-6x1 had been b*rchie, j*bitha and v*ggie all along, these were pairs already happening (except from v*ggie) at the beginning of the time-jump. As for v*ggie, last time we saw them, Veronica pulled a face when she heard that he had had (still has?) an affair with Hermosa. And what about Nana Rose?! (ok, that was a joke! ... or was it? 👀)

The majority of both the fans and the general audience are bugvarchie shippers. Teasing b*rchie and j*bitha as a means of maintaining the viewers’ interest in a will they/won’t they way, only works if the audience finally gets what they want. In this season. Not the next one! There is so much trolling one can take after all. In the space of 1.5 year (4x17-5x19) b*rchie will have been teased ... THREE times (and still lacking build-up)!

I cannot myself see b*rchie, j*bitha and v*ggie as endgame couples. For the audience to invest in them after 4 years of bugvarchie, the writers have to a) give j*bitha an absolutely incredible development that will surpass bughead and the cinematography to go with it (good luck with that) and b) undo Archie’s character (highly unlikely) and/or give Betty a lobotomy (at which point a lot of people will quit en masse, because Archie as The One All The Girls Want just doesn't resonate with the majority).

I have no idea if s6a is an AU or not. But if it’s not, no one will be left to watch 6b.

Can I guarantee a bughead endgame? Of course not. I have no idea how the minds of the Riverdale writers work. But I do think that Jughead and Betty getting back together is more than wishful thinking.

Fervently shipping Jughead/Betty, Jughead/his book and Betty/therapy, sincerely yours, @raymondebidochonlifechoices

I hope you have fun with the Riverdale universe regardless, dear anon. Riverdale has given us one of the most beautiful getting-together stories in s1 and lots and lots of beautiful canon bughead afterwards. Here's to many more! Much love to you!

[amive2567]

Snowy sneezes

Class 1a x GN! Reader

Quirk: Snowman ~ can produce snowmen with everything that includes water. They can't melt (only by other quirks, not through natural causes), and they do whatever the host wants. If the host doesn't give any tasks immediately, the snowman becomes a body of its own forever. Unfortunately, they can't speak :( The more water there is in the air, (or any other source of water), the bigger the snowman gets. 

Warning: Crack, Fluff, mention of sexual content (because Mineta), swearing (because Bakugou), a bit OOC Midoriya

Summary: Y/n is sick, and every time they sneeze, little snowmen appear in their dorm. They are listening to music and study. Because of that, they didn't even notice that the snowmen disappeared and caused trouble. 

Disclaimer: My hero academia and the characters belong to Kohei Horikoshi.

Words: about 2.489

Masterlist

Inspiration by Frozen Fever

Your head pouted, and you barely could keep your eyes open. You had a quirk about snow, so why did you get sick from a snowball fight. "L/N-san, could you please lift your head from the desk and focus on the lesson." admonished you Cementos. "I am sorry, Ishiyama-sensei." you apologized. He continued to teach, but you couldn't focus on a word he said. The lesson dragged on like forever. 

After the day ended, you went straight to your dorm room to replicate the knowledge you got taught today. 

After some time, the headache disappeared, and you could finally focus on your unfinished notes. Your nose started to tingle, and with a loud achoo, you sneezed.  A cold shiver went down your spine, but you didn't think much of it. You were so caught up in the work that you didn't notice how a small snowman waddled quietly around the room. Since listening to music helped you while studying, you didn't hear the rustling steps on your carpet.  The cute snowman watched your back and looked around your room. He investigated your plant in front of your bed. His tiny form tried to stroke the plant, but his short snowy arm couldn't reach the plant. The small snowman was determined to stroke the plant, so he tried to climb up at the plant pot. Since he didn't think about the consequences, the plant pot fell over and covered him with the potting soil. Anxiously he watched if you had seen his plight. You didn't seem to notice it. So he tried to clean himself with his tiny arms. 

Another sneeze shook your body, and another tiny snowman appeared. He looked around the room and found his buddy. The two jumped happily around, and the new snowman helped to clean up his pal. The two snowmen happily discovered your room, as quiet as they could. After they were done, your room looked like you had a fight in it.  They also tried to open the door, but they were too tiny. Exhausted, the two snowmen settled in front of the door. 

A sneezing fit hit you, and about five snowmen developed in your room. The two snowmen got right up and wobbled to the new snowmen. They hugged each other like they were old friends. Silently the two older snowmen convinced the younger ones to open the door together. They built a ladder out of snowmen by stacking themself on their shoulders. With a soft click, the door opened, and they left your messy room.

Your classmates were occupied with their interests and tasks. Some were reading, training, baking, showering, or learning. So they were either outside, in their rooms, or in the common room area. This meant that the hallway in front of your room was empty. The snowmen waddled quietly around the enormous building. 

Since they discovered their new skill, they opened another door. In the room was a blond boy, who laid on his back with a manga in his hand, called Snow white with the Red Hair. He was completely caught up in the book, so he didn't even notice that someone entered his room. The snowmen inspected his room. It has the theme of yellow and blue, and on his shelf were tons of All Might figures. One snowman got his snowy hand on a manga and tried to read it. He failed because snowmen can't read, but the pictures were interesting. He wanted to read it later, so he took it with him. 

The gang of snowmen went downstairs to explore the other parts of the dorms. Loud singing caught their attention. They followed the singing and landed in a steaming environment or, to call it something more simple, the bathroom. It was hot in there, and the snowmen were happy that they couldn't melt by natural causes. Since the bathroom was really a boring place to be, they climbed on the shelves and searched through the products. After the other snowmen had left the room, the last one of them was mesmerized by a big red bottle with the label: red hair dye. He took the bottle with him and followed the other snowmen fast. 

The next stop of the seven snowy figures was another room. They used their secret method again and opened the door. The room was cramped with bookshelves that reached the ceiling. Another weird thing was that there was a shelf only for tons of glasses. No one was there. The snowmen wandered around the room like it was an old museum. The two snowmen that stole something hid in the corners of the room, so their misbehavior wasn't noticed. The smallest of the snowmen looked around and climbed up on the shelf with the glasses. Unfortunately, one of the spectacles fell on the ground and broke. No one seemed to witness it, so the tiny snowman grabbed them and hid them behind his back from the others to see. After they discovered every inch of the room, they made their way to the next one. 

The room wasn't much different from the first one, but it had a more pleasant atmosphere. It was bright and happy. Some snowmen were bored because of the All Might figures they had already seen, but one of them got interested by the rarest of all time. The bronze age All Might figure. Only fifty got produced, and the owner of the room had one. The snowman needed this figure, so when no one watched him, he took the opportunity and stole it. 

They went into two other rooms before they finally got to the common-room kitchen. There stood a tall brown-haired boy with a tart pan. He studied a recipe and was so caught up in his own thoughts that he didn't even notice how a snowman stole his eggs. After the boy wanted to reach for them, they were gone, and he questioned himself if he forgot to lay the eggs on the kitchen counter. He opened the fridge and saw no eggs. But he was sure that he bought them with Koda yesterday. They couldn't be gone, only if someone used them. And he was sure who it was. With angry steps, he walked to the room of a certain angry pomeranian. 

In the meantime, the snowmen discovered that everyone had stolen something. They laid their stolen objects in the middle of their circle. The items they had stolen were a romance manga, red hair dye, a pair of glasses, a rare All Might figure, eggs, lipstick, and a book. All of the snowmen had a panicked expression on their snowy faces. The humans aren't dumb they would soon find out, so they have to hide their items somewhere. Fearfully they collected the things and quickly set about hiding with the stuff in a nearby room. 

It was a dark room, and it got lit by a small source of light. Unearthly sounds could be heard from the computer screen in front of a short, purple boy. The older snowmen tried to cover the eyes of the younger ones. So they couldn't see the horrific show that played on the screen. It was dangerous to be in such a gross environment with young snowmen, but it was better than getting caught. 

"I didn't steal your lame eggs. Now leave me alone fat lips." cursed Bakugou as Sato confronted him. "But I am sure you know where my manga is, don't you?" Bakugou questioned harshly with a raised eyebrow. "Why would I want a manga from you?" Sato asked him. The blond one scoffed and pushed Sato out of the way. "I bet shitty Deku got it," he grumbled and stamped in the direction of his room. Without knocking, he kicked the door open. "Oi, shitty nerd. Give it back," he yelled. But what he didn't notice that the room was messy as hell. "Ah, Bakugou, I wanted to talk to you," Midoriya spoke slowly. His expression was horrifying. Even when Bakugou wouldn't admit it, he was scared of the shorter green-haired boy. "Now, where do you have it?" Bakugou asked, unimpressed. "What should I have? I wouldn't even give it to you. You stole my All Might bronze age figure." Midoriya yelled. He activated his quirk, and before he could Detroit Smash Bakugou into nirvana, Kirishima intervened. "Wait, that's not really manly of you, bro. My hair dye also went missing. I think someone is stealing from us." Sato followed the red-haired. "I think he's right," he said. "Let's meet up with the other ones and think about it before we hurt each other." mediated Kirishima. Still, with rage in his eyes, Midoriya let got of his powerful quirk and noded. "Alright, but I am not done with you, Kacchan." proposed Midoriya. "Whatever you say, shitty nerd." scoffed Bakugou.

As they got everyone except two persons in the common room area, the yelling began. "My lipstick went missing. How can I be able to rock my hero costume." Mina cried and hugged Uraraka desperately. The short brunette patted her back, comforting. "A book of mine also went missing," noted Momo. "Did someone saw my pair of glasses? I need to find Marry the third. Without her, my collection is incomplete." Iida yelled and made his typical hand gesture. At his comment, more than half of class 1a had to suppress a burst of laughter.  "My hair product also went missing," said Kirishima. "My limited All Might figure in his bronze age is missing," said Midoriya grumpily. "You look a bit scary, Midoriya. Is everything ok?" Todoroki asked. "Yeah, of course. I didn't need my All Might figure anyway." he sarcastically answered. "It's just a figure," Todoroki mentioned, and every chatter died down. "Dude, does he have a death wish?" asked Kaminari quietly. "Maybe," answered Sero noiselessly. "A figure... A figure..." Midoriya yelled and wanted to charge for a punch, but a frustrated screech interrupted the argument. 

You finished the last sentence of your work. So you turned around and stretched yourself with closed eyes, but as soon as you opened them, you were met with a tremendous mess. "The sneezes and the...oh shit," you yelled out in frustration. You were so occupied with work that you didn't even notice that you let go of a bunch of snowmen. Your steps stormed to the common-room to start the search for the tiny, snowy trouble makers. The yells in the common-room got louder and louder as you got nearer. "Guys," you yelled over the screeches of Midoriya. "I let go of my quirk, and some snowmen are probably starting some trouble. We need to find them." you got straight to the point. Everyone looked at you with expressionless faces. "Why is even every one of you here?" you asked now, confused. "Your tiny snow fuckers stole our stuff," Bakugou grumbled. "What was actually stolen from you, Kacchan ?" Kaminari asked.  "A manga," answered Bukugou grouchily. "Uh, which genre?" questioned Kaminary. "Shut it, dunce face," Bakugou yelled. "Just asking." waved Kaminari away. 

"Do you know where they possibly went, or how we can get rid of them?" asked Momo calmly. "I don't know where they could be," you answered, a bit disappointed. "If we find them and want to get rid of them, we need to destroy them with fire quirks. They don't melt of natural causes," you explained. "Alright, I think we build two teams. One team goes with Bakugou and the other one with Todoroki," suggested Momo. "Why do I need to be in one team. I can do this on my own." Bakugou protested. "Do you want your manga back asap?" Momo asked after that the ash-blond boy was quiet but still grumpy. "I am not going with Kacchan." Midoriya angrily said. "I don't want to go with you either," shouted Bakugou. "Just like an old married couple." laughed Kaminari. "Shut it, dunce face." yelled the blond boy. 

After you build up the teams, you started to search for the cold troublemakers. The team of yours consisted of Todoroki, Aoyama, Tsuyu, Iida, Uraraka, Yaoyorozu, a grumpy Midoriya, Tokoyami, Shoji, Ojiro, and you, of course. The other ones had fewer patient people in their team. Bakugou got Sero, Kirishima, Kaminari, Ashido, Jiro, Sato, Koda and Hagakure in his team. Your team searched on the second and third floor for the stolen things and your snowmen. 

The third floor was clear now you searched on the second floor. "Waa, how did snowmen came into my room?" a high-pitched yell caught the attention of your team. You neared the room and opened the door. Mineta was standing in front of a bunch of tiny snowmen. Everyone in the room turned, slowly their hats to the door. "Yeah, gotcha," you shouted happily. The snowmen suddenly let go of the stuff they hoarded and ran in different directions. "We need to catch them. Todoroki, Tsuyu, Iida, Momo, and I are catching them, and the rest of you secure the missing stuff," you ordered. During this time, Momo produced earpieces for communication. The people named ran with you to catch the snowmen.

Since the snowmen were fast and not as dumb as you wished they were, you had to separate. The snowman in front of you ran fast, and you yelled after him. As the snowman had to take the elevator, you could easily catch him. "I got one. Does someone else has one?" you asked in your earpiece. "I've got one too." answered Iida "Me too," said Tsuyu. "I have already burned two," said Todoroki in his calm demeanor.  "I am currently trying to catch one," yelled Momo hectically. "Thanks, guys, that means only one is missing," you said. A loud explosion roared through the dorm-building. "Now, I think only one is left." you corrected yourself. "I got the penultimate snowman," said Momo proudly. "Great." you cheered. As the elevator stopped at the ground floor, the snowman in your arms tried to wiggle himself free. "We need to met up in the common room, so we can get rid of the captured snowmen," you said to the others. 

After you got rid of the captured snowmen. Bakugou stormed into the common room area. "We found only one, are all gone?" he asked grumpily. "Only one is missing," you answered as you watched the penultimate snowman melt. "I got the last one he was hiding in the fridge," said Sato and brought you the last one. 

"Thanks, guys, for helping. I am so sorry that my quirk got out of hand and caused such trouble," you apologized to your classmates. "No problem, that could happen to every one of us. You don't need to apologize." Midoriya said reassuringly. A small smile spread across your face, and you were relieved that everyone agreed and wasn't angry with you. Except for Bakugou, but that was to be foreseen. 

[supremeinlilac]

Don’t ask me what could have been

Pairing: Billie Dean Howard x Fem!Reader

Word count: 2037

Warnings: Death, angst, idk its just a lil bit sad

A/n: I challenged myself to write a fic without dialogue, because my writing is super descriptive anyway, so I enjoyed writing this so much, you have no idea, even though it’s sad. Enjoyyy :))

For @grilledcheeseandguavajelly​ @shineestark​ I love you and you deserve the stars <33

Your death had been an accident.

Wrong place, wrong time. An unsettled ghost that you’d simply gotten too close to. Curiosity had indeed killed the cat after all, and now it had taken you too.

It was the first and last time Billie had requested you join her on a job, to watch her work. You’d eagerly accepted, excited to watch her work, slightly nervous about it being your first real experience with ghosts of any kind. She’d let you explore the giant house while she spoke with who she believed to be the problematic ghost, one of a small child.

It was in the bedroom you’d met the real ghost but he’d looked and sounded so real that you’d mistaken him for someone alive. His timidness soon turned to anger once he realised you weren’t there to held him, and you couldn’t even blurt out that Billie was just downstairs and that she could help. Everything happened so quickly. Too quickly.

Your last words were the whispers of her name but she had been too far away to have heard them. You’d slipped away without a goodbye. You still yearned for that goodbye, everyday you’d find the whispers of her name falling from your lips unconsciously, as if begging for her to hear you.

She couldn’t have helped. It didn’t help to ponder over what if’s.

Even so, you knew the memories of that day consumed her still. When she would wake from bouts of fitful sleep she’d reach out across the sheets for your comforting hand, your warmth, only to be met with none. She pined for your embrace, the way you’d coo her nightmares away with gentle kisses and your nails against her scalp.

The first smoking break she’d take at work, when the dew still clung to the delicately swaying grass and the mist of the morning had not yet cleared, she’d remember the way the droplets of tears would slip down the crease of your smile as your laughter rippled through your body.

Billie Dean couldn’t wear her pearls anymore. She couldn’t have them lay so close to her heart without the memory of you always sitting upon her lap, twirling them between delicate fingers and pressing a lingering kiss to her collarbone. Just as you always did when she wore them, which was why she wore them so often. She never got the chance to admit that to you. She wished she did.

They now lay untouched in a box beside the last book you’d been reading, unfinished. There was so much more of it you had yet to read. So much more life you had yet to experience.

When she’d open your wardrobe to the fading smell of your clothes, press a bunched up top in her fingers and bring it to her nose. Imagining that you were there, giggling and teasing about that specific habit, asking why she insisted on doing that when she had the real thing.

Had.

The past tense reminded her cruelly that you weren’t hers anymore. Weren’t anyone’s. Just weren’t.

No one was holding you, soothing you, making you laugh or stopping the flow of your tears. She ached to be able to hold you again. For one more time she would trade all her fame and success, didn’t care how cliché that sounded, because for you she would.

There were times she’d shrug on an outfit for a meal with her colleagues, turning as if to seek approval from you before her smile would faulter and her shoulders sag, and she’d have to fight herself to enjoy the meal in your absence. Her fingers pressing against her purse, and the knowing that your smiling photo lay just within. A photo she’d taken when you’d been unaware, that she’d kept to brush over and admire the way your cheeks would redden and crinkle, a silent laugh beaming over your face.

When she’d visit the house, you’d watch her from a distance. You didn’t trust yourself to be close to her. To be allowed to smell her, the lingering musk of her cigarettes and the sweet tang of her perfume.

She’d talk to you, telling you about her show and about celebrities she’d met on her travels and at events. You’d smile at her theatrics, the way she’d catch herself waving her hands around dramatically while in the throng of one of her stories.

She never spoke about meeting anyone. Not that you needed to be told that she wasn’t interested in dating. You could tell she’d thrown herself into her work to ease the insistent pain. The loss. You were proud of her.

On this particular day, the atmosphere was different. Eerie. You watched as she crossed the threshold into the property, hand lingering on the door a second too long. The other ghosts could sense it too, the change, and they scattered into the far corners of the house, leaving you alone with the woman who now ascended the stairs toward the bedroom she always zeroed in on, fingers tracing the wallpaper and cracked frames that hung.

You knew why she’d come. Knew why this time it felt so different. So final.

The thought of her leaving for good made your throat close up, sobs catching as you forced yourself to be stronger. To savour these fleeting moments in her presence as if they were to be your last. It was cruel to think that they would be.

In the bedroom she sat on the edge of the bed, as always, lips parting to hold a cigarette between teeth while she lit it with trembling hands. Oh how you wanted nothing more than to still them between your own, to comfort her.

You didn’t. Settling for simply watching her inhale deeply, the flickering trail of smoke that danced out of the crack in her mouth, dissipating into the air. You watched her lean to the side table to snub out the orange ember, fizzling out against the cool ash tray.

Approaching her, you knelt at her feet, the position you’d so often adopt when she’d had a trying day at work, head in her lap and fingers clutching at her pants while she’d stroke at your hair and relax. Your proximity to her felt so natural, like coming home. She felt like home.

She could smell your lingering perfume, as fresh as the day you’d died, enveloping her in your familiarity. Could feel the warmth of your breath against her neck, fingers reaching to brush over the goosebumps left. She swore if she just reached out, that she’d feel the curve of your jaw, a hand coming to rest upon hers as she’d caress your face.

She did, and her fingers curled around nothing, so she did it again, willing you to appear with the frantic clenching of her hand as if the more she did it the more likely you were to be. When her attempts bore no fruit, she let her arm drop limply to her side, a finality.

A small, sad smile painted her lips, and she suddenly looked so small and broken, like a child lost in the bustle of a crowd. Alone.

You wanted to reach for her too, to press the pads of your fingers against those lips, to tug at the edges and hold her until the smile was true again. But you couldn’t bring yourself to do it, an invisible string holding you back from her, one which you couldn’t sever.

You loved her.

You couldn’t, and wouldn’t shackle her to this house while she was alive, to you. You loved her more than the selfish desire that swarmed inside you to just appear to her and tell her to stay. You knew she would.

It was the best for her if she believed you weren’t here, so that the grief would slowly thaw and she’d be able to find peace. Move on. Maybe find someone else. Maybe.

Billie Dean Howard. Medium to the stars.

God how you wished that the stars in her eyes would sparkle like they did when you were alive, and not just with the sheen of unshed tears.

Billie Dean Howard was the stars. She was the stars and the moon and the sun, the universe painted perfectly in silk and cigarettes. The stars would fling themselves to the ground for her, bowing in her presence.

Scrambling to your feet and out of her way when Billie had stood, she walked to the wall at the far end of the room, her back to you and you wondered what she was doing. She’d never done this on any of her other visits. You didn’t have to wait long to find out why.

You heard the whispered goodbye, bit back the tears that threatened to fall at the finality of it all. Watched her rest her forehead against the cool wall, as she so often used to do to you, fingers pressed into the wallpaper as if she wanted nothing more than to be sucked into the very walls of the house, to be trapped just as you were.

Billie turned around, looking straight at you as if you were as clear and bright as the sun, before reaching into the bag on her shoulder. The shimmer of her pearls held up against the low light of the room. She’d brought them to you. She knew you were still here, watching. She knew what you were sacrificing for her freedom to leave and live and exist outside these walls.

You smiled. She was leaving a piece of her to you, a piece of you both to tie and strengthen the bond you shared, even in death. The faint clatter of the beads on the chest of drawers had you following her movements again, hands hovering over the line of her shoulder blades through the top she was wearing.

When Billie finally turned around, this was the closest you’d been to each other since your death. There was no way she could know your were there. Yet here she was, reaching up and cradling the air that would have been your face if you’d just let her in, as if you were as real as herself. As if she could see you, touch you.

As quickly as she’d turned, she was lowering her hands and gathering her things off the bed. She did it slowly, meticulously, as if rushing was breaking some unspoken rule. Unfortunately, she could only slow her movements so much, only put off her inevitable departure for so long.

You weren’t sure why, it wasn’t as if Billie was drawing any comfort from being in the room in which you’d died. You could see the pained way she’d glance at the spot she’d found you, the spot in which she’d curled herself into your body and cried for help to no one. The spot in which she’d learned how fragile life was, how quickly and cruelly it could be snatched from under someone.

You didn’t follow when she’d given a last fleeting look around the room, her footsteps echoed against the wood as she walked back toward the stairs to leave. Instead holding onto the image of her face in your mind, committing it to memory as the stairs creaked with her weight.

Out of the bay window, you could see the final sway of her hips, swish of her hair, golden now against the setting sun. She didn’t turn back to give one more pleading glance towards the house. You think that if she had done, she wouldn’t have been able to bring herself to leave.

You hoped that maybe, when the time came, Billie would return to you to die, wrinkled hands still holding the same warmth and gentleness that they always did for you. You hoped she’d remember the way your lips felt against her own, the way your bodies moulded perfectly as if designed for the very purpose of being close. You begged that she’d be drawn back in the final days, so that you could be together again, as you should be.

But for now, this was your goodbye. The goodbye you’d been robbed of.

taglist : @pearplate @billiedeansbottom @pluied-ete​ @extraordinarilycelestrial​ @toujours-ensanglante​@mssallymckenna @okpaulson  @magnificent-paulsonn @shineestark​ @commanderspeach @grilledcheeseandguavajelly @amethyst-bitch​​ @its-soph-xx​ @germansarechill @bluesxrgnt​ ,if you want to be added just send me an ask :))

[7spaceace7]

By Fireflies’ Glow (Bagginshield)

Soooo I made a Bagginshield fic based off of this post and it’s on my Ao3 if you prefer to read it there, but here it is! The firefly scene didn’t make it into the movie’s cuts, so I made it myself and made it gay for good measure.

Word count: 2237

Warnings: None, unless you count unreasonable amounts of pining

Rivendell’s magnificence only extended into the evening, after the last light of day passed over the mountains surrounding it. Streaming waterfalls cascaded over the cliffs below, leading into rivers and streams down past the elven borders. Dusk crept up on Eastern skies in parallel to the setting sun, until the moon above followed its path high into the sky. Where there was sunlight cast into the water, silver moonlight now shone upon its surface. Bilbo had never seen an evening so beautiful, not in all his years. 

The beauty of Rivendell had so captured him that the hobbit had spent nearly all his time wandering about the kingdom. While his dwarrow companions dined together, Bilbo explored the main halls of Rivendell, and the hobbit was quick to continue his self-guided tour just after Thror’s map had been translated. There was no doubt that Bilbo had fallen in love with the Valley of Imladris. He had to see as much as he could before their journey picked up once more.

At least, that was his excuse to distract from the real reason he had put distance between himself and the others. In truth, he did not feel welcome at their table. Bilbo was acutely aware of his outsider status to the dwarves; he may have been a contracted burglar of this company, but the hobbit knew he was still viewed as little more than a burdensome stranger without any experience of the larger world. The worst part was that he couldn’t blame them.

It was no secret he was inexperienced. What he had in his skills of gardening and baking (the best cakes from scratch in the Shire, you see), he lacked in the practical adventuring repertoire of sword fighting and travelling across Middle Earth. He was a Baggins of Bag-End after all, such respectable hobbits didn’t just up and leave on journeys with strange dwarves who ate his pantry stock.

But then, Bilbo supposed he wasn’t a respectable hobbit anymore. He had left that title behind as soon as he grabbed his signed contract and rushed out of his rounded door all that time ago. Instead, he was a member of a perilous quest to slay a dragon and reclaim a dwarven kingdom. However, the title of “adventurer” didn’t seem to belong to him either. 

Another rounded corner of the path led Bilbo to find himself back where his exploration had started in the gardens. He hadn’t meant to come this way again, but it seemed his feet had started wandering on their own when the hobbit became lost in doubt. Bilbo didn’t mind, though. 

The gardens of the elves were some of the most enchanting he’d ever seen. Hedges encircled the area, trees sprung up their lanky limbs that seemed to welcome all who ventured there. It was well-kept, organized, and filled with flowers of all colors he’d only ever seen in books. The colors seemed to glow by moonlight as well, transforming into translucent blues, purples, and greens. Bilbo used to daydream about places like these from reading his books, wondering what it would be like to live in a place where such beautiful things can grow. Lord Elrond’s offer of staying in Rivendell returned to his mind.

“Master Baggins,” Came the rough voice of Thorin Oakenshield, pulling the hobbit from his thoughts in surprise. Bilbo’s head turned to see that the gardens had already been occupied by said dwarven king, who sat upon the backless, stone-carved bench alone. He held an expression that Bilbo could not place. At the least, it was not a glare or look of disdain toward him as usual. “I was beginning to think you’d run off. You made quick leave after reading the map. You weren’t at dinner, either.”

“You’re right, I was..”The hobbit shifted to his other leg. The words didn’t find him to explain that he didn’t think himself welcome in their company. Exploring didn’t seem much like a Baggins pastime either, so Bilbo’s sentence hung unfinished. “I didn’t realize someone else was here. I expect you wish to be left alone, I’ll take my leave-”

“The others are resting,” Thorin said before Bilbo could take even a step away. His gaze turned away from the hobbit and back to the open trees. “I couldn’t find sleep.”

“...So you came here?” 

Thorin bowed his chin in a nod. The halfling recalled many sleepless nights of his own being comforted by the fresh air found in his garden back home. He allowed himself to wonder if this was something he and the dwarf had in common.

“I never took you for a lover of nature.”

Perhaps on better terms, Thorin might have seemed amused. “I assure you, I am not. The gardens just happened to be far enough away from the sounds of Bombur’s snores.”

“I see. It is rather peaceful. In the gardens, I mean.”

“Indeed.”

Moments of silence stretched between the unlikely pair while the two admired their surroundings, even if Thorin wouldn’t admit to elvish work capturing his attention. Bilbo remained awkwardly at the steps of the garden where he was first stopped. He didn’t mind standing since Hobbits had more resilience in being on their feet for long amounts of time, but to Bilbo’s surprise, Thorin made room on the bench beside him. 

The halfling’s lips twitched in figuring what to say, should he say anything at all. Finally he decided that he ought to try and test the waters. If Thorin was offering him a place to sit, he would take the opportunity and see where it took him. The Tookish part inside told him that this could be his chance to reconcile their strained first impressions. Bilbo walked over and took his seat at the far end of the bench.

“I have my own garden, back in Bag-End,” He started, after the silence became too heavy to hold any longer, “You might have seen it when you arrived that night. It’s certainly not as impressive as this, but then I’m just one hobbit compared to many elves. Besides, it has all the flowers I really need, all of my favorites. The Shire has perfect weather for my hydrangeas best of all.”

The dwarf didn’t speak as he watched him ramble. Bilbo didn’t think Thorin much the type for listening about gardening techniques and therefore spared the details, but a quick glance over to the dwarf proved that he was, indeed, listening. Still silent as ever, but this was a bit different. The exiled king seemed at peace for once. Like he was grateful to hear of a hobbit’s silly affinity for plants instead of a mountain kingdom to be reclaimed.

It was a sight Bilbo found himself having trouble looking away from. He willed himself to focus on the fireflies gathering around the bushes instead. 

“Gardens were not to be found in the mountain,” Thorin’s voice softened at the mention of his old home. He always regarded the Lonely Mountain with careful, almost protective, thought. Bilbo’s eyes settled back on the dwarf and clung to every word. “Nothing grows underground, of course. No grass or soil to grow it, and there was no true light, save for the forges and fires burning.”

“None at all? Did you never go outside..?” Bilbo asked. He had known dwarves were the type to mostly stay underground, but such a concept still seemed so foreign to him. Hobbits were known to spend practically all of their time outdoors, and there was light everywhere he could remember. Thorin, however, shook his head.

“Dwarves in that time were born into the darkness of caves. They grew used to seeing rock instead of sky, and I was no different. From the moment I could walk, my time was devoted to training, watching my grandfather as he ruled so I could one day take his place. Learning of the kingdom and its people, of how to protect and serve them, everything a young prince must know,” Thorin explained. His eyes cast toward the ground as he hunched over, deep in thought. It seemed a painful memory sprung from his words without his meaning to. “There was no time for anything but such duties, especially as my grandfather’s health began to fail...” 

Thorin trailed off with regret held in his eyes. 

“There was little I knew of the world outside of Erebor’s halls, and that’s how it would have stayed were it not for the snake residing there now,” The exiled king finished with bitten words. Bilbo shifted uncomfortably.

“I’m sorry to hear it.” 

“I have no need of your pity,” Thorin’s words were said without malice. Instead, they were filled with shame, like he believed he did not deserve sympathy. Like this horror was his fault, somehow. “Especially from someone who knows a very different life.”

“Actually, it doesn’t sound completely different.” 

The dwarf’s taken aback look was all he needed to continue.

“I mean, I certainly wasn’t an heir to a kingdom, but in the Shire you didn’t go much of anywhere else. Sometimes to Bree if you were the type, but that would get you odd looks from the rest of town, and by no means were you considered the respectable sort. In fact, I’m sure by now I’ve probably been declared mad beyond all reason, going off on adventures with strange dwarves and a wizard.”

The light brown curls framing Bilbo’s face bounced when he chuckled. Thorin found himself wondering why he noticed this. 

“Hobbits simply don’t care much for learning what outside the Shire borders holds. We don’t get visitors, and we don’t do any visiting of our own. So..I suppose in that regard, I understand not knowing much else but what expectations you’ve been born to,” Bilbo finished with a hesitant smile. It was a smile simply for Thorin in that moment, reserved for his eyes and his eyes alone. And yet, the dwarf looked away, startled by its intimacy.

“I see both our clans have deemed us mad, then,” Thorin said, clearing his throat to hide the sudden topic shift.

“How do you mean?”

“The other dwarrow leaders called our quest a fool’s death sentence. I made mention of it before we left your home, but in truth they did not use as-- encouraging-- words as I led the others to believe,” The words of mockery bounced back bitterly to the forefront of his mind. “They believe we won’t make it alive to even reach the mountain. It is why we take on this task alone.”

Bilbo’s mouth twitched in thought again. “Well,” He began, “Perhaps they’re right.”

Thorin’s shock bubbled up instantly, paired with a list of insults in Khuzdul that he had half a mind to repeat from the aforementioned dwarrow council. The hobbit knew that look and raised his arms in defense.

“What I mean to say is, yes, perhaps you won’t reach the mountain, perhaps that’s how we’re fated to finish, but,” Bilbo took a breath, calmed his nerves, “It is still a noble cause to see through the end. And I know each of those who’ve followed you this far would agree. Anyone who doubts you hasn’t got the courage to see it as such.”

Thorin’s eyes softened. He looked down at the smaller creature, such a curious thing by anyone’s standards. A hobbit of the Shire, fond of books, green gardens, and the comforts of home, and yet it is he who has remedied his doubts of his birthright. 

“...Thank you.”

Bilbo simply nodded. Even if he himself wasn’t fit for this journey, he truly did hope these dwarves would succeed. They’d all lost so much when their home was taken from them. Especially Thorin. Thorin Oakenshield, who’d braved unfathomable death and destruction and still stood, facing up against an almost impossible task. And here he was, thanking a small hobbit for mere words. 

Their lives could not be more different-- and still, they were familiar. 

A soft, shining glow from the middle of the garden grove brought their attention away from one another. Dozens and dozens of fireflies had snuck their way closer and completely surrounded the pair on the bench. Their patterns blinked and glimmered for all to see, with shimmering water nearby to exemplify the view. Thorin, surprisingly, was the one captivated most. His cobalt blue eyes shimmered from their reflection, trained on their light.

“Perhaps you were right. About us being raised too differently,” The hobbit mused. A smile tugged at his lips as he watched the king become a prince again. “I don’t remember being so enthralled by the nightly fireflies.”

Thorin chuckled. A small, but genuine, bout of humor. Honestly, it almost shocked  Bilbo into the next age.

“Forgive me. I suppose I just never stopped to notice them before. Not in all my journeys across Middle Earth,” His smile lingered. Bilbo’s brightened. 

They held such a gaze for some time in comfortable silence. At first meeting, Thorin had sized up the simple hobbit for a commoner, unfit for the wilds of the journey the company had planned to cross. And perhaps that was still the case. Only time would tell if Bilbo was truly a loyal member of this quest, but for now, they had this moment to share.

That is, until Gandalf’s voice was heard passing along the bridge mentioning the dwarven king by name.

[fabricated-misslieness]

Miles Morales x artistic! male reader

How does this turn into two fics like wth.

The reader from this fic and the last fic are essentially the same, but you can make the whole villain thing nonexistent in this one.

Pre-established relationship

Reader is a traditional artist and enjoys classical music.

Inspired by Summer Salt - One Last Time

Requested: Yes

Word Count: 1015

“Thi-This is my room.” You stutter out. It was clear you were nervous.

It was Miles’s first time in your room, the one in your parents’ house. Of course, your boyfriend was nervous too, especially meeting your parents, but seeing your bedroom eased him temporarily. Needless to say, it was way more your style than your dorm at the academy was.

His eye was first caught by the easel near the window. “Wow, I didn’t know you painted this well! I mean, of course you do, that’s not what I meant, I--”

You don’t have an easel in your dorm. First of all, you had a roommate you had to share with. Second, the room was really small, the only space was the walkway.

“It’s fine, Miles.” You laugh. Your eyes light up at the unfinished painting still sitting on the easel. Chances are you wouldn’t finish it, since the inspiration was gone, but who knows? Miles could help with that.

“You need this many brushes?” He joked, gesturing towards the many, many cups of mismatched brushes.

“Brushes are important. Half of those have dried paint on them, though.” You grimace.

“I don’t need brushes in graffiti.” He comments rather smugly, which makes you roll your eyes.

Miles has another look over your room, eyes finally landing on your collection of vinyl records. “Wow, you got records too?” He’d grown up listening to his family’s vinyl records, so new ones always sparked an interest in him. “Can I check them out?”

“Mhm.” You hum a yes.

Miles thoroughly explores your collection, finding that he hasn’t heard most of them before. It was exciting to hear new ones, but sort of awkward at the same time, if he was with someone else.

He didn’t count doing something like reading a book or painting while listening to music as listening to the music for the first time, since your attention would be somewhere else.

To listen to music for the first time was also to appreciate it.

Something he did often to appreciate music was dance to it, but he couldn’t dance to it alone. For one, it’d be weird to have you stand next to him while he dances. Second, they all seemed like old songs you’d dance to with… a partner, a romantic partner. He flushes at the thought.

“Something wrong, Miles?” You ask. Your face was covered in worry.

“N-No, not at all. I uh--” He takes a deep breath, searching frantically through the records for the one he found most interesting. When he finally does, he turns to you with a small nervous smile. “Would you care to dance with me?”

You let out a small laugh. “I believe the term is ‘Would you care for a dance’.”

Miles shrugs, “There’s barely any difference!”

You shake your head with another laugh. “That’s one of my favorites, but it's a slow dance song.” You point at the vinyl he’s holding.

“Oh.” His humorous mood dies down slowly. He’d slow danced before, at his middle school prom. He was absolutely terrible at it.

“Do you want to pick something else?” He shakes his head in response. If it was one of your favorites, then you’d have fun dancing it. Maybe it was a song he’d like too.

“Just.. show me how to dance.” He takes the vinyl and sets it to play on the turntable.

He takes a deep breath, earning himself a laugh from you. “You’ll be fine.” You give a reassuring smile. He nods and lets you take the lead.

You lead his arm to your shoulder, taking the other in your hold and putting yours on his hip. The simple position brings shivers down his spine.

“If anything goes wrong, we can just sway. Let’s teach you the slow step, every time you…”

He’s terrible, just like his middle school dance. When he’s not stepping on your foot, he’s stumbling over his own toes. He’s sure to leave bruises on both yours and his feet.

Thanks to your guidance, he was at least able to slow step without tripping, which was better than middle school. To your dismay, you weren’t able to do anything extravagant like spin him around or dip him without so much as a trip on his end.

“Sorry.” Miles whispers in shame.

“It’s okay,” You kiss him on the nose to lighten his mood. “I didn’t expect you to get this the first time anyway.” He sighs, hiding his head in the crook of your neck, which he’d been doing for most of the song because of embarrassment. Despite your reassurance, he felt upset.

The song ends and you move to change it, but he pulls you into a sway in silence. In the end, he wasn’t able to appreciate the song, since he was too focused on learning how to dance.

You squeeze his hips to make him look up at you. “You did great.”

Miles shakes his head in defeat. 

You frown, cupping his cheek with one hand. “Trust me. You did well. You’re wonderful, beautiful, handsome..” You continue to spew out compliments until he stops you.

“Alright, alright.” He laughs, finally smiling.

You stare into each other’s eyes for a while, before he takes initiative and kisses you. It’s a slow kiss that feels like it lasts for ages, but it brings him comfort.

You pull back when you hear a knock at your door, but it’s not long before one of your parents opens it.

You would’ve separated sooner if your parent had given you the time.

“Oh, oh, hi kids yeah uh… Dinner’s almost ready.” They scramble to get out of the room before they embarrass you further.

Miles groans, burying his head into your neck again. “That was so embarrassing.”

“At least it wasn’t like your dad.” You both grimace at the memory. “He really thought we would--”

“Ey!” Miles interrupts, pointing a finger at you. “Don’t mention that.”

You raise your arms in surrender, though Miles still hangs onto your neck with his own. “I wasn’t, I wasn’t! I would never.”

[alexthedrummerboy]

Darkest Before The Dawn

pairing: willex, past luke/alex

summary: "your parents were never cool again after you told them you were gay.” OR an exploration into alex’s past, his family life, and his relationship with religion

essentially this is all one big angsty headcanon

authors note: basically i’ve been thinking about the gold chain alex wears around his neck and i’ve been way overanalysing what it is and i thought - what if it used to be a cross necklace that his devout parents made him wear?? also i’m so desperate for alex to have more backstory that i’m pulling it out of every nook and cranny at this point

trigger warning: homophobia, bad parenting

ao3

It starts when he’s seven. He’d invited Bobby over to his house after school to play, not knowing that his dad had come home from work early. They’re sitting at the dining table, drawing with Alex’s new 36 pack of crayons when he hears it.

“I just think letting him do all that... art stuff is gonna make him...” he hears his dad say to his mom, “...soft. Girly. We already have one daughter, we don’t need another one.”

Alex doesn’t really understand what his Dad means, but he drops the crayon he’s holding and pokes Bobby on the wrist lightly. “I’m bored,” he says quietly, though his picture remains on the table unfinished. “Can we go do somethin’ else?”

Bobby furrows his eyebrows and looks down at his paper. “But... I didn’t finish colouring my dragon.” 

Alex looks at his Dad in the kitchen. He’s still talking to his mom, both of their heads bowed. He has that look on his face that reminds Alex of the time his mom tried to convince them to go vegetarian for a week. “We can finish colouring later... maybe,” he says. “Let’s go play in my room.”

Bobby takes one last look at his drawing but nods, gently folding the piece of paper in half and tucking it into his backpack. “Okay.”

They walk up to Alex’s room together, hand-in-hand like always. They pass the kitchen on the way and Alex’s dad turns his head, scowling deeper when he looks at their hands. Suddenly Alex feels cold all over. 

“Boys,” he says, deep voice booming. “You’re getting a little old to be holding hands, aren’t you?”

Alex lets go of Bobby’s hand immediately and tucks it into his trouser pocket instead, nodding. Bobby looks like he wants to protest but Alex just nudges him and nods towards his room. 

They walk away and Alex tries to brush the experience off. He doesn’t eat much at dinner that night.

---

His dad makes him quit choir the next year. He’s up in his room practicing for the Christmas festival when he hears three quiet knocks. 

“Come in,” he says, closing his music book. His dad walks in, still in his shirt and tie from work. “Oh. Hi, Dad.”

His dad smiles stiffly. “Alex, what are you doing?” 

Alex looks between his dad and his choir book for a moment. “Practicing for the festival,” he says, a smile growing on his face. “Mrs. Carson gave me a solo for the first--”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” his dad says, pursing his lips. “Wouldn’t you be happier... playing a sport or something? What about baseball? You know when your old man was in school, I was a real killer on the pitch.”

Alex’s tongue feels dry in his mouth the longer his dad speaks. He hates baseball. “Um... I-I like choir, though.” His voice is quiet, barely above a breath. His dad sighs and shakes his head. Alex feels an overwhelming sense of anxiety rise inside his chest. He hates disappointing people.

“I’m just worried about you, son,” he says, sitting down on the edge of Alex’s bed. “Okay, maybe not baseball. How about... soccer?”

Alex shuffles around on his chair. He feels like his heart has stopped beating. “Drums,” he mumbles, looking down at his hands. His dad leans closer. 

“Speak up, Alex.”

Alex looks up, clenching his jaw. “I-I wanna learn how to play the drums,” he says. “L-like that guy from The Rolling Stones.”

His dad goes quiet, scratching his chin like he’s thinking about it, before he smiles and nods. He claps Alex on the shoulder hard enough that it makes him wince. “Drums eh? Sure, we’ll get you a kit and you can set it up in the basement.” As he turns to walk out of Alex’s room, he turns and throws him a cheeky smile. “My boy, the drummer. You know they say girls love drummers.”

Alex isn’t sure why, but that comment makes him feel sick. He stares at his closed door for too long after his dad leaves, his thoughts twisting and turning in his mind.

---

When Alex receives his first cross, he’s 12-years-old. He immediately vows never to take it off. It’s a beautiful piece of jewellery; a small gold cross on a solid gold chain. When his mom slips it around his neck, he feels... protected, somehow. Safe. 

His mom smiles at him tearily as she hooks the clasp around his neck, running her hand down the side of his face. “Congratulations, baby,” she says quietly. “You know, my mother gave me my first cross when I was exactly your age. ”

Alex just smiles and tugs on the chain lightly, feeling the cool metal against his thumb and forefinger. “Thanks, mom,” he says quietly, looking down at where it’s dangling against the soft blue of his button down. 

His sister, Andrea, comes from behind him and knocks his shoulder lightly. Her own cross is silver and smaller than his, contrasting against her light skin perfectly. He doesn’t remember when she got hers. She was four years older than him and got hers when he was just a little kid. “Congrats, Lexi,” she says.

His dad comes out of the kitchen, a bottle of champagne in one hand and two flutes in the other. He’s beaming. “This calls for a celebration!”

His mother looks at his dad and tuts quietly, though she still looks pleased. “Michael, it’s barely 9. We have to leave for church soon.”

His dad simply brushes off her worry. “My son is being confirmed, Linda. We’re celebrating.” He kisses her on the cheek and hands her a champagne flute. “It won’t take long.”

He pours himself and Alex’s mother a small amount of champagne and Alex watches, entranced as they cheers and take a sip. His mother and his father lock eyes before handing their glasses to Alex and Andrea, smiling secret smiles. 

“Just this once,” his dad says. “Just one sip.”

Andrea takes the flute immediately and takes a sip. Alex watches her for a moment before taking his dad’s flute and lifting it up to his mouth.

The bubbles fizz and pop in his mouth. The taste is unpleasant, but... the feeling of his dad’s eyes on him, proud and sparkling with happiness make the experience a million times better.

As they drive to church, Alex keeps his hand firmly clasped around his cross, smiling the entire time.

---

Alex receives his first kiss when he’s 14. It happens in his basement with Luke Patterson. He’d invited him over so they could work on a song together. Luke had discovered him playing drums in the music room one day and had instantly recruited him to join his band, alongside Bobby and Reggie Anderson.

They’d long since abandoned practicing any form of music and were lounging on the couch in Alex’s basement, playing video games on his Sega Genesis. He’s so close to beating Luke at Mortal Kombat. They’ve been playing for 45 minutes and Alex has managed to lose every round so far.

But, with a fatal blow, Alex watches his character drop to his knees as Luke’s character poses victoriously. He groans loudly and leans back against the couch, trying his best not to pout as he hears Luke’s laughter next to him. “No fair!” he exclaims, dropping his controller beside him on the couch. 

Luke smirks, boxing Alex in the shoulder lightly. “Not my fault I’m better at this game than you are,” he says. He’s leaning towards Alex, his face mere inches away from his shoulder. “I’m just naturally skilled.”

Alex blushes and shuffles away from him, leaning into the arm rest and trying to ignore his heart as it pounds away in his chest. “Naturally ugly, more like,” he mumbles. It’s not the best comeback, but he can’t really focus right now.

Luke laughs anyway, punching Alex’s arm again and turning back to face the TV. Neither of them speak for a moment but Alex can feel the air thicken with a strange tension that he’s never felt before.

His hand automatically comes up to grip his cross, the edges of the metal digging into his palm. He takes a short breath in and out, feeling the cold metal warm up in his hand. 

He feels Luke’s eyes on him and he turns. There’s a small smile on Luke’s face that Alex can’t help but return. “What?” he asks.

Luke shrugs. “Nothin’,” he says softly.

Then, he leans in closer. Alex does not pull away.

Before he even realises what’s happening, they’re kissing. It’s chaste and completely innocent; a light press of lips against lips. Alex can tell that Luke hasn’t bothered to put on chapstick in his entire 14 years of life, but he tastes vaguely of grape bubblegum and iced tea. It’s nice. 

As they kiss, he feels his grip on his cross loosen until his hand falls completely slack, landing on top of Luke’s hand where it’s resting on a cushion.

They’re interrupted by the sound of footsteps against carpeted stairs. Alex jumps out of his seat and lands on the floor in front of the couch. Luke loses his balance and falls after him, landing face first in the couch cushion where Alex had just been sitting.

The basement door opens and Andrea pokes her head through, holding two capri suns and a bowl full of chips. She sees Alex on the floor and furrows her eyebrows. “Why are you on the ground?”

Alex clears his throat and blinks down at his knees, trying to hide his shaking hands. “Um... it-it’s more comfortable down here,” he mumbles. 

Andrea shrugs and walks in, placing the bowl of chips and the drinks on the coffee table. “Mom told me to give these to you.” She looks between the TV and the two of them. “I thought you guys were practicing.”

“We were!” Luke says, standing up and walking over to where his guitar is resting on the other side of the room. “We took a quick video game break, but we’re ready to get back to work. Right, Alex?”

Alex nods, but he can’t stand back up. “Right,” he says breathlessly, giving Andrea a weak smile. “Thanks for the snacks.”

Andrea nods, but she looks suspicious. She walks out of the room and shuts the door behind her. Alex doesn’t exhale until her footsteps have retreated completely. He breathes out shakily and draws his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. 

“Hey,” Luke says, running to Alex’s side. His hand hovers above Alex’s back before resting just behind him on the couch. “You okay?”

It takes a minute, but eventually Alex nods and looks up at Luke. “Yeah,” he replies, though his hands are still balled into tight fists. “I’m good.”

Luke nods, his hand tightening and loosening its grip on the couch cushion a few times. “Was that... weird?” he asks quietly. Alex has never heard him sound this unsure before. 

He shakes his head, a small smile growing on his face. “No,” he says quietly, and he means it too. “I don’t think so, anyway.”

Luke nods again, smiling brightly at Alex. “Okay. Cool.”

“Can we not... tell anyone? About that?” He asks quietly, looking up at Luke, eyes pleading. “I-I don’t know if I’m... if that...”

“Alex, of course,” Luke says earnestly, finally reaching over and resting his hand in Alex’s shoulder. “It’ll be just between us.”

Alex nods, smiling weakly. “Cool. Thanks.”

He feels mildly comforted by Luke’s words, but he can’t help the anxiety that grows in his stomach. He stands up and walks over to his kit, sitting down at his stool and twirling his drumstick in his hand.

When he closes his eyes that night, snuggled up in his bed, all he can think about are warm lips and iced tea.

---

He comes out at 16.

It doesn’t go well.

His mom cries like he’s just told her he died... but what makes him more anxious is his dad’s reaction.

He doesn’t say anything at first. Just stares at Alex with that those hard, light eyes. He doesn’t even look angry, he just looks... disappointed.

“Dad?” he says quietly. The word gets caught in his throat.

His dad breathes in slowly and stands up. He walks out of the living room shaking his head. Alex watches him go until he’s completely out of sight. All he can hear are his mothers sobs. All he can feel is the weight of his guilt pressing down on him.

His cross feels like it’s burning his skin through the fabric of his t-shirt. Suddenly it feels like he’s wearing a ten pound weight around his neck. It’s hard to swallow.

He wants to comfort his mom, but he doesn’t even know what he would say. What could he say that wouldn’t make everything worse?

So, he stands up and takes one last look at his mom before walking down the hall. He passes Andrea on the way to the basement. She looks at him and then toward the living room where they can both hear their mother’s sobs. 

“What’s wrong with mom?” she asks, placing a hand on his elbow. The touch burns. 

Alex opens his mouth to speak but the words he wants to say get stuck in his throat. He brushes past her, ignoring her questions and running down the stairs to the basement and shutting the door behind him.

He sits down behind his drums and raises his hand to clasp his necklace, holding it so tightly his hand begins to hurt. He can’t cry. He thinks if he could, then maybe he’d feel better, but... the tears won’t come.

So, he lets go of his cross and picks up his sticks instead, twirling the left one in his hand a few times before hitting his high tom once, hard. It feels good, but the feeling doesn’t last long.

Eventually, he loses himself in the rhythm, hitting each drum harder than the last. He forgets for a moment; forgets about the disaster that had happened just minutes ago upstairs. He pauses for a minute to catch his breath but finds his mind wandering; is his mother still crying? Why hadn’t his dad said anything?

He shakes the thought free before pounding on his drums again. He’s not even beating out a rhythm now; he’s just trying to fill the space with noise to keep his thoughts out.

He’s interrupted when the door opens. It's his dad, holding an empty duffel bag, a somber expression on his face. Alex raises his eyebrows and takes his earplugs out of his ears. “Dad?”

His dad winces when Alex speaks, throwing the empty duffel bag onto the floor. “Pack your things.”

All the blood drains from Alex’s face and he stands up on shaky legs. He’s gripping his drumsticks so tightly, it’s a miracle that the wood doesn’t fuse with his skin. “Wh-where’re we goin’?” he asks, though he has a suspicion. 

“We aren’t going anywhere, son,” his dad says. His eyes are on the carpet. He can’t even look at Alex. “Your mother and I... we can’t have you staying in this house.”

“What?!”

“If you’re going to choose to live with your... affliction,” he spits out the word like it’s poison; and in his dad’s mind, perhaps it is, “then it won’t do to have you living here, corrupting us with your ungodly temptations.”

“Dad--”

His father holds up a hand. “I’ll give you 15 minutes to get your things and leave.” He turns to leave the basement but Alex calls him back.

“Where am I supposed to go?” he asks, voice cracking as he tries to fight the tears that threaten to run down his cheeks. He knows crying will only make him more upset. His father doesn’t turn around.

“You can figure that out on your own.” Then, he walks out. Alex is alone. After a few moments, he walks out from behind his drums and picks up the. empty bag with weak hands and walks up to his room. 

He’s working on autopilot as he shoves clothes and shoes and random items (when will he ever need his model robot?) into the bag until it’s almost full to bursting. He drops the bag on his bed and stares at it. He can’t hear anything; all the sounds around him are dull, muted almost. 

He turns around and catches a glimpse of his reflection in his bedroom mirror. He still looks the same as he had that morning when he’d gotten dressed for school. There are still drawings on the back of his hand in blue and black ink from third period when Bobby and Luke decided to draw on him in lieu of paying attention to what Mr. Peters was saying.

Remarkably, he looks the same... but he couldn’t be more different. 

Alex’s eyes drop to the necklace around his neck. It almost hurts to look at now. He’d done well by his vow; hadn’t ever taken it off, even when Jeremy Matthews teased him about it (and received a firm smack on the head from Reggie).

Shakily, he lifts his hands and unclasps the necklace, holding onto the chain so tight that the links begin to make grooves in his skin. He takes hold of the cross and swallows thickly, looking at his warped reflection in the surface of it. 

He slowly slides the cross off of the chain and places it on his nightstand. The chain, though, he keeps though he doesn’t really know why. He puts the chain back around his neck. It feels bare without the cross on it weighing it down, but... Alex finds he kind of likes it. 

With that, he picks up his duffel bag and walks out of his room. He can hear the quiet sound of scraping cutlery against ceramic and he winces. They’d started dinner without him. 

As he walks towards the front door, he passes the dining table. When she hears his footsteps, Andrea looks up from her untouched plate of food and stands up. Alex shakes his head silently at her, gripping his bag strap tighter.

His parents don’t even look up. He gives Andrea a half-hearted smile and a wave before walking out the front door. He doesn’t bother taking his keys with him; he knows he won’t need to use them again.

The cold, night air smacks him right in the face as soon as he closes the door behind him. Then, without a second glance, he leaves and begins the short trek to Bobby’s house.

---

“So, I was wondering...” 

Willie turns to Alex and smiles at him, squeezing his hand gently. “Yeah?”

They’ve been walking down the pier together in comfortable silence for almost 15 minutes, but the question bubbles up in Alex’s chest before he can control himself.

Alex looks down at their interlaced fingers before gesturing towards the necklace around Willie’s neck. “What’s that key around your neck for?”

At the mention of his necklace, Willie wraps his hand around the key and gives it a light tug with his free hand. If Alex notices how Willie’s slowed their walking pace slightly, he doesn’t say anything. 

“It’s my house key,” he says softly. Alex parts his lips in surprise. “When I was a kid, I... I was pretty irresponsible. I was always losing things in random places. My mom used to tell me I’d lose my arms if they weren’t attached to my shoulders.” The smile on his face makes Alex want to cry. “When my folks gave me my first house key, it felt like I was finally growing up. I was so scared I would lose it, so I bought a chain. I’ve worn it around my neck ever since.”

“Even after...” Alex doesn’t continue his train of thought but Willie understands regardless. He nods.

“When I woke up after the accident, it was actually the first thing I reached for,” Willie says quietly, gripping Alex’s hand like a lifeline. “Force of habit, I guess.” 

“Have you ever tried to visit your place?” Alex asks quietly, steering Willie towards the edge of the pier so they can sit by the water. Willie nods.

“A couple times. After I died, I didn’t visit for months. It hurt too much.” He pauses, looking out over the water as he scoots closer to Alex until their shoulders are pressed together. “I visited them for the first time a year after I’d died. I couldn’t go in. I was too scared, so I just watched from the windows like a total creeper.” There’s a chuckle in Willie’s voice that astounds Alex. He doesn’t know how he can be so cheerful even while talking about something so heartbreaking. “My family moved sometime around ‘89. I haven’t tried to find them since.”

Alex nods, listening to the sound of the crashing waves and seagulls as they fly overhead. He doesn’t feel pressured to comfort Willie at all. He thinks that telling him his story might’ve upset Alex more than it upset him. Instead, he rubs his knuckles with his thumb slowly, his finger savouring the feel of every dip and crevice. 

“What about you?” Willie asks suddenly, turning to Alex. There’s a smile in his eye that Alex never wants to look away from. “Is that gold chain around your neck a remnant from your gangster rap phase, or...?”

Alex laughs brightly, throwing his head back. He can feel Willie laughing too, his shoulders bouncing up and down with every giggle. He stops and breathes out quietly, looking down at his chain and hooking his finger through it. 

“Um... there used to be a cross hanging from it,” he says. “My parents got it for me for my confirmation when I was 12. I basically didn’t take it off for five years.” 

Willie pauses, shuffles closer; almost as if he can tell what’s coming next. He doesn’t say anything, though, and somehow that makes it easier for Alex to keep going.

“When I came out, my parents um... they weren’t very cool about it,” he says, tugging a little harder on the chain. “My dad kicked me out.” Willie’s grip on his hand tightens and Alex lets out a breath. “When I was leaving, I took the cross off. It didn’t seem right to keep it after...” he clears his throat. “I kept the chain. I’m still not really sure why... I’ve been thinking about it ever since I left home. I think it’s just... a reminder of why I left and what I have now.”

Willie smiles, bumping their shoulders together. “What do you have now?”

He looks at Willie and find that he can’t control the smile that’s growing on his face either. Under the setting sun, Willie looks so beautiful; his tanned skin practically glowing and long dark hair moving with the breeze. He leans in and brushes a gentle kiss against the side of his lips. He feels Willie’s hand come up to cup his cheek and he leans into the touch. 

They pull away from each other after a few seconds and Alex smiles again, resting their foreheads together. 

“Freedom.”

[fisherrprince]

ask dump (big long)

1) ABDBHTDND YEAH THEY DID UM, they did the ”no THANK you..! etc etc BUT IM WEAK” song too! Wild how that is now. points at them hey I know those guys

2) OHHH….. THIS HITS……….. I like missio sometimes but this is a nice chorus also: Vanitas… yeah I, like, always love music recs. they can be hit or miss but it’s only fair with how much music I find and then immediately go what if I showed everyone

3) how many does he have in there now, eleven? Twelve??? He signed up for one mouse and he got eleven human children or at least nine to ten human children, two young adults, and two regular adults who aren’t going to be helpful—

4) aaaaaaaaa thank you!!! 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

5) MMM I haven’t thought extensively about cowboys for a while… it’s been mostly space up here for now, haha. I like my space murder. But that’s not to say I haven’t given them some fond passing thoughts! Two bros sitting in a river 5 feet apart cos they’re covered in mud and smell awful and one of them is very loudly blaming the other for the plan that involved hiding behind a barn (actually the last thing I wrote in my notes is a mini totally unfinished drabble of hiding in Lea’s bar but the “great hiding place” Lea has is in his floor)

6) gosh I Have to wonder if it’s a case of destiny/universal “the nature of humanity is that every so often someone invents homestuck again” or if we just, like, had common knowledge of the book of prophecies. Or not even the Book, maybe, I have to assume that knowledge/observance of the Foretellers phased out pretty quickly, but prophecies left unfulfilled would linger for generations probably. Or maybe they’re even old stories, a tale of seven masters of the past drawn in to a chess game, or the game based on the old fairytales, or the numbers 7 and 13 are ingrained in local culture … see, because obviously Xehanort implies that this prophecy/old masters stuff ISNT common knowledge, but Eraqus CERTAINLY knows about it and it’s in all the architecture/local myths… ok but then also, if we’re to take the opening chess game as more than just clever symbolic narrative bookends, everyone’s symbols ARE right there. I just kind of registered that’s probably what you were talking about. In which case our questions are still there, how much did the common populace know and how much did eraqus know? Did he like, end up with three apprentices who had very distinct chess symbols as keychains and go uh oh john or what—

hey why’d you do this to me. I’m a tired college student in scala on my sixth response paper about the prophetic legitimacy of foreordained keybearers versus the self-imposed creation of destiny as following common legend and I’m arguing with some guy named Einar about how you can’t just fake a prophetic fulfillment by claiming to be the Crown piece in chess. You can’t just KIN A CHESSPIECE, Einar.

7) ABGDJGD TY..!!! To be honest they also live in my head rent-free! Some of them need to start paying rent because I’m supposed to be in school getting Better at storyboarding—

8) hard same hey thats just bc magnet is uhhhh. The best spell? Aside from mine spells

9) SEE AGAIN I DONT KNOW bc for one Sora obviously isn’t ENTIRELY unique, if he’s able to be diagnosed so quickly, but this “holding your nobody and two to four other people in there” kind of thing probably has never been seen before. But for another, Roxas and Xion have copied a keyblade. Just like — a keyblade? Copied entirely? Wild.

anyways keyblade manifestation is a mystery to me and I’d love to see it explored because what we know the Lore is, is this: they were fashioned after the likeness of the x-blade. They can be bequeathed to others (shown to not necessarily mean that exact keyblade is passed down, probably this means the ability to wield can be bequeathed). They can be WILLFULLY given. They come from the heart, they are not welded out of steel. They are…. questionably sentient, or maybe just sapient, or somehow are picky about who holds them. Side note khwiki is telling me things I Did not know about the whereabouts of Ven’s heart during 358 and also the ability to wield two which requires more than one heart obvi but which is named synch blade??? always question the wiki but these have sources. Anyways. Keychains can swap their forms so they have a Base and Custom Skins mode. There are three kinds, Light (common), Darkness (Michael mouse??? Not his bbs one the rod one which I GUESS is a counterpa Iiiiii am getting off trackaaaaa), and Heart (which I’m guessing is just the x-blade, maybe the gayblade, and the kh1 keyblade of heart??). Um. What was my point here. OH yeah I was just gonna say Bro Wild. This is completely a mystery to me. Does every keykid’s base form keyblade look different, and we were all just given cool keychains? Are there some kids who melded unique keychains? If I were connecting dots wildly and with reckless abandon I’d say yeah and also you cannot just suddenly one day wield one, you HAVE to be bequeathed, but as soon as that happens it sparks the creation of your own personal heart sword. Every keyblade is manifested independently — those wielding a family keyblade have the ability to summon their own, if necessary, but the family sword is taking up that space in their heart and theyd have to get used to making their own. since, it seems, keyblades (summoned) will die and solidify if their bearer dies, but keyblades (unsummoned) will either disappear or summon themselves somewhere else and retain a small piece of your… essence. A legacy keyblade, I feel, would be a little something like feeling every past Avatar and you are the avatar, but you can’t talk to them. They’re there tho. Also I think that having an exceptionally strong heart would be not only a moral requirement for ensuring the keyblade’s duty is upheld, but also a physical requirement! youre carving out a bit of your heart to make room for a sword. Weak hearts should not do that even if they want to.

aye… how was that longer than the scala answer? You got me on tangents again in these essays I

10 (submission from licilou22)

NGDBFDBFSHGDHFDHGDA 😎👉🏼👉🏼👉🏼👉🏼👉🏼 WHEEZING

[ladyeliot]

The September Foundation Grant

Request: @iawaythrown Avengers x Teen reader. The reader is a brilliant engineer, that makes (grade A+) battle armor & weapons. The Vulture and the reader works together by selling these illegal armor & weapons. (The Vulture even gives the reader profit because the reader lives alone) The reader learns at school (The R is the quiet/loner kid) about Vulture getting arrested and they soon decide to leave New York and disappear. They grab all their money and leave but is followed/arrested by Tony and Peter at the reader house. They learn that the Vulture snitched on him. Ending could be up to you.

Pairing: Vulture / Iron Man / Spider-man x Teen!Reader

Warnings: Illegal work.

Word count: 1829

A/N:  Sorry it took so long! / Sorry for my spelling and grammatical mistakes, English is not my native language, I am learning.

Anything could happen in New York City. A place that never slept, that was always awake at all hours, where criminals and children went everywhere hand in hand. Everything was hidden, but also in plain sight, if you knew where to look. Its streets were a labyrinth, but they always led to a way out, everything had an end. Its neighbourhoods were small communities distributed by culture or social status, but that did not prevent them from relating to each other. A teenager raised in Queens might have different limitations than one raised in the Upper East Side, but it all depends on the person. What I mean is, you never know what your life is going to be like in New York City.

Your mind was in constant operation, even if you wanted it to, it never stopped, it never rested, in a millisecond the thought passed through it 'when was the last time I slept'. You were in a hangar near the Harlem docks, this lucrative activity occupied a large part of your free time after high school, taking up your weekends as well. You could call it 'extracurricular activity' or also 'gainful employment', or maybe a combination of both, after all you were improving your engineering skills and earning money for it.

You had been enrolled in that new business for more than five months, your expectations for the future had changed, now you weren't so sure if going to university was what you really wanted. You were not driven by the easy money, what you were doing was much more than that, it was money, knowledge and all the adrenaline possible to do something legally binding. All the talent that you thought would be wasted and that you had never been valued was now being used to do something else, to be someone in the world, even if it was in the hidden world.

You designed, created and crafted technologically advanced combat armour and weaponry, you built things you hardly thought you would be able to make. All you needed was the time and the facilities that Adrian Toomes had offered you. He discovered you, he had set his sights on you and trusted you, something that many other people had not done before. In your past years you dreamed of getting a position at MIT, but now it was no longer among your priorities, at least for the time being.

Adrian's discovery came about in the most natural way possible. You were attending Midtown School of Science and Technology, and one day during a chemistry class the teacher had the brilliant idea of paired assignments, so you were paired with Liz Toomes. Liz is a really intelligent young woman, the problem in question was the wide difference between your characters, your quiet countenance and your passivity for social relations caused discomfort among your classmates, but leaving that aside, you decided to go to her house to do the work. It was there that you met her father, Adrian, who found your project notebook when you dropped it on your way to Liz's room. He was clever, slipping in a note with his personal phone number expressing his interest in your projects. At first you were completely shy of the idea, but eventually you agreed, otherwise you wouldn't be in that situation.

The first project you did was an improvement to his exo-suit, he had been working on it for years, but for reasons you didn't know he didn't want to tell you who had helped him make it, he just told you that you had everything you needed at your disposal and that he wanted to see what you could be able to do, and so he did.

Since that day the small business you had in your hands had evolved, Toomes was in charge of the public-facing transactions, and you were hidden away carrying the full weight of engineering. But that didn't mean that when you went back out on the streets you became a normal teenager again.

On a Monday like any other Monday, New York City was glowing in the sunlight. On the drive to school we went over in a steady stream what we had studied for the maths exam you had in the fourth period, although it was really something you had passed a long time ago. You kept yourself hidden under a pair of headphones, listening for anything that would prevent you from interacting with people. Your day-to-day actions when you walked through that door were mechanical. You walked thirty-three steps down the main corridor, turned right, twenty-seven steps to your locker, entered code 5432, opened it and took your books, dropped off your lunch, closed it again and headed for your class, trying not to bump into anyone who crossed your path. That, day after day.

But that day, that second between songs, when your ears came back to the real world you heard a word "Vulture". Your senses quickly focused on the conversation that group of girls were having, you stopped the music and without looking at them you sharpened your hearing.

"My cousin just sent me the video," one of them said, showing her mobile phone to the others. "He was arrested tonight, on the Harlem waterfront. Isn't Spider-man cool?"

"Wow!" exclaims one.

"I can't believe the Vulture is Liz's dad," adds another girl. "By the way does anyone know anything about her?"

That conversation caused a pang inside you. You quickly, but as calmly as possible, closed your locker and headed in the opposite direction of the entire student body, heading back outside. You knew what this meant, your mind had explored various scenarios about the possible events that could happen if the FBI or anyone else discovered you. You knew what you had to do, how to do it and where to go, you had created a plan in your head. You didn't trust Adrian to take all the blame and you would come out of the situation unscathed, you were a minor and could always appeal to a corrupt situation, but that wasn't your style either.

Step by step you were fulfilling your plan, the first thing was to erase any traces that implicated you in those events, you had to go home and get rid of everything you had in your possession that implicated you, both physically and virtually, then it would be better for you to disappear for some time, you had plenty of money to do so and you knew that your family would not care too much where you were.

You went into the house, you had hours ahead of you until one of your parents returned. You went to your room and began to tidy up every gadget or item on your bed that connected you to the crime. It took you very little time compared to how long it took you to erase your fingerprints from the virtual world, it was obvious that you kept your figure hidden under a pseudonym, but every weapon or armour that the FBI had confiscated had your fingerprint on it, a fingerprint that could lead them to you.

The hours passed, you knew that sooner or later your parents were going to walk through the door, time was running out for you to catch a bus out of that city. You opted to pack up your things, leave that note and continue erasing data during the long trip to Arizona, but it was too late. A loud noise from the hallway alerted you that your time had come to an end.

"Ms. Y/L/N, you know what they say about sometimes you have to run before you walk?" Iron Man appeared before your eyes. "Too slow."

The armour that stood before you cut off your main passage to the exit, though you knew in your gut that there was little you could do against it without outside help. Slowly you reached inside your backpack and pulled out one of your unfinished projects, a laser that fired a powerful beam at the armour. That mere distraction allowed you to turn around and head inside your bedroom with the intention of climbing out of your window and down the fire escape, however as you were about to do so a body burst through the window, launching a slimy mass that stuck you to the wall of your room.  In front of you Iron Man and Spider-man, both staring at you, and you feeling the most vulnerable being at that moment.

"Wow!" Spider-Man picked up the laser from the floor. "This is cool! What kind of energy does it work with?"

"Hey kid! Put that down," his ally informed him. "Okay, do you know why we're here?" he asked waiting for an answer that never came. "Not very talkative, I understand, I was going to explain it to you anyway, do you know Adrian Toomes? I guess so, at least he knows you, he gave your name." your face hardened. "Yeah, well, I wouldn't be that surprised."

You remained impassive, listening to his every word and trying to form a plan in your head that would help you escape the situation.

"Listen, I have no intention of selling you out to the police," suddenly the Iron Man suit vanished, revealing the figure of Tony Stark before your eyes. "I admire you, I really do, well I don't mean I admire that you joined a group of criminals and created technologically enhanced weapons and sold them, but I admire your skills.

"Isn't that what you've done?" you finally interjected, responding to her retorts.

"Oh! She speaks!" he pointed at you, looking at Spider-man. "Good point. But to the point, you decide, you either come with us and decide to join the good side, or we leave you here for your parents to find you, explain everything that's happened and then to the police. You decide. The clock is ticking."

Your mind was reactivated again, it was clear that there were two options and only one of them was within your prospects. It might take you a while to forgive yourself for what you were going to do next, but it was your only way out. You nodded slowly and clenched your jaw tightly as you surrendered to those in front of you.

"Good choice," Tony said with a nod as Spider-man released you from those webs that had invaded your body.

From down the hall you heard the front door open and two people walked in, engaged in conversation, your parents. Your eyes widened exponentially.

"Just in time," Tony said. "See you later, kid. And you and I," he looked at you, "are going to explain to your parents about the September Foundation Grant."

Requests/Taglist Open (DM)

MAIN MASTERLIST

[project-rosewood-476]

House of Gold

Okay, so this is strictly fluff. This is the fluffiest thing I have ever written for this AU and probably will be the most fluff you all will get for this.

This fic is based on the song House of Gold by Twentyone Pilots. I wanted to explore and explain the relationship between Tabby and her stepdad before everything went to shit. And I feel as though that song suits them.

"Kitty" is a nickname that she had for her stepdad when she was younger because her real dad and stepdad were both named Michael so to avoid confusion but she slowly dropped the nickname when she got older.

Summary: Tabby is six at the time and she is left home alone even though she's not supposed to be due to her mother's A+ parenting choices. When she's bored out of her mind she goes looking around for shit that she's not supposed to. But what happens when she takes a trip down memory lane and remembers all the good times she had before she was left all alone. Will it fill her with despair? or renew her sense of hope?

She asked me, Son when I grow old

Will you buy me a house of gold?

And when your father turns to stone

Will you take care of me?

She asked me, Son when I grow old

Will you buy me a house of gold?

And when your father turns to stone

Will you take care of me?

The lonely six-year-old paced around her small apartment relentlessly. Being left home alone yet again, she was pretty bored. She was looking for something to do. She was tired of TV, books, and she wasn’t hungry, so that she couldn’t eat her boredom away. Not that there was much to eat in the house anyways. She couldn’t go outside alone because she didn’t know where anything was, and the outside world scared her. Usually, the person she would consider her dad would be here by now. He would have taken her to the park, play pretend, play fight, or colored with her. It’s boring playing by yourself. But since he wasn’t here for reasons unbeknownst to her for a year now, she was left with her own devices.

What do you do as a child who’s left home alone and bored out of your mind? You snoop around. Tabby went through the drawers in the kitchen. Maybe she could concoct something to eat if she looked hard enough or find something new to play with. She found nothing interesting. Nothing but silverware, junk mail, and odds and ends of a miscellaneous drawer that didn’t hold her attention for very long.

She walked down the narrow hallway, altogether skipping over her room since she knew everything that she had in her room. She went straight into her mom’s room. She took in her surroundings. She saw a couple of unfinished jigsaw puzzles on the floor. Sometimes her mother and her would try to finish them when her mom had the time. She saw the miniature wolf sculptures and figurines that her mother adores on her dresser. She went through her drawers to see if she found anything interesting or to remind her mom to do laundry if she saw that she didn’t have clothes in there. The good news is that her mom didn’t need to do laundry. The bad news was that she found nothing to hold her interest. She took one of her mom’s green work shirts and just inhaled her scent. It calmed her down and took her mind off of her boredom. She missed her mom a lot. Tabby decided to stay buried in her mom’s scent for a few minutes later before moving on.

Tabby decided to raid her mom’s closet at least help her organize that godawful mess in there. Her mother’s closet was on the same length as most middle school and high school lockers. She began to separate the piles of clothes from clean to dirty based on smell until she came across an old blue folder. Finally, something to cure her boredom. Tabby opened it up to have a look and couldn’t believe what she saw.

“So this is where he’s been hiding the stuff that I make for him while he’s been here,” she realized in thought as a couple of pictures, a few short stories, and a couple of fathers days cards that were still all in pristine condition. Even a couple of years later.

That brought a smile to her face and brought back memories.

A little girl four years of age was sitting on the floor, focusing intently on a drawing that she was making on the coffee table. An older man in his late 20’s plopped down onto the couch lazily as he looked over to what the girl was drawing.

“Whatcha drawing?” he asked as he peered over.

“Remember the house by the candy shop that we always pass on our way to the park?” she asked, still not looking up from her drawing.

“The one that’s always on sale on hill street?”

“If that’s what it’s called, then yes.”

“Yeah, what about it?” he asked, still not getting the picture

“Well, someday when I’m all grown up, I’m going to buy that house, and I’m taking you with me. It will be our house!” she said proudly.

He raised an eyebrow in surprise.

“Really? What about your mother? Aren’t you going to bring her along too?” he asked, struggling to find the words to speak.

Tabby grew quiet and looked down.

“We all know with the lifestyle mommy is living, she won’t live very long. You’ll last longer,” she said quietly.

“Yeah…” he trailed off, a little disturbed at the child’s eeriness. But she wasn’t far off from the truth either. He was aware of the type of life and choices that her mother led and made. Some of them left him scratching his head, and a lot of the time, they made his blood boil. What kind of a mother would do that to her kid. Tabby was a lot more perceptive than what she’s given credit for. He knew that.

“Besides,” said Tabby bringing him out from his angry thoughts,” You’re my best friend. It would be weird to plan my future and not have you in it. It’s only natural that you would be a part of it.”

“You think that I’ll be around that long?” he asked, amused playing along with the girl’s plan.

“You’d said that you would be around forever, right?”

“Of course, kiddo I-I gave you my word,” he was taken aback by the fact that she took his promise so seriously.

“Okay then,” she went back to drawing.

“How do you think that you’ll pay for the house, huh?”

“I’ll get a job when I’m old enough to work, duh,” she said it like it was the most obvious thing ever.

“You’d have to be 15 to work legally.”

She stopped to look at him in horror.

“But that’s so old.”

He couldn’t help but let out a hearty laugh at her concept of old age. It was so fascinating to listen to what the four-year-old thought of the world around her. Sometimes she had solid points and saw the world for what it is at its base. Simplistic and so full of good and hope. Other times her ideas were so bizarre that they showed just how innocent she was.

Tabby looked at him, confused. Had she said something funny?

“Oh, I’d hate to break it to ya, kid, but if you think 15 is old, then it would take even longer to save up money to buy the place.”

She looked at him even more confused.

“How hard can it be?”

He let out another hearty laugh.

“Oh, kiddo, you have no idea.”

I will make you

Queen of everything you see

I'll put you on the map

I'll cure you of disease

Tabby took out one of her short stories that she wrote starring him as the hero and god that she saw him as. She worshipped him. She was rereading her work, a masterpiece at the time; now, she cringed at how godawful it was. However, she remembered beaming with pride when she handed him her finished product that she worked on for a month. It was the first story she ever wrote.

“Kitty, look! Look at what I made for you!” Tabby ran to him as soon as he walked out the door.

“What is it?” he asked as he kneeled to be on her level.

“I made you a story,” she said shyly as she handed it to him.

He was a little shocked at the gift. This was the first thing she’s ever given him. It was one of the nicest things anyone has done for him in a long time.

“Will you read it?” she inquired excitedly.

“Sure, after I take my nap. Then I’m all yours, and we can talk about your story.”

“Awww,” she sounded dejected.

“I’ll tell you what. I’ll put it right beside me so that way it will be the first thing I’ll do when I wake up. Fair enough?”

“Okay,” she sighed. She wasn’t happy with the compromise, but she took what she could get. She went back to play with her stuffed animals to keep herself occupied in the meantime.

However, he did not nap that day like he said he would. He spent his allotted two hours reading her story and just taking it in. She showed a lot of talent and promise with writing. Even with her limited vocabulary, she put so much passion and emotion behind what she was saying and trying to express that it was easy to get what she was saying. What moved him to the point of a few stray tears streaming down his face was how evident she thought so highly of him. She viewed him as a hero and thought he was a good person that he was better. It was so moving when he didn’t even think of himself like that. Knowing that someone out there in the living room loved him enough to see past that and had so much to give left him speechless.

Let's say we up and left this town

And turned our future upside-down.

We'll make pretend that you and me

Lived ever after, happily

Tabby was grinning from ear to ear, sitting on the floor, looking through her old drawings and stories she wrote for him that he still kept in pristine condition. She had a few stray tears from happiness leaking out, but she didn’t care. This was the closest she felt to him in a long while. She took out another picture. It was of her and her dad running through trees on some sort of adventure. There’s a story behind that one.

Tabby was drawing furiously at the kitchen table while her dad made her some spaghetti to eat for dinner. Her dad peered over her shoulder.

“I see that you’re overflowing with creative juices again. What are you drawing this time?”

“You and me we’re going on an adventure, but I can’t decide what the rest of the picture should be,” she said, frustrated.

“What about trees?” he suggested

“Like the woods?” she asked

“Yeah, like we’re going on a hike and camping. That’s an adventure, and we’ll come back when we’re done,” he said as he turned away to finish making dinner.

“Oh, I don’t want to come back,” said Tabby quickly as she went back to drawing.

He almost dropped the hot pot of boiling spaghetti at her statement.

“Why wouldn’t you want to come back?” he asked slowly.

Tabby stayed quiet for a few minutes before slowly turning to face him.

“Is it bad that I don’t want to stay with mommy?” she said in a voice that was barely a whisper.

“I- Uh- W-what makes you say that? Don’t you love mommy?” he didn’t know how to answer that.

She shook her head furiously, sending her long strands of black hair all over the place while moving her little hands in a ‘no’ motion “, No no, no, that’s not it at all! I do love mommy, I do! It’s just- she never listens to me. I tell her that I don’t like it when she brings home strangers, and she still does it anyway. I tell her that I don’t like it when she sleeps all day, but she does it anyway. If you love someone, then you would listen to them. It’s like I’m not here! I am unwanted and unloved, and I don’t belong!” she looked down as her bottom lip quivered like she was going to cry.

Oh boy, he didn’t know what to say or do. He bit off more than what he could chew. He was aware of her mother’s questionable life choices, but he never knew just how badly they affected Tabby. He gathered that they made her sad and lonely and neglected, but he never knew how deep her hurt ran. His burning hatred and anger at her mother quickly turned into heartbreak for the child in front of him.

He went back to plating her spaghetti and set it down in front of the sulking child. He petted her hair in an attempt to comfort her. He continued to do so until he noticed that she was feeling a little better to turn around and eat. Satisfied, he went back to plating his meal.

“You know for what it’s worth; I can promise you that the bad things are only temporary even if they don’t feel like it at times. If anyone can get out of this town when you’re old enough to, I have absolute faith that it would be you.”

“You think so?” she asked excitedly and hopefully.

He ruffled her hair.

“I know so.”

She asked me, Son when I grow old

Will you buy me a house of gold?

And when your father turns to stone

Will you take care of me?

Tabby grew bored and put the pictures and clothes neatly back as best as she could and got up to explore the other rooms in the apartment. She went to the bathroom and opened up the cabinets to see what was in there. Her mother often told her not to look through the bathroom cabinets, but she wasn’t here to say no. Tabby concluded that if it were that bad, she would be given a sign that would tell her no. She found nothing of interest. Just chemicals that she knew better to play with and in the upper cabinet various cold medicines, band-aids, anti-bacterial ointment, nail clippers, the thermometer, her mother’s happy pills as she called them, and bandages. Tabby felt a twang of nostalgia that hurt her stomach when she looked at the bandages, and she knew why.

Tabby was sitting on the couch waiting for her dad to come back and babysit her. Where was he? Her mom said that he would be here in two hours. It’s been more than that. She jumped when she heard the sound of the front door opening and closing. Tabby turned around quickly only to be greeted with the horrific sight of her dad staggering in, out of breath, bruised and bloodied.

“Oh my god, what happened?” asked Tabby, horrified as she ran towards him, tripping over her own feet.

“It’s nothing, honey. I just got into a fight; that’s all” He made his way to the kitchen and sat down in the chair as he grimaced.

“Well, we have to get you cleaned up,” she fretted, struggling to figure out what to do.

“Good Idea. Do you know what to do?” he asked

Tabby slowly shook her head no.

He sighed “, That’s okay. I’ll walk you through it. First, get a cloth and wet it with warm soapy water. That will help clean off the blood and kill the bacteria.

“Got it,” she said as she ran into the bathroom to grab a dishcloth from the pile, put on some warm water and used hand soap, and rubbed it into the cloth to make it soapy. She came out waiting for further instructions.

“Good now, gently pat clean up all of the blood as best as you can, okay?” he sounded tired.

Tabby went slow and tried to be a gentle as she could with a few reminders. Laser focusing on the task at hand. His hands revealed minor cuts and shallow gashes.

“Is that good enough?”

“Yes, now go get the ointment. It should be in the upper cabinet in a blue and white packet in the bathroom.”

“On it,” she ran back to the back to the bathroom as fast as she could and grabbed her stepping stool that she uses to reach the sink to brush her teeth. She stood on her tiptoes on the chair to get the cabinet to open it. She looked for anything with blue and white packaging until she found the tiny ointment packets he was talking about. She grabbed a few and ran back out into the kitchen.

“Okay, now what?”

“Now open the packets and gently smear the ointment on just for extra precaution for infection.”

Tabby struggled to open it with her tiny hands, so she had help opening it. She spread the ointment all over his hands as gently as she could.

“Now what?”

“Now, I need you to go into the junk drawer and get two safety pins.”

“Okay,” she knew where the drawer was in the kitchen. She rummaged through to find what she thought were safety pins since she had no idea what they looked like. She pulled out a paper clip and showed it to him for confirmation.

“No, that’s a paper clip. Try again.”

She rummaged through the drawer again and pulled out a thumbtack.

“No, that’s a thumbtack try again,” he sounded exasperated.

Tabby whimpered and held her head down like a scolded puppy. She didn’t like how he sounded displeased with her. She rummaged deeper in the drawer and finally pulled out a safety pin,

“There we go!” he encouraged.

She pulled out another one and set them both on the table.

“Now go get those bandages in the upper cabinet. They are long and white.”

She nodded and went back into the bathroom once more to grab the bandages and ran back out.

“Good, now wrap them around my hands,” he walked her through the process of doing that, and he put on the safety pins to hold the bandages in place himself.

Tabby grabbed his hands and kissed both of them. He jerked back in surprise and was a little taken aback by her actions. She looked just as confused as he was.

“What are you doing?”

“I was just kissing your boo-boos to make them feel better. That’s what mommy does with me. I thought it would work for you.”

He hugged her tightly and tried to choke back his tears at how sincere and pure she was. It was only then, when she calmed down enough that she realized that he stunk. Specifically of cheap whiskey and liquor. Tabby tried to push away and scrunched up her nose.

“You stink,” she complained bluntly.

He burst out laughing. “I suppose I do. I’ll tell you what, let me take a shower, and we’ll have a movie night, and I’ll let you stay up an hour past your bedtime.”

“Okay!” Tabby said excitedly with a giggle.

“As long as you don’t tell your mom.”

“My lips are sealed” she made a zipper mouth motion.

I will make you

Queen of everything you see

I'll put you on the map

I'll cure you of disease (Ooh)

Tabby closed the bathroom cabinets and went back out to the living room. Right back to where she started. She stared out the window at the busy street down below. It became part of her daily routine to stare out the window and see if her dad was coming back. She didn’t know. It could be any day now. She hasn’t lost hope yet. She continued to stare, being lost in her thoughts.

“And the pirate kingdom of Aiwratha is saved from the mutant octopus by the rebel pirates!” she held her stick that she used as a sword up in the air in victory.

Tabby and her dad were currently at Maplehood park on the wooden play pirate ship in the middle of the playground section of the park. With Tabby as captain of the rebel pirate team and her dad as her first mate. Since no one else wanted to play with Tabby, they have played this multiple times with different storylines. Secretly they both never tired from it.

“We did it! We did it! We did it! We are the heroes!” he cheered as he picked her up and spun her around.

“Of course we are! Why wouldn’t we be? We are a team forever and always! Together nothing will get in our way! There’s nothing we can’t do!” she squirmed to be put down.

He took a minute to look at her eyes that were too big for her face. But they were so full of hope, adventure, optimism and had that bright lightning in her eyes. Ready to take on the world. He chuckled a little as he put her down and let her run free.

Maybe he didn’t do a bad job with her after all.

And since we know that dreams are dead

And life turns plans up on their head

I will plan to be a bum

So I just might become someone

Tabby sighed and rested her head on her thin arms on the window sill gloomily. She perked up when she saw somebody that looked like her dad. Only to sink back down when she realized that it was a false alarm. Here she was all alone. So much for his promise of sticking around forever. So much for a future with him in it. That dream is dead.

She slowly sat up with a confused realization.

What was she thinking?

Sure he wasn’t here now, but that doesn’t mean he won’t be here until later, right? She recently discovered that dreams do die, but maybe just maybe, dreams can come back to life. Perhaps he will come back, and those dreams can soar again. Yes, that’s right! This train of thought filled her with renewed hope, and she was bouncing in her seat in eagerness. Sure she and her mother aren’t in a good place right now, but that would be her responsibility to bring them both out of this dark place. She believed that she was strong enough to do so. All she knew was that she had to fight to survive for herself and her mother alive long enough so when he does come back, they will be a family again, and her dad would be proud to see just how far she’s come. She’ll be a hero once again.

She asked me, Son when I grow old

Will you buy me a house of gold?

And when your father turns to stone

Will you take care of me?

I will make you

Queen of everything you see

I'll put you on the map

I'll cure you of disease

She didn’t have an exact plan to go about this, but she decided it would be best to start small with stuff she could do. First, she could clean up the apartment as best as she could. After all, she can’t have him come back to a dirty apartment. She was leaving the heavy-duty cleaning to her mom, such as chemical cleaning, laundry, and dishes since she didn’t know how to do any of that. However, she could pick up a little and sweep. She knows how to pick up after herself and has seen her mom sweep multiple times, so she has an idea of what she’s doing. She was too small for the real broom, so she would just use her pink kid one. She got to work right away.

She will do everything in her power to help him come home to her.

All for him.