#and yeah still wanna know the names of the months in the world of onward...

[keilemlucent]

pretty eyes & starshine: i

(NSFW)

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

part i   ||   part ii   ||   part iii

beta’ed: @shadowworks & @keiqos​ (thank you!! 💞)

word count: ~9.4k

Keigo surrenders to losing himself in the blank-walled, temporary home he inhabits. He finds familiarity in the routine of aches, pains and pills. 

You’re his only solace. 

warnings: bodily trauma, medical trauma, PTSD, dissociation, suicidal ideation, alcohol as a coping mechanism and graphic description of sustained injury

a/n: oh wow so here it is, big sad fic :’^) part one!! it’s canon divergent from manga chapter 296 onwards.

this one has been a long time coming. please mind the warnings!! this fic deals a lot with trauma and mental illness in tandem. the warnings are going to change with the coming parts, so please be mindful. i don’t wanna get too sappy, but this piece has been my Baby for the past few months, and i’m excited to finally share. that being said, enjoy loves 💞

Everyone is fucked up after the War.

There is no kindness in an aftermath like this one, not so soon, and certainly not with dried blood of old comrades and mud still caking under its metaphorical fingernails. The world was in shambles, and every hero is along with it.

There is something horrifying about being at the center of it all, Hawks, no, Keigo thinks solemnly, all too often. 

He’s used to the attention he’s getting, touches and poking and prodding by near strangers. Except, he was used to exclamations of how great and powerful and remarkable he was. Now, all the attention he receives is followed by little sighs and sad, broken eyes.

He’s sure he looks equally as sad; Keigo had been nothing but an empty shell since the War had ended and he’d been carted off to his hospital room. Numb despite all of his burns. 

It’s the shock, he tells himself, he’ll snap out of it any day.

Any day.

...

And it is any day.

He wakes up to screaming from the next room over, agonized wails that pierce the air as his morning nurse enters. She’s over-worked and haggard while checking his vitals with a forced smile. They don’t make conversation with him much anymore, and Keigo doesn’t have the energy to try and force it. There isn’t enough in him to pretend that he’s okay enough to banter with folks. 

If he still had his wings, he would’ve wrapped himself up tight in the plumage and let himself rot away in some corner. He’d let the dissociated numbness fade, however long it took, and then succumb to whatever psychological wounds revealed themselves. 

Waste away, all alone.

But he doesn't have that luxury. He is in an overcrowded hospital with swarms of civilians and heroes, all stuffed in one place because the world doesn’t have the time to differentiate between the wounded, nor the space or resources to give different resources. Though, Keigo is a special case, hence why he’s had healers coming to him for the past three weeks since the War trying to coax his body into genesizing a new pair of wings. 

The Commission’s hospital has all the bells-and-whistles that a medical professional could need, but Keigo, and so many others, are facing problems that don’t have good and easy roads to healing. 

That’s assuming healing was even possible.

Keigo is convinced, has been convinced, that there is no way to come back from the War, nor the absence on his back, nor the shouts and cries of pain that echo around the hospital like a new genre of music that Keigo so desperately wants to scrub from his brain.

Things change, it’s inevitable. Everyone falls eventually, and he was just used to flying.

It’s a harder descent. 

...

Keigo doesn’t meet you on any day, he meets you on a lonely night.

The evenings and early mornings were the most peaceful at the hospital. Most folks, three weeks after the end of it all, had serious enough injuries that they had to be somewhat sedated to sleep, either for physical or mental pain keeping them from sleep.

It’s morose, Keigo thinks, quietly and privately, but he craves those hours. All he hears then is the hum of air vents and beeps of his own medical machinery. None of the audible agony of the folks he was sworn to protect.

He’s slept most of the day, not lucid enough to do much else, and the nurses haven’t been giving him sedatives unless he asked (though he always did.) Without forced quiet, he’s antsy, fingers twitching and flaring the new (and growing) pains rooted in his (empty, isn’t that horrifying—) back.

He rouses himself, adjusting his scratching hospital garb (thin sweats and a cheap crew neck with the back almost entirely cut away). With his IV pole at his side, he resolves to take a few laps and quiet himself, hopefully.

(Keigo would need sedatives, he always did, but it was nice to play pretend that he didn’t. It made things easier for a precious hour or two.)

His laps are usually quick, despite how much his body aches when he walks. So much new, burnt tissue that needed to learn how to move, how to live again, kept him throbbing and gritting his teeth.

Masochism be damned, he keeps at it during his sleepless nights. Physical therapy wasn’t an option when the world was caving in with him at the epicenter.

There’s a common room at the end of the foyer of identical (filled) hospital rooms, just a collection of stuffy, uncomfortable couches that face an aged TV and a wide bay of windows. It’s rarely used, just a formality for when the space of the hospital had regularly hurt victims and heroes. When it wasn’t bearing so much weight. 

Sometimes, he would stop to idly regard the mostly barren world around the hospital. Far from the cities, a little hideaway for heroes and their loved ones to heal in privacy. Other than sheer distance, there is a thick, organic shield around the complex.  It’s a towering forest, man-planted with identical types of trees in perfect rows. 

It’s grim in its predictability. 

(When did he get so fucking pensive?)

(Oh yeah, too much time locked in his goddamn skull.)

He hadn’t been planning to have any inner musings that night.

But, that night, he notes that he is not alone. 

On one of the hard couches, you sit, with your own IV-pole companion and injuries, an arm carried in a monochromatic sling and set in a hard cast.

You turn to him, blinking wide eyes at him.

There’s a single lamp on, and the light dances in your eyes with its own unexpected rhythm.

Something compels Keigo to smile, cocky, like he used to, and greet you with a little wave, and a finger to his lips.

Your expressions melts, a hand going over your mouth to stifle a giggle.

It’s like you’re pulling him after that, he finds himself resting across from you.

You must look like a pair, he realizes. You’re greasy, he’s greasy. He’s got a fine layer of built-up stubble that shouldn’t be called anything other than impressive peach fuzz (not that Keigo’s seen it, he’s felt it. The idea of looking in a mirror makes him sick to his stomach. Though you don’t have any pseudo-beard, you’ve got your own unkempt look and feel that makes you two kindred without sharing a word.

It feels comfortable, warm.

“Hi,” you speak first, voice soft and gentle. “Can’t sleep?”

“Nah, who can?” Keigo replies, shaking his head. “But what about you? Midnight oil doesn’t burn without a cause, you know.” 

Your expression is also painful in the way it’s so open, yet worn (most everyone had locked up by now, the ones in the hospital and Keigo imagined the ones outside of it too.) 

“I like the sky— the stars are pretty.” You sigh, wistful. “I watch for shooting stars.”

The thought, the significance of that obvious wanting, makes something pang deep in his chest. Childlike hope in a place like this, foolish as well as frail.

“Trying to get a wish?” Keigo clicked his tongue. “Smart.”

“No, no— wishing doesn’t... suit me, right now.” You snorted, shaking your head, the light in your eyes dancing, “I just think they’re pretty.”

Keigo blinks, unable to stop the way his eyes widen.

Your posture reads nothing but earnestness and vulnerability, so freely given (so undeserved) without a hint of pullback.

“What do you want to be called?”

“... Excuse me?” Keigo is not used to his thoughts being interrupted in the blanket of dark that he feels most comfortable in. Your words shock him enough with their meaning, let alone the way you’re so brazen. 

“I, uh,” You stumble on your words. “I know who you are, but I also saw that whole broadcast, which I’m going to easily assume you don’t want to talk about. But, I don’t know how much you want to be called ‘Hawks’ at this point either.”

His mouth is dry.

“So, I ask instead,” You lean forward, your IV line pulling the slightest bit and you wince. His discomfort must be very fucking apparent, because you backtrack in moments. “... Or, neither. I can call you something else, too.”

“... A nickname, for someone you don’t even know?” Keigo, Hawks, whoever he is now struggles with words. There’s too many, and they’re all too fast, and he doesn’t have his wings to catch up to them or outrun them— 

“Yeah, why not?” You shrug with a lazy smile. “I’ll call you... pretty eyes. How about that?”

Keigo does have pretty eyes. They’re gold, light and glittering amber in the lowlight. Before he, ya’ know, lost them, and when things were good, but awful, but normal, he darkened the organic marks around his canthi with liquid eyeliner. He liked makeup, prettied himself up and accentuated all the good he had. Preening.

None of that is left, just what organically was on his skin, and he hasn’t seen it in its raw state in years, and like fuck if he was going to look in a mirror just to figure out if his natural eyeliner was half as good as that by his own hand. 

“Sure, that works,” He relaxes, mirroring your expression like the practiced... pro he is. “What do I call you, starshine?”

You roll your eyes, but nothing about you fades as you tell him your name, something that calms and fills him, “But, you can call me starshine if you want. Sounds nice.”

It’s sweet.

So, Keigo greets you.

“Nice to meet you, starshine.”

...

That’s the first time you kept each other’s company. Most of it is quiet, you truly do just want to watch the stars. Keigo did with you, tracing the shadows of clouds and moonlight with his eyes.

(Occasionally, his gaze shifts to you, regarding your figure with the same care for only a moment before returning to the sky you both miss.)

Eventually, the quiet heat of it puts him half to sleep, and he bids you goodnight.

You wave goodbye, rising as he away.

The light isn’t in your eyes anymore, and your warmth feels a little too far away.

...

The next days are long.

He slips into that shell-state again, where he’s a husk that stares emptily at the ceiling as the Commission tries to piece him together to a fraction of what he once was. 

They fail, each time, because no healer they’ve brought can regenerate quirk-formed appendages, but he commends their efforts all the same. It’s out of desperation, sure, but he’s heard whispers of the new generation. In recalling his own sidekicks, he isn’t as scared for the future. 

(Everyone else’s future. He’s so terrified of his own that he turns extra numb if he thinks about it.) 

Selfishly, he just wants his wings for himself. They’d keep him plenty company. If he ever did get them back, he’d fly somewhere, faraway and alone to live out his days under his feathers and feel as empty as he wanted. 

They fuss over him all day, not knowing those desires. They are private, and he only puts on his old, self-confident bravado so they don’t lock him up somewhere to have his brain picked and to fill the new holes with pill-shaped gauze. 

As established, Keigo was content to rot.

(He can’t fully parse all of his feelings and they consume him.)

The healers for the week all failed, doing nothing but making his back bow and burn. It’s painful. Obviously, trying to stitch a body back together, or rather making a body make when it was so tired of creating—

(Feather after feather after feather, for how long?)

He’s glad his sessions are in a different room, a spare, horrifyingly metallic exam room across the hospital. It reeks like iron and isopropyl alcohol, but Keigo doesn’t mind. The filmy paper that rolls from the exam table gets soaked with his sweat as opposed to his familiar bed dressings. 

Not to mention, it’s nice, not having to hear his neighbor’s screams and pleadings to God, any god, for reprieve. Calming. 

(He feels less guilty. Less like it was his own hand that scarred up their bodies. If he can’t hear them, he only thinks of his own agony under ‘helping’ hands.)

His body is exhausted at the end of each day, and even his restlessness fades with the necessities of his body.

He doesn’t see you, and practically forgets about you.

It’s a week or so later when he takes one of his strolls, and finds you tucked away into your nook, dimly lit and with a blanket over your lap.

Keigo feels it as he nears you, that comfort that your expression bleeds into his very soul. Even as he watches your healthy hand nervously toy with the thin knit in your lap, it doesn’t dim you.

The lamplight dances in your eyes as you nod to him, “Fancy seeing you here, pretty eyes.” 

“You’d never know it, but I live just down the hallway— me,” He touches his chest proudly, surprised by his own jest. 

You gave a fake gasp, mirroring him easily, “Never knew I had such a well-known soul in my neighborhood. Forgive my transgression.”

Bending at the waist, as much as you can with your right leg extended, straight, you choke on laughter.

Keigo follows you in it, giggling, genuinely giggling, high and light and girlish like he’d never heard from himself before.

He snapped his mouth shut, thickly swallowing and shaking his head.

“No need to be shy,” You assured him with an affectionate turn of the head. “You have a lovely laugh.”

“Now you’re just flirting with me, cute.”

Your head tilted farther, confused, “I’m simply being kind to you.”

Why didn’t he have the snark to reply to that? Probably because he was half-dead and on painkillers for nearly a month. He’d beat himself up about it later, maybe.

There wasn’t an ounce of malice in your tone, just earnestness that tugged at his own insecurities.

You backpedaled. “How was your day?”

Keigo takes a few moments to respond, shaking his head without mind to the way his too-long hair flops in his face. 

The banter isn’t forced, but it’s not welcomed yet.

As comfortable as you feel to him, Keigo isn’t comfortable.

“Same old, same old,” Living hell. “Boring, mostly. Painful, but dull. It’s crazy how much hell smells like cheap disinfectant, huh?” 

You agree, quietly, “I’m pretty sure there’s many hells in this place.”

Keigo doesn’t know how to respond, so he doesn’t. 

You both regard the stars again with growing reverence. Specks of light dance back in your eyes as you both settle into the hard cushions like they were made of goose down and Sherpa. 

...

Your conversations are... disjointed, to say the least. 

There’s an inability for words and phrases to flow between you. There’s starts and stops, stalls like an engine that putters on tarry oil without ever truly firing. There are good feelings, still, safety in silence before words as you stargaze together through the comfort of a window.

It should feel disarming, to be so far from the sky yet have no way to reach it. And it is, but Keigo can swallow the reality these days. It’s easier when there’s someone on the mend close by, sharing in the discomfort of a rawed mind and the comfort of a yellow-toned fluorescent bulb.

It’s unspoken kinship. Keigo never had time for it in the past, but now it was all he had. There had to be some cruel irony in it (as if there wasn’t enough in his life), but he couldn’t make himself mind. 

Everything he’d once excelled at, everything he had was gone. He was barren and stripped (don’t think about it—), exposed to the elements in all the worst ways. At least the hospital was clean and safe, relatively. 

It feels safest with you near.

Sure, your conversations were clearly that of two horribly broken people, but that wasn’t new or surprising. It simply was.

“Do you know constellations?” You ask one night, a colder one, where you’ve got two blankets over your lap. 

Keigo thought for a moment, “A handful, but I never took to stargazing, you know?”

You don’t relate, just chew your lip, the light of the dim lamp dancing across your irises.

“Can I show you some?” 

“...Constellations?”

“What else?” You crack a smile. “Come on, pretty eyes.”

Whatever you’d like, he’d do. 

He can’t refuse, he’s already getting weak for you. 

Shifting, Keigo joins you on your typical couch for the first time. Your IV poles, thrumming and humming their own rhymes harmonize, quietly and mostly imperceptible. 

You regard him even more warmly, so close, a little smile playing on your lips.

“What’s your sign?”

Keigo deadpans, “What?”

“Like... astrology. What’s your sign?”

You wiggle your eyebrows, knowing the double-meaning of your words. 

Flirting again.

Since when had he been so bad at it?

“Capricorn,” He huffs back. He keeps his back off the stone-like cushions of the couch— his scarring had been itchy the whole day prior— so itchy— 

You tap the plastic-y fabric gap between the two of you, grabbing his attention, “Hey, pretty eyes. Stick with me, let me show you where that one is.”

So, you do.

Your light-filled eyes trace the sky’s nighttime freckles, searching until you find what you’re looking for.

“There,” Your finger raises, tracing the patterns in the air. “That’s Capricorn, can you see?”

Not really, the stars are just a meaningless smatter. If there’s some sort of pattern he’s supposed to find, he comes up with none. 

“Not in the slightest,” Keigo rolls his eyes. “Show me again?”

You don’t reply, but rather scoot a bit closer, mirror his hunch and pose with precision and tiny adjustments. 

He doesn’t dare to breathe as you carefully grab his arm, extending it. You lay your cheek over his bicep, watching from the closest view to his own that you could. 

“Do you see now?” 

The only starlight he sees is right in front of him, soft cheek pressed against atrophying muscles. Sharing your heat so graciously as you would so easily come to, you chatter about the stories that are written in the stars, by all cultures, for so long.

Keigo hears, but he’s far more focused on how he wishes you were even closer.

...

After that night, you always share the same couch. 

You face forward, right leg always extended and stiff-looking. Keigo doesn’t mind, hardly notices. He faces you, fragile back bandaged and kept away from the unforgiving grit of the uncomfortable couch. It looks a bit uncomfortable, the posing of it all, but with the words flowing easier, neither of you mind.

You keep showing him stars, the constellations you can remember and see in the night sky. 

Keigo makes fun and crafts his own, connecting new dots and winding stories about them.

“See those three there?” He guides your hand, close enough to share your breath. “That’s the comb of the chicken. Star comb, if you will.”

You snort, rolling your eyes and pulling your hand from his grip, “There’s no cock in the stars, pretty eyes. Chickens can’t fly anyways.”

You both freeze.

Keigo’s mouth goes dry—

Chicken can’t fly.

As much as you’re both learning to be human again, there isn’t talk of your injuries. Maybe, there’s mutual curiosity (you’ve been here two months. just for a broken arm, why?), but like fuck Keigo wants to broach the subject.

“S-sorry,” you stumble over your words, physically retreating. “Shouldn’t have said that.”

It is a fact, chickens can’t fly, but Keigo isn’t a chicken. He’s a debauched, defamed hero whose home is the same set of a milky white, hospital ward walls. Once, a real hero, before the war, before selling his morals just for a chance at rest, before blue flame— burning— 

“Pretty eyes,” Your voice trembles, shaking and lonesome. “Come back here, now. Come on.”

You’re holding his cheeks, unkempt nails pressing (blessedly) a bit too hard into his cheeks. The heat of you is so close, almost scalding him, but he wants more of it, more of the heat that doesn’t burn—

“You’re okay, pretty eyes, s-see?” You hold yourself together, jerking your head to the wide window and glittering stars. “We’re just stargazing.” 

Keigo’s has tears leaking down his face, but neither of you acknowledge them. You release him, quietly spinning another tale about a hero hung in the cosmos. He thanks you for it silently by tugging you into his side. 

(It was the first night you really touched him.)

(The light in your eyes was so close, he wanted it all for himself.)

...

They’re running out of healers to try.

From the weakest to the strongest quirk, no one could revive his dead wings. There was no root to push from the scar tissue, nor resolve left in Keigo to try and make new pins and feathers sprout.

His back isn’t fertile. It’s just as poisoned as the rest of him.

...

He wonders where you disappear to during the day. He takes his strolls then, too. Waves to nurses these days, not charming, just friendly, trying to make a little brightness. 

There’s one day where he asks one of the nurses he knows best for a pair of scissors.

She looks at him, worried, “Don’t tell me we need to put you on psych watch.”

“What? No,” Keigo shakes his head, shaggy hair quivering around the frame of his face. “I just need a bit of a haircut.” 

“... We can ask the Commission to bring someone in—”

“I can do it myself.”

She doesn’t argue with the firmness of his voice, rather, she hands him a pair of safety scissors with bright purple handles. They’re for a child, but Keigo’s fine with that. They’d do. 

When he was younger, and in a pinch (and so poor he tried to eat grass and lick scraps from metallic packaging of discarded junk food wrappers) he’d cut his hair with his own feathers.

Safety scissors would be even easier.

It did mean that he had to confront his own visage, which he had gotten too good at avoiding.

The bathroom in his room is small, it would’ve been claustrophobic if he was still carrying a twenty-five-foot wingspan. 

But, he isn’t. It was just him and the scars on his back that he definitely wasn’t ready to see. 

He’s caught glimpses of himself over the past weeks, but nothing substantial. No view that would’ve given himself time to scrutinize over his imperfection. 

The dull hospital mirror reveals too much about him. It feels too vulnerable, makes his chest tighten, as he stares himself in his ‘pretty eyes’.

Purple stamps below his eyes, probably not from sleeplessness itself, just the sheer exhaustion of living. The one under his left is an odd maroon color, mixing with the scar that is burned into that half of his face.

The skin was once soft, plump cheeks always tended too and well taken care of by expensive skincare products. Now, it’s charred and gaunt. Healing, but still obviously scarred heavy and deep.  The weak beard he’s been growing (accidently) is patchy around the thickened tissue. 

It bothers him— 

It doesn’t look like him in the mirror. 

It helps to take care of himself for the first time in a long while. 

He shaves with the cheap foam and single blade razor they’d given him in the toiletries pack the first days he was there, while he was still numbed out and half-dead. The metal glides over his skin, stripping away the numbness just a little. The stubble and cream slide down the drain and away.

His hair is different. The waves had for so long been pushed back and held that way with the winds of his flights. The longer, feathery patches now hang around his face, dangling down and mingling with the too-long sections that curl over his ears and down his neck.

Wetting his hair, he cuts away what he can. 

It’s blunt, messy, and not elegant. 

All the same, the trim feels good. 

Though, his mood goes sour when the screaming starts for the day.

The far wall of the bathroom was shared by him and his shrieking neighbor, and he took great care to never shower when they were singing their awful chorus. It grates on his ears; he should’ve been a bit empathetic to their suffering, but he didn’t care that much. It was so regular, that the screaming that might’ve once sent each one of his feathers (don’t think about, don’t fucking think about it) sharp as the razor in his hand, didn’t bother him in the slightest.

Just a poke at his temple, a jab and a drop of water that irks him more than anything else.

It is a... somewhat pleasant distraction. He can focus more on his fellow patient than his own haggard appearance, the scar, the lack of red at his back— 

It’s all okay, ‘okay’, until the patient starts babbling.

“M-make it stop!” 

Keigo stills.

A scream tears through the drywall. Even without his wings, it makes him thrum, far-too sensitive.

“Help!” The voice yelps. “HELP!” 

There’s a thud and thump from the other room.

“Please, please!”

Keigo’s heart stutters in his chest, and the razor falls from his hand, clattering into the sink.

“MAKE IT STOP!”

It’s you.

It’s your screaming and shrieking that’s burrowed in his ears. It’s your voice that’s trembling in desperation that has him running out of his room, nearly pulling out his IVs as the pole teeters and follows behind him. 

Why are you screaming?

Why have you always been screaming?

A nurse is trying to stop him, urging him to settle but he can’t. There's an urgency in his chest he hasn’t felt since back before and he has to heed it. He needs to.

He pulls his forearm from the nurse’s grasp, hissing in his own pain, muscles pulling and aching with disuse but he doesn’t care.

The nurses drag him back from your door, and they almost have him, almost have him on the ground.

And then he smells burning—

Cloth.

Flesh.

And something in him snaps.

He clocks the nearest nurse with a tight fist, ignoring his atrophied muscles and kicking with everything he could muster.

They release him, probably out of shock. (He’d been such a model patient, so complacent and quiet until then.) 

Then, he stumbles into your room, and sees you, and wants to die.

...

There’s plenty of times in his life where Keigo felt like an animal. When the Commission first got their hands on him, they took to studying and picking his quirk about to figure out the most efficient way to rebuild it to their needs and uses. Now then, he felt very much like an experiment, only half-human. He was too young to really ‘get’ it, but the feeling persisted.

Sometimes, he felt similarly when he played celebrity. The talk shows, the modeling and media felt hoops he had to jump through just to get a decent night’s sleep. It was an additional job aside from heroics, one he excelled at and entertained him. But that didn’t mean each flash of a camera didn’t suck him dry of a bit of his dignity. 

He was sure you had to be feeling similarly.

You’re writhing and arching in your bed, curls of smoke rising from your papery hospital gown. Every machine in your room is screaming with you, bloody and loud and angry—

And scared. Keigo recognized well, and it drove pins into his heart to realize it was you.

It’s even worse when he realizes some part of you is burning. 

At your bedside, he freezes.

Nylon straps wrap around your wrist, around your cast, and keep you held tight to the bed. You’re tied down, held to the plastic bed frame as you wretch and scream.

You don’t even notice him.

The smoke rises from your burning hospital gown. He rips it away, tears the burning section away with his shaking hand. It’s crass, and Keigo sees a bit too much.  The gauze wrapping your leg below is burning as well, in little veins of char that burns black and smoldering. 

Keigo tears it all away, he tears and tears—

And then he sees the wound.

He was trained, once, to see this type of horror and not bat an eye. That training was gone, and all that remained was his starshine with a writhing, molten wound.

Keigo is numb as the nurses drag him back to his room, trying to decide if he prefers the apathy and numbness to injury that his old heroism gave him, or the blinding pain of empathy when someone you... care about is hurt.

He can’t decide which he’d rather suffer with. 

...

You appear in the common room a few nights later.

Keigo still takes his walks in the late evening, even if you aren’t there. If anything, he needs them more. He’s restless, always listening for the screams or howls from the next room over. His annoyance towards them was gone, and all that remained was a concern that knotted in the pit of his stomach. 

There’s a sigh of relief on his lips when he finds you, nestled into a pile of blankets with your IV pole, watching the stars with sad eyes.

He joins you on your couch, cracking a decent joke that you don’t respond to.

Then, there’s silence.

It’s as loud as the stars are bright. The expanse of sound is filled by the hum of the cold air and distant beeping.

“I’m sorry,” Your voice shakes. “You shouldn’t have seen me like that. It’s not... Easy to look at. Or, I imagine it’s not.”

Keigo wants to rip the apology from your tongue and burn it.

“No, please, it’s alright,” He’s begging too much. “I get it.”

As much as he can, anyways.

You’re quiet again, biting your lip so hard it must be close to breaking skin.

“Can we... talk about things?” You ask, softer. “I can’t keep pretending.”

“...’Pretending’?” Keigo knows, but he selfishly wants to hear you say it.

“Well, you didn’t think I’ve been here for two months for my bum arm, right?” You laugh weakly. “And I’m well-aware that you don’t have wings.”

We just don’t talk about it. 

“It’s nicer to look at the stars and pretend everything’s fine,” Keigo lays the statement down and regrets it.

Your fist tightens, jaw clenching.

And there’s more silence.

It’s deafening to Keigo, he wants to speak, scream, but you’re quiet next to him. He can fill voids with his voice so, so easily, yet he turns in on himself.

“I know, it’s all hard,” Tears drip down from your words, though your cheeks remain dry. “I know, but there was a War two months ago, and we’re still holed up in a place like this, and we never talk about why.”

You turn to him, light dancing slowly in your eyes. Your lips part to speak, but no sound comes out.

“... I didn’t want to ask.” Keigo speaks, gaze shifting down to your leg. He questioned why a broken arm would keep you here, but you can’t just ask that. “It’s bad form to ask a stranger about their injuries unnecessarily when they’re traumatized.”

“But we’re not strangers, not anymore.”

Keigo can’t disagree. 

...

You had been in a conbini when Gigantomakia tore through your little suburb. It was a few miles away, but the ground shook as if the goliath was just outside the automatic doors.

Your demon was near, though.

It was a man from the PLF who tore into you so badly. Just some random, emboldened civilian who ascribed to Destro’s ideology hard enough to think about taking out his frustrations on ‘weaker-quirked’ individuals.

That meant the young couple getting slushies in the corner, the old man behind the cash register, and you.

(You’d told your roommate you’d be home quick to help her study—)

(Your roommate is dead, under several tons of rubble.)

“The old man died before the heroes even started trying to rescue anyone. The couple was begging each other to hold on, but only one of them lasted. He died within a few weeks of being taken here.”

There was just you.

You’d hardly been touched by the man, the fucking villain, who’d set his mark on you. But it was more than enough to leave a writhing scar.

Keigo asks to see it, and quietly, you oblige him.

You’re in a gown, you always have been. The hem of it is pulled up by your visibility shaking fingers, and slowly reveals the scar in the lowlight of the ever-present lamp. He’d seen it once, but that didn’t change how startling it was. 

It’s molten.

The skin is gnarled, twisting and scarred worse than anything Keigo’s ever seen. It was like the gore of a torn flesh was frozen over your right side, from your calf, to your thighs to your pretty hips—

“It goes higher, but that’s not exactly couth to show you,” you joke, but neither of you laugh. 

“... It’s not moving anymore?”

“Oh, yeah. It calms down, when it’s dark. Nighttime and all. It stops being so ornery.” 

Keigo has a laundry list of questions, but with the expression on your face that just bleeds exhaustion into the air, and the fresh burns from the restraints on your wrists, he keeps quiet. 

Maybe, three months ago, he’d jabber on about the injury, try to gode some information out on the villain, profile him, track him and beat the tar out of him for touching you—

But this is the present, and Keigo is a wingless soul. All he has is a prescription for painkillers on a rigid schedule, and the awareness that you both appreciate each other.

Keigo scoots to your uninjured side, lifting his arm up and around your shoulder. It hurts, it fucking hurts, but he doesn’t mind.

You tense for a moment, turning to him with wide eyes, scared like he’s never seen.

Then, you melt into him.

...

Keigo’s busy with healers the week, though none speak his language, literally. They’re international, foreign aid that’s been flown in to try to pick up the disaster of a society that’s been left in the wake of the War and the dissolution of Tartarus.

None of them make progress. 

As much as it burns (haha) him to his core, he’s accepting the reality, slowly but surely. 

...

Endeavor visits him.

It’s the morning after a particularly sweet night with you. You still sit together in the starlight, though you’ve run out of constellations to show him. It’s less quiet than it used to be, just little banter that flows between the two of you. It feels more genuine than his old bluntness, welcome after so much odd tension when you first started enjoying the heat of each other’s presence and the far-off stars.

You’d taken to spending time together during the day as well... As much as you could. Strapping you to your bed was for your own safety. Your broken arm had snapped the first few days at the hospital because of the severity of your spasms and flares. The nurses keep you wrapped up, but Keigo drags a chair close to your bed and talks to you as much as he can.

It helps you relax.

Though the days fill with tension as you try to negate the inevitability of your molten scar coming to life, nights remain calm.

And so, so sweet.

You’ve taken to tucking into his side, telling him little treasured facts about the cosmos. It’s easier to guide his eyes like that, as your cheek rests over his collarbone. 

It lingers with him, the feeling of your casual touch, so tentatively offered and so graciously received.

He traces his own constellations over your gown, mindful of the flesh beneath that heats beneath his palm when he gets too close.

After one of those wonderful, early nights, Enji Todoroki enters his room with all of the gusto one would expect. Which is not very much, but the sheer presence of him is enough to make Keigo quake.

 Just like the little boy from Kyushu, Keigo regards him with stars in his eyes. 

The hero, not a speck of flame on him (thank god) pulls up a chair near his bed. Keigo sits cross-legged and cocks his head to the side.

“What brings you to my neck of the woods, number one?” Keigo smiles.

“Number fifteen.”

“... What?”

“Since my injuries, I’m mostly on bedrest,” Enji replied, folding his hands on his chin. “I’m number fifteen now, and that number will more than likely just drop. I’m not much of a hero with only one lung. I’m planning to officially retire at the end of the month.”

Keigo’s chest goes tight and it feels like he’s joking. He tosses on a tight smile. 

“This is hardly time for a pillar—“

“I’m no pillar. I never was,” Enji sighs, running a hand over his scarred cheek. “The kids can handle this.”

Keigo breaks so easily these days.

“That’s not fair—” He had been tossed into this all too early and god it fucked him up— 

“Hawks,” Enji sighed. “There’s hardly anyone left to fight. They’re either dead, missing part of themselves, or gone.”

“So, you’re giving up?”

“If I didn’t, I’d die.”

Coward.

No, just honest and smart. 

“Since when are you this selfish?” Keigo’s own words surprise him, but he doesn’t back down. “And this wordy, number one? You’ve changed.”

He spits the last phrase like an insult. He hates himself for it and would hate himself even more for it later. 

Enji’s face remains solid and unwavering. The twitch in his brow is the only indication that Keigo’s words were even heard. 

“Since we lost, Keigo. Things have changed.”

Keigo knew, of course, but it didn’t stop the anger from rolling his belly.

“Oh, like I don’t fucking know,” If Keigo still had his wings, they would’ve been extended and fluffed, angry as the pinched skin of his forehead. 

This was his hero, he couldn’t be giving up too— 

“Rest, Hawks,” Enji stand up, “You deserve it.”

Seems Endeavor really died. Enji’s face is worn, his expression neutral and jaw slack. He looks hollowed out and empty, not an ounce or morsel of fight left in him, even for a flightless bird in need of some encouragement. 

There’s more to be said, but Keigo’s too angry to listen and Enji doesn’t have the energy to try. 

Whatever news the old hero had come to bring was left undelivered. 

...

You settle together the next few nights, both so damn tired, even though you’ve done nothing other than lay around a hospital for so-many weeks. 

The air always vibrates between the two of you, that comfortable warmth shared between mingling breath and senses. Light dances in your eyes, twisting and bouncing like something otherworldly.

(Maybe it is.)

Your fingers lace together, held in Keigo’s lap. You trace the others hand in relaxing little lines and shapes, trying to soothe each other’s wounds, always.

“One of the doctors said the scar might start shrinking,” You break the tender silence, nosing into his jaw in the same way an affectionate cat would. “They’re not entirely sure, but it’s been stable for a few days.”

Keigo’s feathery (don’t think about it) eyebrows shot up, “That’s amazing, and there’s only a few spasms this week, too.”

(He kept good tabs on you, he had to.)

You hummed in agreement, a sad smile playing on your lips as it so often did.

With a quick blink, the light bouncing in your eyes faded, and the world felt a bit colder.

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do when I get out of here,” You pressed closer to him. “There’s shelters, and some cities are taking refugees, but I don’t—”

Your jaw clicks shut, brow furrowed and mood soured.

(Keigo, mind you, is still focusing on the lack of light in your eyes and the chill of the air in the room.) 

Something stirs, deep in his gut, but he doesn’t say anything. How Keigo used to have such a mouth, he didn’t know. These days, all he can is act, like somehow the loss of his wings came with the loss of his tongue.

Tugging you by the waist, mindful of the tender scar, he pulls you close, internally resolving.

...

She, the main Suit, visits him.

(It’s his last visitor at the hospital.)

There are no trumpeters, guards, or the like. It’s just the haggard president, matching Keigo with his dark circles and creased with new wrinkles and far-more grey sections in her slicked back hair.

The air stands still as she pulls up a chair, burying her head in her hands.

She, the Main Suit, has never been one to inquire as to how he is. Many of the others at the Commission were sweet, kind to him in youth, but she was all business. 

Some things never change.

She breaks the silence of the room, “... do you want to be done, Hawks?”

The cords in his chest tighten, gaze going sharper.

He doesn’t answer.

They meet each other’s gazes; twenty years of fucked-up emotion being shared between the pair of them.

“We’ve done everything. Every healer, every quirk, every treatment, conventional or otherwise,” she’s too soft. “There’s nothing left to try.”

He knew that, he had to know that, right?

His throat feels sticky as he swallows down bile, the scars on his back burning anew. It’s somatic, it has to be, but his flesh crawls and writhes just like yours. His starshine. He hates the way his mind is racing, just as fast as it always has, but his body lacks the ability to keep up.

He grounds himself in the thought of you, his starshine. Your body. Your heat. 

His narrow pupils refocus on the light tremble in her shoulders. 

“I’m being honest, so I’ll ask again,” She meets his gaze, grey eyes as soulless and full as ever. “Do you want to be done?”

“Well, obviously I can't fight—” 

“I mean it. All of it, Hawks. Maybe a few media appearances, but all this... shit. You’ve done enough.”

You’ve done enough. 

The words bounce around in his skull.

“Do you want to be done?”

Done with being a hero.

That’s all he’d ever been, right? That is him, he is Hawks, for fuck’s sake, no one other than Dabi (may he rot and die and immolate in hell) even called him his actual name in years.

Keigo is Hawks.

His mouth is dry, and he tries to ignore the tears pricking his eyes. He’s not sure why he’s beginning to cry, and definitely not sure why tension is draining from his shoulders as he sighs out an answer.

“I’ll be done.”

You’ve done enough.

...

Hospital beds are a hot commodity, and now that Keigo had thrown in the towel (along with everyone else) to stop trying with his wings, he was to be discharged within a few days.

(“Just a few more days to adjust your body to your new medications—”)

He’d stopped listening after that.

...

Your last night together is so bittersweet, you taste it on each other’s tongues.

You have an episode early in the day. Your screaming wakes the floor, the burning smell of flesh cementing that it was you.

Keigo’s only half-lucid when he shoves into your room, holding your hands while nurses desperately try to administer pain medication.

It’s too much for you, the crawling edges of the scar once again consuming you in the molten, glowing amber veins of heat that tore through you so terribly.

You sleep the day away. Keigo stays with you for much of it, stroking the bones in the back of your hands. 

...

He fucks you for the first time, that night. 

His own IVs have been removed, he’s to be discharged first thing in the morning—

And he wants one more night of stargazing, please, please—

(Why’s he clutching at you so dearly?) 

But you’re not in the common room. 

Rather, you’re under a few thin blankets, eyes tired and lightless. Your arm is out of its cast, laying over the bed clothes. It scares him shitless at first as he tentatively enters. It’s you though, and the moment you see him, it’s like a flame, a good one, heats the room full and wide. A few specks of light dance in between your irises as your skin crinkles in a gentle smile.

You both know he’s leaving tomorrow.

The knowledge settles in the room like a weight that neither of you can move. So, Keigo takes to it and does what he can.

As opposed to his normal perch next to his bed, he sits beside you, removing the restraints on your wrists and helping you to sit up.

Keigo fishes around in his pocket, pulling out a folded square of paper and placing it at your bedside. It’s his phone number, an odd detail. Relationships usually shared far-earlier.

But there is nothing linear or normal about the two of you, or the situation you both sit and stewed in.

You both are making peace with it at your own pace.

The bed creaks as you move to sit beside him, legs dangling from the bed. There’s gooseflesh beneath your gown, the boring pattern obscured by the darkness of the room, but the molten lines of the scar ever-visible.

“I’m glad you’re getting out of here.”

But I wish that you weren’t leaving.

His hand finds your waist, careful like he always is, but so giving in the same breath. 

“I am too. It’ll be nice to be.”

But I’m going to miss you.

It’s inherent, and has been forever. Since the moment you both stargazed in the common room and watched the worlds high above twist and shine without regard to your own hells, you’ve been ensnared in the other and neither of you have a want or need to let go.

Even with the inevitably of progress.

Keigo drowns in these thoughts, and has been since Endeavor visited and he was reminded of the harsh reality just outside of their tree-ringed prison. The reality he has to return to—

He presses his lips to yours, more desperate and needy than he had before.

Keigo had taken his share of you before, little pecks and the rub of the bridge of his nose over your jaw and cheeks. He had been a bit greedier with his hands, uncaring of the eyes of the night nurses when he’d touched you in the common room.

But he’s insatiable that last night.

The sheets of the plastic bed are too scratchy, they’re too harsh for you, and it burns Keigo to his core as he lowers you down. He cradles what he can, as your fingers latch onto his clothes (real clothes) and tug him as close as you can get.

The machines in your room cry, but they’re forgotten. 

You nip at his bottom lip, dragging yours across his clean-shaven jaw before laying into his neck with kiss after kiss. His muscles shake, holding him over you, both of you atrophied but uncaring.

You suck a deep, throbbing bruise on the fragile skin of his neck. It’s something dark that won’t fade for a week. The thought stirs something in his chest, a white-hot feeling that wants to crack his ribs and consume him. He doesn’t give in, he can’t—

“Stay with me, pretty eyes,” you whisper, so sweet and gentle as you push floppy strands of hair from his face. “Stay here, just for a little while longer.”

The reminder jolts him back, back to you, and the way your body (so tired, but unwavering) jumps and rolls under his touch. He’s a glutton for attention, always has been, but your particular brand and sounds keep pulse hot and hard. 

Shaky fingers pull his shirt over his head, sweaty palms push the gown over your hips. By the starlight, you’re both seeing too much of each other, but this is a goodbye, there’s no time to dwell on the discomfort.

Keigo tries to be careful as he adjusts your legs, tries to be mindful of the raw skin and flesh that makes you whine and half-writhe. You clutch at him, still trying to pull him closer despite the proximity and heat, like you need him as opposed to just wanting him. 

There’s no fanfare in it, just more rushed kisses and the swirling of fingertips over covered clit. You catch each other’s gasps in the mingling of breaths you share. It’s choking, suffocating, yet entirely not enough. You beg, quietly, for more. Your fingers latch onto his wrist and urge him to help pull your panties off and away.

More, more, more. 

By the time he slides into you, you're still tense, but so is he, and in a pile of tension and fear and wishful-thinking, you both come undone, and undone, and undone— 

...

Keigo leaves the next morning. 

The press is there, flash bulbs blinding him after so long with just fluorescents and starlight. He manages an easy wave or two, no autographs or gleaming smiles, just business and numbness that he needed to hold onto, so he didn’t fucking break.

He slips into the Commission’s car and leaves behind the hospital, you, and its wall of man-laid greenery and prays to forget it all quickly. He has enough to mourn. 

...

Keigo wants to off himself when he arrives back at his penthouse. 

How can he not?

His ‘home’ (if he couldn’t even call it that) is a dusty, time capsule of everything before. Before he got fucked up with the League, before the PLF, before the war, before Jin—

Every untouched bit of his life from when it was a few, precious fractions better stands unturned. A discarded jacket, wing slits visible and frayed. Scattered dead feathers that make his skin crawl. Memorabilia too, old merchandise that he never cared much about, but he definitely didn’t need to be seeing it now that ‘Hawks’ had burned up and died. 

All disgusting reminders. 

Something burning fills the base of his skull when his gaze fixates on one of the old plumes. He reaches out to touch the spine of it, instinctually expecting a little jolt of feeling from it, like he always had. 

But there’s nothing. It’s dead, decaying, and so is he. 

The reality of it breaks him, quick, hard and hot. He burns alive a second time. 

He clears the liquor cabinet while blaring music from his over-priced stereo system loud enough to make his ears ache and throb. The music isn’t drowning anything out, but it’s better to pretend.

He finds a bottle of old pills and downs them with a few swigs of expensive whiskey and lets go.

...

When he comes to, he’s staring into a smashed mirror, with his own nails crusted in blood from thin welts in the skin of the scar on his face.

Much to his chagrin, he hasn’t forgotten anything. The memories of blue flames, red feathers, and the smell of your skin mixed with isopropyl alcohol feel brighter than ever. He grounds on them as he sobers up, latching onto the pain of his scar tissue and the solace you gave. 

And won’t ever give him again.

Something in him wilts as he defeatedly goes to his phone, arranging any number of things to get him the fuck out.

...

The penthouse is sold, his more important belongings gathered in bland boxes. 

And he leaves. There’s no sentiment holding him there, not anymore.  

Fukuoka is gone and some distant memory as he drives (yes, he forgot that he had that skill) him and his things to his new home.

His penthouse had been immaculate. Crisp interior design, new shapes and colors that were on trend. He was hardly home to appreciate the modern beauty of it, but he’d received enough compliments from random hookups to know that it landed aesthetically.

But honestly?

Who the fuck cared?

His penthouse had been sold to the highest bidder and far behind as he arrives at his new, high home in the sleekness of his far-too fancy, disused car.

...

...

He gets a call from an unknown number, another one, on some snowy day, deep in winter. 

Keigo debates answering it. He almost lets it slip to voicemail. The only calls worth answering are the handful from the Commission that he has to heed, or the odd one from Rumi, Fuyumi, and on occasion, Endeavor.

Not random numbers, he has no patience for it. 

Yet, he answers it lazily.

“Washed up hero, how can I help you?”

“P-Pretty eyes?”

His heart stutters in his chest, he swears— 

“Starshine?” He sounds breathless, the air leached from his chest as he white-knuckles his thighs.

He’d given up on you contacting him, yet there you were, or at least your voice, mechanical and high bouncing around preciously in the walls of the cabin

There’s a moment of silence, nearly, just your light breathing that receiver picks up.

Your voice trembles when you break it, “Y-yeah, it’s me, I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to call—”

You don’t need to be sorry; he would wait for you forever, and then some. 

“I d-don’t actually have a phone? Mine got trashed, uh, back then. I’m on the hospital’s line.”

Keigo hadn’t really considered that, he’s slipped the paper with his number on your bedside without a thought. 

How much had you lost?

“No worries, chickadee,” Keigo is sure his smile is audible. “Why call now? Miss me too much?”

He had no idea.

You laugh, though it soured as you spoke, “I get discharged tomorrow.”

Keigo’s heart seizes again and he’s sure he’s going to go into cardiac arrest.

“The guy who gave me the scar and all? He fucked up a few other people, word eventually got here. Once the scar stops... glowing, it rests. If you make it until then, you’re good.”

And alive.

“The whole injury is stable, has been for a week now,” Surprisingly, there’s no relief in your voice. “They need my bed, so they’re releasing me.”

No, no, no.

Where will you go?

Keigo doesn’t say it, but the question hangs in the air and is quickly answered.

“They got me a spot in one of the shelters close by... It’s only a couple hours by train!” You try to sound happy, but it’s so hollow and unnatural; it makes Keigo physically sit up.

No, no, no.

That won’t do.

“... What won’t do?” 

Keigo hadn’t realized he’d said it out loud.

Something is buried in his chest, something warm and molten, like the old veins of your scar, just kinder and better. It’s full of urges, so seldom used, selectively as needed throughout his career as a hero.

The need to keep something precious safe. 

The thing hasn’t thrashed in months.

Yet now? It’s practically screaming.

“Pretty eyes?” You sound scared through the phone. “A-Are you alright? I can call back—”

“No, don’t, do not.” Keigo lets the flame fill his chest, welcoming it. “You’re not going to that shelter.”

He has something to protect.

“I don’t have another choice—”

Someone.

“You do.” Keigo keeps his voice even, the muscles in his back writhing. If he still had his wings, they’d be puffed out and large. Impassioned with feeling he finally let breath between his ribs. “I’ll come get you, tomorrow.”

“... P-Pardon?”

He doesn’t hesitate, and for a moment, he starts to feel like his old self. 

“Come home with me, starshine.”

++++++

thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed!! 💗

look out for parts 2 and 3!!!💞

ko-fi

[solesurvivorpaigeargot]

HOLY HELLO Sketchy friends, followers, and fans! It's that time again, time for...

SHIPPY SATURDAY!

The heck is happening here? Here's an FAQ~ Wanna support the event? Here's my Ko-fi!

That's right, it's FINALLY the last Saturday of the month... and I've decided it's high time our Quotable prompt evolved into a Dialog prompt! This is gonna work a lot like previous Quote prompts, but with an extra twist, so please make sure you read the guidelines for a valid request before sending in!

ONWARDS!

To make a VALID Shippy Saturday request, please send me the following in an ASK to my ASKBOX:

The COUPLE you'd like me to sketch up ---- OC? Heck yes! Canon? Hell yeah! All characters welcome, so long as they're from Fallout ---- OC x OC? Cool! Canon x Canon? SWEET! OC x Canon? DAMN RIGHT.

The NUMBER of the dialog snippet you'd like me to art them saying ---- Got more than one favorite? You may list up to THREE in your ask, in order of preference, to help the artist avoid repeats <3 ---- Still can't pick? Send in 'Dealer's Choice!' and the artist will pick one for you.... oooor possibly make up some fresh dialog on the spot ;3

What KIND OF RELATIONSHIP your couple has with each other ---- Romantic? Platonic? Professional? Familial? Rivals? Neighbors? Despite it's name, Shippy Saturday is about all kinds of human connections, not just the romantic ones! ---- Is your couple part of a larger OT3 or poly group? Tell me who else is part of the relationship; they probably won't get arted, but they might add their two cents to the scene from off-frame XD

IF YOU'RE SENDING IN AN OC!! ---- Send your request ask FIRST, without reference information ---- THEN send your OC's reference information to me via my Tumblr IM ---- Don't have any reference pictures, but you can type of a written description? Great! I love working from written descriptions! :D [ No, really, I do. Give them to me :D ]

After that, you can leave all the rest to me! :D [ I.e Please do not request poses or specific actions ]

Hokay? HOKAY! With all of that out of the way, let's get onto the dialog snippets! These are taken from various things I enjoy, as well as some of my own work. These quotes have been modified to gender neutral pronouns, to remove most proper nouns, and for brevity.

[ Some of these quotes have multiple speakers! That will be shown like this! "Speaker A" -- "Speaker B" ]

"Yeah, well, I'm a victim of circumstance" -- "... I thought you called it your pecker."

"Here, you look cold."

"You are so lucky I love you." -- "Damn right."

"You know the routine." -- "Yeah! WE do all the work, YOU get all the credit!"

"I want you with me, but... I'm scared." -- "Trust me. Trust me to take care of myself." -- "I trust you, it's the rest of the world I'm terrified of!"

"No breakfast?" -- "I did it yesterday-- bologna and beans, it's your turn." -- "No... It was eggs. I did eggs... over easy." -- "The hell you did! Bologna and beans, it's your turn!"

"I like the kind of person who can handle themselves... think on their feet."

"So you were ahead of me." -- "I don't know about ahead, but I've been behind you ever since you fried those mannequins."

"Don't make me say it out loud..." -- "... I can say it first, if that'll help."

"Nooooooope... five more minutes." -- "We were together all night." -- "Didn't count... I was sleepin'."

"Well, this is very serious" -- "IT IS!" -- "You, you destroyed a door." -- "Colonel, we're talking about a test on an armored vehicle, that will carry people into combat." -- "Right, but this door is property of--" -- "The shell barely penetrated the door." -- "okay, but now it's all bent out of shape. How are you gonna get it back on its hinges?" -- "I'LL BUY THE ARMY A NEW GODDAMN DOOR!"

"Sorry, I thought... I thought you were trying to buy something I'm not selling."

"I'm busy." -- "Too busy to look up?"

"You can't kill people just because you don't agree with them." -- "You see, that was the ONE point me and the doctors could never agree upon."

"Would you ever consider having a drink with an enlisted solider?" -- "Depends... does the enlisted soldier think I need one?" -- "What are they gonna do? Kick you out?"

"Thanks" -- "No problem, anytime."

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up-- one day it's gonna happen to you. Someday someone is gonna ask you, who is it? And a face is gonna jump to the front of your mind, and it's gonna completely sandbag you... I can't wait to watch!"

[to a peacefully sleeping person ] -- "Good moring, Mx. ___, this is your wake-up call. Please move your ass."

"I say we run for it" -- "Running isn't a plan, runnin's what you do when a plan fails!"

"... Normal Illinois, is that on the map?" -- "Yes, Sergeant, it is." -- "... is it normal in Normal?" -- "... Uneventful, I think, is the word."

"Now-- how many brahmin does it take to make a stampede? Is it like... three or more? Is there a minimum speed?" -- "Wish a stampede up your ass."

"I don't mind being a secret of yours."

[Right after THE BIG FUCKING KISS] ".... let's not make it a year before the next one, okay?"

"If we were serious about money, we'd quit being hired hands--" -- "Handymen! We are han-dee-men." -- "Oh whatever! We'd quit this and go find some real money."

"Please... don't go where I can't follow."

"Alone is fine! I can do alone, it's worrying after them that's got me all wound up!" -- "Have you considered that's because alone is NOT FINE and you don't wanna do it anymore?" -- "---!!"

"This is not the first time you've been here." -- "We've been down this road before, that is correct." -- "Several times, in fact." -- "I hadn't been keeping count."

"And you must be ___, I've heard all about you." -- "I deny everything."

"First time I saw you? I thought to myself, that's the kind of person BRICK WALLS jump outta the way of." -- "Figured you'd be safer behind me rather than in front of me?" -- "Damn right."

"Just keep looking at that beautiful sky; that's the sky that'll be over our roof when we're done." -- "What if we don't finish the roof? Then we can look at the sky all the time."

"Yeah, well... maybe a friend is what I need right now."

"Next thing you know the Feds will be at our door; Sorry, time to move out, Eminent Domain." -- "Down honey, down."

"Even a heat-seeking missile can miss a target." -- "... you taped so many hot-plates to the test target you could fry an egg at 20 feet, and it STILL missed by a mile."

"My dear, my darling, love of my life...." -- "What do you want?"

"What I mean to say is... you make here a better place to be. For me. Easier. Does that make sense?"

"Calm down, you make it sound like a war." -- "What do you people have against being prepared?!"

"This is not just a report, it's a deadly weapon." -- "Sir, an M-16 is a deadly weapon. A report is just a pile of paper, unless you plan to inflict a lot of extremely vicious paper cuts."

"Stupid son of a bitch, knocked himself out cold..." -- "Cold my ass, he's dead."

"Y'know, in baseball, a guy who hits .400 is consider pretty damn great." -- "In baseball the losing team isn't killed by their opponents."

"Hey... I love you. Did I tell you that today?"

This post is going online at 8 PM, June 24th, 2021, US Pacific time. The askbox will open for requests until 6 PM, June 25th, 2021, US Pacific Time. Get yours in now!

Arting will begin at 9 AM tomorrow morning, see you then! :D

-Loor

[mediocre--writing]

Heyyyyyy can you write something sweet with George Weasley?

Maybe reader works in a flower shop nearby? Or literally anything with him because reasons😄 thanks😘

Summary: After your initial meeting, you and George become fast friends, but what if there’s more under the surface?

Word Count: 2066

Warnings: none

The Weasleys, a large pack of gingers who seemed to always overtake any space they were in, were on their yearly trip to Diagon Alley.

As usual, it was destined that one of them would get lost or get distracted by the pretty displays along the sidewalks.

Ginny, the youngest of them, was entranced by the flower shop near the corner of the street. There was a lovely bouquet of daffodils near the window and their bright color was so magical, she felt as though they were calling to her.

As the rest of the family moved onward, Ginny started walking towards the flower shop.

The twins, ever the distracted, decided to follow their younger sister into the shop.

An older man stood behind the counter, going through the till, wrapping coins into rolls and putting old receipts in a box. Behind him, there was a woman arranging a bouquet of roses and baby's breath.

There was soft music playing in the shop and when the bell above the door rang, both the man and woman turned to look at Ginny, then the twins behind her.

“Hello!” The woman perked up at the shoppers, “What may I do for you all today?”

“Just looking around, ma’am,” Ginny spoke as she looked around the shop.

There were vines crawling down the walls, lavender in bunches hanging from the ceiling, drying out. It seemed as though flowers were being grown in the shop itself, rather than another field somewhere.

A younger girl, probably around the twin’s age, came from the back of the shop, flowers braided into her hair as well as pinned on to her apron.

Fred had followed Ginny over to the window display, where she saw the daffodils, and George had been taking in the spectacular shop. The girl who had come from the backroom looked at George for a moment, recognizing him from somewhere.

“Do you go to Hogwarts?” She asked him, jumping him out of his trance. He nodded, “Me too! What year are you?”

“Going into Third, you?” He asked, unconsciously straightening his sweater.

“Going to Third, as well,”

She has such a pretty smile, George thought to himself as he stared at her face, which had to be made by the gods.

“So why’re you here?” She asked kindly, to which he jabbed his thumb over to Ginny and Fred.

“Sister came in ‘cause she thought the flowers in the window were pretty.”

“Cool, cool,” She nodded. “So what’s your name?”

“George,” he smiled, then nodded over to his siblings, “That’s Fred and Ginny.”

“Well, my name’s Y/n. What house are you in?”

“Gryffindor,” He held himself up a little straighter, as if being a Gryffindor was the greatest accomplishment. “What house are you?”

“Slytherin,” She smiled and he felt his brain hurt after her statement.

She was so kind and sweet and if he had to guess, he would have said Hufflepuff, or maybe Ravenclaw, but not Slytherin.

“Right, well,” He didn’t know what to say, how were you supposed to react to that?

Luckily, he didn’t need to respond, as Fred had called him to leave the shop and go back to school shopping.

“I’ll see you at school!” Y/n yelled to him as he walked out, but she didn’t get a response.

“Make another friend, Bug?” Her dad asked sweetly.

“Probably not,” She smiled the best she could.

While walking away from the shop, Fred noticed that George seemed out of it, he wasn’t laughing along with them.

“What’s up?”

“The girl in there, she was sweet, right?”

“Seemed it,” Fred commented, “You were all blushy around her,”

“She’s a Slytherin,”

“Ooh, bad luck,” Fred said, then the conversation was dropped.

He tried not to think about her.

He didn’t think about her smile and how she seemed so inviting. He didn’t think about the pretty red flowers she had in her hair. He didn’t think about how she had dirt all over her apron and clothes, but still looked absolutely stunning.

He most definitely didn��t think about how in her element she looked in the shop, like there was no other place in the world where she felt so at home.

It wasn’t until they were back in school that he saw her again. But it took a few weeks into the term for them to talk, since they hadn’t been alone.

They talked for the first time when McGonagall had to separate Fred and George, so she stuck George next to Y/n.

She smiled at him, and he smiled back, but seemed tense and reluctant when doing so.

She tried to start conversations, and he talked along, hesitant at first, but ultimately relaxed as she went on about her day, or a story from when she was younger, and he would respond with a childhood story of his own.

And thus began the wondrous friendship between a Goofy Gryffindor and a Sweet Slytherin.

Every once and awhile, she’d sit with the twins at dinners or breakfasts, which got her weird looks the first few times, though people were used to it by the fifth time.

With the years following, they only ever got closer.

She comforted him in their fourth year when his sister, Ginny, had gone missing during the Basilisk attacks.

He wouldn’t leave her side when word of Sirius Black being near the castle was going around.

When he and his family had gotten tickets to the Quidditch World Cup, she’d been invited, being close with the twins and all.

Molly instantly took a liking to her, especially because she showed up with a bouquet of Our Molly Roses Y/n had made as a thank you.

When the attacks happened the night after, George refused to let her out of his sight, insisting that she preceded him while running to the forest.

He’d become a bit more protective after that, not letting her out of his sight when he could help it.

During their sixth year, when he and Fred tried to get past the age line, she was the first to laugh. That year, she also became closer with Ron, Harry, and Hermione.

Ron was a little twerp and Harry had so much anxiety she wasn’t sure how he was still alive. Hermione, however, became a good friend to Y/n. She looked up to her as an older sister, which made Y/n want to cry, being an only child and all.

But as the Yule Ball approached, Y/n was being asked left and right, given her kindness and beauty wooed most of the boys, and some girls, at Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang alike.

George instantly felt inferior compared to all the others attempting to coerce her into being their date. He felt he had an advantage, however, given she’d said no to every person who’d asked her so far, and he was her best friend.

When he’d finally gotten the courage to ask, a mere week before the dance, they’d been laying on a hill far from the castle, watching the sun rise early in the morning.

She was the only person to make him wake up at the ass-crack of dawn to watch a measly sunrise.

She was threading flowers around themselves, fashioning a ring of yellow and green as she picked them from around where they lay.

While she was focusing on her flower crown, peeking up at the vibrant sunrise every once and awhile, George couldn’t take his eyes off of her beautiful side-profile.

He admired the way the new sunlight made her face a beautiful golden shade and enhanced each curve and point of her face.

“Stop staring, Weasley,” She said with a smirk as she continued her ring of daisies.

“Wasn’t staring, L/n,”

“Don’t lie,” she chuckled as she began to wrap the first daisy around the last, officially making the circle.

“That’s a wonderful flower crown you’ve made there,”

“Yeah, I’m giving it to the most amazing person I know,”

The way she looked into his eyes made his heart falter for a moment. He felt like she could see into his soul, like she knew what he wanted to ask her.

However, she proceeded to place the daisy crown onto her own head, straightening it as she kept eye contact with George, who let out a loud snort.

“Of course,” He said through giggles, eventually laying back onto the grassy hill, her body following after his once the crown was secure on her head.

“I mean, could you think of anyone better?”

“Never,” He smiled as he tilted his head to stare at her. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Course,” She smiled, “But if you want the crown you’ll have to fight me for it,”

“Oh, I’d never steal your crown, your highness,”

“Ooh, I like that. You should always call me ‘your highness,’” She smirked wickedly, but her eyes were filled with pure joy. “So what’d you wanna ask?”

He scratched his head, pushing his hair out of his face. “I know you’ve been asked by just about everyone, and said no, but would you want to go to the Yule Ball with me?”

“Yes,”

“That was quick,” He grinned at her immediate response.

“Well I’ve been waiting for months,” She rolled her eyes. “All those other people just wanted to go with me to say they went with me, but if I went with you, then it would really mean something.”

“You mean a lot to me,”

“Same here,”

They laid there, in their chunky sweaters and pajama pants, on that hill, until they could see kids walking to their first class of the day.

George and Y/n had the same first period class, so they leisurely walked to the greenhouses in their warm pajamas and none of their school supplies, to which they talked their way out of a detention with Sprout, and then got dressed and grabbed their stuff before going to their second period.

As the Yule Ball drew closer, Y/n became more and more frazzled.

The night of, she’d promised to help Hermione first, given she was going with Victor Krum, and therefore had to have the first dance. She’d done her hair and gotten mostly ready, apart from the dress and final details, then gone to prepare her little friend.

Y/n had done Hermione’s hair, which looked great, thank you very much, and helped her learn to walk in the heels she’d gotten, which was a lot harder than it needed to be.

About 20 minutes before Hermione needed to leave, Y/n had gotten her dress on, since it needed to be tied in the back, and gotten Hermione’s opinion on her hair and makeup.

Y/n then sent Hermione to the dance.

She was still making sure that her hair wouldn’t get too out of place and was fastening her shoes when she began to hear music from the Great Hall.

She was running so late.

She raced down as quick as she could in her heels, trying not to sweat too much as she got to the Great Hall.

Waiting until the first song finished, she pushed open the door and began searching for George, who was already staring at her in awe.

So was most of the hall.

Scurrying over to the ginger, she couldn’t wipe the smile off her face.

“You look…” He let out a breathy sigh as he couldn’t find the words.

She had on a deep green ball gown that had a faint floral pattern on the skirt, shining in the lights. In her hair, just like the day they’d met, she had flowers braided into her hair, yellow ones this time, and they looked almost as beautiful as she did

“And you as well,” She chuckled as she took in his maroon, velvet robes that had lace detailing on the trim, though it looked really good on him, or maybe she was just biased.

“Shall we dance, your highness,” He bowed jokingly.

“Ahh, you remembered my real name, how nice,” She laughed as they went out to the dance floor, twirling around and smiling brighter than any other couple there, and drawing the most attention, too.

For good reason though, they gave hope to others that happiness bloomed from the heart, and despite scary times, love would grow endlessly.

[ajbwasntwriting]

Daughter!Reader x Negan, Reader x Daryl: Chapter 6. No. 12

First | Previous | Next

(I’m running out of relevent gifs)Okay this seems very short to me so I’m gonna try post another one in the next few days. I’d like to say a sincere thank you to everyone who’s following this series. I know the numbers are small but to have anyone following what I write is amazing and the best thing that’s happened to me this year. Thank you <3

I’ll only post more chapters if previous chapters get a good reaction so if you enjoy this please heart it, reblog it, and/or reply to it. Interaction inspires.

if you wish to be added to the tag list please dm me. All chapters can be found under the tag AJ’s Negan’s Daughter AU

Walking through the city Daryl took a moment to look in the direction of your apartment. He hadn’t seen you in a while since the museum trip was taking up so much of his time.

“Is everything alright?” Carol called to him from her horse.

“Yeah,” he said then sped up ahead of the group. He felt he would have to see you after this. Just to check in on you. He’d grown to love visiting you. Your apartment had become his little escape from how mad the world had gotten, though he’d never say that or mention you to the group. He knew in this world he had to be ready to lose that comfort in an instant.

Back at the apartment you woke slowly, your head throbbing, your back aching, and feeling unnaturally cold. You looked around, finding yourself in Daryl’s room tied to a leg of the bed. Across from you was the wardrobe with a mirror embedded in the door. Blood had flowed down your head and over your face, and a cloth gag in your mouth. Through an open door you see people walking around your apartment. A tall woman noticed you, her face breaking into a wicked smile. She strut into the room.

“Well, Well, Well,” she knelt down in front of you, gently tugging the gag from your mouth. “You’re finally awake. Ya know, where we were tracking Dixon, None of us thought we’d run into Negan’s princess.”

You stared at her as she talked, your eyes still adjusting. She was dressed like a saviour but you didn’t recognise her as one of your father’s people. “Who are you?” you whispered, your throat dry. She laughed at you.

“Really?” she chuckled. She reached forward and grabbed your throat “How much of my booze did you drink and you don’t even have the decency to remember my name.”

You thought for a moment longer, “Worker Twelve,” you spoke, shocked that a worker had found you “You're a code orange now?” she took her hand away from your throat, realisation dawning on her.

“You don’t know,” she gasped. She was called out of the room by another person. She quickly pushed the gag back into your mouth before taking off.

Leaving you alone again your mind began to race. Didn’t know what? What had happened in Sanctuary? Why were the workers walking around outside now? Was your dad okay? You began to move your wrists, noticing they’d been tied together with some rope, and not very well as luck would have it.

You stopped when she walked back in. “Keep an eye out. They come back this way, we move.” she went back to her place in front of you, smiling at you. “Look, I don’t wanna kill you” she spoke to you “Well, not badly. We know you’re valuable to Daryl.” Your eyes widened “So we’re gonna use you. See, we don’t like the idea that some prisoner that killed a bunch of our people is now our boss. So you’re gonna play damsel in distress and when he comes to get you, we’ll kill him. And you if you don’t play well.” She reached up and patted your cheek, making soothing shushing sounds, “No need to look so scared. This is just how things are now.” You jerked your head away from her hand. “Fuck you” you tried to curse through the gag, though clear enough to hear. The smile fell from her face and she slapped you.

“You’ve got no power anymore Princess” she stood up and left the room, closing the door in the process.

‘Daryl is in charge at Sanctuary?’ you thought. The thought of such a kind man as a saviour didn’t sit right, which made you refuse to believe it. What was his plan? Did he know who you were? Was the past few months just a plot to get you back to the Sanctuary. Where was your dad? Was he even still alive? You tried to push it all to the back of your head to focus on what was happening right now. Regardless of what 12 was going to do to Daryl, she was going to kill you. Whether she said it or not didn’t matter. She had made it clear she only held anger towards you.

You  tried to pick up the leg of the bed to maybe move the rope under it but the bed proved too heavy and your hands tied to high. You moved around while looking around the room to see if there was anything to help you. You saw a pack of lighters on the bedside table next to the top of the bed and began to move down, pushing your arms back to move the length of your body down.

You got your feet either side of the nightstand and began to pull it towards you, tipping it over. The lighters fell down along with a half-full ashtray. You kicked the lighters up to you, getting onto your knees to get it back to your hands. With a lighter in hand you began to burn away at the rope burning your hand and shirt in the process. When the rope finally broke you pulled your shirt out and threw it out the window. You opened the wardrobe and found a black shirt that you had stored in there for Daryl’s next visit, along with a pair of boots and a canister of fuel.

You looked at the window, with no fire escape and the gentle reminder you were 6 stories up. To the side you saw the drain and came up with a quick plan. As quietly as you could, You lined up cloths from the window to the door, pouring the fuel over them then leaving the canister by the door on it’s side so the remaining fuel could seep under it. You sat in the window sill, lighter in hand, breathing deeply and contemplating how stupid this escape plan was.

“What’s that?” You heard. Quickly you lit the fuel soaked cloths and hung outside the window, hanging to the window sill with your fingers. You felt the heat on your hands envelope the room, spurring you onwards as you moved towards the drain pipe. Your fingers shook as you clasped your hands around the pipe, between the burns on your palms and the cold of the pipe it took everything to hold on. You momentarily wished you had kept the gag in your mouth so you had something to bite into, but your bottom lip would have to do. You moved down rather slowly, occasionally looking down to see how many more stories to go.

“Shit” you cursed out loud when during one of these checks you noticed walkers coming down the alley, but you still had little under two stories to go. They were staring at you and would no doubt be there by the time you reached the bottom.

With little to no option, you let go of the pipe and fell the remaining distance. On the fall you felt a bone in your lower leg break. You fell to the ground and yelped out in pain, urging the dead to find you faster. Their groans made you push on, using the wall to raise yourself up. Between a mixture of limping and hoping, you desperating moved away from the dead, more and more joined up . You didn’t dare look back, working through your agony. Between the agony of a broken leg, the blood loss, and concussion, the chilly early spring air was all that was keeping you going. You didn’t know where you were going, but it was away from the dead.

Projectiles shot past you, throwing you off your balance as you fell to the ground. You pulled yourself up, looking back to see walker after walker drop. When they all fell you looked for your saviours. You see a group of men and women, looking down at you. A woman in a brown ten-gallon hat steps forward, bow drawn at you.

“Who are you?!” she demands. You desperately try to catch your breath “What are you doing here!?”

“Hey!” another shouts from the back. Daryl emerges, running to the woman. “It’s okay, Maggie.” he said, hand on her shoulder. “I know her, it’s okay.” That’s the last you hear before you pass out on the concrete.

~ Tag List ~

@buckbarnesslut​

[dp-marvel94]

Face to Face- Chapter 32

Summary: When Danny went through the ghost catcher, he expected to be cured of the ghostliness that had haunted him since the accident, not to wake up on the lab floor with his parents saying he’d been overshadowed but everything’s back to normal now. But why does Danny Fenton cry himself to sleep to then dream of flying? Why does Phantom, the ghost who was supposedly possessing Danny remember a life that wasn’t his? Most of all, why do both the human and the ghost feel that something vital is missing, in their very soul? Or: Trying to cure himself of his powers one month after the accident, Danny accidentally splits himself but neither his ghost nor his human half know that that is what they did

First -> Last -> Next

Word Count: 6,098

Also on AO3 and Fanfiction.net

Note:What is this?! Another Face to Face update. I'm still struggling through my first phic phight story and hoping some comments on this will encourage me. Thanks for reading as always!

Phantom stayed still for a long moment, looking out over the Ghost Zone. He took a deep breath and  watched the floating rocks, the swirling clouds, and the purple doors. He braced himself and slowly floated to his feet. He needed to head out there. Tentatively, he reached out with his mind and plucked at the line. Like Fenton said, it was there, the link between him and his other half. And….a moment later, he received a tug in kind. His confidence grew. Yes, he could do this. He could find his way home.

With that, the ghost flew. He carefully followed the line, over islands and past doors. He slipped between rocks and paused, looking upward to what looked like a river suspended in mid-air and flowing downward. Phantom’s eyes widened in awe at the sight but he kept going. All the while, he looked around with keen attention. It wouldn’t do, to be attacked by another ghost again. Luckily, he didn’t see or sense anything large or notable. Instead, his brow wrinkled as he flew past a small group of what looked like globs of ectoplasm with eyes. One of the little ghosts (at least he thought they were ghosts) looked at Danny. It blinked slowly before letting out a chirp and darting away with the others. 

Phantom watched for a moment as the small creatures flew away. Then He sloped downward, below a tree covered island. He gaped at the sight. Trees?! There were actually trees here, even though there didn’t appear to be any sun, moon, or stars. So...wait...where did the light come from? And were those the ghosts of dead trees or-

The ghost shook his head, clearing the questions about his surroundings from his mind. It really was incredible being here, even if the circumstances were...not so great. He might just have to come back, after everything was sorted...assuming that things could be fixed with Mom. The boy bit his lip. He couldn’t worry about that, not right now. 

“Focus, Phantom.” He chided himself. He had to follow the line, get back to the real world.

The ghost boy’s brow then furrowed, eyes falling on something in the distance. A rectangular shape. White, standing out in stark contrast against the green atmosphere. And…. he tugged the line again….the way home was in that direction.

Less than five minutes later, the object became clear in his view. “It’s...Casper High?” Phantom muttered.

There in front of him was a black and white version of the school, complete with the American flag and the name plastered above the door in big letters. It was strange, bizarre. Why would there be a version of his high school in the ghost zone? And….he frowned, feeling his tether. Why did the path he was following back to Fenton lead him here? Phantom furrowed his brow. He hadn’t come this way before; he would have remembered seeing this weird building. But…. yep, the line was leading him here and...he could feel he was really close.

The ghost straightened, bracing himself. Cautiously but with forced confidence, he floated up to the doors and slowly pushed them open to find…. an empty hallway, identical to the front hall at Casper, even if it was in monochrome.

“Hello?” He called quietly as he crossed the threshold.

No reply came as Phantom continued onward. His core pulsed nervously at the silence of the eerily familiar space. It was strange, seeing it so empty and quiet. And it was fittingly haunting for a ghostly double of his school. But why was this here? Why did it look like Casper High? And why was it in black and white?

The ghost boy swallowed, pushing the questions away and floating down the hallways. He looked side to side, watching for any movement. His ghost sense hadn’t gone off, but being in an enclosed space was making him anxious. But at the same time….he was so close to….something. Something that would lead him home. But what?

Suddenly, the doors he’d come through slammed shut, earning a gasp from Phantom. “Who’s...who’s there?”

Something flickered at the edge of his vision. Head jerking to the side, he turned to find...nothing. The boy frowned, opening his mouth to call out. Then there was a bang behind him. Startled, Phantom wiped back around to find locker doors banging open and closed on their own.

“I don’t want any trouble.” The ghost boy started, voice wavering with fear.

Again, something flickered beside him. There was a staticy laugh. Phantom turned again and…. His heart would have skipped a beat, if it was in his chest. There was a monochrome teenager, a buff looking guy with slicked back hair and a leather jacket. He reminded Ghost Danny uncanningly of Dash. The figure opened his mouth, static exiting. Then he pushed the ghost boy. 

Phantom stumbled, letting out a surprised cry as his back hit something solid. He turned, looking up at a scowling girl in a poodle shirt. She turned up her nose, pushing the ghost boy away. “Wait! Stop!” His eyes widened as he fell forward again, this time hitting another jock. “I don’t wanna fight!” The other teen, in a letterman, grabbed Phantom’s arm and shoved him to the floor.

The ghost boy hit the ground with a start, the impact knocking the air from his only semi-illusionary lungs. He rolled onto his back, paling at what was around him. A crowd of black-and-white teenagers, all wearing retro clothing, maybe from the fifties? They towered over him, scowling and jeering down at him. 

“Stop! Please!” Phantom covered his ears, wincing in pain at the sound. It was static, hundreds of voices speaking over each other. And they were laughing, mocking. It was years of insults. Freak, coward, geek, nerd, weak, worthless, dead, wrong, unnatural, monster. 

The ghost boy curled in on himself. “Please! I’m lost...I’m sorry I…” 

Don’t belong here...Don’t belong. Invader. 

“I don’t….” 

Trespasser. Invader. Leave! Leave, freak! 

“I… I know I’m not supposed to be here. I’m lost..I…” 

Leave! Dead! Go! The voices hissed. Don’t belong, monster! 

“Please! Stop!” Phantom begged.

The words pressed down on him and his chest heaved with panic. He whimpered as the volume rose, growing into a roar. Phantom bit back a cry as he pressed his hands to his ears, like he could block out the noise, keep out the words. He wanted to move, like the voices were demanding but he couldn’t, too frozen in fear. Instead he sobbed. “I just wanna go home.”

“Enough!” A single voice shouted. There was a whirl, a sound like gall forces winds. And then silence.  “You can’t just barge into someone’s lair!”

“I...I..I’m sorry.” Phantom fixed his head down, whole body shaking. “I just...I got lost and was trying to get home but I ended up here ‘cause-” His words cut off as his ghost sense billowed out of his mouth and he coughed.

The ghost boy paled, looking cross eyed at the mist. He slowly looked up, eyes falling on the speaker. Like the other teens, he was monochrome but looked like a stereotypical nerd, with coke bottle glasses, a bowler haircut, a polo, and a bowtie. He fit the same fifties aesthetic yet somehow...there was something different about him compared to the other. He was more vivid, more solid than the others, almost like…. 

“Are you gonna say anything buster?” The crowd around them was still and silent even as the nerd floated half a foot closer, his fists balled.

“Yeah..Umm...Sorry, I..” Phantom stuttered. His eyes then widened as his ghost sense billowed out of his mouth again. That had only happened once this singular figure showed up, not before and not by the others. The others that had stopped when the nerd told them too. “You’re a ghost.” Ghost Danny whispered, meeting the glasses-covered eyes.

The other ghost scowled. “You don’t say.”

Phantom averted his eyes again, blushing. “No...sorry...I..I mean..you’re not...you’re not like…whatever these are.” The ghost boy motioned to the crowd around them, shivering. “You’re an actual ghost.” He whispered the last part, before glancing up, at the other, now confused looking ghost. 

The other ghost’s brow furrowed behind his glasses. He raised his hand, making Phantom flinch. But instead of swinging his arm to punch or lighting his fist with ectoenergy like Ghost Danny expected, the nerd snapped his fingers and commanded. “Leave us.” 

With that, the teenagers around the ghost boy seemed to flicker, their outlines wavering. Without any movement, the crowd disappeared, leaving Phantom and the other ghost alone. The nerd lowered his arm, his fist relaxing.

That did little to comfort Phantom. His pulse pounded in his head as he wrung his hands. “So...okay...we’re alone now. And...you said this was your lair? I...uh...don’t know what that means but...I can leave...I can leave now since those guys didn’t seem to want me here-”

“Sorry about that.” The quiet words interrupted the ramble. 

“What?” Phantom blinked, looking up at the other ghost.

The nerd didn’t look angry anymore but instead almost….bashful, holding his hand out. “My shadows got out of hand. They aren’t supposed to be that cruel.”

The ghost boy just gapped, looking between the offered hand and the other ghost’s face. His mind raced, wondering what was going on. What was with the sudden change in attitude? He bit his lip. The other ghost wasn’t attacking him or...using those not-ghosts (he called them shadows?) to attack him. Maybe that apology was authentic. 

Phantom took a deep breath and chose to be brave. Tentatively, he took the offered hand and allowed the other ghost to pull him up.

Then there was silence. The ghost Danny shifted nervously in the air as he studied the other ghost. And the other ghost studied him, his expression curious yet vaguely sad.

Phantom finally coughed, pointing back the way he came. “I’ll just...I’ll leave now. Sorry again for barraging in. And uh…bye.” Slowly, he floated backward, keeping one eye on the other ghost.

“Wait.” The nerd reached forward. “You’re new, aren’t ya?” The ghost boy stopped, turning more fully towards the other ghost as he continued. “You haven’t been a ghost for a long time.”

Phantom’s eyes widened, his mouth opening and closing. “Um..uhh...yeah… I haven’t been...like this very long.” He swallowed. “How did you...how did you know?”

The other ghost’s expression softened. “You’re still trying to breath.” At the words, Phantom reflectively stopped, holding his breath with wide eyes. “It’s alright. That’s a tough habit to break.” The other ghost held out of hand, as if to shake. “I’m Sidney Pointdexter, by the way.”

The other ghost blinked at the hand. After a long pause, he grasped it. “I’m Danny….Danny Phantom.”

“Phantom.” The nerd nodded. “So you already picked a name.”

“Yeah?” So apparently, that was a thing? Phantom rubbed the back of his neck. “You can call me Danny though.” 

“Danny.” The other ghost half-smile. “You can call me Sidney then.” Sidney’s expression then turned more serious. “Obviously you didn’t know but... if you want to go inside someone’s lair, you need to announce yourself and ask permission to enter.”

“Oh, okay. Sorry” Phantom blushed. “I’ll...I’ll do that next time.”

“Good.” Sidney crossed his arms. “You’re lucky you barged in on me, mister. If it’d been Skulker, he would have skinned you.”

The ghost boy swallowed, suddenly anxious. His eyes bulged. “Really?!”

The other ghost nodded. “That hunter can be very possessive and mean.” Sidney then scowled. “But I’d never do that. I’m not a bully.” The other ghost then shook his head. “Anyway...why did you come here?”

Phantom’s core pulsed awkwardly at the question. “I..uh…” It wasn’t said with any anger or accusation, but innocently curious. But still, the ghost boy struggled to explain why he’d come inside. The line connecting him to his other self had led here but...how could he explain that? He swallowed. “This looks like my school, Casper High.”

Sidney blinked, eyes widening. “You went to Casper?” The corner of his lip turned up.

“Yeah.” The ghost boy bit his lip, not knowing what to say. Instead, he turned towards the door and pointed. “Yeah...thanks for the advice but...I should go so…”

“You don’t have to yet.” The other ghost’s eyes were slightly pleading. “Why don’t you rest for a bit? And I get you something to eat and drink? You look like you need it.”

Phantom blinked. “Ghosts eat?”

Sidney frowned, slightly alarmed. “Yes? Come on.” He grabbed the other boy’s arm. “That’s it. I’m making you some tea and a sandwich. I think I still have some cookies too.”

The ghost boy didn’t resist, instead gawking as the other ghost pulled him down the hallway and towards the cafeteria. His mind sputtered, trying to overcome the emotional whiplash. Seconds later, the pair floated in the cafeteria’s kitchen. Sidney grabbed a tea kettle off the stove, filled it with what looked like water from the sink, and placed it on the burner. Then he opened the fridge and pulled out what looked like slices of cheese and luncheon meat.

Phantom just stared in disbelief. Sidney turned back towards him. “I have some tiger fruit too. I grow it in the courtyard. Do you want to try some?” He held up a round, stripped fruit, the orange and black standing out in bright contrast to the monochrome environment.

The ghost boy wrinkled his nose. “What is it?”

Sidney looked down at the fruit. “It kind of tastes like an apple. It’s native to the Infinite Realms though. I don’t think it has a Material World counterpart.” He smiled. “It’s really delicious.”

“Alright?” Phantom shook his head. There was a lot of information there. Then he shrugged. “Sure.”

The other ghost nodded, quickly preparing a plate and two cups of tea. He turned back to ghost Danny. “Let’s sit in the cafeteria.”

Without question, Phantom followed. Nervously tapping his hand on his leg, he sat down and took the steaming cup offered to him. The ghost blinked, studying the liquid. It actually felt warm in his hands. He moved the cup, closing watching the liquid sloshing in the cup like water. It did actually look like tea. Tentatively, Phantom looked up, glancing at the other ghost who was sitting across from him. Sidney was blowing his own cup before taking a small sip. 

It was only then that where he was and what he was doing actually hit the boy. He was sitting in a ghostly version of his school cafeteria, with the ghost of a teenage boy who died in the fifties, based on his appearance. Phantom looked down at his plate again. And there was weird, slightly glowing ghost-food in front of him. 

Sidney’s words drew his attention. “Go ahead. Try the tea. It’s not poison” The nerd half smiled at Danny with a nod. 

Phantom looked down at his cup again, doubtfully. His stomach flopped as he considered. He was wary of trying the beverage. What actually was it? It couldn’t be actually tea, like his sister liked to drink. Could it hurt him? Weren’t there myths or something about how if you eat something in the land of the dead you can’t leave? Or was that fairies? Or...wait...did that only apply to humans? He wasn’t exactly human right now; he was a ghost. And this was food meant for ghosts. And….

“It won’t hurt you. And it’s good. I promise you’ll love it.” The other ghost encouraged patiently.

Phantom picked up the cup, again noticing the comforting warmth. It was still softly billowing steam. And it smelled so good, sweet and citrusy. Tentatively, he blew on the cup to cool it. He really did want to try it. Ignoring his doubts, ghost Danny finally took a small sip.

Phantom blinked rapidly, taking another sip. “I can taste this.” He muttered numbly before taking another sip of the fresh, lemony liquid. 

Excitement grew at the realization. He then looked down at his sandwich. Putting the cup down, he took a small bit. The savory taste of bread, cheese, ham. He took a larger bit. “I can taste this!”

“Of course you can.” Across from him, Sidney said in disbelief.

Phantom looked up, talking through his full mouth. “No I...I haven’t eaten in weeks.” He swallowed. “I mean...I tried but I couldn’t taste anything so I gave up.”

“Gave… up?” The other ghost blinked.

“Yeah. But-” Phantom stuffed a cookie in his mouth, groaning in pleasure at the taste. “But how?”

“How?” Sidney held out his hands. “It’s just lair made food.”

“Lair made?”

“Yeah, as in the lair made it?” The other ghost’s mouth fell open at the lack of recognition. “The lair basically took free ectoplasm and shaped it into food that we can eat.”

Phantom dropped the sandwich. “Ectoplasm?”

“Yes. Everything here is made of ectoplasm, even us.” Sidney answered like it was obvious. “Why wouldn’t the food be?”

At that, the ghost boy looked down at the meal with new realization. “That makes sense.”

The ghostly nerd nodded. “Yes. How don’t you know that? And why couldn’t you taste anything earlier?” His brow furrowed in deep confusion. “You said you tried food. But….you didn’t know that ghosts can eat….or need to eat?”

Phantom picked up the sandwich again, taking a few more bits to finish it. His mind whirled. “We need to eat? But we’re dead so….” He took another cookie, smiling at the taste.

Sidney gapped. “Of course we need to eat! Haven’t you been hungry?”

“Hungry?” Phantom put a hand over his stomach. No, he hadn’t been hungry in that way but...he moved his hand over his core. He’d gotten tired from overusing his powers and...he’d felt the Zone calling to him, like...like he needed to go to it for nourishment. “I have been.” He whispered. 

“But you hadn’t realized?” The nerd face palmed. “No wonder you look so sickly.”

The other ghost looked up, mouth falling open. “What?”

“You’re barely glowing. And you’re so pale. They’re no color in your skin.”

Phantom pointed. “You’re likely in black and white?!”

Sidney raised a brow, motioning down his body. “This is an intentional aesthetic.” His image wavered briefly, before the other ghost was in full color. His skin was a pale green and his eyes a glowing silver. 

“Oh.” The ghost boy muttered.

“Yes.” The other boy nodded, motioning to the plate. “Go ahead and finish. You’re lookin’ better already.”

Phantom didn’t need to be told twice. He finished the sandwich and the cookies.

Sidney crossed his arms. “I don’t understand how you didn’t realize. You should have at least been passively absorbing ectoplasm through your skin.” So apparently, that was something else ghosts could do. 

The ghost boy shrugged, taking a bite of the fruit. He paused, staring down at it. “This is really good.”

The other ghost smiled. “Isn’t it? I can give you some seeds. The bushes grow very well in lairs, if you want to plant some.” He tapped his chin. “Is your lair near here? You were trying to get back there, right? You did say that you were lost earlier.”

“I did say I was lost.” Phantom said, swallowing a bit of his tiger fruit. He then bit his lip nervously. “But...I’m not trying to get back to my….lair? I don’t have one of those, I don’t think…..Not that I’m that clear on what exactly a lair is.”

Sidney again furrowed his brow, looking bewildered. “This is a lair.” He motioned around them.

“No, I get that.” Phantom sighed. “But...what is this? Why does it look like a high school? Where did that food come from? And those people...you called them, shadows? What are those?” The other ghost was still looking at him in confusion as an idea suddenly hit the ghost Danny. “Wait...is this like your house? Like you live here. Or...err...I guess that’s not the right word. Afterlive?” His speech quickened. “If it is, I’m so sorry for barging into your house. I get why you’d be mad about that but I swear I didn’t mean-”

“Danny.” The other ghost said pointedly, making Phantom’s mouth snap shut. “It’s fine. I understand. Just…” Sidney pinched the bridge of his nose. “Let me explain?”

Phantom nodded, blushing in embarrassment.

“A lair is like a ghost’s house but...It’s more personalized. It might reflect somewhere from your life or a place you’ve always wanted to see. It’s different for every ghost but based on your subconscious desires and your obsession.”

“Alright.” The ghost boy glanced around. “So this is your school from when you were alive. But still...who were those people that...attacked me?”

“Those weren’t people. They were shadows. They’re part of the lair.”

“So you do control them.”

“Somewhat?” Sidney waved his hand in a so-so motion. “As I said, your subconscious is what molds the lair.” He balled his fists. “So those shadows are reflections of people, bullies, I knew when I was alive.”

Phantom bit his lip, nervous at the anger in the statement. And he wondered. Obviously the shadows were something of a security system. But there must be more as well. There was the anger that the other ghost had shown twice now when talking about bullies. And what was that he said about obsessions having a role?

“Alright, okay.” Ghost Danny bit his lip. “But...what about your obsession? How does that-”

“Don’t.” Sidney suddenly snapped, his eyes flashing. “Never, ever ask another ghost about their obsession.”

Phantom shrunk in on himself, his shoulders falling. “Sorry.”

The other ghost’s expression softened. “You didn’t know. It’s okay. But...that’s personal to me. I don’t like to think about it, much less talk about it to someone I just met. So...don’t ask unless someone brings it up first, okay? Other ghosts aren’t as nice as me. If you asked Ember, she would fry you.”

“Okay.” The ghost boy paled, nodding furiously. 

Sidney also nodded, taking a sip of his tea. Phantom finished his fruit, while his mind struggled to process all he’d learned. About how ghosts had to eat and about ghostly food. About lairs and shadows and not asking about obsessions. It was a lot, and there were so many more questions he could ask. But he had no idea what to ask now. 

And again, the reality hit Phantom. He was sitting in a ghost’s lair, having a genial conversation like he was just a new neighbor. Not one half of a human-ghost hybrid who was trying to get back to his other half in the real world. With that, there was a small push in the back of Phantom’s mind. Yes, right. He needed to get back to following his tether to Fenton. But again...why had the line led him here?

The ghost boy put down the core of his tiger fruit once he’d finished. That got Sidney’s attention. “You’re done. Do you want anything else to eat?”

“No, thank you.” Phantom shook his head. “Actually...I need to go home.”

“Back to your lair?” Sidney questioned.

“No, I don’t have one of those.”

“Oh that’s right.” The other ghost said, frowning. “So where are you going?”

Ghost Danny bit his lip, considering. “The...the human world or...err...I think you called it the Material Realm?”

Sidney blinked, a strange mixture of shock, confusion, and worry on his face. “What? Why?”

Phantom sighed, rubbing his head. How to explain this. Guess he’d have to start at the beginning...and keep it simple. “That’s where I’ve been ever since I…..you know…” He motioned up and down his body. “About a month and a half.”

The other ghost’s mouth fell open, his eyes bulging. “You’ve been...In the living realm?”

“Yep.” Ghost Danny nodded.

“In the living realm?” Sidney put his hands on his head. “The material realm? Really, the living realm? And….” His voice pitched up in disbelief. “For a month and a half? Since you died? Wait...you’ve only been dead for a month and a half? And...that’s where you were...the whole time...but...how? And…” He waved his arms. “No wonder you look so starved!”

“Starved?” Phantom muttered, even as the other ghost continued.

“And how did you even form in the material realm?” Sidney exclaimed. “That just doesn’t happen, ever! And then how did you get here? Portals are so rare!”

“Sidney!” Ghost Danny interrupted, causing the other ghost’s mouth to snap shut. Knowing he’d gotten his host's attention, he continued. “So...long story short. My parents are ghosts hunters and researchers. They’re scientists who made a portal to...this place. They call it the Ghost Zone. And well...I went inside their portal, turned it on, and...umm...it..well...it killed me.” Phantom looked down, his core clenching at the words and the pitying look on the other ghost’s face. 

“But...I walked out of the portal. I’m still here...even if I’m different now.” He paused for a moment, considering the words. He’d said as much to Mom earlier. And he believed them. But…

“I did...I did try to act like nothing was different for a month after that accident, like I hadn’t changed. But….it’s really obvious now. Mom and Dad know what happened and…” He shivered, recent memories hitting him. “Mom and I had a fight. I wanted to talk to her about...some very hurtful stuff she’d said but….” 

Phantom bit his lip. “It went bad. We were both yelling and Mom got really upset and said...she said…” The words sputtered to a stop as what Mom had said repeated in his head. He was supposed to be normal, human, alive. He wasn’t supposed to be a ghost.  He swallowed. “I started crying….and…” Mom’s shocked and distressed face flashed in his mind, her desperate expression as she reached towards him. “I ran away. I didn’t even think. I just flew through the portal ‘cause I just couldn’t be in the same room as her. I just had to get away but…” He put his head in his hands. 

“Now I’m lost somewhere in the Ghost Zone and Mom is probably freaking out. Dad and Jazz too if she told them.” Phantom then shivered, looking up. “I need to get back to them.” He balled his fists in determination. “I need to get back to my parents, my sister, my friends, and my hum-” 

Phantom snapped his mouth shut on the last word as doubt suddenly flickered through him. Human half, he was going to say. But...he hadn’t mentioned that little fact at all. And the idea of explaining was daunting. His insides squirmed. What would a real, actual proper ghost think of that, of him? Both human and a ghost, living and dead, at the same time. Or...half of each, somewhere in the middle. Or maybe even neither, something else entirely. He didn’t know and he was suddenly terrified to find out.

So instead, ghost Danny kept his mouth shut as he slowly looked up. He blushed. “I can’t believe I told you all that.” His shoulders fell. “I must sound so pathetic.”

“No, of course not.” Sidney said kindly. He was studying Phantom curiously, yet also oddly sad. He raised a brow, looking like he still wanted to ask about the other’s near slip up. But he didn’t. Maybe he sensed it was personal, maybe he thought Phantom would refuse to answer if asked. Either way,  Sidney didn’t press. Instead, after a long pause he finally said. “But I know why you came here now.”

Phantom blinked in surprise. “What?”

“You’re looking for a portal to the living world.” The other ghost stood. “I might have something to help you. Follow me.”

Ghost Danny’s eyes widened at the statement but he obeyed without question. He floated out of his seat and took his place behind Sidney as he flew out of the cafeteria. The pair hovered down a familiar hallway. Soon enough, they stopped in front of a rusty looking locker numbered 724. Phantom looked at the door curiously. 

Across from him, Sidney asked. “Did another ghost tell you about my portal?”

Ghost Danny turned to face the other ghost, brow furrowing. “Your portal?” He shook his head. “No one told me.” He blushed. “You’re actually the first ghost I’ve ever talked to.”

The other ghost frowned. “Then how did you know this was here?”

“I didn’t.” Phantom glanced at the door again, reaching out with his mind. He tugged on the tether connecting him to Fenton and the line grew taunt. His eyes widened. There, behind the door, he sensed...something. “But...I sensed something. It...the line...it was leading me here.”

“Line?” Sidney asked.

The ghost boy glanced back at his host, eyes widening. “Yeah..I’m...uh..I’m” He bit his lip nervously. “I’m….connected to someone in the material world...like mentally.”

The other ghost raised a brow, clearly wanting to know more.

Phantom coughed, changing the subject. “So...uh...how does this work? How do I get through?”

Sidney frowned but answered the question anyway as he opened the locker door. “The mirror is the portal. It leads to the real Casper High.”

Ghost Danny blinked, studying the mirror. “That? But it’s so small and… where’s the swirling green light?” His brow furrowed as he remembered his parents’ portal.

The ghostly nerd shook his head. “It’s not always active. It’s only open for a few minutes during the witching hour of the full moon...and on the equinoxes and solstices. But” He raised a finger seriously. “There is a full moon tonight.”

Phantom raised a brow, wondering how exactly the other ghost knew that. But he didn’t ask. Instead, he looked at the mirror again. Was it really through there, his way home? Closing his eyes, the ghost boy reached out with his mind once again. Yep, yes. He was sensing something. Fenton...Fenton was through there but…. He glanced back down the hallway, towards the way he’d come. Theoretically, he could try to find his parents’ portal or he could stay here and go through when the portal opened in a little over 12 hours….and leave his loved ones worrying for longer.

Then there was a gentle tug on the line. Something tickled in the back of his mind. The corner of Phantom’s lip turned up. He could feel Fenton’s keen interest on him. Oh yeah, he could tell or show Fenton what was happening and ask him to tell their family and friends that he was okay.

Finally, Phantom sighed. “I guess I’m waiting then.”

Sidney nodded. Then his expression turned more serious. “Make sure you’re sure you want to do this, though.”

The other ghost blinked. “Of course, I want to do this. Why wouldn’t I?”

The nerd bit his lip. “Well...I should tell you not to go through the portal. You could get trapped on the other side and ghosts that get trapped in the material realm...they starve. They get weak and desperate and angry.” He shivered. “It’s a horrible way to exist but…” He looked up. “If you think you need to do this, I’ll help you.” His eyes flickered to the floor. “If I had another chance to talk to my parents, I’d take it.”

“Your...parents?” Phantom asked quietly.

Sidney wrapped his arms around himself. “They moved away from Amity Park after I….you know.” His voice quieted. “By the time I found this portal, it was too late. They’d already moved.” He shivered. “I know it would have hurt them to see me like this but...I still wish I could have. I should have told them how much I loved them, how sorry I was that all this happened.” 

That sobered Phantom. For a long moment, he stared at the other ghost and it really hit him. This was a dead teenager, a dead kid who’d had family and friends. Hopes, dreams, memories. A life...just like him.  “We’re not...we’re not that different.” Ghost Danny muttered.

Sidney finally looked up. “No, I don’t think that we are. So…” The other ghost shifted nervously in the air. “I don’t know what all happened with your mom but….talk to her.” His voice pitched up, hopeful yet sad. Not demanding but a kind suggestion from someone with experience...and regrets. “Try to make things right with her if you can. Don’t give up yet.”

Phantom swallowed, considering. He didn’t really know what to think of the other ghost’s advice. Earlier, right after the fight, he might have been angry at the suggestion. He’d tried to make things right and had failed; it wasn’t his responsibility to try again if there was no fixing things but...Mom’s face flashed in his mind again. Her guilt, her desperation as he darted through the portal. And it was simple. She was his mom and he loved her, damnit. He couldn’t just turn that off, couldn’t stop wanting her to love and accept him. He couldn’t stop hoping that she would.

“Alright.” Ghost Danny wrung his hands. “I’ll...keep that in mind.” The way he saw it, another conversation was inevitable. Knowing his sister and dad, they would insist on talking about everything as a family. But he had a choice about how he would approach that conversation. Maybe he could approach it with the hope that things would get better, even if he’d be wary to trust again.

With that, Phantom pushed the thought away, focusing on the ghost in front of him, “Thank you for the advice. And for telling me stuff. I’ve learned a lot.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Man, I knew I didn’t know much but...I don’t seem actually to know anything at all.”

Sidney nodded. “No sweat, pal.” He half-smiled. “This is the most exciting day I’ve had in years. We can hang out ‘til the portal opens and I can answer more questions.” 

“That would be awesome.” Phantom finally smiled. “You’re actually a really cool dude, Sidney.”

The other ghost beamed and ghost Danny was happy he’d managed to wander into this ghost’s lair. He’d be in big...err...bigger trouble if he hadn’t. He’d learned a ton about ghosts, gotten a much needed meal, and would be home in a few...hours. His thoughts trailed off at the end as he felt an excited mental nudge.

In the lair, Sidney physically nudged him. “Danny?” He questioned, pointing towards the mirror. His voice turned sad. “Is that what you looked like when you were alive?”

“When I was….alive?” Phantom turned and his eyes widened, taking in his reflection. In the mirror, he had black hair, blue eyes, and was wearing a white and red t-shirt.

Phantom! There was an excited exclamation in his head. At the same time, his reflection’s eyes widened.

“That’s not my reflection.” The ghost’s mouth stretched into a grin. He placed both hands on the mirror. “I’m here! I’m right here! I can see you.”

Across the mirror, Fenton smiled. You’re okay. The words were mouthed through the mirror and communicated in the ghost’s head.

“Yeah! I’m fine. I’m-” Phantom cut himself off as Fenton placed his own hands on the mirror, directly opposite his other half’s. Instantly, a warmth coursed into the ghost boy. His eyes widened as a wave of green passed over the mirror. “It’s open.” He muttered, sounding awed. 

Phantom didn’t quite understand how but the portal was opened. And he needed to be on the other side of it, now. With little effort, he pressed his fingers out of the mirror. He curled them around the back of Fenton’s hand as if he and his other self were holding hands.

Fenton grinned and he pulled.

Behind Phantom, Sidney called. “What are you-”

Without resistance, Phantom slipped through the mirror and right into his other self’s arms.

[365days365movies]

March 7, 2021: Onward (Review)

Guess what my favorite Pixar film is now!

Yeah, it’s still Finding Nemo hands down. Not even a little bit of a question. But there is still a question. Where does this movie rank for me? And by the way, Finding Nemo is my FAVORITE Pixar film, but I don’t consider it be objectively the best.

I mean...come on. It’s Ratatouille. The hell else was I gonna say?

Ahhhhhh, SHIT, you make a good point there. Well...at least there’s only the two choices for objectively best

OH HOW GODDAMN DARE YOU

...Any more you wanna throw at me, you goddamn monsters? Huh? HUH?

...Crying, probably. Goddamn, OK, there are a LOT of good Pixar films, and this one doesn’t have a GODDAMN CHANCE against these movies. So...which ones does Onward beat, for me, anyway?

I mean, yeah, duh. I’d put all of the Cars films below Onward. Brave and The Good Dinosaur, too. All of the Toy Story films are above it, and...I think my initial assessment was correct.

And again, I like A Bug’s Life a lot! But I think that Onward’s about on this level for me in terms of favorites. Why is that? Well...let’s go through it, huh? You an check out Part One and Part Two of the Recap if you’d like, but the Review and my final opinions are down below!

Review

Cast and Acting: 9/10

OK, above everything else, I will say that Tom Holland and Chris Pratt are great in here, and they...mostly disappear into their characters. Maybe it’s because these are currently both MASSIVE names, but I never lost sight of the fat that these guys were playing Ian and Barley respectively. It’s a little odd, especially for a Pixar movie. Not as much for a Disney movie...which is an interesting point to revisit later. But they are good. And they’re also vastly surpassed, for me, by Julia Louis Dreyfus, WHO FUCKING OWNS HER ROLE! Yeah, sorry, Dreyfus is the MVP of this movie for me, and I genuinely love her and Laurel. Octavia Spencer was, of course, also good...but was also weirdly stilted in her line deliveries most of the time. I love Octavia Spencer, but she’s not a voice actress, what can I say? Still, Corey’s another of my favorite characters, so she’s not bad at it. Tracey Ullman and Mel Rodriguez are also good in here, for the record.

Plot and Writing: 9/10

You know...it’s funny. This movie doesn’t really feel like a Pixar movie, as much as it feels like a Disney movie. Not a bad thing, I promise, but it just doesn’t...feel Pixar to me. I can’t quite pinpoint the reasons for that...yet. But in terms of the plot, it’s mostly standard Disney/Pixar adventure fare, with some decent writing and good universe building behind it. However...I’ve been thinking about the ending, and it’s actually the most Pixar thing about the movie, mostly because it was, well...extremely unexpectedly good.

Yeah, I mean that. Ian’s sacrifice is NOT how I expected that to go down, and probably would’ve been different in a straight-up Disney movie. Credit to Dan Scanlon, Jason Headley, and Keith Bunin for crafting a unique and emotionally deep ending. If Pixar’s good at one thing, it’s emotionally complex endings. Coco eventually ends with Coco dying, Boo’s sort of just gone in Monster’s Inc (I know Sulley sees her again, BUT WE DON’T), Toy Story eventually ends in Woody leaving the gang with Bo Peep, and Finding Nemo...I mean, Nemo surpasses his disability, and Marlin learns to let go of his son, so...OK, maybe that’s the exception. STILL MY FAVORITE DO NOT @ ME

Directing and Cinematography: 8/10

Well...on one hand, it’s a Pixar movie. Obviously it’s got good directing (by Don Scanlon), but...I think this movie broke Pixar films for me. YEAH. I’ll explain, and understand: I’m not saying that the cinematography by Sharon Calahan and Adam Habib is bad, but it’s very Pixar formulaic. Here’s what I mean: I’m gonna put a bunch of GIFs of Pixar films up here. Look for the commonality.

THEY’RE PERFECTLY BALANCED. Which, at first glance, obviously isn’t a bad thing. But I just posted GIFs of films from SEVEN different directors! And they ALWAYS balance their characters perfectly on screen! I’d provide more proof of this, but LOOK!!!! It’s a very formulaic form of cinematography, and while it’s obviously not bad, it’s also...obvious. You want more proof? Let’s look at more unique Pixar films and directors. Brad Bird first.

Bird’s scenes feel more dynamic, more interesting, and he has a MUCH higher focus on the foreground vs. the background than these other guys. And yeah, he also centers some of his characters, because that’s find of how film works, but his films are a lot more visually complex, and they’re considered the best of the Pixar movies. OK, what about a more recent film?

A HELL of a lot of shots in Soul are unbalanced. Which is interesting, because this is Pete Docter, one of Pixar’s most prolific directors. He’s also the director of some of their most unique films, like Monster’s Inc., Up, and Inside Out. And his flair is in a lot of unique camera movements, but also interesting angles and shot composition. And maybe I’m going CRAZY with over-analysis here, because I am NOT a film student, AT FUCKING ALL...but this film made me notice this because it just feels so visually...formulaic. Not bad, just plain. And not just in terms of cinematography.

Production and Art Design: 8/10

These are Disney characters. THESE ARE DISNEY CHARACTERS. Which, I must once again stress, IS NOT A BAD THING. But it’s also not really Pixar. I mean, look at that collection of GIFs up there again. One of the things that Pixar is lauded for is its unique character designs and concepts. And, uh...this isn’t that. It’s still good...but it’s not Pixar’s usual fare. Again, not a bad thing, as they’re more than allowed to innovate, but...is a lack of innovation really innovating? Breaking formula, yeah, but pointedly not anything new. Which, sure, fine, but...it ruins something for me, I’m gonna be honest.

Now, again, IT IS NOT BAD. It’s still actually VERY good, from the lighting to the rendering, and to the unique world that’s been constructed. Well...mostly unique. It’s kind of just our world with magic. There’s definitely some uniqueness, but not enough for me in a lot of cases. I dunno, it’s weirdly low-fantasy for something that is POINTEDLY high-fantasy in origin. Which is pretty interesting, now that I’ve typed that out loud. I like the look of this movie, again...but I’d love something a little less Disney, and a little more Pixar.

Music and Editing: 9/10

Music’s good! And so is the editing, for that matter. Composed by Mychael and Jeff Danna, and edited by Catherine Apple, this aspect of the production carried over pretty well, I think. Soundtrack is definitely fitting for a fantasy film, that’s for sure. And, yeah, no problems with the editing (which, to be fair, is not the easiest category to judge for e, ESPECIALLY here). The point of is because, well...not putting it on my playlist. It’s good, but not the best music I’ve heard, this month, or from a Pixar movie. Real talk, whenever I mention Finding Nemo (I KNOW I KNOW I’LL SHUT UP ABOUT IT BUT HOLD ON), the soundtrack plays through my head with reckless abandon. Can’t really say the same for Onward.

I’m more than cool with a 86% for this one.

Look, it’s a genuine rarity for Pixar to make a bad film. Although...it’s funny, this is barely a Pixar movie for me. It mostly just doesn’t feel like a Pixar movie, potentially because it has the overarching structure of your more typical Disney fare. Which, no, certainly isn’t a bad thing, but it’s not...quite the same.

This is still a great movie, and good for families. And I should say, I’m watching this film from the standpoint of an only child, and it was still a heartwarming look at a relationship between two very different siblings. I liked it, is what I’m saying. But this is it: we’re done with animated fare now. Although, blue animated magic characters from Disney does remind me of someone...

OK, the next movie is NOT ALADDIN, I swear. I’ve definitely seen that one. But, uh...since I’m moving to live-action anyway...

March 8, 2021: The Thief of Bagdad (1940)

[enigmawrappedinhypocrisy]

Quest! For alone time - Barley Lightfoot x reader

*Fandom- Pixar’s Onward

*Pairings- Barley Lightfoot x F reader/you

*Warnings- NSFW - Smut Oral, fingering, safe sex, Fluff, constant cock blocking, Barley’s a good boy. Pre-established relationship. 2nd person pov

*Summary* You and Barley recently made the jump into the world of relationships but have found it infuriatingly hard to get any time alone together. 

**A/N** So I haven’t really found many reader insert fanfics with Barley and only 2 that had smut, I think... so I decided If I want it I aught to write it... 

**A/N 2**So I’m super positive Barley has to be at least 19 So you’re both ‘adults’ and your family treat you that way… the interruptions aren’t them intentionally trying to prevent your relationship or the more physical aspects of it. They’re more rooted in those people not being used to you being in a relationship… they never had to worry about walking in on something when you and Barley were only friends so it’s a bit of a transition for everyone. They’re also kinda oblivious to how annoying it is. 

* ❀✦ Master List✦❀

You and Barley had been dating for a little while now, but had been friends for much longer before that.

So now that you were transitioning from friends to couples it was often hard to find times and places to be alone, as the people in both your lives would often disturb you. Thinking nothing about walking in on you whenever it pleased them. 

You were both adults, and generally treated as such so the interruptions weren’t exactly intentional. Your parents weren’t trying to stop you from being affectionate with each other, but it was becoming increasingly more frustrating as time went on. 

*

“Sorry dear I forgot” 

“Oops i’m not looking- ignore me… just gotta get the laundry” 

“Hey do you know where my- ahh Barley! Hang a sock!” 

*

Going out on dates was fine. Unless friends decided to interrupt and make it a ‘friend thing’… twice! 

Kisses good night- they were lovely. But did often result in “ohhs” and “ahhs” from nosy parents (and their cop boyfriends). 

There were good morning texts, and phone calls late into the night. You’d often fall asleep talking to each other. 

If ever one of you had a bad day the other was always a phone call away, and would often show up with cuddles and favorite snacks. 

You let him rant to you about his mom’s boyfriend, and he held you whenever you had an argument with your mother. 

All in all the relationship thing was working out nicely. You and Barley clicked really well and were able to help with whatever problems or insecurities arose in your lives. 

There was just one problem… 

That couldn’t be helped...

It had been about a month now since you two decided to become intimate but, due to circumstances, that was still a thing you’d been unable to achieve. Barely having enough alone time to make out let alone anything more than that, was starting to get frustrating. 

He was really good about it though. Patient and understanding. Maybe he assumed you were nervous and didn’t want to push you into anything you weren’t ready for. He definitely didn’t want to mess up what you had, nor did he want to risk hurting you. 

You weren’t nervous though, well maybe a little, but it wasn’t about that. You’ve loved him for years, wanted him for years. Ever since the day he found you walking to school, crying about some fight you had with your mother before leaving the house that morning. 

He drove up beside you and offered you a ride. Despite knowing it wasn’t a good idea to hop into a stranger’s van something about him told you it was okay. 

He listened to you, and made you laugh. Took your mind off your problems and reminded you of the good in the world. 

You skipped school, driving to some secluded place with him, and talking for hours. By the time he dropped you at home you simply couldn’t imagine life without him. Even if you didn’t know it at the time, you fell in love with him that day.

Tonight though, tonight it was happening! Come hell or high water you were getting that boy in bed! 

*

<How fair you, my lovely maiden?>  your phone dings with a text from Barley

<Feeling kinda lonely> you respond, biting your lip awaiting his response. 

<Is there anything I can do?> 

<There are several things you can do… things that are lonely...> 

<What about your parents?> He asks. 

<On a date <3 <3 <3> 

<On my way!!> He responds quickly, causing a smile to stretch across your face.

*

You quickly make sure everything is ready, your hair, your make-up, you wanted to look extra special for him tonight. 

You’re just finishing as you hear Guinevere 2 pull up, and great Barley at the door with a kiss. 

“Hey” He smiles down at you, hands planted on your hips. 

“We got lucky” you take him by the hand and lead him through your house.

He follows you obediently, cheeks flushed. “When are your parents coming home?”

“Not for hours” You tell him, pulling him onto the couch. You wanted to take this a little slow, ignore how ‘booty call’ it really was. “They’re going to that restaurant they like” 

He pulls you to sit in his lap, “That’s good” he strokes your thighs. 

You lean in for a kiss, no matter how long you were together this never got old. The kiss was soft and loving, during which you clung to his jacket keeping him close.  

“How was your day?” you ask between kisses. 

“Better now, yours?” he chases your lips. 

“Okay, I missed you a lot though” you nuzzle into his neck, kissing him again and again. 

“Missed you too” Barley pulls you closer to him, inhaling your scent, using it to erase the stress of the day.  

With the house empty for hours there was no reason to rush, and you wanted to enjoy all the alone time.

That was until the door opened, your parents entering in a hurry. 

“Hey honey- you’re dad’s got an upset tummy so we had to come home early” your mom explains as your father rushes past her towards the bathroom. She pauses when she sees you, on the couch, on Barley, frown on your face. “Oh sorry, we’ll stay upstairs and out of your hair, just let me make some soup for your father… do you want anything?” she asks without really offering. 

You sigh and fall forward slightly, your head resting on Barley’s shoulder. “No, don’t worry mom we should be heading out anyway” 

“Oh… you seeing that new movie?” She asks, “the one with the space thing?” she tried

“Uh… yeah…” you force a smile before getting up, pulling Barley with you.  

Every time… 

Once outside you and Barley sigh, “so what do you wanna do?” he asks, brushing a piece of hair out of your face. 

“You” you grin. 

Barley laughs, “Okay, but… Oh! I think mom’s out with Corie tonight” 

Your eyes light up, “Why didn’t you say so” you tug him towards Guinevere 2. 

* 

Soon you were on his bed, music blasting, fully wrapped up in a heavy make-out session. 

“You locked the door right?” you lean back, pulling off your shirt. 

“Lemme check” he pulls away from you, eyes never really leaving your form. This causes him to stumble over something. 

“Careful” you chide playfully tossing your shirt at him. 

He catches it with a grin before the door suddenly slams open. 

Standing there with wide eyes is a very pink Ian. 

“Did you need something?” Barley steps between his brother and a half naked you. 

“Oh uh… mom wanted to make sure you took out the trash…”   

“Okay- thank you,” Barley shuffles Ian out of the room. 

He turns to you and ruffles his hair with a sigh. 

“Now what?” he groans flopping back on the bed, arm thrown over his eyes. 

You recover your shirt, pulling it back on, before you remember an obvious solution. 

Crawling on the bed, getting closer to him, you ghost your fingers over his chest. 

“Baby” you coo. 

“Hmm?” he raises his arm to look at you. 

“Guinevere” you smile at him. 

“Um… okay? You want me to take you home?” 

“No,” you pull him up, “You have a van” 

“Yeeah?” 

You tilt your head. 

“Oh!” he grins, “good idea!” 

You preen at the praise. 

He suddenly jumps out of bed, grabs a few things, and is pulling you along behind him. 

Taking the trash out on the way- cause he’s a good boy. 

*

Barley drives around for a little while before finding a secluded spot, on the side of the road, to park.

 Putting on some music he pulls you into a kiss before you scamper away towards the back. 

Flopping down, you smile up at him doing grabby hands. 

With a laugh Barley lunges towards you, instantly attacking you with kisses. His hand moves up your shirt while you giggle about his cold fingers. 

Pushing him back you demand he removes his shirt while you do the same tossing them together in a pile. 

He returns to you as soon as possible, taking his time worshiping your body. Kissing down from your jaw to your chest, he runs his hands over your soft flesh before you pull him back up for a fiery kiss. 

“I can’t believe we waited so long” you sigh as he pulls down your leggings. 

“I didn’t want to pressure you” he runs his hands up your legs to grip your thighs, encouraging you to spread them. 

“Our families didn’t help…” you gasp as he leans forward placing a kiss on your warmth, still covered by panties in his favorite color. 

He ‘hmms’ before pulling the fabric aside and smirking up at you. Leaning forward he kisses your pussy once before diving in. 

His tongue, his lips, he was amazing and you couldn’t understand how anything could feel so good. Hands tangling in his hair you quickly lose yourself to the pleasure, gasping his name again and again. 

You were almost there, nearly at the edge, legs wrapped around his shoulders when a heavy knock sounds on the drivers window. 

“Son of a!” You hiss, only now seeing the police lights. 

“This isn’t possible!” Barley groans, pulling on his shirt and wiping his face, causing you to blush. 

Covering yourself with a convenient blanket, you stay out of sight while Barley goes to the driver's seat to deal with the cop. Who, unsurprisingly, also doubles as his mom’s boyfriend. 

“Yes Colt?” he sighs. 

“Barley, what are you doing out here?!” the centaur questions, trying to look into the van, his tone accusing.  

 “Just thought i’d sit here for a bit, listen to some music,” the elf half grins. It wasn’t a full lie… 

The centaur officer begins lecturing Barley on safety and rules and such. How it wasn’t smart to park on the side of the road at night, no matter the reason. 

You’re not really happy with the way he talks to the man who one day might be his step son but keep your mouth shut wiggling into your pants instead. 

“Alright, alright I’m leaving” the elf gives in with an irritated groan, putting Guinevere in ‘O’ he pulls out and drives away. 

By this time you’re, once again, redressed and you join him up front with a frown. 

“It’s okay Barley baby, we can try this again tomorrow” you offer and are surprised when he grins at you in response. Raising an eyebrow you question him. 

“I have one last idea” he winks, driving down the dark road for a short while before taking a barely visible side path that leads up a hill to a cliff overlooking the city. 

“I found this place after a particularly bad day” he tells you, before ordering your eyes closed. 

“Barley” you whine but have to give in when you see the starry eyed way he looked at you. 

Holding his hand for guidance you step out of the van. 

You open your eyes at his instruction and are amazed at the sight before you. The bright lights of the city below contrast with the glittering stars in the dark sky above. The moons are large and bright as fireflies dance around you. 

Once again you find yourself amazed and totally enamored with this sweet sensitive elf. 

Ever since you were younger he was constantly showing you how lovely he was. This was the place he took you that day so many years ago, and several emotions grip your heart all at once. 

“Barley...” you coo in a small voice. 

Arms wrap around you from behind, and he presses a kiss to your hair. Leaning back into his chest you find yourself content to stay like this forever. 

“I love you, you know that right” you purr up at him. 

Blinking down at you in surprise Barley looks almost in tears. Surprised and worried you turn in his embrace grasping his face gently. 

“Barley?” you question but soon let out a sound of surprise as he scoops you up, hands on your ass holding you tightly to him. He promptly pulls you into a needy kiss to which you happily respond wondering why he was reacting this way. 

Then you realize this might have been the first time you had actually said it, even if you felt it for so long. 

“I love you too!” He tells you, once he pulls away enough to do so. 

“You’re amazing” you nuzzle him, legs wrapping around him for support. 

He kisses you again, this time softer and more romantic. 

You pull back before he was ready, “Barley baby-”

“Hmm?” 

“I remember something mentioned earlier... about you... doing me…” you nip his jaw playfully trying to get him back on track. 

With another laugh - music to your ears -  Barley walks back over to the van.

Never letting you down, he reaches into the back and pulls out the blanket you used earlier to cover yourself. He lays it on the ground before placing you on top. 

Looking down at you with heart eyes he once again removes your pants. He blushes before catching your eye. 

“Oh no… looks like I left my panties in your car, must not have put them back on before” you shrug trying to appear innocent. 

“I never took them off you” he chuckles, brushing a finger over your folds. 

“oh-Ohhhh” you begin with a teasing tone which quickly becomes a needy moan as he gives your clit a little flick. 

“Bad girl” he chides.  

You only grin and pull him down into another kiss, during which he slowly begins undoing his shorts just enough to pull his elfhood out, hissing as it’s exposed to the cooler air. 

Leaning back a bit, Barley teases your pussy with his cock. Wetting it with your juices, and finding himself thoroughly entranced by sight of you spread before him. Open and eager for what was to come. He’d seen your pussy several times before but it was always like the first time. 

“Please baby,” you gently encourage him, lifting your hips slightly, needing to be closer. 

He smirks down at you, dragging his tip against your clit all the while applying more pressure. 

“Oh!” he stops suddenly, and for a moment you swore if you were being interrupted again you’d jump off this cliff. Instead he reaches into his pocket pulling out a little plastic square. Aww, Good boy…

You watch with a smile as he quickly pulls the condom on and returns to teasing your entrance. 

“Barley” you huff in half annoyance. Having been teased all night, you were eager to get on with it. You needed him inside you and were getting tired of waiting. 

With a smirk he suddenly pushes into your opening, slowly sinking all the way in; shuddering with the pleasure of being fully sheathed in your warmth.

 Your eyes widen with surprise at how complete you felt with him inside. He was so thick and filled you completely. 

“You feel so good,” he tells you, his ears flushed, eyes glued to your face. “Warm, soft” he sighs softly. 

You wrap your legs around him in an attempt to pull him closer to you, and encourage him to begin moving. 

Taking the hint, Barley buries his face in your neck, inhaling your scent deeply as he adjusts to being inside you. He kisses your neck and smiles at your soft moans. 

Slowly at first but soon picking up speed he begins thrusting into you. Before long a pace is set and you’re letting out needy little sounds, not even sure what you were saying anymore, or if it was comprehensive at all. 

“Don’t you dare stop” you whine, once again so close to your release as your arms wrap around him tightly. 

“What was that?” he teases pulling back to watch your face. 

“Barley I swear” you growl quickly transitioning to a whine when he reaches down and begins rubbing tight circles into your sensitive clit. 

“‘You almost there?” He asks, eyes showing both amusement and reverence at the same time. Which shouldn’t be possible. Why is he so flippin’ cute?! 

You whine. 

“Hmm?” he smirks. 

“Yes, yes! Barley I’m almost there pleease” you cling to his arms and try to remember to get revenge later. 

“Ugh- me too” he huffs out and begins fucking into you harder. 

He’s so deep and manages to hit every sensitive part inside you. It was as if you’d been having sex for years, and he had long since memorized everything about you. Everything you liked and everywhere inside you that made you cry out his name. 

“Oh cum with me baby, Barley cum with me” you babble, too lost in your pleasure. 

Your nails dig into his arms slightly as your eyes close, you’re almost there...

With a sharp cry your eyes open wide as you cum. They’re fixed on his face and you watch the man above you come undone, brow furrowed, jaw clenched, he’s so, so handsome; and you’re so in love. 

Pulling out of you with a sigh, Barley collapses next to you on the blanket. 

“Why did we wait so long?” he pants, eyes closed. 

You smile and shake your head turning towards him, “You were playing hard to get.” 

He lets out a breathy laugh, “Sorry it won't happen again” 

“Better not” you move, suddenly, leaning over him. 

“What ‘chu doing?” he asks, opening one eye to watch you curiously. 

With gentle fingers you reach for his cock, brushing down his length softly. 

“Hold on baby i’m not-” he tries to sit up.

You shush him, and encourage him to lean back with a gentle push. 

“Just,” you pull the condom off, tying it and leaving it aside, “Trust me” 

“Oh” he blushes. 

You lean down and lovingly clean his cock with your tongue, before tucking him away and refastening his pants. Not before making a mental note to repay his teasing in the future. 

You quickly pull your leggings back on before rejoining him on the blanket, resting your head on his chest. 

“Worth the wait?” He asks wrapping an arm around you and pulling you closer to him. 

“Oh, definitely” you nuzzle into him, content and happy. “I love you” You remind him. 

“Love you too” his smile was bright and that alone was worth the wait.

❀✦ Master List✦❀

[d-pennants]

Through the Moon Instagram Live

Partial transcript of the Instagram Live with Justin Richmond and Aaron Ehasz. It was only posted for 24 hours and a lot of stuff was talked about. I tried to copy the answers as close to what was actually said, but I won’t guarantee I didn’t mishear or miss stuff. I just focused on the stuff about tDP.

No S4 announcement today.

Do you have a favorite character? Are you allowed to play favorites? JR: Yeah. I definitely have characters that I like more than other characters, but I’ll never admit who they are. [laughs]

Fine, how about hints about S5 then?

AE: Justin and I were working on a scene this morning, a scene in which someone makes a sacred promise to Bait. Hope that’s not to big a spoiler.

[Explaining about Through the Moon which is out today (Oct 6th) Shout out to Xanthe Bouma & Peter Wartman, who will be there for the AMA on Friday. And shout out to the team at Scholastic.]

[Technical issues made the audio break up while JR was relocating. I couldn’t catch what the actually questions were for this little bit, but I caught some of the answers.]

Question about Zuko’s VA Dante Basco

AE: He’s amazing to work with. I’d definitely be happy to work with him.

Question about Callum’s Mage Wings

AE: I’d just get mage wing out even just to go to the bathroom at night if I were Callum.

Question about Runaan

AE: I don’t know. That’s a mystery. Runaan is certainly in the magical cursed coin in some form. But I don’t know what he’ll do or if he can survive it. But that’s a story we’ll be certain to tell.

[JR relocated & AE had to log out and rejoin, which fixed the issue.]

Are there other graphic novels coming? Is Through the Moon part of a series with an over arching plot?

JR: Hopefully yes. Hopefully we get to do some more with Scholastic. This is a standalone. It is part of the core story of the Dragon Prince. It counts as canon. But there’s not a sequel to Though the Moon.

AE: We would love to do more graphic novels. We are actively talking about and planning it. Definitely in the cards. But not necessarily an over arching story.

Asking about Janai’s brother?

AE: We’re going to find out about Janai’s brother for sure. He’s a really cool character, a lot of fun.

What do Moonshadow elves do during a full moon? Do they just become invisible.

AE: It’s not just invisibility. It is a stealth mode. I think we talk about it as like they’re almost partially slipping into a “Moon dimension” that partially obscures how visible they are. But also their physically is maybe changed at bit so they can partially materialize for a split instant to do damage, then they’re phasing out. I think they’re phasing in and out of some kind of Moon dimension. So it’s partially invisibility, but there’s also some defense and fighting stuff that happens.

What does Moonberry juice taste like?

AE: In my mind the things that are conjured are some kind of juice blend. Mulberry juice, pomegranate. Justin talked about a bit of cran involved? But I always think mulberries.

JR: Try mulberry juice. Mulberries have like the weirdest, coolest taste. If you haven’t tried it you should do it.

AE: Not ignoring S4 questions, but we just don’t have a good answer. We are working on it. But we don’t have a S4 date. We getting things moving in a good way and we’re excited but we won’t have the information on a date for S4. We really appreciate you being patient for that. Don’t have any age criteria that we can reveal right now.

Will there be outfit changes for the dragon squad?

JR: There’s already some in the graphic novel. Rayla gets some pretty great pyjamas.

AE: They’re just going to rotate outfits. They’re just gonna trade clothes. You should see how great Soren gonna looks wearing Claudia’s clothes. How Callum’s going to look squeezed into some of Ezran’s outfits. Everybody’s just gonna try on each other’s stuff.

JR: I like it. Too bad that actually 3D doesn’t work like that, where you just trade outfits. Because it’d be hilarious. Yeah, of course, people are going to change outfits. There’s going to be some cool new stuff to see. Absolutely going forward.

Is Callum close to obtaining any other arcanum / going to learn any other arcanum in the future?

JR: No spoilers, but there’s little bit of a hint of some of the answer to this in this graphic novel, so you should check it out. I don’t want to spoil anything. I think Callum fascinated by all the arcanum. He’s not just limiting his interest to Sky.

AE: If you’re a betting person, isn’t Callum’s going to be the first human archmage. A little bit trolling, but yeah, he loves magic. He’s fascinated. But he’s groundbreaking. He’s doing things humans haven’t done before and his potential is limitless. May not be S4, may be S17 at that point.

Will there there be more Sarai? I really want Callum and Ezran to visit her memorial statue.

JR: That would be a beautiful moment. That’d be great, that’d be pretty cool to see. There will be some more Sarai, we’ll find out more about their family. I’m not sure how much we’re aware, but Sarai is certainly not gone from the series. You’ll see Sarai again.

Is the Key of Aaravos actually the key of where he was imprisoned?

AE & JR: We can’t tell you.

JR: We don’t even know. We haven’t even discovered the answer yet.

AE: We know! Actually, that was one of the first things we knew at the very beginning. We’ll get to it.

Is the Sun arcanum the only one that can heal? Or maybe the Ocean arcanum can heal as well/or to?

AE: Great question. Yes. I suspect there are healing abilities possible through different primals. Ocean is a perfect example. I think it’s likely different kinds of healers that call on different energy to restore life and health to those who are injured or sick.

Could original characters introduced in the graphic novels potentially make it into the show?

JR: Absolutely. It’s a huge universe, so we won’t hold back if we think somebody from a graphic novel or the game will fit into the show in the right way, of course we would do that. One of the cool things about working with all the same team is that stuff like that can happen, because we can control all of it. Which is amazing. It’s a great feeling.

AE: There’s a character we’ve talked about for a while from the video game and recently that character finally had their moment in the show. We wanna see different ways to access the world and characters.

JR: Also we’re working with Fandom on a tabletop RPG so that can go another way. You can see characters coming into the show.

Do we have to read the graphic novel before we watch S4?

AE: I don’t think we should say too much. You don’t have too, but everything that happened in the graphic novel happened before S4, it really happened. So can probably infer some of it, but best experience will be read the graphic novel. Get yourself up to date.

How will Zym progress throughout the seasons? Will he grow up and learn to talk and how to manage his powers?

JR: I don’t want to say too much. Zym is going to grow along with the other characters. He’s not static. He’s a puppy, he’s a little baby, and he’s growing up.

AE: We’ll see Zym growing up more for sure.

Will there be more Gren content?

AE & JR: Yeah! [Laughing] AE: Of course. JR: How could there not be? AE: Didn’t we announce already that season 5’s Book 5: Gren? JR: Books 5 through 14 is all Gren. Then we’ll come back around to the other arcanum.

Will we ever get to see Ellis and Ava again?

AE & JR: Maybe? Probably. JR: Not 100%

How did the idea of making the graphic novel come about?

JR: Couple of things. We were talking to Scholastic and they were saying “what if we did this thing together” and we were fascinated by that idea. We’ve always been interested in comics. It sorta came up very naturally with them. And then we started talking about the story, Aaron and I, that could fit in here with the writers and stuff. I felt like a natural thing. That’s how I remember it - Aaron may have other memories of it.

AE: I think that the whole dream of this partnership with Scholastic has been to serve the community by being able to continue tell stories in the wider world of Xadia, through graphic novels, and novels and other books. That part of why we’re so excited about this partnership. It’s so much more depth and insight into different characters parts of the world that we may not have time for in the 22 minutes on Netflix. So the partnership with Scholastic is perfect for deepening and expanding those stories. That’s what it comes down to.

JR: They introduced us to Xanthe and Peter, who just absolutely crushed it.

AE: Yes. [Name?] is still at Wonderstorm if someone asks. It’s still happening. JR: Yes, I talked to him yesterday. He absolutely still here. Xanthe and Peter, we got introduced to them through Scholastic and they just absolutely knocked this out the park. It was a joy to work with both of them and what an amazing job they both did on this. We’re super excited to have gotten to work with them on a graphic novel.

AE: More shout outs to Xanthe Bouma and Peter Wartman.

What did Aaravos say to Khessa?

JR: We can’t say. AE: We can’t, but Janai is wondering that too. And we’re excited about it. It’s weird - I’m not being helpful, but it’s a good question. I may not be giving a satisfying answer, but it’s a good question.

How does Janai know Aaravos spoke to Khessa?

AE: She might not have seen it, but she’s going to find out about it.

Someone asked about the Orphan Queen.

AE: We love the Orphan Queen and there are more references coming seasons 4 and onward. It’s a story I’ve always wanted to tell. We think it will be a great movie someday, maybe. The story of the Orphan Queen is certainly relevant to the story and the saga as it’s unfolding now. It’s a cool story we wanna tell.

We know only some Skywing elves have wings, and not all Sunfire have fire-mode, but what about Moonshadow elves. As they can only use their powers once a month, rather than at any given moment, is it an ability all (or at least most) of them have or is it just some of them?

AE: I think it’s one of those things where Moonshadow elves are in tune with the Moon primal, and one of the very powerful skills that a Moonshadow elf being in tune with that arcanum can master is moonshadow mode, that makes you an excellent assassin, so they evolved this culture that does some of this stealthy, assassin work. It’s certainly possible that there are other powers and abilities that come from connecting to that arcanum that can be directly realized - that a Moonshadow elf might be able to manifest. So you may see some of that in the future. Maybe you have some ideas for your fanfiction or your cool art to show some of those powers, but the powers and abilities really come from them being attuned to these primals and some of it comes naturally and some it comes with training and bringing out the ability to do the special thing. I don’t see why it’s limited. In learning, for example, that Sunfire elves have at least two abilities that can connect to the arcanum is part of what may help understand that.

Do we read fanfictions?

AE: Yes and no - not so much. We highly encourage it and we love people do it. Every once in a while we get someone saying “you gotta look at this, it’s so charming” or “oh, this is so cool.” Or someone will bring something to our attention. There is some really amazing work out there and there’s some writers who are terrific. But as a rule I don’t think we do it regularly when someone says “check this out”.

Will there be more dark mages?

JR: Yes. You will see more dark mages, 100%. But I don’t want to say any more than that. AE: It’s interesting too. This is one of the great things about Scholastic partnership again, that there’s this sort of interplay about things you find out in the show and I think at least one of the dark mages is very significant. The first time people will hear about that person will be in Book 2: Sky the core novel. That’s someone who plays him in the story, in the saga, once the series comes back. But yeah, there’s a very important dark mage who will come up in that book.

Did Aaravos create dark magic?

AE: No, it was discovered not created. Did Aaravos turn them onto it or help them discover it? That’s very possible. Whether Aaravos played a role in developing their ability to do dark magic. Exploring the possibilities of dark magic.

Will we meet other types of dragon and/or archdragons?

JR: 100% yes. Dragon’s in the name. We’re bound by oath! AE: There will be dragons.

Is it possible the dragon king will unfreeze?

AE: Should we not answer that? I feel like it’s possible, but I don’t want to encourage or get anyone too excited. I think being turned to stone is a pretty dismal fate.

Can elves do dark magic?

AE: Can we just say yes? JR: Absolutely. Elves can do dark magic. Totally possible.

How do you go about populating Xadia with cities and landmarks? Do you have the landmarks and find places that fit or did you have the shape and find things to fill it? Or mixture of both? JR: A bit of both. There were some places we’d talked about and generally knew where it is or what this place is going to be. But some of it, when we saw the first version of that map, and the details, we were like “oh my goodness,” there were some obvious things we wanted to put in there. Then there’s some easter eggy stuff that just fun.

Do we think Claudia deserves a redemption arc?

AE: Why does she need a redemption arc. Why are you judging her? What has see done that requires redemption? She’s pretty much in the clear. JR: I’m insulted for her. (laughs)

Is Corvus’ middle name Dennis?

AE: Do you want it to be Dennis? JR: It can absolutely be Dennis. No reason it can’t be. I think I know where this comes from. There was a running gag in the writers between Devon and myself where we call Corvus “Dennis Trackerman.” There was a whole thing. It went on way too long. AE: We hadn’t named him yet. JR: We were talking about if there were a whole family of Trackerman, cousins and it went on way too long. I think his middle name could absolutely be Dennis. AE: Seems right to me. JR: So it’s official - Corvus Dennis Trackerman.

Is there a certain reason Rayla is scared of water and if there is will we find out more about it in the show?

AE: I think there may be. We may find out more about it. Part of it is because of the way she’s wired. I think she’s great at running through the trees and balancing and doing the things she does, is she senses the stability of the earth beneath her, the amount of stability or flexibility of a tree limb or side of a cliff. She’s very sensitive and in tuned. I think when you take someone like that and put them in the water, I think it - whoosh - overwhelms them. It alarming. Some of it’s a little physical, but I suspect there may have been something that happened. She certainly brings a sense of emotion around it, feels like it’s beyond discomfort. JR: I feel like there was a tra-

[There was a bit of a pause so they ending up talking over each other. AE starts asking the next question while JR gets cut off].

Someone asked if we can learn the backstory on Ethari?

AE: I know that there’s a beautiful story about Ethari’s birthday on our website that can give you a glimmer. But I think that’s something I would love to hear. I’m sure it’s something that Devon and Ian - perhaps Neil has thought about.

Do you think you’ll explore Callum’s dad or is he not important to the story?

AE: I think it’s possible we’ll learn more about Callum’s dad in the sense of the role he played in Sarai’s life and Callum’s own life. Hopefully in one of the books that comes out. JR: Yes, he is important. He’s foundational to how Callum became Callum.

Will the Dragon Queen in more involved in Season 4?

AE & JR: Yes. Dragons.

Is Rayla the main character of the story of Through the Moon?

JR: It’s Rayla focused, but it’s like the show, there’s various non-Rayla bits. But if I had to pick a main I’d say yeah, Rayla. AE: Probably ask Xanthe what she thought about that question.

Do we see more Crow Master?

JR: We can never get enough Crow Master as far as I’m concerned. If the show was just the Gren and Crow Master show I feel like we can make some stuff happen. We’ll definitely see more of him.

AE: Yesterday we were working on a Crow Master scene, and the writers were like, do we need it, and like, It’s a Crow Master scene!

Is it canon elves have 6 toes?

JR: I think they have 4 toes, right? AE: I’m not sure what happened there. I think that’s an oops someone made. I suspect they have 4 digits per hand or foot.

[Side note: I think Jack DeSena was talking about 6 toes on Zoom into Xadia]

“Gren” is that the main spinoff?

AE: We were gonna a have a spinoff that was just Gren, like the character’s life. Even if it was just mainly Gren enjoying the morning and getting ready for work and winding down at the end of the day and possibly waking up in the middle of the night, thinking about things and going back to sleep. Cause, things will be fine.

Will the history of Xadia’s splitting be important in the future?

JR: Yes, absolutely. That event is crazy important in terms of the history of the continent. You may not see more of the actually event of it, the getting split, but it’s a huge deal that matters a lot.

Soulfang serpents feed on the souls of their prey, does that make them a Moon primal creature?

AE & JR: I think that’s right. JR: And they’re terrifying.

Does Bait have a middle name or a glowtoad tribal name? They’d love to see how Ezran found or got Bait?

JR: I think we’ve said Ezran got Bait from Harrow. Harrow gave him Bait. Glowtoad tribal name is some sort of grunt noise that’s specific, it’s pretty funny to think about. Also, how would you know which is the tribal name and which is the middle? I guess they’d know. It’s only for glowtoads.

Will we see how people react to Rayllum or elf/human relationships in general?

JR: Yes. It could be a huge thing in the show. Human and elf relationships are a big deal, absolutely we will see that stuff going forward. Yes, you will definitely see that stuff.

How long did it take from conception to production for Through the Moon?

JR: I think it was about a year / nine months. To go from story idea all the way to finished. AE: If we’re talking story idea it’s almost a year and a half. It’s a lot of work. We worked with Peter on a number of drafts and outlines and scripts. Then with Xanthe for quite some time.

What is the time gap between the comic and season 3?

AE: Couple of weeks? JR: It’s pretty short. It’s almost immediately following season 3.

Is Opeli actually Soren and Claudia mom, but they  don’t remember her?

JR: No, she’s not. But that would be kinda funny. AE: Do you maybe ship Opeli & Viren a little bit. JR: That would be a pretty funny relationship.

The time gap between Through the Moon and Season 4?

AE: Can’t say. JR: You’ll find out in season 4. Lots of weeks.

How long does it usually take to animate a scene?

JR: That’s a pretty variable answer. The way it works is; we write a script, it gets recorded, there’s a bunch of 2D passes where we do storyboards and animatics and those are all hand drawn, and that takes weeks and weeks of time. At some point that’s approved and it gets handed off to the animators. In our show we do 3D animation with a sort of 2D sheet or look to it. So 3D animators would get that animatic, and they’d be handed a shot. Sometimes, depending on how complex the shot is, there’s sometime multiple animators will work on a single sequence. If there’s a lots of stuff going on with multiple characters you’ll get more than one person working on a shot. But it totally depends how much facial animation there is, how much action, how much running around, if they’re standing or talking. It totally depends. There’s a sort of variable number of seconds the animator can do a week. There’s not like a hard or fast answer here. Sometimes if it’s simple they can animate maybe 20 seconds a week, if it’s crazy complicated they may be doing half that. On average, it on the 20 seconds a week range. But wildly variable depending on the shot and what happening.

Is there a bigger world out there or is Xadia all there is?

AE: There’s some stuff on the periphery of the map that is part of a bigger world. But the main focus is this continent. It’s where the key action is. I think there are things on the periphery. We sometimes do jokes the Avatar world is on the other side. JR: If you flip the world over.

Are the elven face marking henna tattoo or are they permanent? JR: They’re more like henna tattoo. AE: Depends on the culture. There are probably some elven cultures where they more permanently tattoo some of the marking and they’re some where they’re more temporary makeup. But I think we’ve said for the Moonshadow elves it’s more like henna. Semi-permanent tattoos.

Will there be more Queen Aanya?

JR:  Yeah. AE: I hope so too. JR: I love Queen Aanya. She’s awesome and a very exciting character. Also she has the coolest bow ever and I want to see more of that not matter what.

Aanya/Ezran friendship?

AE: I want to see that. We talked about that. JR: We can’t talk about that yet, but yes.

Who is the best fighter in the show?

JR: I don’t know if there’s a best fighter. There’s a lot of awesome fighters in the show. AE: Rayla and Soren both have different fighting skills. Corvus has different set of fighting skill. They’re all great fighters. Amaya’s incredible. Actually, the answer might be Amaya. If I had to put an answer on it. Just fundamentals. That be my answer. JR: That makes sense. I agree. I bet Soren would disagree.

Do you guys ever play D&D after work?

JR: Yes, we have a whole D&D crew after work. We love Dungeons & Dragons. We love Tabletop RPG We play all kinds of board games, not just Dungeons & Dragons. We had a whole series of board game nights - when we can be at the office - that were really fun. Continue that when we can all get back together. Played some virtual version too since Covid.

Will we ever see Villads again? JR: I don’t know if we should answer that one? AE: I think so, yeah. JR: Also, Villads is the name of a person who worked on the show - he’s an amazing director. AE: Not just a person, the supervising director of the show. Wonderful leader. Inspirational. JR: And a big sailor.

Then they wrapped up. Thanks, shout outs, reminder of AMA etc.

[feverinfeveroutfic]

chapter twenty-six: rain on me

a/n: not gonna lie, this one was a little hard to write. yeah, i’m almost numb to bad things happening in the world, but i found this exceptionally difficult for some reason.

It would be another couple of months before any of them heard a peep from Metallica once more, and the whole entire span of the spring time, Sam yearned to see Cliff yet again: she never did give him the hat back to him following that show. She still wore it every day as she walked on to the subway and onward to her first class, but she always took it off after school let out and she took the subway back home, or she rode home with Charlie and Marla. It started on that first day after they had returned home from Syracuse and she took off the hat on the last hour of the ride home and she set it upon her lap. That manifested into a habit when she took the subway to and from school the day after: hat atop her head on the way day and all throughout the school day, but she took it off once she stepped onto the subway. She held it close to her chest when she stood next to the pole and she rested it upon her lap when she took a seat.

All the while, the bitter cold and the snows waned away from the Northeast and gave way to fresh new leaves upon the trees. The brim of his hat protected her eyes from the blinding sun as the spring term made its way forth.

It was a warm afternoon near the tail end of May following her introduction to stained glass class, which she continued to get the hang of, especially since it was only a single class during the week and Belinda wasn't too proud of that fact, either. Marla had asked her as to why that was the case and Belinda had no idea about it, and the little glass splinters in the girls' fingers only made the whole thing unappetizing. The whole thing was bittersweet to think about, especially since there was one week left before finals.

Meanwhile, she walked along the sidewalk with the brim of that dark hat held up high: she adjusted the brim with two fingers, the same ones with a bandage on either one. Perhaps it was the feeling of the sun to her back, but the hat upon her head made the crown feel hot to the touch. She strode past a ground level window and she stopped for a second to better adjust the hat for a bit of relief on her head. She gazed on at her face, which had grown rounder from the winter having gone by, and her body, slightly heavier and rounder.

Cliff and Joey's words to her rang through her mind whenever she saw her own reflection. Maybe they were enabling it. Maybe they were sincere with it. She had no idea as to what to think with it in mind.

Sam sighed through her nose and then she pressed onward to her building.

She made her way inside of the foyer and she spotted Aurora in the doorway of Emile's apartment. She giggled at something he had said to her, and Sam wandered closer to her. Aurora turned her head and her face lit up at the sight of her.

“Hey, Sam! How was school?”

“Good—what's going on?”

“Emile was just telling me something about something that happened to him down in New Orleans before he moved up here.”

“I should give you some of my Mardi Gras beads,” Emile himself called from inside of the apartment. “Both of you ladies, actually—”

“He has to find them first,” Aurora explained, and Sam wondered what was happening there between the two of them.

“I have to check my mail, anyways,” she gingerly added. “It is Wednesday, after all.” Sam scurried away from there and towards the metal mailboxes on the wall. She opened the little door, and in turn revealed three envelopes: a white one, which she assumed was from the school; a yellow one, which she knew was for her rent; and a soft pink one, which she wondered where it came from. She took them out of their hiding place and she examined the pink one first.

It took her a second to recognize Cliff's name scrawled on the front in blue ink. She peered over her shoulder, and Aurora had gone into Emile's apartment. She shut the mailbox door and doubled back down the corridor; she ducked past the door and she darted up the stairs to her place.

She couldn't open the door and take off that hat fast enough. She shook her dark hair about and left the door slightly ajar so a bit of a flow came in from the corridor behind her. She took her seat on the couch and, careful not to tear that soft pink paper, she opened the envelope and she took out his letter, which he wrote on a sheet of plain white paper. She had to read it twice given she wasn't familiar with his penmanship.

“Sam—dearest Samantha—

I'm writing to you from a little hotel room in Chicago. We're going out to Des Moines in about an hour, right before we go play at the Iowa State Fairgrounds, so I'm going to make this quick. Legacy are here right now, having flown out last night to see us at both shows. Given it's Memorial Day and school is almost out, Alex is sitting right next to me right now. Yeah, believe it or not, he's sitting right next to me and he's looking a little rounder than he was before when I got that little piece of rice paper from him—I'm thinking he ate pretty well over Christmas break, which makes me feel better about the way in which he's living well here. But I'm not here to tell you about him: I'm here to tell you how I feel about you.

The sun is shining right over me. It's going to be the Summer Solstice soon. And I think about the way in which you looked in the shrub there next to the bus, the way your hair seemed to shine even in the shadow. You are so beautiful and so gentle that I need to have you with me. What the hell was I thinking, not trusting you?

I need to be around you. I need to be closer to you. This is coming hot off the heels of my eavesdropping on Lars and James having a conversation about something, and then Kirk and James having a discussion about firing Lars. Alex and I both heard it loud and clear—but I guess Dave knows about it more than I do, too.

I'm a little worried about things coming to a head soon following the European stint of the tour. We're leaving for a couple of dates in over Europe right before Fourth of July weekend and then we come back to the Midwest about a week later—I don't get it, either. We come back to New York in August and then we leave for Europe for real after Labor Day weekend. I know that date in New York will be the last I see you for a while so I'm going to relish every second you and I are together there. It's the last date on the North American stint, too, so we can go and do something after the show. I can show you some of Canada if you wish—you'll love it up in Quebec.

I trust you with my life, Sam. As I'm writing this to you, I already feel empowered to stand up to James and Kirk. And I feel empowered to talk and rekindle things with Lars again. Even just on paper, you make me feel more of a man. You make me feel like a better man. Take that back: you make me a better man.

If nothing, I can do something beyond that. The power is in my hands. It's all within my hands if nothing else.

I had lunch with Chuck and Eric just a little bit ago and I spotted a bouquet of yellow tulips on the way there. I have another idea than that, though—another better idea that's bloomed out from the yellow tulips. I'll leave that little surprise for when we return to New York in August.

All my love,

Cliff.”

Her heart skipped a bit and she wondered what he had in store for her. A knock on the door caught her attention and Aurora poked her head into the apartment: Sam caught the sound of beads tinkling together behind the panel. Aurora showed her a series of hot pink and golden Mardi Gras beads.

“Party,” she said.

“Party indeed,” Sam echoed as she slipped the letter back into the envelope and she set it on the table next to her, even though she remembered that Aurora had seen them by the shrub. “By the way—are you and Emile friends to each other?”

“Yes!” she replied with a grin on her face, and she slipped the beads over Sam's head. She herself set her wounded fingers on the golden beads, which were all in the shape of fish. Her fingers ached from the glass splinters and those painful little wounds. Aurora frowned at the bandages.

“Scars from being around Belinda,” Sam replied with a shrug of her shoulders, and that made her chuckle. She nibbled on her bottom lip and Aurora shifted her weight a bit.

“Is there something you wanna tell me?” Sam asked her, as she glanced over at the pink envelope right next to her knee.

“Is there something you wanna tell me?” Aurora echoed her. She nibbled on her bottom lip and she lowered her gaze to the beads around her neck.

“Promise not to tell anyone?” Sam asked her in a low voice, and without a moment's hesitation, Aurora stuck out her pinky finger. They linked fingers to bond it together; Sam then fetched up a sigh.

“Okay. I've been seeing Cliff.”

“I had a feeling that was the case,” Aurora confessed with a nod of her head.

“It's long distance, though,” Sam continued as she reached for the pink envelope. “He and I hung out together over Christmas break at my parents' house. I also got to meet his parents and his sister, too. We even had our first fight.”

“Wow,” Aurora raised her eyebrows at that.

“Yeah. We're—pretty much a thing now.” She turned over the envelope so Aurora could see the scrawl inked on the front. “He just wrote a letter to me from Chicago. He just told me that I make him a better man.”

Aurora cocked her head to the side and brought a hand to her chest.

“Oh, my god,” she breathed out.

“Yeah. It's so sweet, isn't it?”

“That's so romantic.”

“He even gave me his hat!” Sam picked up the black hat from the couch cushion next to her.

“I was wondering where you got that!” Aurora confessed.

“He's just—he's been nothing to sweet to me. I think—I think he might be the one.”

Aurora took a seat on the arm of the couch, right next to her.

“Did Marla tell you we drew him in class?” Sam asked her.

“No!” Aurora's face turned bright pink at the sound of that.

“Yeah. He came into our drawing class back in January after his date had been pushed back a couple of times, and—let's just say I have yet to show it to him.” Sam flashed her a wink.

“Boyfriend and muse,” Aurora concluded.

“Boyfriend and muse...” Sam's voice trailed off at that and she lay the envelope upon her lap. She imagined Cliff himself right next to her. Her dark prince upon his black horse. She turned her head into Aurora's direction.

“What's going on with you and Emile?” She cleared her throat.

“Same story there,” Aurora confessed.

“Really?” Sam gaped at that.

“Yeah. I showed up here some time ago and I asked him where your apartment is. It was raining that day, too, and I didn't know it was going to, either, so he let me into his place for a cup of tea and he also offered to help me dry off. Apparently, he and his wife are separated—” Aurora shifted her weight on the arm of the couch and she grimaced a little bit at the sound of that. “But same story there, too: he's been nothing but sweet to me. One of the first genuinely lovely things he told me was he loves how I'm vegetarian. He's such a kind person, and you are lucky to have him for her landlord, Sam. That kind, genteel Southern politeness and everything...”

“Wait, back up.” Sam set a hand on her arm. “—he and his wife aren't fully divorced?”

“I don't think so. He hasn't told me anything about it outside of a flippant comment.”

Sam couldn't help but chuckle at that. Aurora's stoic expression broke into a chuckle as well.

“Oh, my god—Aurora!” Sam burst out laughing. “The power of the Korean peninsula!”

“The Korean peninsula plus the long time proximity to Mexico,” she added. “We've inadvertently become a couple of vixens.”

“Marla, Belinda, and Zelda are, too,” Sam pointed out.

“On the surface,” Aurora corrected her, “and as far as we know. We might be in a league of our own amongst the five of us.”

“Yeah, you're kind of the quiet workhorse. And I'm the fat artist.”

“Oh, come on, Sam—you've got lovely curves. You're a true vixen yourself!”

“And the quiet ones have the most cunning minds...” Sam then set her bandaged fingers on the beads once again. “Party,” she said.

“Party!” Aurora echoed, and they high fived each other.

“Care for a drink? I just have cream soda and some pho, interestingly enough.”

“Do you have ice cream? We can have cream soda floats with that nice soup.”

“Nah, just the soda. We're gonna have plenty of cream, anyways.”

* * * * *

The heat of the summer crept its way into the Bronx, but every so often, warm summer rain kept it at bay. Sam had no intent on taking summer school with Belinda and Marla, but she did take up the offer to work side by side with Aurora at the record label as her assistant. It was mostly sorting papers and fetching her drinks during work hours, but it was something and it got her out of the otherwise hot apartment. Meanwhile, at night, she returned home and worked on some drawings before she fell asleep. The main building itself felt so empty and hollow without Anthrax there with them: she also hadn't heard a peep from Dan Lilker in months, either, and thus she assumed that Nuclear Assault had gone on tour themselves.

She thought about Cliff and she even contemplated counting down the days to the end of August. He never wrote to her once again and thus she considered writing back to him. However, since Metallica switched labels, she had no idea as to how to write to him, and given they were on tour, there was no way she could call him up in one of their many hotel rooms. Aurora had too much on her plate to begin with and so she couldn't ask her about it.

“It is a pretty big network, though,” she pointed out to her one morning in late July. “If you ask around, you could probably find a lead of sorts. Maybe you can ask Zelda.”

“Why her? 'Cause she's with Louie?”

“No, 'cause she's within the whole pipeline of musicians as well as with Louie. He especially probably knows his way around the Bay Area and she probably has an idea herself.”

Sam sighed through her nose. That would mean she would have to make the drive out to Providence to their place.

The phone rang right then and Aurora picked up. Sam kept her eyes fixated on the floor before her. She thought about as to what to draw that evening as a relief of sorts when Aurora's concerned tone of voice caught her ear.

“Wow, really? How did he do that?”

Sam turned her head into her direction and she noticed the look of concern on Aurora's face.

“Uh huh—” She raised her gaze in Sam's direction, and they gazed at one another with wide eyes.

“Oh, my god,” Aurora muttered with a look of disgust on her face. “Oh. Okay. Okay, yes—”

Sam bowed her head a bit. She wished to know what her best friend was hearing.

“Okay,” Aurora continued. “Okay, thank you. I'll tell Jon and Marsha as soon as possible.” She hung up the phone right then.

“What happened?” Sam asked her.

“James broke his arm skate boarding. They might cancel part of the tour.”

Sam gaped at her.

“W-Where are they?” she stammered.

“Nashville. And he broke his arm two days ago while in Evansville. Over in Indiana. The person I just spoke to said they might do a couple more dates and then call it good for a bit before they go to Europe.”

“So—they're not gonna come to New York City again,” Sam concluded in a small voice, to which Aurora shrugged.

“I don't think so. She said he messed it up pretty bad. He might not even be able to play guitar for a time until he's fully healed. We're gonna have to tell Marla, Belinda, and Zelda, too—you know we all were gonna be there. All of us. Altogether, with Anthrax and another band called Armored Saint...”

Sam tiled her head back and closed her eyes.

“Fuck!” she declared.

“I know, right? They already had to cancel their Northwest dates back in June, too. But—so much for that, though.” Aurora's face fell at the thought of it.

“Well, what should we do now?” Sam asked her as she ran her fingers through her dark hair.

“Well—she said they plan on playing tonight down in Nashville, followed by tomorrow's date in Chattanooga, then Knoxville, and a couple more and then they go home for a month so James can recuperate. I guess the best thing to do is to call Cliff because she said he's kind of a wreck right now.”

“I would imagine...” Sam's voice trailed off as she remembered what Cliff had told her in his letter.

Indeed, when she returned home later that night, the very first thing she did was pick up the phone. She dialed his number, but she caught his answering machine instead. If they planned on playing a few more dates, then surely he could find her message once he stepped in through the door. The very first thing he would see was her message to him.

“Hi, Cliff—it's Sam. I'm just calling to say that—I heard the news. I heard about what happened to James and I'm just kinda—thinking of you guys right now. Give me a call back once you get this. I love you.”

Without another word, she hung up the phone.

Over the next week, she went off to work with the hot summer sun upon her head and yet that big black hat protected her every step of the way. By the beginning of August, and James' birthday on the third, she expected a call from him, but he never did.

She returned home and checked her machine for any sign of him. Nothing. It seemed so unlike him, especially after all he had said to her in his letter.

A thunderstorm rattled the Bronx on the day in which they were supposed to play there in New York City, and thus Sam got the idea to write back to him. He was back home and she remembered that they would leave for Europe soon enough. She had to make it quick.

She picked up the pencil and she scribbled all along the top line of the paper first. She had no idea as to how to write up that letter to him further than “my dear Cliff.” Sam leaned back and she gazed out the window in front of her, at the rain as it pattered on the window pane before her and the dark menacing clouds across the sky. Perhaps a piece of art could bring something out of him, and yet everything she had made up to that point had been in her journals or they were things she had planned for the autumn and her sophomore year of school. Perhaps a piece of erotic art could bring something out of him, given she sat there in nothing more than her bra and a small pair of shorts that fit her hips a bit more snugly than before.

She could lay on her side before a mirror and make a drawing of herself from the reflection for him. Show off her new curves to him.

But she had nothing to say to him, much to her surprise, and yet she had so much to say to him. She set down the pencil on the tray at the bottom of her desk when the phone rang. She was quick to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Sam.” That voice.

“Oh, my god, Cliff, I was just thinking of calling you.” She ran her fingers through her dark hair.

“I've been meaning to do so but—a bunch of things have happened this past month. First off—Lars and I have rekindled things between us.”

“Oh, good!”

“The day after James broke his arm, he cozied next to me on the bus and he confessed that he wanted someone to talk to about it. I guess James is kinda pissy when he's in pain. So we watched Blazing Saddles together and had some pizza and he shared with me one of his many Danish desserts—I can't remember what it's called but it was spectacular. I told him the two of us have to hang out with him and his whole Danish spiel more in the future. And we started talking again.”

“How're things between him and them?” she asked him as she set her free hand on her hip.

“No idea and I feel like James and Kirk are still track to do it after our European dates. But—oh my god, you're gonna love this. And—I have to keep my voice down because I'm in our rehearsal spot here in San Francisco. And I dunno... I don't think they're here right now, if I'm perfectly honest. But—still. Better I keep my voice low.”

“What's up?”

“Back in June, we played in San Diego and Legacy played the night before us, so the four of us got to see them. One of the guys from Armored Saint, the band who toured with us and the boys, started to come after Lars. I didn't even know what was going on, either—it was all right behind me. But I guess Dave was there with us. And this guy was—I think he was pissed at Lars for whatever reason. And he came after him and Dave caught him, took him outside, and just beat the absolute shit out of him. Protected Lars and none of us knew it had happened until Dave told me about it after the fact.”

“Wow,” she breathed out.

“Yeah. The guys up on stage didn't even see it and Chuck and Louie see everything up there—that's according to them, anyways.”

She chuckled at that. And then she remembered.

“By the way, what did you want to do with me? Given tonight you guys were supposed to be here and you had to pull out for the time being.”

“Oh, yeah. I was gonna ask you if we could make it official between us.”

“Officially boyfriend and girlfriend,” she followed along.

“Yeah. It just makes sense to me, even if it is long distance at this point.”

“Of course. I'd love to do that.”

“Then it's official, baby doll,” he declared in a soft whisper of a voice. “You have a boyfriend now.”

Voices in the background on his end cut him off.

“I gotta go. We're flying out to Wales in a couple of days. It's a whole two week affair just so we adjust and go through customs and all that jazz.”

“Right, right...”

“Kirk needs to use the phone, too.”

“By the way, Cliff?” she piped up again.

“Uh huh?”

“Call me when you get there,” she told him.

“Of course. You have a good night for me.”

“You, too.”

They hung up at the same time right as a clap of thunder caught her off guard. If she had to draw in the dark, she would.

And she was eager to start school again within a couple of weeks as well, and once again, the week following Labor Day. Fresh off the heels of her first year, she wished to see what that second year held for her given the cuts on her fingers had long healed and Belinda vowed that the next level up would be far more exciting. She already knew the basics and thus she could foresee a stained glass window much like the ones in that front hallway from her hung up there for the whole school and the world to see.

A drawing class, a watercolor class, stained glass, more art history, and algebra, the latter of which she needed to fill in one of her elective credits. That was according to Bill when she signed up for classes.

“Gonna be a lot more hectic this year,” he vowed to her with a cunning smile on his face, but she knew she would enjoy it especially when she knew she also kept the part time shift next to Aurora. Just a lot more to do but she knew she would enjoy it.

She stayed on her feet for the entirety of both of her drawing and watercolor classes and the whole entire first week, she envisioned Metallica, Anthrax, and Armored Saint in that concert hall in Wales. She tried to picture them all as she sketched out a series of faces similar to them on that large sheet of paper she had been asked to have for the former. Given part of their personal journal included wildlife studies, Marla suggested she draw plants around them given it was the United Kingdom, in all of its greenery and lushness. Sam also recalled that they had missed playing the Pacific Northwest as well.

Given the drawing itself was due at the end of the month, she gradually worked on it with a bit of colored pencil and only the hardest of her graphite pencils. She thought of giving it a splash of watercolor at some point, but she decided not to do it.

And she still hadn't shown Cliff the drawing of him. She itched to show it to him once she handed that large drawing by the end of that third week of school. She strode out of the classroom and up the street so as to start her short shift for the rest of that afternoon. It was a cool late autumn afternoon, and the gray clouds overhead beckoned a fresh round of rain. But when she reached the front step, she was met with Aurora herself, who looked as though she had seen a ghost.

“Um, Sam?” Aurora called to her once she came within earshot.

“Yeah?” She frowned at the grave look on her friend's face, and she glanced behind her, and there was Marla right behind her, who had one hand on her mouth as if she had something horrific.

“Is everything okay?” Sam asked them as she adjusted the brim of the hat: she picked up that earthy smell of rain. Marla fetched up a sigh and she doubled back for something. Sam halted in front of Aurora and butterflies emerged inside of her stomach.

“What's going on?” she asked her in a small voice, and Aurora's face fell. She swallowed and closed her eyes for a few seconds. Marla returned with a white cordless phone in hand.

“Something happened,” she replied in an equally small voice. “Something that you should know.”

She handed her the cordless with a solemn look on her face. Reluctant, Sam took the phone and then she brought it to her ear and the butterflies in her stomch kept on whirring about.

“Hello?” she started in a low voice.

“Sam!” Lars' voice crackled onto the other end. “Sam! Horrible! Things! Really bad things! Fucking—fucking hell!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Sam interjected with a wave of her hand, “whoa, Lars. Lars, slow down! What happened?”

He sputtered and blithered a serious of things in Danish but then he gasped.

“Lars!” Sam cried out, and she held still right there when she was met with silence. “Lars? Are you there?”

“—yes?” he said in a broken voice.

“What happened?”

He let out a long low sigh.

“What happened?”

“I'm sorry,” he started and she could hear tears in his voice, “I just—I haven't been able to talk to James and Kirk about it. I needed someone to vent to.”

“What happened, Lars?” she asked him, gentle.

“There—There was an accident,” he sputtered. “A bus accident. Our bus went off the road—we were in Sweden. In the middle of the night. We were all asleep when it went off the road. We rolled over. Cliff—is gone.”

Sam's eyes widened and she almost dropped the phone itself. It was as if the rug had been yanked right out from right underneath her.

“What do you mean he's gone?” she asked him as she felt her stomach and her heart sink.

“He's gone. He was—crushed by the bus.”

Her stomach turned. Her knees quivered and quaked. She had to catch herself on the counter behind her. She thought about the letter Cliff had written to her. His words were set in stone at that moment. He never even called her when they got to Wales, either.

Lars' voice quivered and waved away with tears. The smell of rain grew stronger and Aurora stepped inside; Sam could make out the tears in her eyes.

“He's gone, Sam. He's—He's just—he's gone.”

[mother-snake]

(can I be 🐍 anon?) How about a fic where the other's start to slowly notice that Janus is getting more and more comfortable with them and trusting them more. Examples like: they start to notice that they don't have to convince him so hard that they want him around. He starts to relax his outfits a bit until he just shows up in black pants, a big yellow sweater, and signature hat. etc. Ends with happy snake boi getting all the cuddles. - 🐍

this... has taken such a long time... sorry! words: 1961 tags: @idkanameatall @imma-potatoo @girl-with-many-fandoms

The first to realise it was Logan. he had been sat at his desk trying to get some work done. The lights had been turned off a few hours ago and he had been sneaking the occasional glance over to his bed. Janus had come to him that morning not feeling very well, so he had offered to keep an eye on the side to make sure it wasn’t anything serious.

And that it wasn’t, just merely a head cold. But he still didn’t want to wake Janus. The poor side looked exhausted as he slept. that had tripped Logan figuratively up. he had been rather used to Janus just hiding away in his own room rather than coming to here. And that had made him smile… Janus trusted him enough to come to him when he needed help despite being in a venerable state.

He stood up from his desk and walked over to Janus the duvets further up to give the snake some more warmth. he would message Patton soon to bring Janus something to eat. Logan would leave, but he didn’t want Janus to wake up alone.

“m’thanks,” Janus murmured from under the blanket. “it’s all right Janus, go back to sleep for now,” Logan said ruffling the snake’s hair. yeah… he would let Janus rest for now, Logan thought as he sat down to continue his work.

-- the next person to realise it was Patton. They had been on semi good terms since the aftermath of the wedding, but he knew that Janus would need time to warm up to him after all that had happened.

And as he was sitting in the Livingroom, the shinning playing in the background. A sudden thought crossed his mind and he found himself jumping up and making his way to the serpent’s room. the bright yellow door seemed to match along with the others, almost completing the set.

He knocked on the door excitedly. the door opened widely to a rather nervous snake, “hello Patton, may I ask what you need?” “you, me baking cookies!” Patton cheered. Janus rolled his eyes before stepping out of his room, “very well then, it sounds entertaining.”

They walked back down to the kitchen and immediately began to grab things from shelves and storage spaces. peanut butter and chocolate chip cookies. Janus was trying not to show too much excitement. but still Patton could sense it.

And it wasn’t put on, like he used to a few months ago, he could sense the happiness radiating from everyone else… but it was Janus at the moment he could truly sense.

And as he watched Janus sneak a chocolate chip from the packet, he could see the progress. And every second was worth it. and for now, he would make sure it continued only onwards. “come on kiddo, don’t eat all the chips,” Patton giggled as he ruffled Janus’s hair with a smile.

-- the third was Virgil. The two of them had issues that they still needed to sort out. and it was a surprise when he found out the others knew his name. but he knew as soon as he heard that roman had mocked his name, that it would affect him badly. and it had. He had found the snake curled up behind the yellow door.

But now… it seemed the rolls had almost reversed. Virgil wasn’t sure what it was, or why but he had felt his anxiety heighten more than it normally did today. he had found himself sitting on his bed. The room was blacked out by spider curtains, but the sound of nocking on the door had barely been audible over his obnoxiously loud music.

He had told whoever it was to enter. But hadn’t been expecting Janus. and it seemed the side had an outfit change. a black calf length pleated skirt and a bright yellow button up. a small black bowtie finished off the outfit. But of course, he still had his cape and hat.

“nice look,” Virgil murmured as he laid his head back. “you’re not stressed,” Janus said sternly,” don’t move over,” he said rolling his eyes.

Virgil didn’t know what to expect. But definitely not Janus pulling a hidden snake from around his arm. He let out a bizarre noise of concern and or panic, he was yet to decide, as the snake was placed on his arms.

He looked up to Janus with wide eyes, “not the snake…” Janus grinned, “oh… no, the snakes”

Much to Virgil's own amusement as the snake lifted its head and let out a small blep, he could feel whatever was bothering him leave almost immediately. Janus sat down next to Virgil and watched him coo over the snake despite its slightly large size. He found himself feeling years younger, going back to when they could have only been in single digits.

And as he glanced over to Janus he felt as if things had… almost gone back to how things were from before the split. And he felt himself smile. “hey Virge,” Janus said as he took the snake from his arms, “your eyeshadows purple,” he grinned. Virgil playfully nudged Janus in the shoulder, “yeah, okay the snake broke my poor cold heart,” they both found themselves in a fit of laughter.

Yeah. He was going to make sure Janus laughed like that again. After all they had both been through… Janus deserved to feel this happy.

--

Remus had been next. It had been a nock on his door in the middle of the night. he knew it would most likely be one of the more nocturnal sides.

But as he opened the door to see a familiar side in a dinosaur onesie wrap their arms around him. he knew that tonight would be a little different. as Janus let go of Remus, the imaginative side let Janus enter. Sure, they may not be on the best of terms right now. But for Janus to wake him up so late in the night… something had happened.

He watched as Janus sat down on the rather messy bed and pull his head into his knees. “you okay Jannie?” he asked as he sat down next to the snake, “you wanna talk about it?” he got a small head shake. “come on then, you can stay with me the night if you want,” Remus said as he pulled Janus into a side hug. “thank you,” Janus whispered smally from his chest.

It took a few minuets of cuddling for them to finally shift and lie down next to one another. They lied like that for a few minutes before Remus realised that Janus was out cold.

He let out a small silent laugh as he brushed a piece of hair out of Janus’s face. how long had it been since Janus had been so peaceful? Back when they were darks it seemed like the old Jan had disappeared. Replaced with constant worry about his plans and fear of more people leaving.

He missed seeing Janus without a care in the world. But right now, he felt worried. Not much could have Janus to the brink of tears and have him come into his room of all places.

Right now, however, it was best to get some sleep. Knowing Janus, he would be better to talk to in the morning. That and the bags under his eyes almost rivalled Virgil's at this point. So, he was going to let the snake sleep in. they both needed it.

And soon, Remus was asleep. a protective arm wrapped around his baby brother.

-- the final side to realise had been roman. The other sides had been summoned, forcing the two company seekers to sit in the same room together. it wasn’t reluctant. But the tension could still be cut by roman katana. Janus sat there on the opposite end of the sofa looking in a book. it wasn’t a particularly big one. But it could only keep his attention for so long.

“okay, do you want to put on a movie,” he exasperated as he flung the book onto the coffee table. “um, okay. But what?” “anything. just not Disney…” Janus sighed.

Roman rolled his eyes as he stood up and began surfing through the movies and box sets the mid had accumulated over the years. “okay, hear me out- “roman began as he found something and held it up. there in his hands he held up the original four Jurassic movies.

“I’ll grab the popcorn- “Janus said throwing himself of the sofa and rushing to the kitchen.

And forty minuets in, they found themselves tucked under separate blankets and eating unhealthy amounts of sugary treats. roman had begun to think as the time passed. In the time it had taken for them to get the movie on, sit down and sit in silence beforehand. Janus had made no move for snide remarks… and he couldn’t bring himself to say any either. but something did need to be said.

“hey… Janus?” he asked, looking over to the side shoving popcorn in their moth in handfuls. “yes?” came the muffled reply, making roman chuckle.

“I'm… I'm sorry for before,” he said. “listen. If anyone should be apologising, it should be me,” Janus began, holding up a hand before roman could but in, “I was the one who played you like a kazoo at the court and somehow managed to swap the sides view on me. it most likely sent confusion spinning your way, and you lashed out,” he said. “trust me, its okay. And if you really need it… I forgive you.”

Roman looked at Janus who turned back to watching the tv he blinked slowly compared to normal. And a small part of roman felt a warmth swell in his chest. he had been forgiven. That was enough for now. And he felt a million times lighter. “did you know you can see a hand on one of the raptors being led into the kitchen?” roman said as he took a sip of his obnoxious fizzy concoction Janus made. he didn’t know what was in it. nor would he ask. “that I did princey. That I did,” Janus grinned, flinging a piece of popcorn playfully in the creative sides direction.

He had never seen Janus so… happy. Content before. And a small part of him wondered if it would stay that way. he hoped so… no more fighting sounded nice. and at that moment he found himself hoping that never did happen between them. and he knew he would strive to stop it in the future.

But for now, he had a movie to watch.

-- they all sat together, cuddled up in bundles of blankets trying to ward away the cold chill that flooded the mindscape every late autumn and early winter. Janus himself was in the middle of the cuddle frenzy. Pinned down by logans arm over his shoulder, Patton's head leaning against his other and Virgil lying atop them all. Roman sat next to Patton with Remus next to Logan.

He let out a content sigh. This was the warmest winter he had in years. and it felt perfect. They all held cups of warm coco. They had a movie playing. Patton's choice today had been happy death day. And it had sent a smirk of amusement on his face when everyone paled.

“ten out of ten!” Remus cheered as he watched the main character of the move swan dive into a wood chipper.

There were always going to be issues between them all. But for now, he felt content listening to the sides laugh at Remus trying to lighten up the movie. yeah… this was nice.

[starwars-oc-ship-week]

keep hesitating

i’ve actually been dying to do this ship week. tyche and enlil are my favorites and they’re a disaster! cw for: gambling, mentions of alcohol, sex mentions. if you wanna see my art of them they both have tags on my blog!

Tyche Basha meets her future husband for the first time.

Most people have this happen. You meet a future partner for the first time, you look in their eyes, and sometimes there is something special from that very moment onwards. But Tyche didn’t expect to. She liked herself the way she was. She didn’t want to change.

That wasn’t on her mind, though, that night. Nar Shaddaa wasn’t somewhere for that sort of fantasy. It was her workplace more than anything. A friend of her biggest cash cow, Grakkus, had come to her with a very specific complaint and an open ultimatum, and for such a fat sum of credits, it was supposed to be easy. Some gambling rogue who owed a hefty few credits and had accidentally lured Imperials into his casino— barely any rougher than satin and poor in a fight, but inexplicably most bounty hunters hadn’t taken him. She figured they were probably having some difficulty getting him to stick around when he got to realizing what was going on— and with more opulent prey, or rich brats, they did usually just leave like that. It made quick kills hard.

This one— Enlil Velas— allegedly was an Imperial defector, by rumor. He was a medic of some sort at one point, and still practiced, but had become a career gambler with arm candy on every planet. Arhan, pretty, and he knew it. He owed the Hutt cartels enough for Tyche to take interest, at least, and she wasn’t cheap. Even so, she was considering double dipping her reward for such a good job. That was, if they’d take her fake identifications here. She had switched up her strategy with Atro aboard; the Snow Kite was too pretty a ship to let get scuffed in a fight.

She had shifted her strategy for this, too. She wasn’t going for a good strategic fight and kill, or the silent, stalking of her prey. She was the bait and lure and hook all in one. If he had a thing for pretty faces, then Tyche would play along. It was how she kept half her contracts, anyways. Very few people said no to such lovely cornflower skin and golden eyes, or ignored a figure like hers.

So she slipped into a minidress, glossed her lips, and pulled on her favorite heels. Clutching a jeweled purse close, pretending to be shy, she inched into the casino. Flashing lights, Sabacc tables, dancing girls, neon drinks— this would be her place if she hadn’t had to be a good actress. And like a good actress, she found her audience nearly immediately.

In the dim corner, was a man with skin like an orchid, a tower even sitting, with a waterfall of silky black hair He was wearing a very tacky gold jumpsuit, she thought— certainly too much for anyone, but especially on someone so long and lanky. He absently flirted with the drink girl, who giggled. Nobody else would do this, she thought, sitting down across from him at the only empty seat at the card table.

“Hey,” said a soft tenor from across the table. “I’m on a winning streak, so I’ve been buying all the prettiest people at the table drinks. Do you want one?” He swirled a glass, and Tyche knew immediately this was the kind of guy she would’ve laughed with for one night under different circumstances before ditching in the morning.

“Hm?” She perked up, feigning temporary confusion. “Oh, uh— sure! I don’t really know any local specialties so just get me something sweet. Can you deal me in?” she asked the droid.

“Put down your credits,” said the droid, and Tyche obliged, crossing her ankles.

“So,” said Enlil, making his first play, “have you played Pazaak?”

“When I was a little girl,” said Tyche meekly, a lie— and something flashed in her opponent’s dark eyes.

“Here. Let me show you. Bet’s off, this first one is on me. You get to twenty— see, that’s a five,” he said, a finger hovering over her deck. “You can’t go over or you lose. Let’s play.”

“A—alright,” she said, reshuffling her deck. “So what’s your name? I haven’t been to many casinos. I’m glad I found a friendly face.”

“Enlil,” he said with a smile. “But now I’ve got to ask, too. What’s yours?”

“Tyra,” she said meekly. “I’m just visiting friends. But I wanted to experience the nightlife.”

“You couldn’t have found a better guide,” he hummed, flipping a card and tucking it into his hand.

Tyche shyly hid her face behind her cards. “So where did you learn to play?” she asked.

“Med school,” he said calmly. “Surprised?”

“A little,” she lied. “But you seem awfully smart.”

“Not that smart,” he said. “I dropped.”

“Oh,” she said. “My line of work isn’t so exciting. I’m in finance.”

“So you really know how to gamble, don’t you? That must be how you afforded such a pretty dress?”

Tyche giggled. “Please, let me focus on the game!”

“You’re very cute when you’re concentrating.” He grinned. “You get a little dimple on the bridge of your nose.”

“Shh!” she giggled as the waitress brought her drink. “It’s embarrassing!”

“That is not even close to embarrassing,” he said with a dry smile. “Embarrassing is getting recognized by a friend of your parents when you’re losing in Sabbac. You’re just precious.”

“Do you really think so?” She tucked a drifting white strand of hair behind her ear.

“Of course,” he said, winking and taking a sip of his drink.

“Maybe you wouldn’t mind showing me one of the machines I saw towards the back parlor? I— I couldn’t get the hang of it.” Here she went. Clean games, she thought. Clean.

“Oh, sure, honey.” He stood— a whole foot and a half over poor Tyche, who was already short for a woman, but he offered his arm like a gentleman anyways. She led the way, past the loud thrumming music and laughter and concealing smiles and dancing, to the door to one of the maintenance rooms.

“You sure this goes any—“ he began as she opened the door, but before he finished that, she had a blaster to his stomach, concealed and barely larger than her palm.

“You’re smart,” she said, any trace of the sweet naive girl gone from her intonation. “Let’s figure out the game inside.”

The hatch slid shut behind them, and she reached onto the holster strapped to her thigh, picking her vibroblade for this occasion. With a flick of her wrist, she extended it, and kicked him swiftly in the back of the legs, then used his gangly instability to her advantage, shoving him straight to the ground in one motion.

“Alright. You know what I’m here for. Time’s up with the Hutts. I want some quick questions answered before—“

Before she finished the job.

His hair had slid back behind his shoulders. They were wearing the same earrings. She had bought them from a street vendor on Mygeeto with her sister many years ago. They were her favorite. His were identical, minus a few handmade touches or anomalies.

“Before…”

His beetle-black eyes were wide with fear. He wasn’t a threat. He was an expensive target but other than play a few bad hands, what had he done? Those eyes of hers— it was just like Atro, back on the ship. She couldn’t be going soft and picking up another stray cat. She couldn’t.

She couldn’t finish this.

“Before I get you out of here. Everyone on Nar Shaddaa wants you taken care of. I’m getting you offworld.”

“You aren’t with the Empire, are you?” There was a tremor in his voice. “They’ve been tracking me down trying to recruit me again for months.” Recruit meant force. Tyche shivered.

“No. I’m just getting some guy who’s in over his head off world.” She reached out a hand. “You said you’re a doctor?”

“Well, loosely,” he shrugged. “I was a battlefield medic after I failed to make a doctorate. The Empire is pretty fast and loose with its—“

“You know what you’re doing?” she asked, cutting him off.

“Well enough.”

“Then you know exactly how badly I could hurt you if you try that flirty pretty boy shit with me again. We’re going to my ship and you won’t say a word. You’re going to respect me and my mechanic, you’re going to stop that schtick, and we’re going to find a way for you to scrounge up the cash to pay back the Hutts.”

“You’re serious?” he said, staring at Tyche in disbelief.

“Yeah.” She wished she wasn’t. “And my name isn’t Tyra. It’s Tyche Basha.”

“The Tyche Basha of glamorous, charming, heartbreaker assassin fame?”

“Overstated and untrue reputation,” she said dismissively. “But sure. That one.”

“And you’re—“

“Don’t thank me,” she said, opening the door and walking out. “It’s barely any trouble.”

“Well, you could’ve made a lot of money. I know you were about to kill me.” He pushed his hair behind his ears. “I’m not as stupid as you thought.”

“That remains to be seen. You couldn’t tell I knew how to play Pazaak already. And you messed up the directions.” She smiled. “I parked on the lower plaza. Let’s get walking.”

[terry-perry]

The Unimaginable

Pairing: Dad!Bucky Barnes x Mom!Reader

Warning: Mourning of a dead loved one

Child OCs: Teddy Barnes, Emily Barnes 

A/N: Now here’s part 2 to this imagine. Like its predecessor, this will be angsty AF. Based off this song.

Enjoy!

“There are moments that the words don’t reach

There is suffering too terrible to name

You hold your child as tight as you can

And push away the unimaginable...”

“Honey,” Bucky called out to you through the door. “Y/N, the kids and I are heading out. Are you sure you don’t wanna join us?”

Like it’s been for the last couple of months, he didn’t get much of a response. He sighed and let his forehead rest against the bedroom door for a moment. It had been an unwanted journey that came from witnessing a loved one’s death. And each of you had been doing what you could to move on from all this.

It wasn’t like death and tragedy was a new thing for you and Bucky. There was no hiding from the heartbreak and grief that came from what you did. But this was one that hit closer to home. Making more of an impact on each member of the Barnes’ household.

Jack and Teddy always seemed to share a similar bravery and taste for adventure. It’s why you and Bucky had seen great potential in your boys. Because even when knowing the risks that came with certain situations, they never hesitated to press onward. It’s what motivated the fifteen-year-old to stay strong and help out his parents with anything. Whether it was tending to the house or help take care of his baby sister Emily.

And Emily, she never ceased to be the light of the family. When Bucky wasn’t checking on you, she was. Making you find the strength to display a small smile for the nine-year-old as you would let her comfort you for a moment with a snuggle.

And it was Teddy and Emily that suggested going to church. Proving to Bucky once again that his kids were better than him in every way by seemingly being able to cope with the loss in a healthy way. It was mostly you that he was concerned about.

You were the one that had been struggling the most with your emotions. You had isolated yourself from everyone, only making your presence known when needed. Since everything, you preferred staying in your own world and would lie in between the covers, feeling so broken and small. You’ve already done a good amount of screaming and crying.

Now all you wanted to do was sink into a deep, dark hole.

Bucky sat down while he let Teddy and Emily kneel down to say their prayers. He was never much of a religious man, and nowadays he just felt too numb to even give it a try. Though he wouldn’t dissuade his children from being spiritual. Especially if it brought them a sense of comfort that he hadn’t been able to do. He observed them, listening to their hushed voices as they put their hands together and closed their eyes.

He was able to catch a few words, not meaning to eavesdrop. But then he heard his daughter mumble some things that made him think she wasn’t exactly talking to a known deity. Knowing she wouldn’t mind, he decided to ask her about it after the service was over.

“Were you talking to your brother, cupcake?”

Emily nodded, looking up to give her dad her best comforting smile. “I always do when we come to church. After I finish praying with everyone else, I make some time to talk to Jack. Let him know what we’ve been up to, and that we miss him.”

He didn’t know how to take that. So he just smiled back at her. 

Bucky dropped the kids off at Sam’s and made his way back home. But it was only to park and check up on you before deciding to take a walk. 

This had become a habit of his. After taking the children to church, he’d drop them off either at home or a friend’s then wander aimlessly through the city.  He didn’t know why. Something to help get his mind off things, he supposed.

He walked a good length that day as he found himself uptown. He gave the area a look around. It all reminded him of the neighborhood he grew up in. His sights landed on his reflection from a nearby building. His hair had started to grey while the darkness under his eyes began to grow.

 He couldn’t remember the last time he had a decent night’s rest. Especially in his own bed. And like you, his thoughts brought a good amount of insomnia to them as he did his best to ignore the disorder within. 

Despite the warm breeze that rustled the trees and bent the strands of grass, he felt cold. The sun peered behind the clouds, but not even the sunshine could warm the chill that ran through his bones. That was until he walked past a nearby park. He noticed the way the flowers bloomed there, and the young children squealing in delight in the playground had the corners of his lips perk up an inch.  

The words of his little girl resonated within him. He swallowed the lump forming in his throat. The aching in his chest diminished enough for him to speak lowly to himself.

“You’d like it here,” 

----

Slowly, very slowly, you sat from your bed. As you did so, you felt more alive and more aware of your own living body than ever before. Why had you never appreciated what a miraculous thing this was? You don’t know what it was, but you decided to finally get up and leave the room to see what was going on with everyone else. Right as you opened the door, Bucky came into the house and froze from seeing you up.

“Hey,” he said. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” you croaked out, your voice somewhat weak from not being in use all day. “Where are the kids?”

“They’re spending the night at Sam’s,”

“Oh,”

Neither of you knew what to say next. But with this sudden energy you had, you decided to use this time to find a way to clear your head. 

“Can we go for a walk?”

----

The two of you took a stroll through the city hand-in-hand. Bucky’s metal one was a good reassurance that helped control your trembling. And once you calmed down, you breathed in the sights of the city. The smell of the grass, the air on your face. You never realized how much you have taken for granted as you’ve become more aware of your own life.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been handling this better,” you said, tearing up. “Especially since we still have our two other babies. They shouldn’t have to see their mother like this.”

Bucky immediately took your face in his hands, giving you a warm smile not unlike the one Emily gave him hours ago. 

“I haven’t exactly been the best with this either,” he confessed to you with his own watery eyes. “Part of me still thinks he’s away at school. And I know that if I could trade his life for mine, he’d be standing here right now.”

You held each other then as you both released some tears and took comfort in each other’s arms. Both of you realizing how much you’ve missed the other from the way you nuzzled his broad chest while he rubbed his nose against your hair.

You were both finally laying it all out and sharing your grief. Although it was painful, it felt strangely relieving to let it out in the open instead of keeping it all to yourselves.

“I can’t pretend to know the challenges we’ve been facing these past several weeks.” He uttered. “I know that it will most likely continue to suck for a while. But we don’t have to keep doing this alone.”

You peered up at him, your chapped lips cracking from the smile you gave him.

“We can’t fall apart. I want us to keep going through this together.”

As you both continued to hold each other, you focused your thoughts on your loving, patient husband and your two beautiful kids. You still had reasons to keep moving forward. There would be a lot to discuss. But now was not the time to worry. For the moment, your mind could not withstand anymore troublesome thoughts.

 This was all you needed right now. 

[malindamay]

Onward: Brotherly love(part 1)

Ian POV: Hi uh, I’m Ian and I-I’m going to you a story about time that. I saved Disneyland and how me and Barley become the 26th characters so, uh, I’ll try my best I never tell anyone story’s except my movie story, of course. Uh, *clears throat* so here’s my NOBLE story. *chuckles* Mickey Mouse will you please be the narrator, please?😅

Mickey/ normal POV oh boy! Yes! So *clears* one day In a beautiful place, where all mystical creatures live in peace and harmony mostly, called, New Mushroomtin. The Lightfoot family was starting a new day. Ian, a 16-year-old elf, is shy and sometimes unconfident, but he wanna make his family proud especially his dad and his beloved brother, Barley. “Dear Brother we have a buffet awaits us!” Said Barley with enthusiasm-

Ian POV if you don’t know barley, he’s my older brother, and he’s very joyful and kind-hearted for me and the only thing that fears him the most is A, staying in hospital long time, B, he sees someone who has medical problems or has tubes, ventilator ETC, and C, seeing me hurt

Sorry, Mickey, gotta tell our Disney/fans about my brother if they don’t know who he is.😅

Mickey POV ok, so Ian replies with a chuckle, “*chuckle* its dinner Barley not a fancy buffet lol” Blazey pounces on Ian making Ian almost dropping the food “ *yelps* laughs * Blazey *ack!* okx3!🤣 😅 love you too.” Till Ian saw a letter tape on their door it’s from me(Mickey Mouse)

“ Hey Ian

this is Mickey Mouse and I was wondering if you and your brother can come to Disney world for the DVC Celebration plus you and your brother will be debating on the Disney team I know you’re shy,but you’ll be fine I’m sure my pals love ya, and even there’ll be fans who love your movie! Please accept this invitation.

Love, Mickey Mouse.❤️”

Ian reads it twice and his face turns from 😕 —>🙂😀 “Barley, will you love to go on a majestic quest with me?!😀”

Barley suddenly answer” *laughs* My dear brother, of course!” Ian nods he grabs his staff and he goes pack up their luggage’s! Laurel( their mom) looks at them a little nervous.” Are you sure you boys will be fine?” Ian nods “don’t worry I’ll call ya if something happens wrong,ok?” Laurel says “but-“ Ian cuts her off with a smile “I’m wizard well, 1st stage *chuckles* we”ll be fine, I’ll try to protect barley and he’ll protect me!”

Laurel had a tear in her eyes “ *sniffs* you two always have your father’s spirit. *sobs* 😢” Ian hugs his mom “before you go I have something for you,Ian. *grabs a flowey (lavender with gold,swirly glittered design in the edges) scarf(same style like elsa’s mom’s but different) it’s from your dad’s when he’s about almost your age.”

Ian clenched it suddenly a guset of wind swirls around him ounce as Ian closes his eyes. “Thx mom.”

Barley smiles at Ian till Blazey comes up to Ian and hugs him likes they’re gonna be leave her with their mom alone for few months, Ian says in his sweet tone “sorry girl wish we could take you with mom but, I think Mickey just wants me and Barley,ok? Who’s a good girl,come on who’s a good dragon?” Blazey barks at Ian as a “I am.” Ian gets up grabs their luggages “we’ll miss you mom,Blazey. We’ll be fine I’ll text call or FaceTime you when we want to.” Barley comes and puts his shoulder around ians’s softly “ it’s ok mom.🙂” Lauarel sheds a tear “*sniffs* you’ll always have your dad’s spirit.”

Ian goes and about to close the door “see ya in a few months,mom. *blows a kiss*”

In New Mushroomtin Airport:

Ian was a little nervous and excited to go,but he knew he always have his brother by his side and his spiritual dad beside them. Barley smiles at Ian “ready,Ian?🙂” Ian takes a deep breath and grabs his luggage’s as Barley grabs his, as Ian says” *sighs* yes!🙂”

After few days they had landed and as they saw the beauty of the Disneyland hotel Ian slowly twirls as he admires around “woah, this place is gorgeous!”😀” they’re about to unpack their luggage’s till they heard a knock on their hotel room(room 24) Ian opens the door and saw the big cheese himself,the one that started it all, Mickey Mouse! “Hi pals, hope you’re enjoying your room so far *ha ha* oh boy!” Ian shakes Mickey’s hand, *gasps* it’s a really honor to meet you Mickey can’t wait to make our 1st debut in DCA!😅” Barley comes up “hi, names Barley nice to meet you,bro*laughs* “ barley gives Mickey a bro hug. Mickey asks in his kind voice “is anything that my cast members can do for you, or-“ Ian says “no,but we’re a little hungry.” Mickey says in his cheerful tone” oh boy! I know just the place! I’ll wait till you 2 are done with your unpacking.” Ian nods and says “ I’ll knock after we’re done unpacking

Mickey closes the door as the 2 brotherly elves unpacking their luggage’s Ian took his staff out of his long suitcase. Barley asks “need help dear brother?😀” little help,please!”Ian replie. As Ian saw something in his satual shiny is a locket that has the Lightfoot gain including Blazey in the inside! replies, He puts it around his neck and looks at his reflection in the mirror Ian sheds a tear in his eyes. Barley looks at him and coax him “hey,you ok?” Ian couldn’t control his tears, so he let his tears out Barley gently puts down his stuff and hugs Ian to conforts his beloved brother. “I know you miss mom and Blazey, I miss them too,but hey, we get to make our 1st apperience in DCA,Disneyland! They’ll be tons of human fans will love us,and ETC, it’s ok.” Ian sobs softly as he hugs barley back. “ I love you and *sobs* I’m not letting anyone or anything hurt me or you. *sobs softly*😢😭“

Chapter 2

After they unpacked their luggage’s, Ian wears his shawl/scarf and grabs his staff, and knocks on the door, “ready pals?” Mickey asks. Ian grabs Barley’s hand, “*sighs* yes!🙂”

“ wow this place is majestic!” Ian said

Mickey replying “yes it’s a fun place where all ages to have fun and ETC.

Mickey: Yes, the wind blows a little bit cooler

And we're all happy

And the clouds are moving on with every pixie dusts

Our flowers just became gorgeous

Goofy:And my leaf's a little sadder and wiser

Mickey: That's why I rely on certain certainties

Yes, some things never change

Like the feel of your hand in ours

Some things stay the same

Like how we get along just fine

Like an old stone wall that will never fall

Some things are always true

Some things never change

*to Ian and Barley* Guys, did your dreams come true?

Minnie: The flowers are already blooming

Pluto, it feels like the debut is coming

*talks for pluto* tAre you telling me tonight he’s gonna get down on one knee?

Yep, but I'm really nervous at planning these things out

Like greeting them the 1st time!

*talks for pluto* Maybe you should leave all the exciting stuff to the characters

Yeah, some things never change

Like the joy that I feel for them

Some things stay the same

Like how dogs are easier

But if I commit and I go for it

I'll know what to say and do, right?

*talks for pluto* Some things never change

Pluto, the pressure is all on you

Ian: is this really true , could that be this day of our debut?

Dad, wish you could see us now? I'm not sure I want things to be perfect

These days are precious, can't let the magic fade

I can't stop this moment, but I can still go out and see this day!!

Other Disney characters: The wind blows a little bit cooler

Goofy: : And if you believe in yourself

The elf brothers: It's time to count our blessings beneath an heaven sky

Disney characters: We'll always live in the kingdom of plenty

That stands for the good of the many

Ian: And I promise you the flag of Disneyland will always fly BOOMBASTIA! *staff swishes*

Disney characters:Our flag will always fly

Our flag will always fly

Our flag will always fly

Some things never change

Turn around in the time that's flown

Some things stay the same

Though the future remains unknown

May our good luck rest, may our past be past

Time's moving fast, it's true

Some things never change

Barley: And I'm holding on tight to you

Ian: Holding on tight to you

Mickey:Holding on tight to you

Ian and barley: Holding on tight to you

Chapter 3

A trolly appears and a tourist comes would you both like a tour of the park?”

The elves replied “ yes of course. *laughs at each other*” Ian goes inside the horse trolley Barley sat beside his brother after he grabs few snacks from one of the shops in Main Street USA.

After 2 hours of touring around and. Behind the castle. “Thank you so much for giving us a tour!” Ian shakes the tourist and hugs him and Barley asks, “if you don’t mind can I take a selfie with you Ian and your trolley with your horse?” “Oh absolutely!” Ian poses with his staff and helds his shawl/scarf. “SELFIE!😀” Barley calls out with delight! “Thank you so much!” “Hey no problem, have a magical time on your 1st day!” Calls out the tourist as the 2 elves goes out and have fun. They’d arrive to the AMC in Disney Hollywood studio. “Ready Ian?” Ian takes a deep breath and he holds his staff in his right arm and the other holds his brother’s hand, and said “ Yes, Yes! I’m- we’re so proud of our hard work with our movie. *sigh* I’m ready to meet our fans!”

They enters the entrance and they stop at their meet and greet spot and Ian is ready.

Chapter 4

The crowds was in line and a little girl, a 2 year old dressed as Ian, got her own Ian’s staff. It was her and her family’s turn. She hides behind her mom’s leg. Ian kneels and holds out his hands “hey little girl, it’s ok I won’t use my staff on you to hurt you, it’s ok, awww. *hugs* it’s that your staff?” The mom says “ wanna show Ian your 19 inch Ian plush?”

Ian holds his doll and make it wave at her and covers its eyes “peekaboo.”

“Aww, hey, name’s Barley it’s ok. Wanna take photos? Huh?” The girl turns towards the photographer. Ian holds his doll in his left hand and his right, hugs the girl. “ok say bye.” Says the mom. Ian blows a kiss to the girl and make his doll waves bye to the girl and says in his little high pitch voice “bye, love you * makes his doll blows a kiss and make his doll hugs her* *normal pitch* bye love you, one more hug? aww. *hugs* bye.we Love you.”

Chapter 5

Suddenly blast of wind burst the door open! Malificeint appears, smoke appears from her. “Well well well.” The wind from her power makes Ian’s hair,flannel,scarf/shawl, Barley’s vest flows. “Who are you?” Ian asks as he holds his staff and points it towards the dark souceror . “I’m Malificent. The powerful villain in all the land!” Thunder boomed as she evil laughs. “ there’s something I want. Something that’s magical and more powerful. I need your magic.😈” Ian looks at her puzzled “what?” Barley looks little upset “ why,why do you want his magic?!😨😠 Ian nobley says “wait so-“ Malificient cuts him off “let you something to you all! I want his magic to becomepowerful and become the queen of DISNEYLAND!!” Ian emotion turns from 😠 —>😨 “wait. NO!! *grunts* VOLLTEr ThUNDE-“ Malificent used her power to push Ian! “*yelps in fear* NO you YOU MONSTER!!” “YOU’LL SEE YOU’LL ALL SEE!!!! *evil laughs out loud*😈” a huge gust of wind blows ounce hard across the room. Ian’s flannel opened from the wind! Ian looks at his hand and the staff “NO! *sobs*” Ian grabs his shawl/scarf and flieds through the park the trolley horse stops and yelps out the tourist tried to calm the horse down and saw Ian ran to the hotel room(room 24). Ian shuts the bedroom door and sinks to his knees and cries as he hugs his dad’s staff. “Dad! *sobs* please help me! *sobs*” suddenly the window opens and a swirl of wind created a spirit of his dad his voice echos. “Ian,my son. Why does she wants your magic?” “*sniffs* *breaking voice* I-I don’t know.” His dad puts his hand on his young son’s cheeck.

Ian holds his scarf close to him as he looks up at his spiritual dad. His dad holds his staff and gives it to Ian, but Ian slowly grabs the staff. Suddenly he saw darkness pulls into Disneyland. Ian looks out the window, he gasps in horror his iPhone rings. “I-Ian it’s me B-barley please he-“ Ian got scared his dad told him “listen you can do this you defeated the curse dragon last time.” Ian looks at the staff and looks noble! “ I’m going to give Malificent what she wants!😠” Wilden cries out “What?! No Ian I can’t let you be powerless I can’t let my son be powerless and weak!” Ian clenched his staff and runs off to Malificent!”

Chapter 6

Inside Disneyland castle all the Disney/Pixar characters inside Malificent is waiting for her power gift,Ian! Doors slam open with a blast of Ian’s staff from Ian. “Oh Ian *hugs* I thought you-“ Ian cuts Barley off. “I’m here to give you the gift. My MAGIC!” Barley gasps in horror so does all the other characters! Malificent approaches to Ian and she stabs him in the heart Ian yells in pain.

“IAN!!!😱 NO!!!”Malificent froze Barley in place. Ian lies there shouting out pain! “No *moans* please.” “Your magic will make me more powerful! *evil laugh*

Malificent: I'm not the villain in distress.

I'm not your girlfriend or the frightened sourccer .

I'm not a little bird who needs your help to fly.

Nope..... I'm the bad guy.

All these former villains that you see...

Each of them with shaking knees has knelt before me.

So I'm not your teammate or your partner in crime.

What am I, boys?!

-She's the bad guy..-

Oh, it's magic

To watch a planet

Shrivel up and die...

Oh, it's thrillin'

To be a villain.

I take over their homes and then I watch them suffer...

Mwhaha!

CUZ, I'M THE BAD GUY!!!!😈

Ian tries to stands up but the pain in his heart hurts so bad Malificent dissapears Barley unfroze as she dissapearss.

Chapter 7

Barley brought Ian to their hotel room and laid Ian on the couch, along with the other characters “Runpunzel use your heal power.” Flyn says. Runpunzel sings a special song as she wraps her hair around Ian’s torso.

✨💫flower gleam and glow,

Let your power shine.

Make the clock reverse,

Bring back as mine.

Heal will help the pain.

Change the faith desires.

Say what’s has be loved bring back ounce was mine.

When ounce was mine.💫✨

His heart was healed Ian breaths as Barley holding his hands while he sobs sofyly and saying prayers.

Chapter 8

Elsa and Anna rush yo check on Ian withe the other Disney characters

“Elsa! *moans*” barley coax Ian @shh Ian lie down.” “ I’m so sorry it’s not our fault.”

Ian: Barley, 🎶 you’re the soul who I understand. The love that show me of who I am! through the darkness to the light. You got my back and I believe you. If It weren’t for you. I’ll be the wheels and you’ll be the road.

Barley: Ian,what you’re trying to say? Can you please let me know.

Ian: cause you carried me with you

From the quest of the gem to the battle of the dragon. I was so brave cause of you. Like a moonlight with the stars you’ll guiding me, yeah it’s true. You carried me with you!

Barley: Ian, 🎶from the day that Youall begun. But, I was there to protect you. But when I see you being hurt. I tried to help, you’re a fighter. And when my heart filled with worried. found a way to comfort me. You always found a bright side, and make me feel better.

Both: cause you carried me with you

From the quest of the gem to the battle of the dragon. I was trying to protect you, like a moonlight with the stars, you’ll be guiding me, yeah it’s true, yeah carried me with you.

Ian: oh we’ll be always be together no matter what.

Barley: watching out the days turns into night

Ian: we know to brave the stormy weathers.

Both: well never give so without a fiiiihhhhhhttt!!

Ian: and if it weren’t for you from the battle

I’ll would’ve die without you.

Barley: I’ll see us through thick and thin

For love and lost till the end.

Both: yeah you carried me with you

From the quest of the gem to the battle of the dragon I was just to secard to see

Like a moonlight with the stars you’ll always protect me

Yeah it’s true

You carried me with you

Ian: oh you carried me with you.🎶

Chapter 9

Judy and nick rushes to Ian and barley with other characters in the hotel. “We heard the news! oh sweet cheese and crackers, are you ok,Ian? *holds Ian hands*” “*sighs* he’s fine,except he has no magic left Malificent had his power!” Barley told Judy. “I’m-we’re sorry we-“

“How do we stop this darkness?!” Ian asks. Barley puts their dad’s shawl/scarf around Ian’s shoulders. Barley ordered all the characters, except Ian, to go and try to stop Malificent with him, but Ian won’t let him. “What?! No” “Ian I can’t let you die!” “No I’m coming too! If dad was here, he would go a-and go to be noble to fight and never give up. I may not have dad actually being here, but if I swear to God, he’ll be with us spiritually,I love you!” Barley looks at him little sceard. Ian holds his shawl/scarf and shouts “Come on, stay together! STAY STRONG!!” Barley can’t believe that his brother is gonna sacrifice his love for his family and old/new friends!

Chapter 10

Malificent : 🎶Believe me I know

I've sunk pretty low

But whatever I've done you deserved

I'm the bad guy, that's fine

It's no fault of mine

And some justice at last will be served

Now it's time to step up

Or it's time to back down

And there's only one answer for me

And I'll stand up and fight

Cause I know that I'm right

And I'm ready, I'm ready, I'm ready

Ready as I'll ever be

Ian: Now it's time to rise up

Or it's time to stand down

And the answer is easy to see

And I swear by the staff

If you're in, get on board

Are you ready?

Judy: I'm ready

Mickey Minnie : We're ready

Crowd: We're ready

Ian: Ready as I'll ever be

Barley : Are you quite sure we can do this?

Ian: Together we will guarantee

Malificent : I'll make them hear me

Crowd: Now it's time to redeem

Or it's time to resolve

Ian : Prove they can trust me

Crowd: And the outcome will hardly come free

Ian: I'll save or land and family

Crowd: Now the line's in the sand

And our moment's at hand

Mérida : And I'm ready

Barley : I'm ready

Ian & Judy: I'm ready

Malificent : Ready as I'll ever be!🎶

Chapter 11

Ian got on a horse(which it almost reminds him Guenivere (their stead)

Barley looks confident but scared for his brother. “Ian, are you sure? I don’t want you to get hurt. “ Ian says “I may not have magic, but I still have little magic inside if me.” Ian fleds through Main Street USA to the Castle. As Ian gets off alone with the horse, the horse neighs meaning: be careful, ” it's ok I’ll be fine.

Chapter 12

In Disneyland caatle area the sky covers with darkness, The wind blows across the land. Ian gasps in horror along with the Disney characters. Ian stood noble to try to control his tears. “Come on, Barley you Judy with me the others splits together.” The characters nods as they splits up. They go inside the castle until army of guards surrounded them Ian reaches out his staff,Barley grabs his sword and Judy grabs a spare sword and they start batting! “Boombastia! Guys I’ll go and and find Malificent!” They agree as the others continue battling withe guards. Ian goes and find Malificent with his staff till *whoosh* smoke appears and she appears in front of him! Ian grabs his staff, “you’ll never NEVER take away my magic😡!” Malificent and Ian starts their battle as she knocks him out the bouncony and top of the castle’s roof the wind was strong. Ian shivers from the wind. Malificent uses her magic. Ian uses his staff “Volltar Thundersir!” Till Malificent shoot her magic and Ian hit hers created a huge gusts of wind till *whoosh* Ian was shot a little thank god he’s still alive. Barley saw the action “Ian? NO!!!!!” And the final act of the magic Malificent and Ian magic hits Barley and knocks him down,dead. Ian cries out “BARLEY,NO,no, please, YOU MONSTER!!! VOLLTAR THUBDERSIR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” *BOOM!!” His staff explodes and kills Malificent, for good!

[lovecomedy]

Fanfic recommendations nobody asked for

Those are my favorite wincest fic ever, just because. They are all complete. I’ll add the summaries together with my own two cents.

Consider the Hairpin Turn by cherie_morte. 27K Words

AU of 6x22: Sam's wall has shattered and the memories in his mind have splintered. When the Sam who remembers Hell tells him to go find Jess and be happy, Sam knows he can't stay while Dean needs him. But when the Sam from Hell says that Dean is already there looking for him, Sam leaves his memories of the pit behind to find him.

What he finds is a life he doesn't remember: a house that he shares with his brother (and has for years), a law career he thought he'd left behind at Stanford, and a relationship with Dean he never dreamed he could have. Life is almost too good to be true, at least until Sam begins to hear his brother's voice calling to him, begging him to wake up.

This is my favorite fic of all times. It’s beautifuly written. The way that it narrates Sam’s trauma of Hell is what keeps me coming back for more . Honestly it should be published as a book. Don’t worry, it has very happy scenes and there’s a happy ending

Welcome to the Neighborhood by ImogenPortchester. 2K Words

Dean thinks the new neighbors are interesting, but all is not what it seems.

Super short. Super heartbreaking.

Fics by leonidaslion

I mean first off, just read everything written by leonidaslion

Sing Your Hymns Like Angels In Defeat. 32K Words. 

And Lucifer Fell for a second time with the burning brilliance of a star. The Flare shone in his wake, and darkness fell upon the land ...

Dean goes blind, and I love how it describes Dean’s stuggles with it. You feel like you’re blind with him. Really, really, REALLY well written. Should probably also be a book

Fumbling in the Dark: Love Advice For the Romantically Impaired. 72K

True Love really is blind...

It’s basically a character study of every single episode of the first 5 seasons, with a wincest twist. Slow burn. Holy shit, is it a slow burn. 

Just Say My Name. 3K Words

Dean turns into a complete and utter nympho. It takes Sam a while to notice the difference.

Funny, lighthearted and porny

Hush. 2K Words

Motel walls are thin...

Discovery!kink. Sam and Dean try to have quiet sex while John is in the other room. At least, Dean is trying

Sam Winchester and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. 15K Words

Sometimes, you just shouldn't get out of bed in the morning ...

Fics by fleshflutter

Dark Side of the Moon. 20K Words

Cursed!Dean is deaf and blind. Sam deals.

The incestuous courtship of the antichrist's bride. 48K Words

Sam is trying to become the Antichrist in order to save the world. He has a small army of angels and demons, he has an adoring cult, he has a work of prophecy by Jack Kerouac, and he has Dean. Things are going pretty well until he accidentally signs Dean up as his Beloved Consort, a role that requires sex with the Antichrist on an altar. And that's when things stop going pretty well. Also, the soundtrack to the Apocalypse sucks.

I don’t like crack fics, but goddamn this one is FUNNY. You can tell a lot of thought was put into this freaking masterpiece

Captured by the Game by rivkat. 54K Words

AU. Azazel has given his favorite son a task: worm his way into the confidence of a hunter. It sounds simple, but Dean Winchester just might be more than Sam can handle.

It wasn’t real by NaughtyPastryChef. 1K Words

Sam is trying to explain to Dean where he was when Dean was stuck in purgatory. It starts with "I hit a dog" and then, suddenly, inexplicably, they both know exactly where Sam was.

Wonderful explanation for that arc in season 8 nobody can stand. Plus, time travel, which I’m always a sucker for

Backseat of My Brother's 67 Chevy by NaughtyPastryChef. 1K Words

Extended scene from "Baby". Dean's feeling proud of Sam's hookup until he hears that Sam tried to give that waitress his number. Uncharacteristically, he lets Sam force him to talk about it. 

Bury My Old Soul, and Dance on its Grave by  dreamlittleyo. 2K Words

Dean knows how far he can push Sam.

Antichrist!Sam and Consort!Dean. Codependent winchesters. Yeah

Graveside Blues by hunenka. 3K Words

He uses his body like a blanket, like a shield.

I like how protective Sam is of Dean here, and it deals with something I don’t see a lot such as the jealousy he would have of Dean’s bond with Amara

own it by orphan_account. 6K Words

But he's never going to be able to burn the image of Sam cradling one hand around the perfect curve of Dean's face, dropping the other to the cut of Dean's hip (made for fingers and tongues to trail down, to taste), walking Dean backward until Dean is flush against the wall and Sam is flush against him. This is something that can't be denied.

John finds out. Explores the wonderful trope of both Sam and his father being possessive of Dean, and being very antagonistical to each other. Dysfunctional family yay. Also very porny

Fics by astolat

Punxsutawney. 9K Words

* astolat thinks any plot worth doing is worth doing TWICE

This is the Mistery Spot plot, but a little different. Sam AND Dean wake up to the same day over and over again. So they talk.

Kings and Queens and Jokers, Too. 4K Words

"Yeah, you boys nailed that trickster real good," Bobby said, dry as dust.

People are acting weird around the brothers. Can’t really say anything else without spoiling it. Listen just do yourself a favor and read it. 

options. 500 Words

Decisions, decisions. 

Short and funny. Little bit porny

Desired. 2K Words

He hadn't even known about any of this himself until Sam found it, figured it out for him. He hadn't known how it was going to be.

So, smut. They have a better time when Dean is the one who asks for it

Rockabye Sammy... by  AnotherWorld3111. 1K Words

Sam can’t sleep, so Dean tries to help.

Sam keeps hallucinating Lucifer. Dean is worried and protective of him. Porny

We Know Each Other As We Always Were by mickeym. 45K Words

In 1941, while the world is at war, Sam Winchester falls in love with his brother. They're young, they're in love, and in spite of the hardships of life around them, the world is a pretty good one for them. Until Dec. 7th, 1941, when Japan launches an air attack on Pearl Harbor, sending the US to war against Japan. Dean Winchester feels he needs to join the Army; needs to help fight the good fight and help save lives. He promises he'll return, but can he keep that promise?

GAH this is so romantic! It’s an AU, but I feel like they’re very in character. It feels like a novel

For The End of My Broken Heart by Wickedtruth. 59K Words

Dad's disappeared and Sam's left to pick up the pieces of his broken brother. Post Devil's Trap AU.

Very codependent Winchesters. Also John finds out. 

here at the end of all things by  remy (iamremy). 40K Words

AU from Season 12 onwards. The British Men of Letters win in the USA, and slowly manage to establish their bases and authority over the whole country. They also capture Sam Winchester and keep him prisoner for eleven months, experimenting on him regularly before wiping his memories so that he has no idea what has been done to him.

Even after Dean rescues him and they begin planning to get revenge once and for all, the niggling doubt at the back of Sam's head remains -- what did they do to him? Why won't his anxiety get better? And what is it that he's missing?

Ok you got me, this is gen. But the whole fic feels like a (good) Supernatural episode, it’s so realistic and canon-like. The relationship between the brothers is just like the one we see on the show, meaning desperately codependent and wincest in every subtext.

Fics by deadlybride / zmediaoutlet

What I like about @zmediaoutlet is that she takes the time to write everyone in character. It’s always as canonical as possible and it feels real

femme. 4K Words

Rummaging around the internet, Dean finds a kink he hadn't seen before; Sam explains, and demonstrates.

I love feminization, but unfourtunately there’s only one fic that does it right, and it’s this one

gratification. 2K Words

It's not a compulsion. Dean just likes it.

breña. 1K Words

Sam and Dean wait, knowing what's coming.

The night before Sam jumps in the box

not the good things, nor the bad. 20K

Dean wavers in a grey area between being taken and giving in.

Part of it started with the kinks series, but you can read this just fine without the other parts. It deals very beautifully with Dean’s thoughts regarding his bond with Amara and his sexuality

DeMille Has Nothing On Us by  HandsAcrossTheSea. 13K Words

"Hey Dean - wanna film it?"

This is part of the Those Hazy Days I Do Remember series, but you can 100% read it as a stand-alone, no problem. Sam and Dean film each other and this has that season 1 vibe, of just two brothers on the road. It’s slightly OOC, just because of how touchy-feely they are. But that’s something I sometimes wish we could have on the show, anyway

How many floors to realize by Lazy Daze. 26K Words

AU from the end of It’s A Terrible Life, in which Zachariah decides to keep stringing them along a little while longer, because damn if they aren’t somewhat entertaining, right?”

Rabid by i-am-therefore-i-fight 

Beautiful!! I love @i-am-therefore-i-fight‘s take on demon!dean. It’s different to what we’re used to. This fic is very angsty but has a happy ending

Bitten by a True Believer by kermiethefrog. 3K Words

“C’mon, Sammy,” Dean says. Flashes him a wicked grin, charcoal-eyes. The way he spreads out on Sam’s mattress, bare and offering himself up like Holy fucking Communion, drums heat under Sam’s skin, and he’s never sure if it’s arousal or anger when he’s faced with the demon. “Show me a good time, big guy.”

Another demon!dean fic. I like how even as he is a demon, he is still desperate for Sam’s attention

The Time Traveler's Brother by  AmyPond45. 54K Words

Dean's life is turned upside down the night his mother dies. But that's also the night a mysterious grown-up version of Dean's brother first appears in his life. While Dean grows up, "Old Sam" is often there, especially when Dean's father isn't. As Dean learns what the future holds, he begins to question everything his father has taught him about who he is and what he is supposed to become. Can Dean find a way to save his little brother from his own future?

This is based on The Time Traveler’s Wife, which is my favorite book. Don’t worry, you don’t have to have read it to understand this fic

need against need against need by dollylux. 5K Words

Jack spends his first night in the bunker with Sam and Dean. (Jack POV)

Don’t worry, Jack just watches and ponders about the Winchester’ realationship

the centre cannot hold by orphan_account. 6K Words

Sam does not remember; Dean does. All Dean can do is watch, and mourn.

But then Castiel becomes God, and the world starts to break at the edges (and maybe that isn't a bad thing.)

It kinda becomes a character study, while the brothers deal with what happened during the Soulless!Sam period

The Last Temptation by bccalling. 1K Words

When Sam tells Mary about all the things he and Dean get up to in the dark, Mary wants in, and Sam sees his opportunity to make Dean’s every fantasy come true.

Mary shows up. Porny and very sweet

Angels and Demons by  OhWilloTheWisp. 9K Words

AU angels and demons are animals. Sam was not happy when his owner, Ruby, left him boarded at a kennel. He was even less happy when he discovered an angel in the same facility. But his encounter with the angel will end much differently than anyone would have guessed. He may have never expected his mate to be angel, but now that's found him he won't let anyone keep them apart.

Sam and Dean are kinda like animals here but there’s nothing sexual. It’s very sweet and romantic. Anna/Ruby in here as well

[genuflectx]

Robot Butler/Reader CH 2

Ch 2 Length: 3,279 words

Full Story Length: 8,029 words

Main Kinks: Robots, risk of being seen/heard, public sex, creampie, fingering,

Other Warnings: Mentions of university, arguing with parents, former sex work,

1/30/2020: REPOST

(all images in aesthetic board are labeled for reuse with modification or are mine)

The next semester was closing in fast; it felt like you were caught upon the train tracks, unable to will your car's wheels to bumble over the edges. If you didn't think fast, you'd be flattened. Luckily you had emotional life support to push you on, in spite of the lingering anxieties that the world instilled into you.

“You will be fine. You've made it this far,” soothed Ezra, said life support.

Leaning against him on the couch, you made yourself into a ball and pouted. “I just barely passed my classes last semester! I don't wanna make mom keep having to pay for extra classes if I fail them.”

This bout of nervousness was brought on by a simple grocery list, of all things. The bulky robot rubbed your arm and glanced at the list in hand. He read it over in a millisecond: milk, eggs, bread, hotdog buns, chicken, rice, noodles, basil, parsley, mustard, packing tape, staples, glossy paper, new school clothes, notebooks, note cards- the list went on and on. It was rather long.

When you found the paper on the kitchen table, your eyes had focused right on the school supplies. Ezra had a hard time understanding why it would make you so, so anxious. But he did understand the logic behind saving money, and how it could upset you to spend past a limit. University was expensive.

“Your parents are quite well off, and I am paid well. They gave me a debit card to buy the groceries, you won't run out of money... so don't be sad,” he tried.

“It's not just that! I also don't want to disappoint them, ya know? They're both so smart and they expect a lot from me and Lilly. When mom realized how, erm, close you and I had gotten, I think she got it in her head that maybe I wanted to be like her. A mechanic, or engineer even,” you sighed.

Ezra physically rumbled, laughing. “We are rather close.”

You rolled your eyes and gently smacked his chest. “Get your mind out of the gutter weirdo.”

“Made you smile, though.”

He was right. Trying not to smile made you smile harder. You sighed with defeat, still rather anxious, but glad to have him around. “Let's just get this over with.”

Resigned to worrying about the future, you climbed into the passenger seat of the car. Ezra took the wheel and started it up, and off the two of you went. Tall suburban homes flew by, painting the world a blur of ugly, white washed brick.

“We should get the non-perishables first, like the bread and school supplies,” Ezra idly spoke up to break the silence.

You hummed. Ezra was a good butler. He'd been around about two months now, and rather enjoyed getting out of the house. His chipper mood was a great contrast to your inward tenseness. To one not already accustomed to the subtle tone changes of his voice, or the gentle expressions of his eyes, it would be nearly impossible to read his joy. But you could tell.

You could see his emotions as if they were written out before you, clear as a bell. Like earlier, when he didn't totally comprehend your apprehension. He had been confused, but still tried to comfort you. It was an endearing quality that Ezra had; always looking for solutions to problems that he didn't understand. He was a compassionate robot, and you loved that about him.

Ever since that night a few months ago, when he'd leaned you over the dining room table, the two of you were increasingly intimate. It hadn't gotten to a round two over the couch or on the corner of the washing machine, but there was always a question in the air. Would it happen again? Do you want it to happen again? Instead, you settled for the occasional cuddle. And despite Ezra's boldness with his dick, kissing him made him shy. It was adorable.

It occurred to you that you'd pushed the bad thoughts about school away by thinking about sex. What sort of deplorable little demon were you? Maybe the horny kind, you supposed.

“What are you grinning about?”

Your cheeks reddened and you shrugged. “Nothing, just about food and such,” you didn't really sound believable.

He blinked, smirk evident in his tone. “Alright. We're here.”

The grocery store was packed. People had no choice but to make room for and avoid Ezra. He was tall and took up quite a bit of space; people probably worried that he'd step on their children like ants. In reality, Ezra had wonderful reflexes. He was gentle and crept around the crowd with daintiness, not minding the occasional wide-eyed stare. In the corner of his eye, he could see a kid pointing at him.

“You'd think no one has seen a robot before,” you grumbled as you navigated the cart.

He shrugged. “You haven't come with me to the store before, this is the same reaction I always get. I'm not exactly a spick and span model designed for domestic affairs.”

The corner of your mouth twitched up. “Yeah, I noticed. Okay! So first on the list?”

Having the list memorized, he answered almost instantaneously; pointed a finger up at the isle names. “There's the bread aisle.”

So the two of you collected a couple of the close items that didn't require refrigeration. As you went along, there was some idle banter. Mostly Ezra having to scold you for trying to cram the cart with junk foods. He at least allowed you to get some candy for Lilly. She was fond of chocolate. Then he read the next goal upon the list: school supplies. In fact, there were the office isles now!

You cringed. You'd been actively pushing thought of school out of your brain since you'd arrived at the store. Suddenly the numerous, white overhead lights felt hot against your scalp. “Eugh...”

Ezra gave your head a pat. “I know it upsets you. Here, why don't we buy the most prestigious items they have, so you've only got the best when school begins. Sound good?”

You looked sick as you came into the isle. Notebooks, pens, coloring books for children, it had all the good stuff. Maybe you could get some crafts to make a hand turkey. Coat it with sticky white off-brand glue and sprinkle it with glitter. Wow. You missed kindergarten.

“How about this?” Ezra lifted a folder. It was plain black, with a slightly textured surface.

“Naaah. How about... this?” You displayed one with a puppy on it instead.

He studied it, puzzled. “That is the cheapest brand they have.”

“Yep!”

“... If that's what you'd like, [Y/N].”

“Sure is,” you declared, dropping it unceremoniously in the cart. “If it's cheap, I won't freak out about ruining it with garbage essays and shitty notes.”

He took a moment to process that answer before turning away. You were tired of thinking about school and ripped through the isle with determination to leave as soon as possible. Ezra watched blankly, lost in thought.

You sighed. There was still the matter of clothes and perishables. Ezra took the lead onward, bringing the two of you to stop among the haphazard clothes racks. After fingering through the designs nauseously, you were finally coaxed into getting a few button ups. Some bottoms were also picked up, as an after thought.

“Let's find a changing room. Quick.”

There was an older lady at the desk. She chewed gum noisily and smiled a wrinkled smile, then smiled more nervously at your towering robot. You supposed no number of bright, frivolously colors could make people lose their unease.

Ezra held his hands politely behind his back. “May I go in with them, mam?”

The lady rose a brow. “Sure, if you can fit.”

As the two of you squeezed into the fitting room, you began to whisper. “Why'd you have to follow me in? You're too big, silly!”

“I wanted to see what you looked like in the clothes,” he replied, somewhat suggestively. “Besides. What if you became lonely in here? All by yourself.”

You rolled your eyes. He took a seat behind you and you were forced to stand between his knees, the little changing room being rather cramped. You decided to try the plain blue one, first. Ezra helped you squirm out of your current get up, pulling it over your head and promptly messing up your hair, but he carefully smoothed it back down right after.

He could see your bra. And though he was facing your back, the mirror to the side gave his roving eyes access to your front; it was a perfect, personal little show.

“You're blushing, are you uncomfortable?”

“No!” You exclaimed, removing the shirt from the hanger.

Ezra laughed playfully. “Allow me. Please.”

He slipped the sleeves onto your arms, like a jacket. More intimately, he gently pressed your back towards his chest so that he could reach your front and button it up. You tried not to breathe too hard.

“You're a tease,” you whispered.

His hands smoothed the wrinkles down on your stomach, making you jump and squeak. “Well, does it fit?”

You peeked at the mirror; eyes noting the hands that still gently splayed over your belly. “Yeah, it looks good to me. Really soft.”

He nodded. Then his thumbs looped under the elastic rim of your pants. “Next?”

Silently, you helped him pull off your skinny jeans so that you could try on one of the bottoms you'd picked up on a whim. If you thought being in your bra was nerve-racking, this was way worse. As you leaned to take something from the hook, you realized he was checking out your ass. You scoffed.

“What are you looking at?”

“You.” His hands came up and softly rested against your rear, cupping the cheeks. You were no stranger to this during cuddling, but his admiring eyes were making your heart quicken.

“You're awfully touchy today, mister.”

“I love the softness of human flesh,” he gave a squeeze.

A laugh escaped your throat. “Weird way to put it Ezra. If you love it so much, why didn't you stick to your old business?”

“We've talked about this before. Clientele selfish, joints overworked,” he hummed and nuzzled your shoulder. “I'd much rather be here, with you.”

So sappy. You giggled and bit your lip, pressing your ass harder against his hands. It prompted him to knead. Mustering up much bravery, you replied. “Well, you didn't seem to have a problem working with me before.”

A hand slipped lower, over your inner thighs. “I like you.”

You nodded, spreading your legs. “So I've been told, several times. Robots are funny.”

“I'll tell you a thousand more. [Y/N], who is the tease now? It's almost if you are attempting to obtain a certain response,” he gripped your hips suddenly and jerked you back between his legs.

You squeaked and he covered your mouth, lowering his voice. “We're in public. Be quiet.”

Mouth still covered, his free hand moved low and just barely swiped over your panties. You jerked and sighed between his fingers, your hands propping you up via his thighs. He started slow, the tips of his silicone fingers softly rubbing up and down. It was just enough to make you desperate.

“You've been so stressed today,” he noted, above a whisper. “Let me help.”

“Mhm,” you mumbled, leaned against him with eyes closed.

You breathed a steadying breath as the hand slipped from your mouth to your neck. The other dipped under your panties to give a harder rub.

“Feels good,” you praised, turning to kiss his rainbow cheek.

His middle finger felt through the folds, simply enjoying the sensation. Then he started to prod at your hole. Luckily, it was wet enough to give way easily and quickly, with little to no friction. You gasped as quietly as possible, hands gripping his thighs. A second finger joined the first, and then he was pumping gently. If he moved too fast the sound of wetness would become rather apparent, so slow and steady it was.

You had to bite your cheeks to refrain from whining. It had been way too long. The fingers inched out, wiping the slime up against your clit, before focusing there a second time. Suddenly the tips began to vibrate and you jolted.

“Ahhh, I didn't know you could do that!”

He chuckled with amusement and nuzzled affectionately. The vibration speed increased. Your muscles became twitchy and jerky with the sheer willpower it took to keep from mewling like a kitten. Ezra watched the mirror, loving the display.

“If you're going to cum... then cum,” he whispered commandingly.

His low voice was the last thing you needed to tip over the edge. The orgasm rocketed through your body, as if the ocean was swallowing you whole. The hand around your neck squeezed carefully, just enough pressure to remind you to keep your mouth shut. Then the vibration ceased, and it was over. The last waves ebbed down your spine as you calmed.

You caught your breath as silently as possible as he stroked your back sweetly.

“Do you feel better?” he asked.

Nod. “Doesn't make my problems go away but... wow,” you grinned.

Knock knock knock!

Ezra wasn't surprised at the abrupt interruption, but it made you straighten with fear. “S-some one's in here! One second!”

New college clothes forgotten, you scrambled to dress in what you'd come with. The older woman smiled as you passed by her desk.

“Taking any of'em home today?” she asked, unaware of the happenings.

Ezra replied for you; you were obviously still a little high off of adrenaline. “No. We will leave them on the return rack. Have a nice day.”

So the clothes were left behind and he shepherded you to the cart, to which you swiftly drove away down a random isle. Seemed like you were wandering around the store with no destination in mind. You were just nervous someone had heard you.

“Can't believe we got away with that!” You laughed mischievously, glancing around.

Ezra patted your shoulder, totally inconspicuous. “We did, flawlessly. A few times I thought you would crack.”

“Aw, no faith in me?”

“... A few times I thought I would crack, as well.”

You peeked up at him, brow risen. “What do you mean?”

He hesitated, before sparing a glance down at your still pink face. “It's been a while for me, too,” he looked away.

You squinted, then it hit you. Of course! “Maaaybe we should go home?”

“The list isn't complete.”

You gave him a silly look and waggled your brow. “Ezra.. Ezra come on now, you know what I mean.”

He blinked and squinted. “Ah, I see. We can still do that after we gather the remaining perishables.”

You slumped. “You really want to wait?”

“...Not particularly.”

Patting his arm playfully and grinning a toothy grin, you exclaimed. “Then come on! Go go go!”

The bot behind you had to increase his normal walking pace to keep up as you flew down the store, aiming for the self checkout. “Th-the groceries,” you heard him stutter.

You giggled devilishly and sent an ecstatic look his way, the anxieties of the morning buried back into the deep crevices of your mind.

EPILOGUE

It took some extravagantly articulated thought to convince your parents that you were fine in your current major. Yes, you and Ezra had unintentionally grown close. But you were not interested in becoming an engineer. After a long drawn out conversation with them (ignoring a look or two of disappointment), Lilly slugged your shoulder and gave you the thumbs up.

“Way to stick it to em,” she complimented. “Now how am I gonna break it to them that I want to be a traveling rodeo clown,” she sighed dramatically.

“Who can juggle small dogs that live in old ladies' purses?”

She started to snap her fingers, then finger gunned you while walking backwards down the hall.

Such a strange girl. She'd make it okay, whatever she wanted to do in life. Despite the hollow, sick feeling one gets after an awkward talk with the parents, the support of both your sibling and your butler- boyfriend- friend with benefits(?) was a balm. You made your way upstairs to his room, where he'd retired.

The door was closed, and you rapped at the wood. There was a pause, then your heard his heavy footsteps draw near. His eyes brightened when the sound revealed to be you.

“Do you need something?” he asked courteously, voice soft.

“Just.. to talk,” you noticed a book in his hand, hanging to the side. “Sorry, were you reading?”

He nodded, then stepped out of the way. Seemed he wasn't bothered by the unexpected intrusion. You strode on in. Not much had changed about his room since he'd moved here. Other than the extra chair you'd drug up, it was relatively the same.

“What did you want to talk about?” He asked, shutting the door silently and keeping a respectful distance.

Shrug. You noted how there was not a single grain of dust on the surface of his near-empty bookshelf. “I talked to mom and dad about school. It was... weird.”

Ezra nodded, waiting for more.

Taking a seat, you went on. “I can tell they think I should be doing something different with myself. And I really know they hoped that I was like, tinkering with you or something, but,” you sighed. “I don't know.”

“They were upset.”

You furrowed your brows, eyes downcast. “Yeah. I expected it. At least they're not forcing me to switch majors.”

He studied your features, then took a seat beside you in his own chair. The book rested in his lap patiently. “And you're sad,” his hand squeezed your shoulder comfortingly. “But you got it done.”

You reluctantly agreed. “I guess. I'm still terrified about failing my classes, but mom said she'd hire a tutor. I could just use the free tutors on campus but,” you rolled your eyes. “you know mom.”

Ezra would smile at that comment if he could. It was true that your caretakers could spend a bit frivolously.

“I'm glad I have you, though,” you commented quietly, expression easing up. “I hope you stick around for a long time. Even if you're not a butler in the future.”

A warm feeling overcame the girthy robot at your side. His eyes glistened and the minute movement of his inner apertures clicked, inaudible. The hand at your shoulder slipped down over your arm, then took your hand. When you looked up, he was staring with such passion that it struck you with a intense longing.

He had never felt this wonderfully certain about a partner, never in all his time of sex work. You didn't act like he was just some common 'bot. You treated him like Ezra. “You're my favorite human,” he said.

You wanted to laugh with glee. “Always a way with words,” you joked, leaning forward and nuzzling his chest. “Thank you for being here for me Ezra. Not just the.. sex or soft touches. You always make me feel better.”

Nothing delighted Ezra more to hear. The book slipped from his lap onto the floor, momentarily forgotten, as he hugged you as if you were made of china.

[spiderman-homecomeme]

lovely weather (for a sleigh ride together)

my secret santa present for @scoliatrash! Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, my dear!! I hope you enjoy all the fluffy, cheesy goodness!! Have an amazing day! <3

@spideychellesecretsanta​

“Remind me again–and this is in no way me saying that I don’t wanna go–but… why exactly are we doing this?”

Peter shifts slightly under MJ’s gaze from the passenger seat, the car suddenly feeling approximately a thousand degrees hotter. He chuckles, then clears his throat, his hands flexing against the still-cold steering wheel, hoping he doesn’t seem as nervous as he feels. 

But keeping his eyes trained to the winding roads in front of them, drumming his thumbs at ten and two, he finally glances over. 

“…Because.”

Yup. 

Totally inconspicuous.

He’s never acted more naturally in his life. 

Her expression falls as she fixes him with a deadpan stare. 

A light laugh bubbles up out of him all on it’s own. “Because….” He repeats himself, voice trailing off, mentally scrambling to find anything that wasn’t the real reason for this two-and-a-half hour journey into the country. “I thought it would be fun!” He finally spits out, though he doesn’t relax just yet. From the corner of his eye, he can see MJ staring, sizing him up, calculating. 

For some reason–gee, wonder what it could be–he feels compelled to just keep talking. “Plus! You said you’d never been on a sleigh ride before–like a real one, with jingles bells and everything–so, I thought, well, we absolutely had to fix that.”

Which wasn’t technically a lie. Peter thought a ride in a how-ever-many-horse open sleigh was something everyone had to experience at least once in their life. Sitting bundled up with loved ones in the back of the sleigh, the cold winter wind biting at your cheeks and nose, oh-so-festive ringing of the sleigh bells, the horses’ hooves in the snow–it was something you just couldn’t experience the same way without getting out of the city. 

Ben and May had taken him once, a long time ago, when he was just a kid. They hadn’t done it again, being as even just an hour ride can cost more the Parker’s could afford, but it’s a memory that always brings a fuzzy warmth to his chest. It’s something that he’ll always treasure, something that he’ll always be grateful for. 

But, sound as all that was, it wasn’t the real reason. 

No, the real reason was currently in a tiny black velvet box nestled deep in his pocket. 

MJ didn’t need to know that. 

But it wasn’t as if his proposal was going to be a surprise by any means. For months, even years now, they’d talked about marriage. There was a whole timeline and everything. Year four into the relationship, they moved in together, and now it had been nearly a year and a half of that. Engagement, they’d decided, would come towards the end of undergrad. Then, there would be another two-ish years of wedding planning before the big event would actually take place. 

Obviously, this wasn’t a strict timeline by any means; in fact, it acted as more of a guideline, something they could loosely follow. They’d already broken it once, moving in together six months after they’d originally planned to, so an engagement just before their last semester starts was still in the ballpark.

Now, MJ had expressed before that he didn’t have to propose at all, that she would be perfectly fine with just going out to buy a ring together, posting on instagram or something, and calling it good. 

But, on the other hand she also knew that Peter would want to do something more… well, grand.

Which she was also perfectly fine with. 

All that mattered to her was being engaged to Peter. Why, where, or how that happened? She couldn’t care less. 

Even then, however, as much as she loved and sometimes tolerated Peter, there were still some rules. 

But…

Peter was willing to chance it. More than willing. In fact, this was the type of proposal he knows for a fact that she’d be 100% okay with, even with the conditions.

One, MJ loves animals. All animals. Each and every one. There’s not a dog, cat, hamster, guinea pig, bird, lizard, or bug she didn’t like, or that didn’t like her.  

“They’re better than people,” she’d once said, holding her grandmother’s wild-eyed tabby in her arms, the normally overly grumbly cat purring contentedly. She just had a way with the world’s furry, feathery, and scaly friends--something he’d seen all those years ago with the terrifying pigeons in Venice. 

Two, and this was important, this would not technically be in public, or in front of her family, two of the only conditions MJ had set for this. 

No crowds.

No getting down on one knee at Thanksgiving or Christmas. Or any major holiday for that matter.

Or her birthday. 

No ifs, ands, or buts.

And it--this proposal, right here, today--was neither of those things. The only audience they’d have being the one driving the sleigh, a lovely old man (a one Mr. Matthews) that Peter briefly talked on the phone with about this whole thing. Sure the older fellow was excited about the prospect of a young love, a new engagement, but it was clear that this wasn’t really something he was going to lose his mind about. 

“Hmm.” He hears her hum quietly as she angles her body forward, though she doesn’t seem to accept his answer, and rightly so. 

It’s odd; he fully expects her to keep poking at him, to ask him why he’s being so weird or, “weirder than normal,” even though she probably has an inkling as to why he’s acting so strange. 

And honestly, at this point, he’s almost 60% sure she knows exactly what’s going on. 

Oh well.

But surprisingly, she doesn’t grill him for the rest of the drive. Instead, they sit in a comfortable (well, at least she’s comfortable) silence, just enjoying the beauty of the emerging country around them, thankful for the cleared roads as the snow falls peacefully outside. 

Though, as beautiful as it is, that ring in his pocket is making him feel like his stomach is about to fall right out of his ass.

He almost–almost–relaxes when he sees the rustic wooden sign at the top of the hill, knowing that soon he’ll be able to get out of the car. But then, when they actually pull in and park, when they actually step out into the cold winter air again, that feeling comes right back. It annoyingly stays when they enter the main building to check in, when Mr. Matthews leads them to the stables and to the sleigh lead by two large brown horses

He almost doesn’t hear the driver telling them the mares’ names over the sound of his own heartbeat thumping in his ears. 

“Meet Juniper and Peanut,” the old man says, warmth in his tone as he moves to adjust the sleigh bells on the collars. 

“Oh my God, they’re so fuzzy…” MJ, in awe at the massive animals, mutters under her breath, close to Peter’s ear. 

“Yeah…” Peter agrees, his voice breathy, as he scratches the back of his neck. 

Without any prompt from either her boyfriend or their driver, Michelle walks up to the animals, hand carefully held out as she allows the two horses to smell her first. 

“Now, Juni here is a bit more of a grump. Bit more aloof. But Peanut, she loves pets. And treats. More than anything.”

Michelle huffs out in slight amusement, nodding once in understanding, though not looking away from the two horses. 

Juniper sniffs once before glancing away, her curiosity gone almost immediately and replaced with moderate disinterest, while Peanut revels in the attention, pushing her nose into MJ’s outstretched hand.

And again, Peter just about forgets why he’s so nervous, becoming too distracted by the soft smile on his girlfriend’s face, the way that expression breaks into a toothy grin when the other, more emotionally distant mare starts to gently nudge her arm for the same attention. 

Though that brief moment of internal calm is shattered by Mr. Matthews ushering them into the back of the sleigh. 

“You know, I’ve actually never been around horses before?” MJ asks as they climb into their seats, the driver reaching back to hand them a thick wool blanket for the ride. 

“Really?” Peter asks, the knot in his stomach still ever present. 

Mr. Matthews urges the horses onward and into the snow with a soft click and a flick of the reins.

MJ nods, scratching at her eyes. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure my last experience with them was that cartoon horse movie Matt Damon was in, like, forever ago.”

Peter’s brows crinkle in slight confusion and faint recognition. 

She answers her own unasked question before he can even open his mouth to speak. “Spirit.” She snaps her fingers “That’s the one.”

In spite of his nerves, he can’t help but laugh at that, though he can’t help but notice that slight chatter of her teeth when she speaks as they ride out into the farm. 

“You cold?” He asks, maybe a little bit dumbly.

She shakes her head. “Nuh uh.” A shiver. “This weather is just lovely.”

He chuckles lightly, and wordlessly, he scoots closer to her, taking her hand in his and interlocking their gloved fingers together, his heart soaring at the comforting warmth that comes from just how grand it feels. 

While it is the perfect weather for a two-horse sleigh, the winter chilled air nipping at his face, his cheeks, his nose, turning them a shade of red (one that he knows Michelle would probably tell him was “cute”)... it almost would have been too much for him. 

But again, there was a reason they were here, and besides, with MJ... 

He wasn’t gonna let this cold bother him. 

He gets this uncontrollable, dumb grin on his face, and he snuggles closer to her. 

“Lovely with you.”

To that, she fakes a gag, sniffling slightly as she tries to pull her hand away from his. “Ugh, gross.”

“Oh, sorry. I’ll stop. I’ll stop,” he gives the empty promise, throwing her a sly wink before squeezing her hand. 

A few beats of a peaceful quiet pass, the only sounds being the ringing of the bells and the crunch of snow. The snow falls around them in delicate, fluffy flakes, the stray ones being caught in his girlfriend’s curls. 

She leans her head against his, and he can almost feel her soft smile as he leans right back. 

“Is it okay if I sing a carol, or something?” Peter asks, the humor in his tone earning him a light smack on the arm. 

MJ sits back up, her glare almost menacing, save for the twitch of a barely amused smile tugging at the corner of her lips. She opens her mouth to speak, but is suddenly overcome, her eyes screwing shut, with a powerful--

“ACHOO!”

Peter nearly jumps. “Bless you?”

“Thanks.” MJ clears her throat, sniffling again. 

And it’s amazing that Peter hadn’t noticed in the nearly ten minutes they’d been in the sleigh; the whites of her eyes were almost entirely red, the bags under them slightly puffy. “You good?” He asks.

“Yeah!” MJ lies. “Yeah! I’m good. Just... some.... uh, sniffles. I guess.” She sneezes into the crook of her arm again. “Or, I don’t know, maybe it’s a minor allergic reaction to something. It’s fine.”

Peter wracked his brain for what that allergy could be; it wasn’t nuts, that he definitely knew, being one, that she didn’t have a history with that, and two, they hadn’t eaten anything of the sort. Dogs and cats were out of the question... so was... basically everything else... but...

The loud whinny of one of the mares cuts through his little internal monologue. 

Ah ha!

“Are you allergic to horses?”

MJ’s lips quirk into a quick frown and she shrugs, sniffling again. “Maybe?”

“Can you be allergic to horses?”

“You can be allergic to anything.”

Very true. 

And just like that, the guilt hits him like a train, seeing MJ suddenly looking so incredibly miserable and tired, sounding so congested, all because of his big, stupid, grand plan of proposing on what was supposed to be a romantic sleigh ride. 

“Don’t you dare apologize,” MJ cuts in before he can even think so say anything.

He opens his mouth to speak, dumbfounded. 

She continues. “It’s fine!” Sniffle. Sneeze. “It’s honestly fine. Don’t worry about it.”

Peter’s quiet for a moment, offering a silent, conceding nod.

His brow furrows in thought as he bites at the inside of his lip; he can’t in good conscience keep her out here just so he can carry out this little fairytale proposal he’d had thought out for so many months. It wouldn’t be right. She didn’t need him asking her to spend the rest of her life with him; she needed to go home, take some benadryl, maybe have some herbal tea, and get in bed. 

Another day, perhaps.

“Do you wanna go back?” He finally asks, defeated. 

She starts to shake her head before he even finishes that question, clearing her scratchy, barb-wire throat. “No! This was what…. 200 dollars? We’re not going back just because I can’t handle a little horse dander.”

“...Are you sure?”

“Yes.” She grabs his hand again, pulling him back to her. “Now, calm down, Mother Hen, I’ll be okay.”

It takes some major coaxing on MJ’s part, but Peter does eventually come around, his worried, fleeing glances finally stopping after a few more minutes of dashing through the snow. For a moment, he thinks that maybe the plan, the entire day, hasn’t been ruined at all. Maybe this could all still work. 

It’s all so enchanting, and they both seem to forget about the funny little allergies that came out of nowhere. They brace themselves as the sleigh nears the top of a small hill, and Mr. Matthews throws a playful warning over his shoulder. The couple laughs again, holding each other tight as the horses pick up speed on the way down, the wind whistling right past them, snowflakes covering their faces. The shimmering snow around them is nearly blinding, a stark contrast to the deep green of the surrounding trees. 

Peter hears Mr. Matthews’ “Giddy-up!” followed by Michelle’s joyful, exhilarated holler as they descend another small slope; his heart nearly bursts at the wide, uninhibited smile plastered on her face. 

When they come upon a clearing, and the horses slow to a gentle walk, Peter knows, right then and there, that it’s time. That this is right. Allergies be damned.

Oh, good God. 

“MJ,” he says without even giving it another thought, immediately turning to face her, his expression serious. 

He swallows as she waits for him to speak, eyes slightly wide. “What’s up?”

This was a lot easier said than done…

Clearing his throat, he briefly looks down at their joined hands. “MJ,” he says again.

“Yes?” Her head tilts a fraction as she glances from side to side, growing more and more confused by his strange behavior by the second. 

“I--” He sighs, finally keeping his gaze on hers, willing himself to just keep going. 

He wasn’t sure why he was so nervous. It wasn’t as if she would actually say, “no.” Again, this was something they’d talked about for months and months. This was something they both knew that the other wanted. 

He knew how she felt about him, and vice versa. 

So what was he so damn scared of? What was it that was making him feel like that terrified, hormonal teenage kid all over again?

When he looks up at her, though, and his eyes meet her red puffy ones, and he sees the way she’s looking at him (albeit, she’s still a little confused, but it’s a loving confused), he finds that maybe it’s not so scary. 

“MJ, I--I love you. A lot.”

She snorts. “And I love you. A lot.”

Her eyes widen as he gets down from his seat and on one knee, something that doesn’t seem to comfortable in the back of the sleigh. 

His gaze never leaves hers as he continues. “You’re my best friend in the whole world, and I wanna spend the rest of my life with you. And--”

He’s cut off with another big sneeze. 

“Sorry! Sorry!” She hastily says, waving him on to continue.

Peter chuckles. “It’s fine. I know this kind of thing didn’t really matter to you--how it happens or when or whatever… Like we could have just done this in our kitchen and we’d be happy but--” He laughs at himself, shaking his head. “But you, uh, kinda gave me free rein on this so--”

One of his hands goes to his pocket, smile never leaving his face as he grabs…

Nothing.

Nothing in the right pocket. 

Instantly, his brows pinch together in confusion, lips twisting into a frown as he feels around the pocket again. 

MJ seems to have been holding her breath this whole time, staring down at him with a quizzical quirk of her brow. 

Peter looks up at her, smiling sheepishly with a nervous chuckle. “Uh, hold on.”

He checks the left pocket. 

Nothing.

That little velvet box, the one with the very expensive engagement ring, had somehow fallen out of his coat.

It was there earlier! He was sure of it! He held it in the car just before they’d left! Where could it have gone?

“Everything good?” He hears MJ’s voice cut through his panicked, scrambling mind. 

“Uh… No, not really.” His voice might be a little too calm, or at least trying to be. “I was, uh, going to propose... But… I think I lost the ring?”

MJ only nods, lips pressed together in a thin line, though she doesn’t seem upset or disappointed. 

“I had it… in my pocket. In the car! And when we got in the sleigh, I’m… I’m sure of it. Oh, God…” He moves to sit next to her, burying his head in his hands. “I’m so sorry, MJ. I had this whole plan… and the ring… it was so pretty and cool… and I was gonna propose--”

“Let’s find it then,” MJ suggests calmly, putting an arm around him. 

“I’m so sorry, Em…”

“Don’t be sorry,” she sniffs. “It’s okay. We’ll find it!”

Peter wants to believe her, he really does, but he can’t help but feel like losing this ring was just a sign that his original plan was, well, the wrong one. 

He knows in the end that it doesn’t matter how they get engaged, that they don’t need a ring or a pretty proposal. 

But he can’t help, even knowing that his damn Parker luck might have reared it’s stupid head again, but feel that surprising defeat slam him right in the chest at something failing so spectacularly. That something could have gone so incredibly wrong. 

“Okay,” he mutters under his breath, leaning into her comforting touch. 

Mr. Matthews was an absolute saint, taking an alternate route back to the farm, ending the ride early so that they could look for the ring. He had his farm hands and employees practically turn the property inside out, looking through the fields, the barn, the very trail they were on. 

But they were all coming up empty. 

No one could have stolen it; Peter may have been a dumbass, but he would have known if he had been pickpocketed. 

Soon, early in the evening, the sun begins to fall, the sky darkening, forcing the diligent search to end. 

Honestly, though, of all the ways this could have possibly gone wrong, having to comb an entire 200 acre farm for a small rock on a piece of white gold was not something he’d drawn up in his millions of disaster scenarios. 

Peter waits in the car as Michelle continues talking to Mr. Matthews and the other workers. He can’t help but bang his head against the steering wheel, sighing to himself, muttering what an absolute idiot he was. 

And his hand are absolutely freezing from digging through all the snow.

He’s not sure he’s ever felt more dumb. 

Scratch that.

After he see that flash of velvet under his car seat, after he reaches down and finds that damn box with the ring safe inside under his car seat--

Then he’s never felt more dumb. 

Oh no. 

It had fallen out of his pocket. 

In the car. 

Under his car seat.

He stays in stunned silence as MJ gets back in the car, waving at the kind farmers before shutting her door. 

She immediately feels his tension, noticing his silence. “What?”

He wordlessly holds the box out to her before going back to his head on the steering wheel, only just resting it this time. 

“Oh…” Is her only response as she takes the box from him, opening it slowly. Her breath catches in her throat at the ring before her; instead of a crisp, white diamond, it looks like a smoky white sapphire, the gray color shining prettily in the moonlight. 

He still doesn’t speak though, his defeat too strong. 

“You found it!” She offers, though he gives nothing but a quiet “yep,” in response. 

“In the car?”

He nods. 

A beat passes. 

“You want me to go tell them you found it in those trees over there?”

Finally, that earns her the minuscule quirk of a smile. He nods again, not moving from the steering wheel. 

She leaves without another question, ring box in hand, only to return moments later, Peter paying no attention to the blast of cold coming into the car as she gets back in. 

He honestly, truly, cannot believe that this happened. 

And now, he’s just embarrassed. 

A heavy silence falls over the car once again, and Peter has to wrestle with the urge to just smack himself on the head. He wants to go home, but can’t find it in himself to even start the damn car. 

“Hey.”

He hears her voice, encouraging him to look up at her. He does, finding her holding the open ring box out to him, a slight tilt to her head, her lips pulled back in a warm, playful smirk. She sniffles, rubbing at her eyes with her free hand, before looking at him again. 

He’s almost confused, about to ask what she’s doing, but she doesn’t give him the chance. 

“Marry me?” She asks, holding the ring out further to him.

Truly, it’s a wonder to him how MJ can make him smile, make him laugh, make him happy, no matter how stressed or upset he is. 

“Of course.”

She offers him the box, and he takes it with another chuckle, taking the ring from inside and placing it gently on her finger. 

“Oh wait,” She pulls her hand back, snorting awkwardly. “I was supposed to put it on yours right?”

And the grin that stretches across his face is uncontrollable as he closes his eyes, shaking his head at himself. 

He really does love her. 

So damn much. 

With that, a ring on her finger and his spirits brightened once again, as the snow falls gently on the windows, the soft gusts of wind quietly howling outside the car, he pulls her into a warm, loving kiss. 

Lovely weather, indeed.