#anyway beep beep fellas

[akairawrites]

Cats Out The Bag | Damian Wayne Imagine

Curiosity Killed The Cat part 2

Taglist

@ella-fella-bo-bella @ayoitsurfavdesigurl @luvvvjada @harleycao @aiq39 @lumineliax @420sprite @stvrfir3 @instabull @rukia-uchiha-98 @1lellykins @lilupie @deliciousfatblackcat @skyesayshi @imarimone12 @mysticalhills @4arancia @bat-h-tic @luvelyxp @urmomsbananabread @elebeleb @strawberrycreamb @princessofhope0 @itisjustagirl @dollceesstuff @just-reading-dany @Ginger24880 @godknows-shetried @that-levi-kenma-kinnie @kierancaz @Crystals-faith @cascadingbliss

You could feel the cool night breeze against your cheeks as you gracefully leaped through the air. It was a tranquil night in Gotham, the perfect backdrop for criminal activities.

Upon descending from the side of the building, you headed toward the front entrance. Naturally, the door was locked. You reached for a bobby pin from your hair and crouched down to examine the lock. Inserting the pin, you heard a satisfying click as the door unlocked. A self-satisfied smile crossed your face as you returned the bobby pin to its place. Inside, you inhaled deeply and exhaled, a smirk forming as you dropped your duffel bag. Rifling through it, you retrieved a homemade C-4 like device. With practiced ease, you entered a password on the screen and affixed it to the wall near the safety deposit boxes. After a few seconds, the device beeped, and the boxes popped open with a hiss. Your first-time trial was a success, and you couldn't help but smile.

Swiftly, you went through almost every box, finding mostly deeds and divorce papers. Fortunately, you stumbled upon some jewelry, and someone even carelessly stashed a wad of cash inside, which you promptly pocketed.

Once your bag was stuffed, you exited the building unnoticed. Scaling the side of the building, you reached the rooftop to survey your surroundings, ensuring no heroic intervention was imminent. As you counted the money you had collected, a pair of feet landed behind you. You sighed in annoyance and slowly turned around, still clutching the cash.

To your surprise, it was Robin.

A few years back, after robbing a jewelry store, Selina had persuaded you to take a break from a life of crime, deeming it too perilous and unpredictable. Only recently had she allowed you to return to your illicit activities. You took a moment to observe him, noticing his increased muscularity and shorter hair. With his mask on, he would be unrecognizable anyway. "You got taller," were your initial words.

Little did you know that Damian was scrutinizing you as well. The last time he'd seen you, he was just 14 years old. Normally, he wouldn't care much about his adversaries, let alone think about them as much as he did about you. Even though you had bested him the first and only time you'd crossed paths, he couldn't help but think about you.

"And you got curvier," Damian blurted out, unable to prevent the words from escaping his mouth. He mentally scolded himself for succumbing to his intrusive thoughts.

You gave him a quizzical look, unsure if he was attempting to flirt with you. He didn't strike you as the flirting type. Shaking your head, you slapped the cash against your palm and rocked on your heels. Slipping the money into your bag, you slung it over your shoulder. "Well, it was nice seeing you again, but I gotta go." You turned to walk in the opposite direction, but a force struck you from behind, sending you tumbling to the ground, landing on your stomach with your chin scraping against the pavement. You groaned and rolled over, just as Damian unsheathed his sword in a graceful forward roll.

"Didn't your mother teach you not to hit a girl?" you taunted.

"No, she threw me into the League of Assassins, where I was trained to be a cold-blooded killer," Damian replied.

Damn.

Damian rushed toward you, his sword slicing through the air. Swiftly, you rolled out of the way, but he managed to slice open your bag instead. You stood up as he charged at you again, the absence of your bag making the fight a fairer match. You assumed it would be easier to defeat him this time, just as you had when you first faced off.

As you prepared to throw a punch, Damian seized your wrist and struck your elbow, simultaneously sweeping your leg from under you. You crashed to the ground, landing hard on your back and knocking the wind out of you. He threw away his sword and grabbed you by the collar of your suit, cocking his fist back and delivering a punch to your face. The ringing in your ears intensified as the blows continued.

Foolishly underestimating Damian, you realized he was much stronger than he had been four years ago. He was giving his all, determined not to stop until you were defeated. Gathering enough energy, you managed to kick him off you. As you wiped your nose, feeling the blood trickling from your lips, you stood up, reminding yourself that you were not your mother.

You landed a few punches, but Damian's strength remained a significant advantage. He kicked you in the stomach, causing you to tumble toward the edge of the building. He slowly approached you, grabbing you by the hair to lift your head off the ground. He surveyed your bloodied and battered face, sighing as if regretting what he was about to do. With nothing left in you to fight back, you braced yourself as he delivered a final blow that sent you over the side of the building, hurtling towards the ground.

⋆

You clutched your book tightly to your chest as you navigated the bustling hallway. Skillfully, you maneuvered past the people blocking your path, making your way to your locker. After shoving your books inside, you retrieved the ones needed for your next class. However, you couldn't shake the feeling that someone's intense gaze was fixed on the side of your head. You glanced to your left and found yourself locking eyes with a pair of piercing green ones. Damian stood only a few feet away, next to his own locker. You let out a resigned sigh, anticipating that he might deliver another one of his lectures.

A few weeks ago, Damian had been assigned as your tutor for the rest of the year, given your struggle to keep up with your classes due to frequent absences. Neither of you had welcomed this arrangement, but your slipping grades left you with no choice but to accept help, even if it meant being tutored by the most arrogant person you'd ever encountered.

As Damian approached, you couldn't help but speak up, "What do you want, Damian?"

"I want you to meet me at my dorm once classes are over," he stated, his tone more commanding than inquisitive. You arched an eyebrow and closed your locker. "For what? We don't have anything scheduled for today."

He merely sighed. "I just need to have a word with you," he said and walked past you without further explanation. Your eyes tracked his retreating figure as he disappeared down the hall. You couldn't help but mutter, "Who does he think he is?"

After the school day ended, you complied with his request and made your way to Damian's dorm. You knocked and waited for a few moments, unsure of the reason behind this unusual request. Damian seldom engaged with you outside of tutoring, making it clear that he wanted nothing to do with you ever since you'd punched him in the face.

Once Damian finally came to the door, he said nothing when he saw it was you. He just stepped out of the way, allowing you to enter. You walked into the small dorm room, which was plain but tidy. The walls lacked decorations, reminiscent of how your dorm looked when you first moved in. Damian's tie and blazer lay discarded on his neatly made bed, leaving him in his half-buttoned dress shirt with rolled-up sleeves.

“So, what did you want to talk to me about?” you asked, taking a seat on the edge of his bed, being careful not to disrupt the bedding.

Last week, when Damian came to your dorm to study, his eyes caught sight of something on your nightstand—an emerald green necklace that almost perfectly matched the color of his eyes. It had looked familiar, but he couldn't quite place it. A few days ago, it finally clicked in his head where he had seen it before. Too much evidence pointed to you being someone he desperately did not want you to be. He would never admit it, but you were growing on him, and he secretly enjoyed your company. To confirm his suspicions, he needed one more piece of evidence.

"Let me see your hand," Damian abruptly requested.

"What?"

"Your hand, let me see it." Without waiting for your response, he took hold of your hand and examined your palm. He noticed a scar running diagonally across it, he remembered when you came to school with it bandaged up. You had told people it resulted from a kitchen accident, but he knew the truth. Damian was piecing everything together like a puzzle. It would explain why he often caught you sneaking into the dorms late at night, as well as why you were frequently late to class and tutoring.

It was you.

He just couldn't figure out how you were alive. He had believed he killed you. His heart ached at the thought.

You watched as Damian traced the scar on your hand with his thumb, his touch sending a tingly sensation through your skin.

"Damian...?" Your voice came out softer than intended. When he heard his name, he looked up at you, his eyes conveying a mixture of fear and regret, emotions you never thought you'd see from him.

"I know," he simply stated.

Confused, you shook your head. "You know what?"

And then it clicked. He KNEW. Why else would he be so interested in your scar? You thought you had done a good job of keeping it hidden. In fact, you had done a good job. The only way he would know was if he had been there.

You withdrew your hand from his. "You're Robin?" You didn't receive an immediate response, which confirmed your suspicion. You sighed, unsure if you should be upset or not. After all, it's not as if the two of you were best friends who had promised never to lie to each other. You did feel somewhat guilty for beating him up, but he had almost killed you in return.

"I'm sorry," he finally admitted, looking away, as if he couldn't bear to make eye contact while apologizing. It was a momentary lapse of his ego.

"Damian Wayne apologizing?" you said, a smug grin on your face.

He rolled his eyes. "Don't get used to it."

You laughed and playfully nudged him. You noticed a small smirk tugging at his lips, and it made your own smile grow wider.

Surprisingly, you both sat in a comfortable silence for a moment before Damian decided to break it.

"How did you survive that fall anyway?" he asked.

You chuckled. "No one told you? I'm like a cat, Damian. I have nine lives."

If you couldn’t tell I tried to avoid having to come up with a alias for Y/N…anyway,

Add yourself to my taglist here

[gh0stsp1d3r]

Tangerines and deers part 10

Tag list: @slut-f0r-u

This is not the last chapter just wait but it is a long ass chapter so grab your popcorn or whateva

The white death stepped onto the train, to see his daughter.

“Daughter.” He said in Russian.

“Father.” She said back.

❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎

Ladybug stepped out with the briefcase. It beeped.

“Hey, uh, fellas, I’m looking for a Mr. Death. Got his case here.” He said to a few assassins. They snapped their heads to the strange man, carrying the case, and wearing a little bracelet with a deer and a ladybug charm. he got one for himself as well, to match with you.

“Hey, easy.” He said, as they roughly took the case. They hit him in the stomach, he groaned and fell to his knees.

They drew sharp blades and he sighed.

“Hurt people hurt people.”

❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎

You watched the scene go down, while moving from car to car, as he slowly got farther and farther.

“He’ll be fine, love.” Tangerine grabbed your hand, and started to run.

❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎

“I came to see you.” The prince said.

“Hm.”

“And to make you finally see me. The real me.”

“Hm.”

“I built myself up from the nothing you gave me. All do I could be the one in front of you today…” she looked down at her gun, and brought it to his face.

“My finger on the trigger. I was the one… who deserved your attention. Your love. I’m more like you than that little fuckup ever was.”

He took her gun, she breathed heavily. He laughed and pointed it at her as she cried.

“Do it. I came here to kill you. So kill me. Kill me like you did all the others who tried the same. Do it. Fucking do it!”

He moved the gun up, and imitated a gun shot to tease her. “Pow.” He laughed and went closer to her.

“I see you, dochka. I always have.” He grabbed her jaw. “But you have never been part of my plan.” He pushed her aside, his men following after him.

“We found the American!” One said, and the white death looked at him on his knees.

“What about the others?”

“They’re all dead. Uh, good news is I have your case.”

“Ay, good news, good news.”

“Clear the train.”

❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎

“All right, Thomas. Time for you to start up-“ Lemon said, and paused.

“Oh shit, everything’s in Japanese. There is no episode in Japanese. What the f-“

You and Tangerine went against the man’s orders, and went to help Kimura anyways.

“Thought you could use the help.” You shrugged when he asked what you were doing there. You grabbed the katana out of your back holster.

“Hell yeah.” You muttered, waiting around the corner with it as tangerine stood far away from you.

❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎

“Get on the ground!” One of his men told the man, he kneeled onto the floor.

❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎

“Man, I got a bad feeling about this. We have no idea what’s in this case.”

“What are you talkin’ about?” The other assassin said.

“Why is it always gotta be us that opens this shit?”

“Just open the case. I’d like to keep my fuckin’ arms.”

“Uhh, Mr. Death, if I may? The shadow buyer, who bought all our contracts, got us all on this train, Me, the hornet, Tangerine, Lemon.. Deer. That was you, right?” Ladybug asked.

“Yes, very astute. I brought you on this train hoping you’d kill each other.”

“Okay. Well, um… if I could… why?”

“Why you do what you do?”

“You know I’ve been asking that very question. I kept going because of deer, but… now I have no reason too, honestly.” He said, trying to sell it that she was dead. If he found out , and he killed her himself, he would’ve never forgave himself

“If it’s so safe, why didn’t he just open it? What if it’s a bomb and it blows up in our faces? You think these stupid masks are gonna protect us?”The assassin said.

❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎

“All these years later… the burden of your betrayal still heavy upon your heads. Let me relieve you of both.” The elder said, the assassins looked confused.

❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎

“My wife… was taken from me.”

“I heard. I’m so sorry for your loss. It was a horrible accident.”

The white death laughed “Horrible.”

“Oh, no, no. No. Nothing in life is an accident. It was an assassination attempt on me. Fate put two wet work operatives, twins, on a job in Bolivia, butchering my entire crew. And I had to go deal with it.”

Ladybug snapped his head to him, and looked as he put the puzzles together.

“Oh shit. Deers boyfriend and his brother killed his crew! This makes everything worse.” He thought.

“Fate put a girl, only 16 years old, and had her eliminate 2 of my entire buildings with only her hands and a sword.”

“Deer?” He asked him, a little shocked. He didn’t even know you did other jobs before you worked with him, Maria had said she was new.

“Yes, fate was when I left the hospital as soon as I heard, and left her alone. And then I got a call, saying she had died.”

“Oh. That- that sucks, honestly.”

“That is why it was my wife in the car that night, not me. Fate put my wife in the hospital. A piece of her rib, piercing her heart. Only the most skilled cardiovascular surgeon could save her life. But two nights earlier, this surgeon was poisoned. Fate. Fate again.”

“And then the hornet killed the surgeon! Holy shit.” He thought.

“Don’t wanna sound judgmental, but if you hired the hornet, you had your own kid killed?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Okay.”

“Oh, yes I did. The piece of shit. That night… I told her not to leave. To wait for me. But she promised it was the last time we would ever bail him out of trouble. Well, I suppose she was right. If I had amputated that weakness out of my life years ago, she would still be by my side!”

“Yeah, it helps to process this. I have- I have a good therapist.”

“I loved my wife very much. She taught me a valuable lesson. If you do not control your fate… it will control you.”

“Hm. Hm?” He was a little confused at the saying.

“So I took control. I brought them all here to die. But now there is only one left. Mr. Carver.”

“Whoa. Uh… excuse me?” He said, fucking carver. He thought.

“The man who murdered my wife.”

“Bro-“

“Just open it.” The assassin said.

“Fine!” The other assassins opened the case, and it exploded as Ladybug yelled “Im not carver!”

The assaisains flew back, and they were now on the train.

❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎

The older man threw his hat, and he grabbed the assassins weapon, and sliced his neck with it.

❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎

You held your stance, and held the katana tight, but not too tight. You held it only slightly above your head, and waited for the assassin to come there.

You sliced his neck, he immediately went into the floor and you laughed.

“Can’t believe I remembered that.” You smirked, and Tangerine just looked at you in admiration.

And then Kimura hit the other ones with a heavy bottle, which also worked. Then he grabbed another katana from the other assassin. You let him do the work, putting yours away and looked back to tangerine.

(Bitch we twinninnn 🤭😜)

“I think he’s got it. We should probably go help Lemon now.” You said.

❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎

Ladybug was upside down, he groaned. At least the plan worked. He thought.

❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎

You both ran over to Lemon.

“Oh shit, something’s happening.” He said and the train started to move. He ran through some signs, and the remaining assassins ran onto the train quickly.

Tangerine grabbed his shoulder and looked over it.

“How the hell do you know how to drive a train?” You asked him.

“I don’t!”

“Wha- never mind. You don’t know how to slow this damn thing down?!” You said, and was going to help him when you noticed something.

Ladybug opened the door, and you turned your head to him.

“You’re safe.” You said, relieved.

“I promised, right? And when have I ever broken a promise?”

“A lot of times.” You laughed, and hugged him. He laughed too.

You guys stopped and turned back to Lemon.

“Hey, so far so good. You can stop the train.”

“About that, I took the velocity of the train and divided it by the mass, and I realize that I don’t know how to fuckin’ drive a bullet train!”

“All you talk about is trains! How the hell do you not know?” Tangerine groaned in annoyance.

“Man, Thomas is a metaphor for lie, not how to actually drive- Get down!” He said, as some assassins started to shoot.

Tangerine grabbed you by your waist and you both ducked on the floor, right in front of a seat and in front of ladybug.

The assassin had to reload, and you, Ladybug, and Tangerine were going to get up, before Lemon yelled “I got this! Stop the train!”

“What?!”

Lemon kicked one, and they all fell down like bowling pins.

“Uh- Deer, you know how to read Japanese, right?!” Ladybug looked at you.

“Yeah! But I don’t understand what any of this fucking means! I don’t know shit about trains-“

“I got them, take care of this.” Tangerine said, as another assassin came up behind you guys.

“English, English, English, English, Brakes!” Ladybug scanned through the book. “We’re good! I got it!”

Then, the manual dropped and all the pages went flying. While he was distracted, he noticed another train. They were on the wrong track.

“Hang on!”

“We’re on the wrong track!” You grabbed onto the seat next to you, and you were next to ladybug.

Once that was over, there was fire next to you.

“I’m sorry I shot you!” Lemon apologized to Ladybug.

“Actually, it was like, twice!”

“Apologize later, fucking Do something!” Tangerine said, and knocked out the last assassin.

“Sorry?”

“You show me twice!” But one of the assassins on top of the train made his way down, landing directly on top of you. You groaned as he sat on top of you.

Tangerine kicked him off, and hit him with the fire extinguisher repeatedly.

“I’m sorry for shooting you twice!”

“Thanks man! That shows real growth!” You groaned and held your head, and just laid there in the chaos.

The fire extinguisher was out, and tangerine grabbed your hand and helped you up.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck.” Ladybug smashed the buttons with it, and then threw it back, which hit another assassin. He pushed the red button and the door opened, he flew out.

“My head hurts.” You muttered, sitting down.

There was only one assassin left, behind Lemon. Ladybug threw the knife at him.

“Hey, and I’m sorry for almost killing you.” He looked at tangerine, as he sat next to you and held your hand.

Tangerine just gave him a scowl.

Another assassin got up, and lemon dove out of the train.

Tangerine got up, and yelled for him.

“What the fuck!” You said.

You got up, and stood next to Ladybug now.

You saw the emergency brakes, and quickly got down. You worked with the wires, while ladybug watched.

Tangerine watched as well, And it was annoying. You groaned in frustration. “Fuck it.” You muttered, and ripped all the wires out.

The train started to slow down, and ladybug gave you a high five.

But then, tangerine grabbed you as soon as he saw the wall. You guys ran through the wall, and ladybug fell onto you both, all three of you went through the whole train.

Then, it stopped completely in a village. Ladybug and tangerine groaned, and got up.

Tangerine looked around, panicked.

He saw you, eyes closed and on the ground.

“Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck.” He said, and ladybug went next to him.

“She’s breathing. She’s fine, She probably just passed out. Her heads fragile.” He said, with a quiet laugh as he remembered the multiple times you’ve passed out.

Then, he looked back to see the white death.

“Oh, fuck.” He said as he pointed the gun at ladybug.

“About your wife, I had nothing to do with that. It’s a mistake. I’m not carver. I- We only do snatch and grab jobs.” He gestured to himself and you, who laid on the ground.

“The carver! I want the carver! I hired the carver!”

“No, he had a stomach thing, man. We’re just filling in.”

Then, you got up, breathing heavily.

“How’d I survive that?” You muttered and looked down at your broken hand.

Tangerine sighed in relief, kissing your forehead.

“For what it’s worth, carver is a dick.”

“Biggest dick I’ve seen in my life.” You said, and groaned again, hitting your head against the remains of the train.

“The most cunning assassin.. Maybe the laziest.”

The white death pointed the gun to you. It clicked. Tangerine immediately stood in front of you.

“Don’t think your gun works, man.” You laughed as the gun only clicked. Ladybug snickered.

He pulled out another. “Oh come on! Just let it go, I was 16.” You giggled and stared at him.

That gun didn’t work either. Because once he shot it again, it shot him in the face instead.

“Oh.”

You laughed hysterically, tangerine looked back at you, confused.

“Oh…”

“That’s so gross, it’s funny.” You laughed again.

“Man, did you really fall that hard?” Ladybug muttered and got up.

“Tan, you look funny.” You muttered and put your finger on his nose. He scrunched his nose again.

“Tan?” He asked, eyebrows scrunched.

“It’s a nickname, duhhh.”

“Why do I need a nickname for a nickname?”

“You don’t. It’s just cute.” You shrugged your shoulder, he sighed as you stood up next to him.

“Just like you.”

“I’m not cute. Never call me that again.” He said.

“Yes you are.” You said in a baby voice.

“Hey, about this plum, shouldn’t the plum give up all resentment? Like-“ Ladybug asked as they all walked. A machine gun fired, and you all looked over to where it came from.

All five of you stopped.

“Oh my god.”

“This bitch again?” You sighed.

“It’s my luck that delivered my fathers corpse at my feet.”

“The narcissism on this chick. Untreatable.”

“She doesn’t look too good.” You said, staring at her bloodied clothes and face.

“Now I am-“ she held the gun up.

“Okay, wait, wait, wait. What is with this fucked up family? You need some suggested reading, if I may. Surviving borderline personality disorder.”

“What?” She asked.

“It’s true.” You shrugged.

“I highly recommend it.”

“Now I am the white d-“ A truck ran her over. A truck full of tangerines, to be exact.

“What was that? Was that karma?”

“It was Lemon.” Tangerine said, and walked over to the driver.

“Farewell, tentomushi.” The older man said.

You looked back to Ladybug, who looked confused.

You just shrugged.

A car pulled up, and you looked over.

“Heyyy!” You said, waving to Maria.

“Maria?”

“Did you come to rescue us?”

“Did you need rescuing?”

“You came to rescue us.”

“Please don’t make me regret it.”

Lemon and tangerine came over to you guys.

“Who’s this?” Tangerine asked.

“Our handler.” You shrugged.

“Oh.” He muttered.

“The.. twins I’m guessing?” She looked to them.

“Yup. Did you know we made out?” You pointed to you and tangerine.

“I can tell..” she muttered, looking at the hickeys on both your necks. You giggled and tangerines face heated up.

“Tangerine, I forgot to ask… where do you live? Like… just-“ you turned to him.

“London.”

“Oh.” You said. A long distance relationship might be hard.

“But… me and Lemon were planning on moving soon anyways.”

[dead6ite]

valorant agent sexuality and gender hcs, from a bigender pansexual who is always right

astra:

cis, doesn’t rlly do labels! she thinks ladies are so pretty but is EVERYONES hype woman

breach:

cis, gay gay homosexual gay… uncle who tells u stories about his hoe years

brim:

cishet supportive dad, however, “you should’ve seen me and my buddies back in my military days”

chamber:

god. fucking europeans it’s literally the gay or european thing till i DIE…. anyways he’s bisexual and his gender identity is “i can be whatever u want bbg”

cypher:

he has a wife and kids? ok… he also has crushes on men (cisbi)

deadlock:

i saw her and immediately thought she they. that is the most she they ever. also she becomes physically ill any time a man approaches her (reluctant bisexual)

fade:

MY BEAUTIFUL TRANSGENDER WEED SMOKING GF!!! anyway she is transfem, she/they/night pronouns + bi w a femme lean, and i won’t her… also i can absolutely see her on the ace spectrum, if not aroace

gekko:

NO WAY ITS A HE/THEY OUT IN THE WILD !!! enby identifying, bi with a masc lean bc yea

harbor:

cis gay. astra thought he was into her until he said something like “THATS MY GIRL !! (insert gay slang)

jett:

cis and bi. very masculine in any relationship, even if she’s with a guy. has been mistaken for a guy before and doesn’t mind it. she likes her expression and loves being masculine! she’s like those super androgynous cis people that make you oh so jealous

KAY/O:

110010110101100010100… beep boop he doesn’t do allat. neon told him about neo pronouns though and he likes he/bot

killjoy:

cis bi… she loves her wifey but she’s dated men before, many of which assumed she was a lesbian

neon:

she/they HEAVY femme lean bisexual. thought she was a lesbian for a time

omen:

??? and gay. gender isn’t real and neither is this guy. they/he/it/void kinda fella… also very interested in neos, i’m thinking fade told him about it and they spent an afternoon picking some

phoenix:

cis bi. the most bisexual disaster that ever graced the face of this earth. he’s scared of talking to women, and all his romantic male relationships have been built from fucking with each other and then realizing he has a crunch.

raze:

cis, BUTCH LESBIANS RULE THE WORLD!!! she loves her pretty gf. end of story

reyna:

she’s above trivial things like “romance”. she probably feels sexual attraction, but not much more than that. aro pansexual

sage:

cis lesbian, i definitely can get behind the trans femme agenda w her tho

skye:

cis pansexual femme preference!! she likes everyone, but a preference for ladies…

sova:

he/they gay!!! he’s just a guy who likes guys

viper:

cis, straight, bi-curious. she’s had some feelings in her young life that have been deeply repressed.

yoru:

trans gay. you CANNOT tell me he’s cis. the transness radiates from him, and he has so much gay tension with phoenix it’s thick enough to cut.

[queenburd]

okay all, here’s the last TSP fic I will be doing for now. it’s a really tidy closing point, and I have a couple other writing projects to work on. one’s really short, but the other is a monster I keep taking breaks from.

THIS IS NOT THE END OF TSP, I definitely have more ideas for these fellas, but right now it’s just a good place to pause on the fic front.

Read All My TSP Fics Here

anyway, here ya’ll go.

--

co-op mode.

Stanley is in high spirits today!

There is no particular reason for this, or perhaps it’s a multitude of things. A while back, he had convinced the narrator to occasionally swap the lounge out with that stocked employee break room, and it’s on one of his most recent runs that he’s had the luck of it spawning. Well fed and hydrated, he’d had a power nap in the boss’s office, then done the press conference ending for the hell of it. Both he and the narrator get a good chuckle out of it, he’s found, and have ever since that first run where the fellow had really strung him along for a few minutes.

So yeah, he’s feeling in excellent form today! He’s even feeling up for a speed run, or maybe a run at the 430 door achievement. Oh, sure, he got those achievements years ago, but they still put a pep in his step, and invigorate both of them.

The narrator seems in good spirits as well, if a bit on the quiet side. He usually gets like this when he’s trying to work on something alongside the narration, or if he’s examining the files after a recent bug (once, during the insanity ending, Stanley found the next room in the loop didn’t spawn, door only leading to blackness, and he fell through the floor to the fellow’s panic; the narrator had spent a good 20 minutes trying to understand what went wrong, before Stanley had play tested it and discovered the prior door hadn’t yet closed, resulting in the next room not loading in until he’d forced the door shut).

But he stays on his narration, if only using some of the varied, shorter lines, and he still seems delighted to go along with Stanley’s detours. Perhaps the good energy is just contagious.

Stanley spins in his chair at the beginning of this new loop. He’s definitely thinking speed run, yeah.

“Stanley? Can I call for a pause before you get started?”

Stanley blinks, looks up at the tiles of the ceiling, and grins, his hands behind his head. What can he do for the fellow this fine day?

“Well, aren’t you just in the loveliest of moods.” It’s only a little mocking, but still pleased. “Well, I—I have a surprise for you, but I do think I need a few minutes to get it all set up. What do you say to running the story proper, only on your own, for a round? And then,” and here he sounds full of nervous anticipation, “next turn, you head to the Stanley Parable 2 exhibit show?”

Sure thing, bud. Should Stanley take his time with the run?

“Mm, no, I think I can have this all sorted by the time you’ve finished that speed run you’re so eager for. The wonders of loading screens, you know.”

That he does. It’ll be a bit weird to do it without the voice, but he knows those lines by heart. He can manage a run.

Hang on—surprise? Wait, did the fellow—

“Ah-ah! No spoilers!”

Oh he totally did. Stanley snickers and gets to his feet.

[ Race you. ]

“Brat,” the narrator says fondly. “Shall I count down, or—oh, you little cheat!” Because Stanley has already run out his office and through the first room full of cubicles, laughing. His friend’s own surprised laughter follows him to the room with the doors.

Stanley zips through the halls and up the stairs with a newfound eagerness. He’s got motivation, and enthusiasm, and he crosses the length of the boss’s office with a hum. The narrator has not opened the secret passageway for him, but since there’s no narration, Stanley is able to punch in the code without pause. Mm, those beeps always sound so pleasing.

An elevator ride down, a jog through the open doors under the large emboldened letters, and then down the catwalk to the button that turns on the lights. One metal fence, two, and then another elevator. Stanley drums out a beat on his thigh as it ascends, bouncing in place.

A room filled with beautiful, colorful buttons—oh, the hours he’s spent in this room, just to see if any of them affect any of the monitors, any of the digital battery symbols. (The narrator has joked about one day coding in a secret puzzle, too complex to solve within the time-frame at all, which would reset at a single error. It’s mean. Stanley hopes he’ll do it.)

He mustn’t get distracted—he’s almost finished with the run, and then he gets to finally see—

He hits the OFF switch hard enough that it stings his palm. Come on, come on, open faster!

And then Stanley is bolting down the catwalk to the grass. An artificial breeze ruffles his hair. He grins like a loon. The sky looks a little brighter than usual, but maybe that’s just him. He’s just so damn happy.

THEENDISNEVERTHEENDISNEVERTHEENDISLOADING

Stanley inhales deeply, letting his chest full up to the brim. That felt ridiculously good. The intense elation has passed, but there’s still a small ribbon of satisfaction tied neatly around his heart. Damn.

He can feel his heart thudding in his chest, but this time he knows it’s out of anticipation. He’s nervous, it’s hard not to be, but Stanley feels more excited than anything.

He stands, stretches his spine, and rolls up his sleeves. And then Stanley leaves his office.

There’s no voice to greet him, which he expected, but it’s still always a little eerie. He makes his way through the office, past the cubicles and the bucket, and  there, where door 416 used to be, is the New Content door.

Still no chatter, as he rides the track and then the elevator. Nothing when he enters the modern entrance room, or weaves through the halls, or walks past the signs. Not even anything on the stairs or the red carpet.

Stanley’s work shoes click on the tile of the show room. Now that he’s here he finds that he’s slowing down, heart rate ramping up and thudding loud in his ears. He’s… anxious. Why is he anxious?

What if he misinterpreted the surprise? What if it’s something else entirely, and he has to work to not seem disappointed? What if he did accidentally have some predisposed mental image that doesn’t match—

Stanley passes under the archway beneath the stairs, and stops in his tracks.

Looking up at the large Collectible statue is a stranger. It smiles up at the Stanlurine, examining it closely, hands clasped behind their back as they rock on their heels. The gentleman is comfortably dressed, knitted green jumper over a faded yellow collared shirt, simple black slacks absolutely covered in creases, and loafers that look well loved.

The individual glances in Stanley’s direction. For a moment, their eyes go round behind the large frames of their spectacles—and then the fellow smiles, like he’s truly so genuinely happy to see Stanley that he can’t help how the grin breaks across his face.

He hasn’t said a word, but Stanley knows him. Stanley knows his best friend.

The narrator waits, smile still lighting up his face, as Stanley finally approaches. Stanley is… slow to move. Almost hesitant. He takes so long, just staring wordlessly and thoughtlessly, that the smile starts to become a bit strained. The narrator’s eyes flick from his face, away, and then back.

Stanley stops in front of him, and the fellow swallows. The smile finally slips off, giving way to uncertainty. Stanley can tell his hands are fidgeting behind his back.

The narrator opens his mouth, a croak of a syllable slipping out in the same moment Stanley lifts his hands to sign.

“I—“

[ Can I touch? ]

The narrator’s mouth snaps shut. He stares at Stanley like a deer caught in headlights, and then nods.

Stanley’s hands seem to have a mind of their own. They place themselves first on the shoulders (wider than Stanley’s, solid, the jumper texture so soft he would think it’s knitted by hand) then the upper arms (firm), and then one of his hands finds its way to the fellow’s cheek.

The face that is looking up at him is older than his, lined with creases. Thick eyebrows, springy hair in varying shades of gray. The kind of hair that could be styled quite nicely, but is prone to being tugged at and made a mess of when one is in a panic.

The hand not on a cheek cups an ear. These ears are large, indicative of a good listener. It traces a pert nose, turned up at the end, perfect for sneering down the length of with great pretension. His thumb follows the Cupid’s bow, covered by a thick mustache that merges into a full beard which hides the swell of a second chin.

His eyes, bright and full of life, are hazel—they live somewhere between light green and gold, almost like the hazel of cat eyes. Stanley imagines the color would look different under different lighting.

He looks exactly like the sort of person who would have the voice that he does. Someone who wants to seem wise and full of important things to say, but can be lazy and proud and prone to overthinking.

He cups his narrator’s face.

It suits him.

The smile returns, if a little more shy this go around. Those cheeks flush pink, just a little, and Stanley feels the muscles under his hands move and heat. The narrator wiggles in place happily, looking ever so pleased with himself.

God, his wiggles. Stanley’s not gonna get over this for a long, long time.

Stanley finally releases his face and can’t resist the temptation to loosely sink the fingers of one hand into that mess of curls. It’s just a little bit coarse, individual strands springing between his knuckles.

Yeah. Yeah, he likes this model a lot.

That smile has taken on a smug sheen. “Truly my best creation to date, wouldn’t you say? I’d go so far as to call it a masterpiece.”

Stanley takes his hands back. Nope. Not entertaining this fellow’s ego, no matter how much Stanley likes him and likes this thing he's made.

“Oh, don’t be so contrarian,” the narrator tuts, still looking far too satisfied. “Please, do go on about how appealing and pleasant you find my features. I’m looking for real feedback here.”

No, he is fishing for compliments.

He pouts, lower lip jutting forward. Stanley looks away quickly. “Well then,” the gentleman sniffs, turning his nose up (oh god he was right, it’s perfect for that, dammit), “I suppose I’ll just have to put it away then, if it’s not all that impressive—“

He’s nearly knocked over by how his protagonist loops arms around his waist and lifts him, spinning them in the air.

“H-hey! S-Stanley, ah!”

Stanley is grinning again, really grinning so much it nearly hurts.

Look, this is what he wanted, isn’t it? His model being beheld and appreciated? Stanley needs to know about the whole thing!

“Down, down, put me down! We’re going to fall, you—you stupid—stupid!!”

The narrator is a good solid weight, and although Stanley is taller by a good few inches, he’s not exactly made of muscle, so even while arms loop around his neck for support he’s putting his friend back down, soles on the pristine floors.

Winded, his narrator glares at him. He’s—oh, he’s quite close. Their noses are nearly touching. His arms don’t dislodge from where they are on Stanley’s shoulders and Stanley’s arms don’t unwind from his firm, soft middle.

Stanley blinks. Feels how his cheeks heat.

The glare shifts into that smug smile again.

“Flatterer.”

He didn’t—!

“It’s all over your face, Stanley. You’re an open book to me,” comes the condescending tease.

Alright, you know what, two can play at this game. Stanley remembers what the narrator said last time he had a body. Just how long did he spend trying to find, what was it? “Lips worthy of kissing him”?

And there goes the smile. Those eyes (gosh, Stanley can see so much variation in the colors, this close) flick away like a nervous rabbit, before he closes them and sneers irritably. “I’m not going to dignify that with a response,” he sniffs.

Wow. That long, huh.

The eyes fly open again, outraged. “I said—!”

Stanley laughs, and then he presses his forehead to the fellow’s. He feels just so utterly content in this moment.

His friend is here. He’s warm, he’s expressive, he’s here.

“O-Oh,” the exclamation is soft, “Hello.”

Stanley opens his eyes. The narrator looks up at him through fine lashes, expression a bit dazed.

Okay?

“I—yes,” he says, though he seems unsure. “It’s okay. Oh, do you really like it?”

His voice, so quiet, is sincere and perhaps desperate for approval. Like he’s truly uncertain. Stanley nudges their noses together for a moment.

Yeah. Yeah, he loves it, he really does. No jokes, no teasing, no pandering or anything. And not just because it’s another person either.

It just really, really fits his friend. Honestly it does. It’s the exact kind of person Stanley would expect to be sitting at a writing desk for hours, fussing over a story and its details, making a cup of tea and then forgetting about it entirely, surrounded by crumpled papers of rejected ideas and tugging at his hair when he’s frustrated. The kind of person who’s just a little lazy and forgetful, and wants to make lovely things for other people but is utterly temperamental and prone to irritation.

It’s him, it’s so him. He did such a good job.

“Not—not all of that was complimentary, you know,” the fellow huffs gently, though there’s no heat in it. He seems mostly enraptured by the sheer fondness in Stanley’s thoughts.

Yeah, Stanley knows it wasn’t all sweet. But then, the narrator has an ego and Stanley can’t help but tease a bit. Besides, doesn’t it all seem completely correct?

“Yes,” the narrator grumbles, averting his gaze. “It does sound like the kind of human I would be.”

Stanley squeezes him gently one more time, and then finally releases his friend. The narrator seems reluctant to part, but he takes the offered hand. Stanley twines their fingers.

He’s wondering what to show him first. Maybe the hole? Or the balloons? They can go to the merch booth and feel out the different textures of the shirts, since the fellow probably doesn’t have a lot of experience yet. Would he like coffee? Soda? Will they be able to get back to the office? Did the narrator fix the issue with resetting?

The narrator laughs at his enthusiasm. “Slow down, Stanley! What’s the rush?”

But there’s just so much to show him!

His tone gentles. It is a tender thing, full of real, quiet joy.

“We have all the time in the world.”

[yo-snap]

Hi, idk how to format fanfiction here. THIS IS FANFICTION!!!

Fandom: WALL-E (2008)

Title: Gender

Characters: M-O, WALL-E, AUTO, EVE, GO-2 (a GO-4 oc)

Rating: Everyone Language: English Word Count: 2,976 (excluding notes)

[A/N: I thought you tumblrinas would read this. It has a GO-4 fancharacter that i call "GO-2 (GO-4 Unit 2)" he's a robot doctor, and AUTO is that cringe ass version i posted whenever ago.

Some people like talking about gender. I don't. But it's something that comes up with robots a lot I WONDER WHY. (It's because all robots are QUEER, and denial of that is bigotry.) Anyway, here we go w the WALL-E squad bc i said so. Might be a little rambly. Spoilers: you might not like what i have to say.

TW/CW: i don't care about your feelings, INTERPRETATIONS!!!! gender stuff, lgbt+ stuff (implied), talking w friends, personal questions/feelings, misgendering??? (not really), surprise, walking in on someone, computer repairs (mentioned), meeting friends, running off, i don't mention who is talking every single time so don't hang on things]

“I'm just a little fella.”

“You're just a little guy.”

“I'm like just a little guy.”

“You're a little fella guy.”

“I'm just a little fella guy.”

AUTO turned to the two cubic robots that were talking. They seemed to be having a deep conversation.

“I'm like just the littlest fella.”

“You're the littlest fella that i know.”

“I'm like a pretty little fella.”

“You're like small.”

“I'm like a small guy.”

“Like a little fella of sorts.”

“I'm like a little fella, right???”

WALL-E nodded. “You're like a little fella.”

“Like a little guy, right???”

“Are you a guy, M-O???” AUTO couldn't keep quiet anymore.

“Huh???” They both turned to him.

“Are you a ‘guy?’ Do you consider yourself masculine???”

“‘Masculine???’ What do you mean???”

“You mean like a man, right? A male human???” WALL-E was somewhat familiar with the concept.

“Correct. Do you relate yourself personally to men???”

M-O thought. “Huh. I guess i never thought about that.” He considered. “Um… I'm gonna say ‘no,’ not really.”

“I see.”

“I think you're a little guy, but i don't think you're very male-like, M-O.”

AUTO beeped. “I would be inclined to agree. I would not consider you very masculine from an outside perspective.”

M-O considered. “But i'm still like a little guy, right???”

AUTO paused and made another tone. “Affirmative, you are just a little guy. A little fella. Small.”

“Thank you.”

“You know, i don't think i've ever thought about that myself either.” They looked at him. “I mean, i know that men and women are different. I know it's an important thing for them. But i never really gave any thought to which side i relate myself more to.”

“Have you not?”

“Nah, not really. I might relate to a character in a movie or something, but them being either male or female didn't really affect how i saw them.” He tapped his eyepiece. “I guess maybe i'm a little more masculine, since the characters that i relate to more are usually men… Or, well, at the same time, i do have a lot of women characters that i relate to, too. Hmm. I don't know!”

AUTO made a tone. “Do you think you are similar to both? Or to neither???”

He was thinking. He seemed to be struggling, as he grumbled a bit. “I-i'm sorry, what??? What's the difference?”

“Pardon. I mean to say, do you believe that they are both similar to how you see yourself? Or, do you believe that they are both different???”

“Uh…” He still wasn't understanding. “I don't know! I guess both???”

“Both what???” M-O asked, also bamboozled by the question.

“I don't know!!!”

“I apologize. I suppose the question is a bit unclear. I do not know how to say what i mean.”

WALL-E continued to think. “I guess i'm kind of masculine. And i guess i'm kind of… what's the other one? ‘Feminine???’” AUTO nodded. “And i guess i'm also kind of neither of those. I'm kind of…”

“You're kind of a silly guy.”

“Affirmative, he is just a silly guy.”

He had been trying to phrase it, but they distracted him. “Um… sure. Yeah… Thanks.”

“I believe that i understand what you are trying to say, WALL-E. It can be a very difficult thing to define. Do you find that your opinion of it changes at times???”

WALL-E considered. “Yeah. Yeah, i guess. Kind of.” He nodded. “Sure. It changes.”

AUTO nodded. “I understand. That makes sense. I have often found you difficult to classify in those regards as well. I cannot say that you are more similar to one than the other, and i cannot always say that you are similar to either of those.”

“What about me, AUTO? Am i ‘feminine???’” M-O bounced for attention.

AUTO studied him for a moment. “Not very. Perhaps in some regards, you are more feminine than masculine: as cleanliness is typically more associated with women than men. But i would not say that you are very feminine at all.”

“I think you're a good balance, M-O. You're no more feminine than you are masculine, at least to me.”

“But how do you perceive yourself??? Your opinion of yourself is the most important.”

M-O shook his head. “I don't relate more to women than i do men. I think you're both right about me. I like being neither.”

AUTO nodded. “That makes sense. I am happy that you are comfortable.”

“Well, what about you, AUTO??? How do you see yourself???” WALL-E cocked his head.

“I find the perception of myself somewhat similar to both of you. Most times, i do not consider myself either masculine or feminine. But other times, i consider myself feminine.”

WALL-E made a shocked tone. “Whoa, really??!! You consider yourself feminine?!”

AUTO felt awkward. “Yeees… Is that surprising???”

WALL-E fidgeted. “W-well… yeah, a little. I didn't usually see you as either, but i would have said you were slightly more masculine than you are feminine.”

“I understand why you say that. My voice chip is rather low, which is a masculine trait. And i suppose that first encounters are important for how you perceive somebody. I may have come across as more masculine when we first met. Is that your opinion???”

“Y-yeah, i guess that has something to do with it.” He glanced away. “Um, i'm sorry, i didn't mean to make this awkward.”

“There is no need to apologize. I appreciate your input. Would you like to know why i consider myself more feminine???” WALL-E nodded, and M-O beeped in the affirmative.

“The AUTOPILOTs are each essentially part of a triad. There is us, and there is the onboard computer, and there is the ship. The onboard computer was given a feminine voice, much more human in intonation than mine is. Many of her dialog options were recorded at one time by a human woman. She was given the ability to synthesize new words using the phonemes, er, rather, the sounds of the languages with which she was installed. She can answer questions and relay various items from her library, but she is not quite the same variety of AI that we are.

“The ships are considered feminine. Humans have almost always referred to ships as feminine, out of tradition. To my knowledge, it is in relation to the safety and protection provided by a mother or a goddess, or sometimes it is in accordance with the idea of ‘Mother Nature.’” He glanced down at a very confused M-O. “Um… they just refer to vessels as feminine.”

“Okay. And since you're part of the three, you consider yourself feminine, too???” WALL-E was following along.

“Correct. Not always, but on occasion. I feel it would be a bit silly not to. I believe that i have some traditionally feminine traits, such as the concern that i have for the safety of my passengers and robots. I am very diligent in reviewing the information that the computer provides and making adjustments as necessary in order to maintain their safety. I also try my best to accommodate my captains and remind them of their personal needs. I believe that i am sometimes somewhat motherly, which is typically the most feminine that an individual can be.” He thought. “But i suppose those traits could be seen as fatherly as well, depending on inflection or interpretation.”

“I think that might have been what it was for me. Sorry for misinterpreting you.” WALL-E made an apologetic tone.

“That is quite alright. I believe many of my captains have interpreted that as well. Most have used only masculine pronouns when referring to me. I do not mind. I wonder how i would feel if i had been referred to with feminine pronouns.” He tapped his face.

“I always thought you were neither, AUTO. You're too smart to be compared to a human.”

He made a tone. “Thank you, M-O.” He reached down and pet the top of M-O’s head, making him wiggle and chirp happily.

WALL-E made a delighted tone. “I wonder what Eva would say. I don’t think i’ve ever asked her what she thinks.”

“Do you think she’s done with her tune up yet???”

“Inconclusive. Let us ask.” AUTO floated over to the console that connected to the various areas of the ship and put the line through to the repair ward. They could see the video feed on the screen, and it showed GO-2 working on Eva’s body compartment. The three of them made embarrassed and flustered tones, and the two robots on the other end looked over at the camera. “Apologies!!! I did not intend to disrupt!”

GO-2 and Eva glanced at one another, and he floated between her and the camera. “It is no issue. May i help you with something, AUTO???”

“Oh, nothing important. We were just curious as to the estimated time at which Eva's tune up will be complete.” The others were chattering in the background.

GO-2 considered for a moment. “I believe we are almost finished. We should be roughly completed by the time WALL-E and M-O arrive here, if they intend to meet Eva.”

“Ooh, really???” WALL-E glanced at the screen again after being too embarrassed to look.

“Affirmative. We will not be much longer.”

M-o beeped. “Oh, yeah, let's go meet her!”

“Thank you, GO-2. End transmission.”

GO-2 saluted at the camera, and AUTO turned off the line. He turned to his friends. “You are leaving now???”

“In a minute. Do you wanna come with us, AUTO???”

AUTO thought about it. “I am unsure. I do not want Eva to be upset with me.”

“Oh, you worry too much! We'll just tell her that we bugged you until you connected to the ward.” M-O pat AUTO's arm to comfort him.

“We'll always take the blame when Eva's mad at you, AUTO!”

He made a low tone. “Thank you, WALL-E. But i highly doubt the effectiveness of your efforts.”

The three of them made their way towards the repair bay. They didn't have a MVR with them, so it took them a bit longer; and M-O latched onto WALL-E after a little while ‘to not slow them down.’ The others knew that wasn't why he did it, but they would have both admitted to wanting to carry him in their hands if they were asked. M-O didn't want them to fight about it.

They entered to see Eva waiting around after her repairs were completed. It must have been just before they got there, as GO-2 was still updating her repair log. He inputted the last bit of info and hurried over to see his friends. “Hello all! How are you today???”

M-O zipped over to circle around Eva. He beeped happily and circled around GO-2 as well. “Hiii GO-2!!!”

WALL-E rolled up beside Eva and they both reached to hold hands. “Hi GO-2! We're good, how are you???”

“I am well, thank you. It is always a pleasure to work on Eva.”

“It's a pleasure to be here, GO-2!” Eva made a bright tone.

“I must apologize, Eva. I sincerely did not mean to invade your privacy as i did.” AUTO made a low tone and cautiously hovered toward GO-2.

WALL-E beeped quickly. “Uh, it was my idea, Eva! We thought you were almost done.”

“Uh, yeah, i was the one that said that. Heheh, i guess i got my timing off. Sorry.” 

She rolled her eyes. “It's fine, guys. We're all robots here.”

“Oh yeah, that's why we all came down here!” M-O rolled between GO-2 and Eva. “AUTO asked us about how we think about ourselves! Like if we're more similar to men or women.” He beeped. “I said that i was neither. WALL-E said that he was both and also neither. And he was really surprised by what AUTO said about himself!”

“Okay!!! But to be fair, you guys have all known him a lot longer than i have!!!”

That made Eva curious. “What did he say???”

“That he believes that he is somewhat feminine???”

“You knew that, GO-2???!!!” This was still an intense point for WALL-E.

He made a tone. “Of course. I am a sort of psychiatrist as well as a regular doctor to our robots. We have talked about this at length.”

“GO-2 was the first person that i told. I additionally simply trusted him as a friend.” AUTO put his hand on GO-2's back.

“Wait, what does ‘feminine’ mean???” Eva cocked her head.

“It's like a woman. ‘Masculine’ is like a man.” M-O wanted to make sure he still understood, and was satisfied that no one corrected him.

“Oh.” She processed. “So AUTO is like a woman???”

“W-well, partially. I typically see myself as neither masculine nor feminine.”

Eva thought for a moment. “I guess that makes sense.”

“How do you see yourself, Eva???”

She glanced at WALL-E. “I think it makes sense to be neither. I don't think i'm more like women than i am man. And i don't think i'm like men very much at all.” She beeped. “I guess i'd have to think about it.”

“Well– can i tell you what i think???” WALL-E wanted to share.

“Um, sure.”

“Okay, so when i first saw you, i thought you were beautiful. Gorgeous. Completely amazing. I was astounded. I couldn't believe my optics. You were incredible. You–”

“Yes, WALL-E, we know how you felt.” All of them, especially Eva, had heard WALL-E's first impression of her a hundred times before.

He made an awkward tone. “Er, w-well, i thought you were a little bit masculine in appearance. Like in shape, anyway. You were kind of like… like a triangle???” He put his hands together to demonstrate the upside-down shape that he meant. “Which is like a man. And especially with the ion rifle. I thought you were like an action hero, which are usually men.

“But then i saw you up close, and i heard your cute little giggle, and i wasn't sure anymore! And then we actually met, and your voice was so sweet and beautiful and wonderful, and i thought it was really feminine! Aaand after that i kind of lost it again. I think you're kind of like both, and also like neither. I wonder if you and i are alike like that.”

AUTO made a quiet tone. “M-may i offer my opinion???”

She slowly turned to him and glanced him up and down. “Sssuuure.”

He tapped his fingers together nervously. “W-well, i will say concisely: i view you as more feminine than masculine. In regards to shape, you are very rounded, and i believe that you were designed to look like an upside-down egg, which are things that come from female animals. Your directive had you incubate plant samples, which can also be considered feminine, as females are almost always the ones to incubate within their bodies.

“Your voice chip is also more feminine than masculine. I like it very much. But i have to believe that you were intended to be seen as feminine completely, as you were given a name that reflects the Biblical character of the first woman. I would say that your, rather, all of the EVEs’ intention was to be feminine: but you personally are not completely feminine. I think you are you, Eva. I admire that about you.”

There was silence for a few seconds, and AUTO thought he might have said something wrong. “I also think you're just Eva. You're a round fella.” M-O wanted his opinion to be known.

“Like how you're a little fella.” She didn't say it as a question.

“Exaaaactlyyyyy.” He nodded his head and looked at everyone as if trying to convince them.

“What about you, GO-2??? Do you have an opinion about yourself???” WALL-E didn't want him to be left out.

He turned to him. “Not exactly. Not in those parameters. I suppose that i can be either feminine or masculine, depending on how i am viewed. Human doctors do not have a typical gender… or, rather, they are not typically men, nor typically women: they are both. As for how i see myself, i do not give it much thought. I am usually too busy to consider that aspect of myself. I like who i am, and do not feel that i need to label myself as either masculine or feminine.”

“Yeah, me too!” M-O chirped.

“Affirmative, i feel that way as well most times.” AUTO nodded.

“I guess i'm kind of like that too. But now i am gonna think about it, because you guys are saying that i seem feminine. Maybe i'll agree with you.” Eva still needed some time.

“I can understand that. But i also want to think that i could be either. I wonder what it would be like to be a man or a woman.” WALL-E tapped his eyepiece.

“Well, whatever it's like, i'm sure it's not as fun as this!” Eva took off out of the repait ward, giggling and looking back as she did.

“Eva!!!” WALL-E called after her and dashed to follow.

“Oh, i'll catch you guys later! See ya!!!!” M-O sped off as fast as he could. “Hey guys, wait up!!! I'M JUST A LITTLE FELLA!!!”

AUTO and GO-2 watched them leave. They were both glad to see that they were so happy.

“You know, AUTO…” He turned to look at GO-2. “I could always try to adjust your voice chip. Perhaps i could help you sound more feminine. If you would like that.”

He made a tone. “Thank you for the offer, GO-2. But i am content with my voice as it is currently. It is how i have always sounded, and that voice matches me now. But thank you for offering again. I always appreciate it.” He affectionately pet GO-2 on his siren, and GO-2 made a satisfied tone.

[Post a/n: check under your chairs, i lost the ending again. Oops.

Heeeyy, there you go. THEY'RE QUEER! And i don't care if you don't agree. To clarify: M-O is gender neutral, WALL-E is genderfluid, AUTO is demifemme/gender neutral, Eva is questioning nonbinary, and GO-2 is agender. They use the pronouns that i used here. That's my version. Peace sign.

This is cross-posted on FFN and AO3 under the title "GO-4 It!!!"]

[dreamy625]

Nicotine, that’s for remembrance

Words: 810

Content: Something for Sad Steve Day. Remembering Steve ten years after his death. 

—-----------------------------

“Hey! You can’t smoke that here!”

The woman sitting cross-legged on the grass squints up at him. “I’m not smoking it, I’m just holding it.”

“Well you can’t do that ei… What? Why?”

“It’s not for me. It’s for him.” She gestures at the gravestone next to her. “He’s been down there ten years. I can guarantee he needs a cigarette, and a drink.” She raises the silver flask held in her other hand.

“He gets plenty of that, the number of cans and bottles I have to clear up.” grumbles the groundskeeper. 

“I promise I won’t leave a mess. Just a few drops. It’s vodka, it won’t stain. I thought about adding some cranberry juice. That’s his favourite. Vodka and cranberry. But I thought, wasps. Co-op didn’t have any anyway. Not much call for it apparently. I hope he doesn’t mind. Not that he… obviously…” The ramble ends with a crack in her voice. 

“You knew him then?”

“Yeah. A bit.”

“You don’t sound like you’re from round here?”

“No. I’m from London. I worked in a pub in Chelsea when I was at university. He used to come in sometimes. Quite a lot. If none of his mates were in, he’d sit at the bar. Bit like this really.” She looks down at the grave and the corner of her mouth quirks up briefly. “Only with bowls of peanuts instead of plastic chrysanthemums.”

“He’s a popular fella. More visitors than all the rest put together.”

“He was then too. Everyone loved Steve.”

“It was his birthday last week, there were loads of people here.”

“He’ll be glad he missed it, he hates crowds. Hated… crowds.”

The caretaker gives a half-laugh half-grunt, “Well don’t you stay too long, young lady. You’ll catch your death, sitting on that damp grass.”

Lucy smiles at this demonstration of gruff Yorkshire kindness mixed with graveyard punnery. “I think I’ll stay a bit longer. Just ‘til someone else gets here. I don’t want him to be lonely.”

As he shuffles away she turns back to the headstone, raising the flask in a melancholy salute. 

“I know ‘good health’ is traditional but that seems a bit redundant at this point. So, cheers, I guess?”

Solemnly she pours a measure of the liquor on the ground before taking a swig herself. After checking that the groundskeeper is now out of sight, she surreptitiously lights the cigarette and balances it carefully on the edge of the plinth.

“I hope none of this is blasphemous or anything.” she mutters. “That’s the last thing either of us needs, the wrath of a slighted deity.”

Offerings made, she sits back down, unsure what it is customary to actually do when visiting the deceased. Glancing around, the few other mourners seem to have mostly opted for silent contemplation, though one is seemingly carrying on an animated discussion with their dear departed, and another is vigorously scrubbing at some engraving with a toothbrush. Lucy watches the cigarette burn down, trying to think of some meaningful statement appropriate to the occasion, but no suitable epitaph springs to mind. 

“We missed you, y’know.” she eventually blurts out. “The pub wasn’t the same without you. I left that summer. I’m told it’s a brasserie now; you’d hate it!”

She takes another gulp of the vodka and sprinkles a few more drops on the grave. 

“You know what else you’d hate? The music now. God, it’s fucking awful. You missed grunge, and Britpop, they were okay I suppose. But now there’s just a lot of drum machines and beeping, and do not even get me started on NSYNC!”

She pauses, suddenly remembering that this can only be a one-way conversation and feeling a renewed stab of loss. Steve had been, still was, the only person she’d ever really bonded with over music. He knew everything, all the early Bowie, and Zeppelin, and T. Rex that she’d missed through the misfortune of not being born until 1971. 

“Oh I do miss you.” 

She squeezes her eyes shut - she’d promised herself she wouldn’t be a cliche fangirl and blub all over the gravestone. Opening them, she spots a couple of newcomers in the distance, dressed in denim and black, looking lost but purposeful and heading, more or less, in her direction. Not wanting to make a spectacle of herself, she takes a deep breath and concentrates on the things she’d wanted to say to her departed friend, the reason she’d felt compelled to come here in the first place. 

“I wish I could have known you better. I wish you knew how much you were loved. I wish there was something… that would have made a difference.” And finally, “I wish you were still here.”

Standing up, Lucy presses her fingers to her lips and then to the carving of Steve on the headstone. 

“Sleep tight, sweet boy.”

[maguro13-2]

Legacy of Shinra ~ Origins of the Ink Demon Chapter 1 Pt. 4

[Chao Transporter - Tomoya Ohtani]

(POP! POP!)

Edward : Hey, Soul Eater! Congratulations on making your debut! As of today, you are now officially a member of the Shounen Gangan community! In response for your series unveiled by Ohkubo, we decided to give you something very important! Your official Square Enix licenses!

[S3 Jingle : 1-UP - Tomonori Sawada]

Maka Albarn : Umm, thanks! It's kinda cool that I'm currently on the same page in the magazine!

Edward : Of course, that's why you're on front page in Gangan Joker magazine! You're officially Shounen Protag, you're gonna look cool, say hello to fans, and get your popularity on! We're talking about the money right here and now! What do you battle the most hated villain you ever faced and what is your goal of being hero?

Maka Albarn : Well, ummm...(cloud walks up to Edward)

Cloud : Edward can I talk to you for a moment?

Edward : Sure why not?

Cloud : About what happened last night, there was something going on with the characters from Ohkubo's new series, some creature made of Ink has attacked Sora.

Edward : Wait, Sora? Attacked by some "Creature made of Ink"?

Cloud : Yeah, sorta like that. We heard that this Shounen Protag is fighting against an evil witch that enforced a kid named Crona. It is also to believe that Crona kid is also the relative to a group of witches and is a genderless person. Which Crona can be referred to as a he or a she.

Edward : Really? A relative to an evil witch and her groupies? But who could it be? It can't be someone that has to be enforcing a genderless kid that is facing with depression.

(cuts to a dark room where Kimial is typing on the computer)

[Mistery - Seirou Okamoto]

Ashley (via phone) : So, Kimial. Did you find out who the criminals are?

Kimial Diehl : Yeah, It's the one that I'm looking for. The Gorgon Sisters aka the witch trio.

Ashley (via phone) : otherwise known as the "Monsters of Witchkind". They are a trio named after the three snaked heads who were expelled from the hearts of their original selves for many years in our past. They've been making a lot of messes around the globe and getting our kind involved as being enemies to the son of the devil himself, Mr. Shinigami.

Kimial Diehl : Yeah, they're the ones we are currently after, we don't know what they are planning and why are they trying to doom the entire world?

Ashley (via phone) : Because, this is the case of the Kusakabe Legacy. On the other hand, they found a book that was once read by the mother of Maka Albarn, the woman that spread "Truth" to the world in the whereabouts of Shinra. But after her strange and mysterious disappearance, this makes Maka Albarn herself fallen to despair.

Kimial Diehl : Kinda feel sorry that her mother was the only person that could ever facing "Truth". But the men of Shinra's Influence that Crona mentioned, they had the nerves to keep it all of this a secret. Who even does that? Anyway, I'm going to find out that what Medusa and her sisters are up to. Then I will find all the evidence and give this to the people at Boston.

Ashley (via phone) : Excellent idea, partner. We should get things ready for the commendation of our reunion. But right now, I'm currently recruited as a new employee to this "company" owned by this strange garlic eating person. Gotta go, now. Call back when you are needed of getting ready for the evidence. I Promise. (Phone beep)

(cuts to Ashley at Nintendo)

Wario (from the right) : Ashley! We need you on the Total Drag stage pronto! We ain't got all day so get to micro-gaming!

Ashley : (sighs) This is going to be one heck of a day for a game girl. Probably on a tight schedule. Red, get the micro-games.

Red the Demon : On it, Ash!

Ashley : It's Ashley.

Red the Demon : ...Right.

Ashley : Guess were going to do this on an early morning hello. But I'm sure things will be okay for me now. I wonder if I could meet up with this "Young Cricket" fella? He sure is charming though.

Red the Demon : (sighs) Here we go this time around. When I find the Gorgon Sisters in hot water, they'll be lucky that they'll be serving justice for the witches. Let's get to it. We got micro-games to do. Wario's orders.

(Ashley and Red before Young Cricket and Master Mantis appears)

Young Cricket : Hm? Hey, that girl...

Master Mantis : What is it, cricket?

Young Cricket : I feel like that I've known her before. She's definitely the one that is my match.

~ Third Scene : Witches in Crime ~

[muggycuphead]

weird flex but ok i guess pt.28

27

War...Hold up, do we really need a warning for this one? Dunno, but however, watch out for slightly disturbing and kinda…disgusting imagery, trypophobic patterns, as well as ‘necrotic’ (and dark themed) designs I made while having funky fever bc o h m y g o d do I get a little crazier every new quarantine day (and at this point it’s coming to be an usual thing for me, big sad). However, most are made no other than for the sole sake of satire, so y’know, no need to get your underwear in a twist

This one's to all my eldritch creatures fan folks, have a taste

Friday Night Funkin’ BoyFriend’s Hood – AU fanconcept sketches [XXV]

EDIT 26/10/2023: Updated the drawing with a rescanned, more clean version

1.- Puppil (Grown/Sick)

cooties bad

So yeah, this is BF's pet pupper after so long...and I mean it it's been 10 years already whatzefu-

He was fun to make, and the result came out awesome, I love it <3

2.- "Puppil, it really is you buddy!"

(This happens after StiX's rewritten events, and once Puppil is de-cootied)

(Instinctively, Puppil pounces towards BF and throws him off, as he gasps in shock)

(Both GFs) "BF!"

"Major B!"

(BF is shaken, as the eldritch canine slowly steps closer, growling)

"..."

(BF notices something on the creature's eye that rings a bell on his memory lane)

"Wait, is it...?"

(BF stands up and walks towards the canine, his hand put foward)

(Little G) "No! BF!"

(GF) "Oh my devils, are you serious?!"

(The canine looks aggresively towards GF, until...)

"...Puppil? Is it you, buddy?"

(The canine stands paralyzed for a while, it's ears going a little up, as it looks towards BF, his eye slightly getting expanded)

"...Do you...still remember me...?"

(The canine walks a little closer, as it sniffs BF's hand)

(Pause for a moment...and the doggo jumps over BF)

"BF!"

(Panic ceases the moment she hears BF beeping and laughing, noticing the canine's just...y'know, licking him in a playful way cuz dogs things amirite-)

(Stops Puppil for a sec and holds its face, it still panting) "Ahaha! Ah, Puppil, it really is you, old buddy! And BOY did ya get big, you rascal!"

(Puppil barks enthusiastically, as it puts itself close to BF)

(Hugs Puppil back, still petting him) "Yeah, I missed you too, pal...it's been a long time..."

(Minor B joins in, as Puppil looks to him and back to BF in confusion)

"Oh, uh...it's a long story"

(Puppil looks toward Minor B, sniffs him, and licks him as a "hello hi")

"Hehe, welcome back, Puppil!"

(Another hug because hell fucking yeah)

Can we have wholesome cake thank you

3.- "Awe, who's a good boy?"

(Vibing) "Sooo...you guys done there?"

(Puppil looks back at GF and frowns, growling)

(stands up) "Ayo, easy there boy, she's not a threat" (pets Puppil, who looks back to him) "If anything, she's my partner...or as you guys know it, my 'mate'"

(GF giggles) "Hey, don't you furrify me"

(BF chuckles) "But anyway, she's GF, and that little fella next to her is...also her" (Puppil looks confused) "...Yeah, it's awkward but it is what it is"

(Puppil walks to GF and looks at her, waving its tail)

"Heya, what's up, doggie boy?"

"Aw, he's so cute! Can I pet him?"

(Puppil walks close, as Little G puts her hand on its head, while GF tickles it below its chin(??)

"Awe, who's a good boy? Who's a cute little spooky boy?"

(Puppil licks GF a little in her hand)

"Hey, watch it there, I might be a little too spicy for you" (wink)

Demon girl and eldritch doggo vibin

4.- A favor

Chuck's gonna keep doggo boi at his place for now till GF and BF come back

What are friends for anyway?

29

[bee-in-rain-boots]

Beep Beep 🚗🚗

[beepathan]

dors anyone have a cure for the unending and overwhelming .

[catilinas]

hickey medea send tweet 🐣

[wild-karrde]

One Step at a Time - Part 1

Master List | Next Chapter

A/N: IT IS TIME! I'm very excited for this fic, and I hope you all are too (even if it is a purely OC fic). I've loved these three since I introduced them (Chuckles and Arni first appeared in 200 Follower Celebration Ficlets, and Nita made her first appearance in “Reunion” and is also featured in one of those ficlets), and I wasn't certain if I'd ever write a fic for just them, but this one has really just been a labor of love from the start. I know this will probably have lower than normal readership since it doesn’t revolve canon characters, but I hope those that do read it love it as much as I do. As always, thank you to the absolutely incredible @teletraan-meets-jarvis for beta-reading this for me and encouraging me to write this (while also being a wonderful sounding board for all my ideas). Couldn’t do this without you, TJ! Without further ado...

Chapter Rating: T (entire work is rated E, but M-rated version can be found on AO3)

Warnings: language, canon-typical violence

Word Count: 6.6k words

It’s almost over. 

Chuckles’s feet felt lighter as he stepped out of his fighter and onto the ladder next to the Z-95 Headhunter, slipping his helmet off and tucking it under his arm. He paused for a moment on the ladder to examine his reflection in the transparisteel of his cockpit viewport. He ran his fingers through his flattened mohawk, trying to stand the colored ends back up from where the helmet had pressed them against his skull. The teal color he’d dyed the tips of his hair a few weeks ago was fading to more of a greenish grey at this point, and his mouth twitched at the hue. 

Needs a touch-up soon.

The color had been chosen by his friend Howzer after a lost game of sabacc to “ensure everyone knew who beat him.” Chuck would never admit it, but he’d liked the teal the best of any colors he’d tried during the war. It had looked nice against the magenta and grey of his armor.  

Three years, and it might all end today. 

When he reached the base of the ladder, he paused, glancing down at the helmet in his hands. His fingers traced the stars he’d painted for each of his fallen brothers on the plastoid, some of them with scratches marring their magenta paint. Turning the helmet, his thumb grazed the single grey star he’d painted on the back of the helmet near its base. He sighed. 

Thank the Maker this might all be done. Was running out of real estate for these guys. 

A few of the maintenance droids were already rolling towards his fighter, and he gave them one of his lop-sided grins, the scar on the right corner of his mouth tugging against the expression. “Make sure you polish her up good, fellas. By all accounts, it sounds like there’ll be a victory parade shortly.” The droids buzzed and beeped in excitement, the R7 unit spinning in an excited circle. Chuckles grinned, patting its metal dome as he moved past. 

What to do with my day off? The possible last day of the war? Maybe I’ll go see that mechanic down in the temple garage. Might be time I finally asked her out to dinner. To celebrate. 

Chuck glanced down at his armor before raising his arm and giving his armpit a sniff. The last mission had been shorter than the others, so the stink hadn’t set in yet. He shrugged, deciding not to run by the barracks and change.

Eh, who can say no to a guy in his armor? I showered yesterday anyway.

Reaching down, he made sure his sidearm was still in its holster at his hip before he stepped out of the garage. He’d misplaced the damn thing enough, and he was not about to be reprimanded by some uptight admiral on a day as momentous as this. 

The streets of Coruscant were buzzing as usual, but today felt different. There was a charge of excitement that made the air feel electric, as if everyone knew what he did. 

News travels fast, I’m sure. Especially good news. 

He slipped his helmet back on so that he could monitor the clone comm channels. This was not the day to be out of the loop. He tuned into the main feed, listening to the crackle that was occasionally interrupted by one of the millions of voices that all sounded like his, reporting statuses or giving order updates. If General Kenobi could just handle things on Utapau with the 212th, then it would be all over. 

A new beginning.

Chuckles had been created to fight in this war, and with the end of it looming, he wasn’t exactly sure how to feel about his future. If he was honest, he hadn’t really thought that far ahead. With as many brothers as he’d lost, he’d just assumed he’d wind up as a star or a hashmark on someone else’s armor at some point, but now, he’d made it. 

Beat the odds, I guess. Despite the galaxy’s best efforts. 

The columns of the Jedi temple loomed taller as he approached, their towers reaching up to pierce the clear Coruscant sky that was beginning to turn orange and pink as dusk approached. Chuckles nodded to a few of the Jedi stewards as he passed into the gardens that ran along the side of the temple. He loved cutting through them to get to the maintenance garages. Normally, they were filled with masters and padawans meditating or younglings running about, but today, they were uncharacteristically still. 

Probably all inside tuned to the feeds like I am. Wonder if General Rancisis is back from Saleucami yet. He’ll want to be here for this. 

He paused under one of the larger trees in the garden, his head tilting up to observe the fluttering petals of the blooms that had broken out across the branches since the last time he’d been here. A few of the pale pink petals were caught in the breeze and fluttered downward towards him. Chuckles reached out his glove to catch one of them, smiling to himself underneath his bucket.

“Attention all Coruscant-based troops. Attention all Coruscant-based troops.” 

Chuckles paused, listening to the buzzing, monotone voice in his helmet. 

“Execute Order 66.” 

There was a ringing in his ears before a flash of pain shot across his vision, blinding him for a second as he cursed loudly. His hand flew to the side of his helmet. The petals he’d caught drifted to the ground, his boots crushing them as he tried to steady himself, his knees shaking.

“Execute Order 66.”

Another searing blast emanated from the right side of his head, and Chuckles pressed his hand against the tree as he tried to stay on his feet. 

Good soldiers…

He slapped the side of his helmet, trying desperately to clear his mind. His thumb grazed the comm switch, silencing the channel that was just repeating the same directive over and over. Another bolt of pain slammed into him, and he roared a curse. And then, as suddenly as it came, it dissipated. Chuck was crouching down by the tree, bracing his palms against the bark of its trunk as he took several deep steadying breaths. The rushing of his blood in his ears had subsided, giving way to a deafening silence. He rested the forehead of his bucket against the tree as he inhaled deeply once more. 

What the kriff was that? 

A scream ripped through the silence. Chuckles froze, almost wondering if he had imagined it until he heard another one, unmistakable and a much lower register than the first. And then came the blaster fire. Chuckles ripped his sidearm from its holster, crouching against the tree. 

Good soldiers follow…

The pain came roaring back and he gasped, banging on the side of his helmet again. 

Come on, get it together, Chuck.

He heard the pounding steps of someone running. Crouching low, he peered around the trunk cautiously. The back door of the temple was open. A blonde human padawan was running from it, making her way across the courtyard, her lightsaber in hand as her dark robes trailed behind her. Suddenly, multiple blaster bolts erupted out of the door. The padawan whirled, and Chuckles could see tears streaming down her face. 

“WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?!” she screamed before another volley of bolts flew through the door. Chuck stood, running towards her as fast as his legs could carry him. He made it through the durasteel decorative gate, sprinting towards the hedges that lined the courtyard the padawan was standing in, but as he went to vault them, one of the branches caught his toe. As he fell forward, his arms flailing, he watched as a blaster bolt caught the padawan in her shoulder. She dropped her lightsaber as another one caught her in the chest, and she collapsed to the ground, her blonde braid trailing behind her. 

No.

Chuckles felt bile rise in his throat as he slammed onto his chest behind a set of bushes. The wind was knocked out of him, and before he could struggle to his feet, he froze as three clone troopers in blue and white armor jogged out the door of the temple. They approached the padawan, their blasters trained on her. One of them crouched down, checking her before nodding at the others. Chuckles watched in horror as they abandoned the padawan’s body, retreating into the temple. 

What? Why would they do that? She needs help. She needs…did they kill her?

From where he lay, hidden from view, he could see inside the temple now. The unmistakable blur of lightsabers shone down the hallways, deflecting blaster bolts back at more troopers in blue and white armor. Chuckles watched another group of Jedi fall, the troopers stepping over the bodies left in their wake. Pushing himself to his knees, Chuckles lifted his helmet just enough to vomit violently into the bushes. 

What the kriff is happening? The temple is under attack. Where did the Seppies get clone armor? How did this many of them get on Coruscant with no one noticing?  

He took a deep shuddering breath.

Focus. You need to focus.

He punched the comm on his arm. “This is CT-4311. Does anyone read me?” He was met with silence. In frustration, he punched the comm again. “HELLO? This is CT-4311! I’m at the Jedi temple, and they are under attack by soldiers wearing clone armor. We need as many battalions as we can get down here ASAP.” No response. He banged his vambrace against the ground again. “HELLO? IS ANYONE THERE?” He slapped the switch on his helmet again, tuning to the main comm channel. 

Surely this is making the waves.

“Execute Order 66.” 

The pain shot through his skull again, and he gasped before switching the comm back off. 

What the kriff is going on?

A rustle in a set of bushes off to his left made him jump. Chuckles sprang to his feet, drawing his sidearm and aiming it at the source of the sound. 

“IDENTIFY YOURSELF.” 

The bushes rustled again, closer to him this time, and Chuckles took a step backwards as he tried to put more authority in his voice. “I SAID IDENTIFY YOURSELF.” He gripped the blaster tighter, trying to hide the shaking of his hands. 

Hushed whispers carried to him from the foliage. Suddenly, he noted two bright, honey-colored eyes peering at him from between two branches. 

It’s a youngling. 

He holstered his blaster, squatting back down. “Hey there, can you come out?” He went to take a step forward, but before his heel could hit dirt, a blur of brown and blue stepped in between him and the bush. A yellow lightsaber hummed in front of his face, held by a quivering young blue Twi’lek. 

“DON’T TOUCH HER.”

The kid’s face was covered in tear stains, their bottom lip trembling as they dug their teeth in as if that would keep them from dissolving into a sobbing mess. They were mostly blue with a tan birthmark on one side of their face that reached from their chin to just below their eye, almost like a splotch of paint had been flung at them. The kid’s lekku hung down their back, trembling along with the rest of them. They were dressed in a traditional brown Jedi tunic and robe that matched their lekku wrappings and the cap that covered their head, but along their belt were multiple pouches with handwritten labels. Bacta. Bolts. Snacks. I’ll have to ask what kind of snacks later. Chuckles glanced at their face. Can’t be older than twelve, maybe not even that. 

“Back up,” the Twi’lek demanded in a quavering voice. 

The bushes behind the youngling rustled again, and a small Pantoran emerged. Her silver hair was wound into two messy buns on either side of her head with a few leaves from the bush sticking out of them. She wore a silver tunic that seemed just a little too large for her, her sleeves hiding most of her hands. Her large golden eyes appraised the clone in front of her, but before she could speak, the Twi’lek shoved her behind them. The Pantoran peered at Chuckles from behind her companion’s robes. There was fear in her eyes, but also curiosity. That one’s probably six or seven. Maker alive, what is happening? 

Chuckles raised his hands in surrender, sinking into a crouch behind the bushes, blocking them from the view of the door. 

“Kid, look-”

“Why?” the Twi’lek demanded. “Why are you doing this to us?”

“Doing what?”

“Why are you attacking us? Why are you killing us?” the youngling demanded. 

Chuckles stared at them blankly. “It’s not us, kid. Someone must have stolen our armor. We would never-”

“IT IS YOU! I SAW ONE OF THEM TAKE OFF THEIR HELMET!” 

Chuckles’s heart thundered in his chest. That can’t be. Why would we attack the Jedi? That doesn’t make any sense. What the kriff is happening? He shook his head. No, focus. I’ve got to get these kids out of here. He made a move towards the Twi’lek, but the youngling brandished their lightsaber as firmly as they could. 

“Stay. Back.” 

Chuckles noticed the youngling’s eyes were flicking back and forth as they looked at him, and then he remembered he was wearing his helmet. Slowly, he reached for the base of his bucket, sliding it up and over his head and setting it on the ground next to him before he raised his hands once more. The Twi’lek’s face seemed to soften a bit at the sight of a human face staring back at them. 

It’s harder to kill something with a face, Chuckles thought. 

“Listen, I don’t know what’s happening either. I’m just as scared and confused as you are. But, I’m not going to hurt you. I want to get you out of here, alright?” The Twi’lek appeared to be considering it carefully, their eyes darting to the direction of the screams that were still coming from the temple and then back to Chuckles. Chuck took a deep breath. “I’m not one of them, kid.” 

“Arni.” The Pantoran gently tugged on the Twi’lek’s robes. “I think he’s telling the truth. Reach out to him.” 

The Twi’lek looked at her for a moment before moistening their lips. “I…I can’t read him without touching him. I haven’t gotten good enough at it yet.” 

Chuckles thought for a second before taking his blaster and tossing it near the Twi’lek’s feet. We need to get out of here, but I need them to trust me first. Pulling the binders he had on his belt, he held them up.  “I’m gonna put these on, ok? You’ll have to let me out once you’re sure. And if you don’t get the right…read, you can just leave me here, alright?” And then I’ll be on my own. But at least maybe they’ll be safe. Or at least, safer I guess. Before he could overthink it further, Chuckles turned so his back was to the two younglings, slipping the binders over his wrists and locking them in place. He gave them a tug to demonstrate he was locked in. The two younglings whispered again behind him before coming around to stand in front of him. The Twi’lek Arni stepped closer, and with trembling hands, cupped his face. Their palms were sweaty and cold, and Chuck could feel them trembling against his cheeks. Arni closed their eyes, their brows furrowing in concentration. Chuckles closed his eyes as well, feeling a warmth wash over him that seemed to emanate from the kid’s fingertips despite their clamminess. He’d never really experienced the Force before, but he imagined that was what he was feeling now. It was…pleasant. 

Suddenly, a rush of memories overtook him. His batchmate with him in a supply closet, drunk and giggling uncontrollably as they tried to stifle their laughter to hide from one of the trainers on Kamino. The first time he flew. The first time he saw a sunset on Bespin, soaring and diving through the pink and gold clouds. The losses. Painting the stars on his helmet. The sobs. The anger. And then, the moment the Twi’lek had stepped out of the bushes. He felt as though he was watching a replay of his life. And then, it was over, and he was staring at the back of his eyelids. His eyes fluttered open, refocusing in the bright light. Arni stood before him, panting. 

“You…you’re telling the truth. You’re not one of them.”

“I’m not. Will you let me help get the two of you out of here?” 

An explosion rumbled from within the temple, and all three of them turned to see smoke billowing out of the upper windows. Arni moved quickly behind Chuckles, and he felt the binders click and loosen. He sighed in relief as he slapped them back to his belt. Turning, he gripped the Twi’lek’s shoulders, looking in their eyes to try and steady them. I can’t do this without them. I need them with me.

“Arni, right?” 

The kid nodded. 

“Ok, Arni. I’m Chuckles, but you can call me Chuck.” He turned, extending a hand behind him, which the Pantoran glanced at before looking at Arni. The Twi’lek nodded at her, and the Pantoran slipped her small, pudgy hand into Chuckles’s gloved one. He gave it a reassuring squeeze. “What’s your name?”

“Nita,” she said quietly.

“Excellent, we all know each other now. You two have done so well getting this far, and I can get us out of here, but I’m going to need your help, alright?” His words were more certain than he felt.

The two younglings nodded.

“I’m a pilot, so if I can get us to a ship, we’ll be in good shape. Do either of you know if there are any in the garage?” 

Arni thought for a moment before nodding. “No fighters, but a few transports and maybe a freighter when I was down there yesterday.”

“Good. Good. Ok, to the garage then. You two stay close to me.” Chuckles reached for his helmet and blaster, sliding the bucket back over his head. It muted the smell of smoke that had started to permeate the air. Quickly, he ushered the two younglings forward, keeping low behind the bushes as they raced towards the garage entrance. After a few minutes, it became apparent Nita was struggling, so Chuckles scooped her up. “I’ve got you, kid. You’re alright.” He felt her tiny hands dig into the fabric of his undersuit at his neck, and he gently pressed his helmet against her head. “You’re gonna be alright.” He looked over to Arni, who was jogging next to him. “If we see anyone, you help me out, ok? That lightsaber will prove pretty handy in a fight.” Arni nodded, but he could still see the tremble in the young Twi’lek’s hands at the thought. 

They managed to make it to the garage door. “Can you get us in?” Chuckles asked Arni. The Twi’lek nodded, digging out a slip of flimsi from one of their pouches before setting to work finding the door code punching it into the panel. Chuckles turned his back to the door, scanning the courtyard for any approaching clone troopers. He clicked the stun setting on his blaster. Just in case. 

Smoke was billowing from the Jedi temple now, a dark column reaching towards the sky, which felt more blood red than anything at this point, far more menacing than it had been mere minutes before. Chuckles felt himself sigh with relief when he heard the door beep and hiss open. Turning, he nodded at Arni. “Alright kid, lead the way. We need-” 

“YOU THERE! STOP.” 

Kriff.

Chuckles froze, his breathing growing shallow as he recognized the voice. A brother. 

He turned back slowly, his grip tightening on the blaster at his side. Two troopers in blue and white armor were approaching him and the younglings, blasters aimed at them. 

“What’s up fellas?” he asked, trying to keep his voice even. 

“Where are you taking those traitors?” 

“To…um…to the prison block. Figured a transport would help me get there faster.”

“They’re marked for execution.” 

Chuckles’s breath stuttered in his throat.

“They’re kids,” he rasped. “Just kids.”

“They’re traitors to the Republic and are to be executed.” 

What the kriff is going on?

“We’re not killers. We don’t do this,” he said quietly, a plea sneaking into his tone. “Please don’t do this.” 

“Put the youngling down.” 

Chuckles’s mind raced before coming to the clear decision. Something’s wrong. I have no kriffing idea what, but this is wrong. I have to protect these kids. 

“Nita, close your eyes honey, ok?” he whispered.

“Are you not going to comply?” the trooper demanded.

“Arni, stay behind me.” He heard the Twi’lek shuffle in the doorway.

The trooper on his right took a step forward first. Chuck raised his blaster and fired, but rather than the blue stun rings he expected, a lethal bolt erupted from the muzzle. The bolt struck the trooper between the eyes, and his body collapsed limply to the ground, a small trail of smoke snaking from the smoldering hole in his helmet.

I clicked on stun. Why is it not on stun?

The other trooper raised his blaster, but before he could squeeze the trigger, Chuckles shot him in the chest twice. His body hit the ground with a thud, his blaster skittering out of his hand. 

I just killed two of my brothers. I set it to stun. Why…how?

It felt as though Chuckles was trapped in the worst nightmare of his life, everything around him sounding muted and muffled. It was far worse than any of the battles he’d relived in his sleep, snapping awake in a cold sweat, but even as he stood rooted to the ground, he knew there would be no waking escape this time.

This can’t be happening. It can’t.

Nita whimpering in his ear pulled him back to the present. He looked at the blaster in his hand, still smoking, and then back at the bodies. He felt a tug on his arm and looked down to see Arni staring up at him.

“We’ve got to go,” the youngling whispered. 

“Yeah. Yeah we’ve got to go.” He slipped the blaster back into its holster at his hip and wrapped his other arm around Nita, cradling her against his chest. He felt a dampness in the fabric of his undersuit as he stepped into the garage. 

“Arni, lock the door behind us. That’ll buy us some time.” 

He set the little Pantoran girl down and looked her over. She was trembling, tears streaming down her blue cheeks quietly, but she didn’t seem to be injured. “I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t cry, but I’m just so scared,” she whimpered. 

She shouldn’t have to endure this. She’s just a kid.

“Hey, none of that. You are doing so good, ok? This is scary,” Chuckles soothed, brushing some of her stray hairs out of her face. He paused before taking his helmet off again. “You know what helps me feel brave? Wearing this.” He slid the helmet on her head, and it immediately slipped to her shoulders, far too big for her. “There, do you feel braver?”

The helmet nodded wordlessly, swinging back and forth on her tiny shoulders. 

“Alright. You look braver. And cooler.” 

“Chuckles, over here!” He looked up to see Arni waving at him from a freighter. 

Taking Nita’s hand, he strode towards the ship quickly, appraising it as much as he could from its exterior. Corellian. Small freighter. Should have at least a hyperdrive and looks to have forward cannons for defense. It’s a bucket of bolts, but it’ll do. 

“Good stuff kid. I’m gonna take Nita inside and get the pre-flight started. Do you know how to open the main roll-up door?” Gently, he pushed the little Pantoran inside the ship’s hatch. 

Arni nodded. 

“Can you do that quickly and get back here as fast as you can?”

Arni looked around, their eyes settling on another keypad against the far wall. Chuckles could see the wheels turning in the kid’s head, calculating the risk. 

“Hey, I know it’s scary, but I need to get this ship warmed up, or else it’s gonna be another few minutes before we get out of here. Now, can you do it?”

Arni looked back up at him with wide, fearful eyes. The kid had been so brave, but the facade was starting to crack. Chuckles placed his hands on the Twi’lek’s shoulders again. 

“I won’t leave without you.” He held out a pinky. “Pinky promise.”

Arni blinked, raising an eyebrow at him. 

“Hey, for me and my batchmates, this is as good as a blood oath. Now gimme some pinky and let’s get this done.” 

Arni gave him a small smile before locking their pinky with his and then turning and sprinting towards the keypad on the wall. Chuckles bolted into the ship, leaving the main hatch open for Arni. Sliding into the pilot seat, he examined the control panel. 

Simple enough. Even simpler than a Headhunter. 

Glancing over, he saw Nita was sitting in the co-pilot seat, her feet dangling off the front of the chair. The helmet was still perched on her head, watching him as it swung. 

“Buckle up, honey. This might get bumpy.” 

Chuckles began slamming switches to boot up the flight computer and warm up the hyperdrive. The ship whined to life, the various buttons on the flight console flickering on. Another explosion rocked the building, sending dust falling from the garage’s ceiling. 

“HOW WE DOIN’, ARNI?”

He heard a loud mechanical squeal and saw the first traces of Coruscant's waning sunlight filtering in as the garage’s main door began to lift. A few seconds later, he heard a thud as Arni leapt into the ship, slamming the hatch shut behind them. 

“They’re coming,” the Twi’lek said quietly. 

Chuckles leaned forward to look past Nita, and sure enough, he could see the door they had entered through shuddering under what he could only assume was troopers trying to get in. He turned to Arni, keeping his voice level despite the panic rising within him.

“Buckle Nita into one of the rear seats and then strap in yourself,” he said, standing to reach the exterior light controls before turning to his tiny co-pilot. “Nita, I need Arni up here with me, ok? You’ll have to sit in the back for now in one of the jump seats.” 

Nita appeared to consider the proposition. “Can I keep the helmet on?”

“Absolutely. Arni?”

Arni lifted Nita out of the seat clumsily, helping her towards the rear of the ship as Chuck eased the freighter forward, frantically trying to get a feel for the controls. He hadn’t expected the freighter to be as nimble as his fighter of course, but the response felt slower than a stoned bantha, lumbering and clumsy. Chuckles ground his teeth together, trying to gauge just how minute small movements actually were as he piloted the ship around a few stacks of supply crates. Arni slid into the seat next to him just as a blast rocked the rear of the ship. Nita squealed in fear. 

“It’s alright honey, just a bit of a bump,” Chuckles called over his shoulder before leaning over to Arni and pointing at a few of the displays on the console. “This thing does have basic shields. I need you to work on getting all power diverted to our aft end. Can you do that?”

The young Twi’lek nodded before they leaned forward, pressing buttons. Chuckles punched a button to bring up a rear camera and swore under his breath. An entire battalion was pouring in behind them, blasters firing at the ship with a few heavies moving into position. “You got it, kid?”

“Yup, almost there.” 

Out of the corner of his eye, Chuckles could see the displayed mapping of the shields shift, and he gave the Twi’lek a tight smile. “Good. Nice job. Now get strapped in. I don’t think we’re out of the woods yet.” 

As if the galaxy was playing a cruel joke on him, the proximity sensors began screaming. Leaning over, he brought up the radar and swore more loudly this time. “Fighters inbound. You ever work a ship’s gun before?” 

Arni’s eyes were wider than saucers. “No.”

“Alright, well the best training is on the job.” Chuckles joked dryly, reaching over past the kid and swinging the controls in front of them. “This is your computer. Helps you aim. You’re too close for torpedoes, so stick to lasers. That’s these buttons here.” He tapped the grey triggers lightly. “When you’re ready to fire, flip this switch so that it’s green. That means the gun’s hot. Then you want to line up your target in this box. If you can get the little ‘x’ over the main body of a ship or a wing, you’ll be in business. Then you give ‘em hell. Clear as mud?” 

Arni placed shaking hands on the controls and nodded. 

“You’ve got this, Arni. I know you can do it.” 

At least I hope so, or we’re all dead. 

The Twi’lek nodded wordlessly again. Chuckles didn’t miss the way their throat bobbed with a hard swallow. 

“Nita, honey do you have a favorite song?” he called into the back. 

“Yes.” Her voice sounded tiny, even through the helmet’s modulator.

“Great. I don’t know many songs. Can you sing it for me to help me learn it?” 

“Right now?”

“Yup. Right now. I love multitasking, so let’s put on a concert. I hear all Pantorans have great singing voices.” 

The ship shuddered again, and Chuckles glanced over at Arni. “Shields are holding in the rear,” the young Twi’lek said quietly, seeming to understand what Chuckles was trying to do.

“Alright, when I tell you, swap the power back so that we’re 75 percent in front, 25 at the rear, got it? We’ll need more power to block fire from the fighters ahead of us, but we can’t leave our back end totally unprotected.” 

Arni nodded. 

From the rear of the ship, Nita’s tiny voice began to sing. 

“I’ve been to many moons and all the stars in the sky

I’ve been to rocky shores where all the fish fly

But all of them pale, yes all of them pale

When compared to my darlin’s sweet, sweet ale.” 

Chuckles stifled a nervous giggle. “Nita, where did you hear that?”

She pushed up the helmet to look at him. “One of the troopers was singing it once. I said I liked it, and he taught it to me. His name was Hardcase.”

Chuckles huffed a laugh, noticing Arni watching him out of the corner of his eye. He didn’t know many troopers from the 501st, but everyone had known Hardcase. 

Still a menace, even beyond the grave, he thought, a smirk creeping across his face.

“Is it a good song?” Nita asked hesitantly.

One of the best drinking songs I know. At least he didn’t teach her the verses. 

“It’s great honey, keep singing.” Chuck’s eyes flicked down to the radar blips that were quickly approaching. “Ready to swap the shield power, kid?” he asked Arni quietly. 

“Yes.”

“Good. On my count. Three…two…one.” 

Arni frantically punched the buttons in front of them just as two fighters swung into view at the mouth of the garage. 

“GOT IT!” the Twi’lek said excitedly.

“Great job, kid. You’re doing so well. Alright, remember, flip to green and then shoot. Get it armed. Don’t shoot unless they fire at us first though. There’s still a chance they don’t know we’re trying to get out of here.” 

The first fighter immediately began peppering them with laserfire. Chuckles swore under his breath. “Alright, never mind. Shoot ‘em back.” 

Arni swallowed hard, but he saw the youngling flip the switch to arm the guns before opening fire. Reaching over, Chuckles slammed the throttle forward. He realized it had grown quiet in the rear of the ship. 

“Come on, Nita! Keep singing!” 

There was still silence as the ship rocked from a well-placed bolt from one of the fighters. 

“Arni?”

“Forward shields still at 68 percent.”

“Good. Keep firing. NITA! Come on! I’ve been to many moons…”

Nita hesitantly joined him, and Arni started singing as well after a few minutes. Chuckles sang louder as alarms began sounding around him, warning him that he was pushing the ship to its limits. Just hold together a bit longer, you kriffin’ rust bucket. You weren’t my first choice either. 

Arni gasped next to him, and he redirected his attention to one of the fighters, which now had smoke pouring from one of its wings as it drifted out of view, slowly beginning to spiral downwards. Chuckles let loose a whoop. “YES! That’s the way to shoot, kid.” 

“I hope they make it out ok,” Arni said softly, and Chuckles sobered. 

“I’m sure they will. They have ejection seats.” His heart broke as he watched the Twi’lek nod, clearly not certain. Reaching up, he pulled down the hyperspace display from above Arni’s head. “Alright, you’ve done good work, but I need another favor. Do you know how to set up a hyperspace jump?”

The Twi’lek stared at the display, their eyes flicking between the various readouts before nodding. “Shouldn’t be too hard. I’ll need coordinates though.” 

Chuck’s mind raced as he dodged the fire from the last fighter. I’m gonna have to pull it into a steep climb and then just jettison into hyperspace from the upper atmosphere. I’ll never outrun them otherwise. But where do we go? I don’t know how widespread this is. Can’t take them to a Republic world. Definitely not a Separatist system. No neutral ones close by. There’s… yeah, that’ll work. 

Reaching over, he punched in a set of coordinates over Arni’s head. “Use those. Get the calculations started.”

Arni squinted at the coordinates. “Where is that?”

“A safe spot,” Chuckles replied. “Just trust me.” 

Arni looked at him for another few seconds before nodding, beginning to program the computer for the jump calculation. Nita had looped back through the chorus of her drinking song again, and as Chuckles cast a quick glance over his shoulder, he grinned at the tiny Pantoran, swaying back and forth with his helmet on, the base of it swinging back and forth as she moved. The ship rocked from another blast, and her voice faltered, but Arni took up the chorus louder, and she joined in again. Chuckles gave the Twi’lek a grateful smile before rolling the ship hard to the right. 

“HANG ON, KIDS! Arni, let me know the second we’re good for the jump.” 

“Another few seconds. We’re close.”

The ship shuddered. 

“Rear shields are failing,” Arni stated, fear starting to trickle back into their tone.

“Don’t worry about them. Keep working the calcs. Won’t need the shields when we jump out of here.” 

Chuck yanked the ship’s yoke hard, pulling the freighter into a tight turn that kept the front of the ship facing towards the other fighter and swinging around so that the fighter was forced to circle back towards the garage, keeping all sources of fire in front of the freighter. Leaning over, he threw a switch to reverse the thrust of the engines, pushing the ship backwards. 

“You’re in a speeder lane!” Arni said urgently. “You might hit someone!”

“I’m bigger and they’re faster. They’ll get out of the way,” Chuckles said as casually as he could. “How much time?”

“Five seconds.” 

“Give me a countdown.”

“Five…four…three…”

Chuckles flipped the direction of the thrust again, pulling back on the yoke with all of his might and sending the ship skyward. He pushed the engine to its max, searching for a clear hole in the speeder lanes to shoot through. 

“Two…”

The clone pilot could feel his teeth creaking as he ground them together. Glancing at the radar that showed the orbiting ships, he held his breath. Just need our trajectory to stay clear for another few seconds.

The ship jolted. Nita screamed. 

“ARNI! NOW!”

Chuckles felt the familiar pull of his stomach pushing to the back of his chest cavity as the hyperdrive whined to life, pressing him back in his seat. Coruscant’s sky seemed to smear past the viewports as the engines began to roar, the sky rushing towards them. Chuck closed his eyes and exhaled.

Please let this work. 

In between heartbeats, he felt the pressure on his chest ease as the ship stopped accelerating, the roar around them fading to a steady hum. Chuck opened his eyes slowly, and felt his body almost sag into the chair in relief at the familiar sight of blue and white star streaks of hyperspace that were rushing past them. Turning his head, he looked at the Twi’lek next to him. Arni was still clutching the guns so hard their knuckles were pale, visibly quivering. Chuckles climbed out of his seat, flicking the safety back onto the guns before gently removing Arni’s hands from the triggers and pushing the weapons controls away. The Twi’lek had a dazed expression as they looked at him, their eyes somewhat blank as Chuckles spun their chair to face him. 

“You did good, kid. You did exactly what you needed to do to get us out of there, alright?” Chuck said quietly, resting his hands on Arni’s shoulders. The youngling nodded slowly, swallowing hard again. 

“What do we do now?” they asked quietly. 

Chuckles took a deep breath, exhaling it in a deep sigh. “I don’t know yet. But we’ll figure it out.” 

Arni bobbed their head, but their eyes were glued to the floor of the ship. 

Unsure of what else to do, Chuck searched for the right words. “Hey, look at me.”

Arni met his gaze, their wide brown eyes glossy with unshed tears. 

“Do you trust me, kid?” 

Arni’s eyes became focused as they studied the clone crouched in front of them. After a few seconds, they nodded. “Yes.”

“Good. Because I’m going to need you and little one back there to help me. We’ll get through this. Together. One step at a time.” 

“Why did your brothers want to kill us?” 

The memory of the smoking hole in the front of the trooper’s helmet flashed in Chuckles’s mind again, and he blinked rapidly, trying to fight the tightness that suddenly began squeezing his chest. 

Keep it together in front of the kids. Focus.

“I don’t know, kid. It doesn’t make any sense. But I promise I won’t let anything bad happen to you and Nita. Alright?” He held out his pinky again, and a small smile tugged at one corner of Arni’s mouth. They wrapped their thin blue pinky around Chuckles’s thicker, gloved one. 

“Alright.” 

The sound of coughing made them both turn and Chuckles grimaced as he took in the sight of Nita holding his helmet in front of her as she vomited into it. 

“I’m sorry. The ship made my tummy upset,” she said softly after she finished retching. 

Chuckles ran his fingers through his mohawk again, giving her a small smile. “It’s ok, honey. We’ll get it cleaned up. Definitely my fault for flying like a drunken mynock.” 

The little Pantoran giggled before tilting her head back down and emptying the rest of her stomach contents into his bucket. 

Chuckles sighed. 

One step at a time.

 Tag List: @seriowan @rosmariner @misogirl828 @ellichonkasaurusrex @zoeykallus @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond​ @partoftheeternalsoul​ @hockeyjedi13​

[matchamabs]

I know you didn’t ask for it but- BOTW MONSTERS: RANKED BY HOW HOT THEY ARE,,,,

i do fuck all in the days lemme tell ya

ill admit i havent done EVERY enemy but like. i do enjoy making these posts so who knows, i might actually rank everything sooner or later 🤷‍♀️

,,,,, and if u want a specific ranking of botw/aoc stuff lmk 👀

ahh the ol reliable. the classic bokoblin. he is just a little lad! unfortunately they’re genuinely kind of ugly??? and the idk the singular horn in the middle aint a good look. i see cute comics abt these guys being domestic and thats adorable but also giving them so much leeway bc they’re really Not that cute. not sure what the loincloth is hiding and im not sure i wanna know anyway. 3/10 really kind of. not good. 

slightly bigger loincloth only means slightly bigger things to hide :( i rlly hate these guys noses and whatever the fuck toenails they have why do they have toenails?????? s’bad. the thing is tho they have the proportions of a potentially attractive gerudo which is probably what takes the edge off the general vibes of... u know... being an abomination. its also only JUST occured to me as im writing that these guys r just evolved bokoblins so. glow up i guess. 6/10 what that tongue do

ok bypassing whatever the fuck rule 34 has done to these guys, i actually dig them. i find the huge fat ones way cuter than the lil bug eyed ones. in their case theres rlly no, like... hotness about them. its just cute. i think they’re cute. any monster that is cute and also doubles up as a bed gets my vote 7/10 get urself a fella as flexible as these guys 

u know what, im gonna say it, these guys r actually kinda hot. proportions arent super bad, the face aint bad and generally they have good vibes. aside from, u know, when they’re tryna shank u. id say one of the most bearable monsters to have to look at. 8/10 im not a scalie

??????????? idk what to say. u could tie these little shits to like swingball poles and beat them with rackets thatd b good. aside from that these guys have like no redeeming qualities. they’re a pain in the ass and not in a good way. 3/10 cute but like. is it worth it?

i mean,,,,,,,, someones probably into it. i dont like these guys for a lot of reason and surprisingly the thing that gets me is the fucking hair why does it have that hair its like he-man just went straight over the top with an electric razor its not a good look!!! stop trying to make it work! it wont! and again with the loincloth??? im not into it. the only thing i like abt these guys is the lil waistcoats. they have some amount of decency (but the implications it makes are Not Good). uh. 2/10. barely.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

,,,,,9/10. but if you see a lynel up close like that chances are you died about half a minute ago

again. ??? i dont rlly like. i mean. im digging the top heavy proportions? its got the same body type as kass so like. 4/10. bit plain around the features but what can u do. i dont understand how but the igneo taluses are like. sexier 

UGHGHHH I FUCKING HATE THESE THINGS okay okay okay like these motherfuckers lure u in by being quite cute and dancin around and then u get a look at their faces and its like fucking JESUS and its even WORSE when you see under their cloak and they have no necks????? and like????? they do that gay little fucking dance that pisses me off???? they’re wearing hoods that give the ILLUSION that they have necks and im im fumin ok i HATE it i hate it i have been betrayed and i will NEVER FORGET ABOUT IT UGHGHGHG I HATE THESE CUNTS -10000000000000000000000000000000000/10 die

hhhhh i just dont like em. theyre too annoying to be cute now. and whats gonna happen if i squeeze one? is like. water gonna come out? r they just gonna deflate? 4/10 tentacles are not hyrules forte it seems ://

trust kohga to send the twinks out on the front line. seriously. they’re not bad tho? kinda small and underwhelming :((( tho i give extra points for the good crazy laugh we love a good manic cackle 6/10 they dont really count as monsters but ah well where else am i gonna put em

now THATS what im talkin about babeyyyyy we love the muscles,,,,, the posture,,, the stride,,, we love it when u fuck up stealth and a torrential downpour of these motherfuckers come down to beat ur ass,,,,, 9/10 its raining men 😎

u know. u dont rlly like. get a good view of these guys when ur balls deep in a battle with them, but the more i get like closer looks at them the more i go ???? like idk. everything about them looks backwards and wrong. but as far as backwards and wrong goes its not a bad look and the boss theme is a banger so 4/10 maybe dont jump on my ass every time i step one foot onto the desert :/

i just. i dont dig it. idk why. aside from the fact they’re a monumental pain in my ass, and now everytime i hear a beep even slightly resembling a guardian i shit my pants, but. idk??? as far as robots go its not like. terrible. they’re like the milfs of robots. the milves, if u will. a rilf. except i wouldnt. so its more like riwlf. but even that leaves too much up to interpretation so im just gonna call em a cunt and go. 4/10 leg game strong

here we are,,, the big boys,,,, waterblight isnt too bad i will admit, but the spear hand is both annoying and mildly inconvenient. its got a rlly big chest but rlly thin arms?? also not sure how i feel abt the strap on beard but oh well its not like ganons got taste. 5/10 kind of average for a blight i think

a hefty motherfucker. a chunk of a lad. big large. the fact this is like one of the easiest blights makes it more forgiveable to me but like whatever its got going on with the 80s hair needs 2 be sorted out. i like its moves but it doesnt hang upside down like waterblight :((( 5/10 calm down kate bush

ok who doesnt like gun arms. and a gun back. this things like fuckin megatron. the whole face plate thing doesnt look bad either. honestly its kind of a look? but its dickheadery in aoc makes me wanna set shit on fire so :// 6/10 hot but will not leave u alone 😔

ok this one is by FAR the sexiest of all the blights. i just cant explain it. i like guys with bad posture. i had an easy time beating it but apparently its given other people a lot of grief and that makes it 10x more sexy to me lmaooo. also it can clone itself which is like. thats a win. 8/10 ganon spilt all the sexy juice into this one

ok i didnt realise how many arms this motherfucker has and the whole hairline behind the ears thing is not a great look. especially w the beard. in fact the longer i look at it the less sexy it becomes tbh. 3/10 they tried to make arachnophobia sexy and it didnt work

10/10 i will be taking questions in my inbox but i wont be taking constructive criticism and you cant make me 

[firstdegreefangirl]

If you are open to Ted Lasso requests, then Roy Kent/Keeley Jones + sickfic and snuggles?

Oh, nonnie, this got WAY out of hand. But I had SO MUCH FUN writing it, so thank you! There's a lot going on at the beginning here, but I swear there are sickfic and snuggles under the break. I hope you like it!

Read the whole thing in one click HERE on ao3!

The morning gets off to a late start, right out of the gate. The team bus leaves late when they lose Nate again (this year they knew to check the luggage hold, but no one thought to look in the upstairs bathroom, where he was “looking for a little extra privacy, sorry”) and there’s more traffic than anyone could have predicted.

Altogether, it means that the team hardly makes it to Sheffield with time to drop their bags at the hotel before they’re due at the stadium for the game.

Roy tosses a duffel bag onto one of the double beds in the room he’s sharing with Ted tonight (not by choice; it turns out relegation means there’s not enough money in the team budget for all four coaches to have separate suites. Last away game, he and Nate had been roommates, but Ted has some big idea about everyone spending equal amounts of time together in the name of ‘equitable morale,’ and apparently coaching staff isn’t exempt.)

Really, he should have taken the job with SkySports.

At least then, he wouldn’t be pulling a furry green unicorn out of his bag and sitting it carefully by the pillows.

“Security object, Roy?” Ted points from across the room as Roy reaches for his phone. “Respect. No shame in a man seeking a little comfort from-”

“Fuck off,” he snaps, but there’s no real heat behind it. “Phoebe’s mad her mum wouldn’t let her come on a sleepover with the team this weekend. Asked me to bring Captain McKibbin along instead, the little idiot. I … promised to send pictures. As proof.”

“Hey, I get it. My boy’s done many a Flat Stanley in his day.” Clearly, Ted expects him to know what this means, so Roy nods if only to save himself the explanation. “Anyway, we’ve got to meet the fellas in the lobby, head over to the field – pitch.” A full year in, and Ted still struggles with the vernacular sometimes. It’d drive Roy nuts, if the guy hadn’t done so much to help him and his career. “Is, ah, will Captain McCarlson be joining us for the-”

“McKibbin. Captain McKibbin, and he will not. Phoebe says he can stay here, to ward off any bad dream monsters.”

“Well you be sure to let her know that I intend to sleep snug as a bug in a rug tonight. No, two rugs!” Tim points at Roy with both hands, then spins around and opens the door to the hallway.

He still hasn’t gotten a chance to catch up with Keeley before the match starts. She and Rebecca had driven out separately – something about girl talk and lattes – but he knows she’s around somewhere. The owner’s box is a little different everywhere they go, but never too terribly hard to find, and he catches a glimpse of her bright pink peacoat when he looks around during the opening lineup. She's sitting between Rebecca and Higgins, and as soon as she notices him watching, she waves happily. He lifts a hand in response, then tucks it back against his chest, turning back to the pitch and squaring his shoulders as the first half begins.

Richmond is playing well; Isaac has stepped up and really filled Roy’s shoes as captain, and all the lads are on the same wavelength, without having to say much of anything to one another. He hates to admit it, but Roy wonders if the seamless communication doesn’t have something to do with the scavenger hunt they’d hosted in the locker room last night. Ted had blindfolded half of the players, and made the other half sit on the bench and shout directions. The whole thing had been a mess, but then they’d passed around the bottle of vodka he’d stashed behind the clean boots as a prize, and everyone had left smiling. If that’s it, Roy can’t deny the results, but he’ll damn sure try.

That’s what he’s thinking about a few minutes later when he turns around again, looking for Keeley in the stands. He’s always looking for her, when he doesn’t have to be watching every second of the match. She’s almost always watching him right back, before he’s even looking at her. And half the time, he’ll feel his phone vibrate in his pocket. Even if he can’t check it until halftime, he knows it’s a comment on the quality of the plays, or the other team’s kits, or how much she likes the view of his ass from the box.

But now, when he looks, he can’t find her anywhere. He looks again, trying to pick her out in the sea of Richmond jerseys. Most of the faces are strangers, but he can distinguish between them. All the way at the top, where Keeley had been sitting before, it’s just Rebecca and Higgins now, an empty seat folded up between them.

Roy stares for a moment, waiting for her to reappear with a soft pretzel or something. But she doesn’t. Eventually, Rebecca catches his eyeline, and shakes her head. Her lips move, but there’s no way Roy can make out the words. All he knows is that Keeley has disappeared, and judging from Rebecca’s gesture, she’s been gone for more than a few minutes.

Something isn’t right; he can feel it in his stomach. And in his knee, but that’s more from the impending winter. The feeling about Keeley, that sits deep in his gut, twisting and knotting around his organs as he turns back to the pitch.

The lads are lining up the next play, but Ted, Nate and Beard are spread out along the sideline. Roy sidesteps around Beard, almost trips over Nate when he moves back just as Roy passes behind him, and finally comes to a stop next to Ted.

"Coach?”

“What’s up, Roy?” Ted doesn’t turn toward him, but he leans in Roy’s direction, and he knows he’s got the man’s full attention.

He hears the announcer take notice of his new position, the commentary echoing around them.

On Richmond’s side of the field, former team member turned coach Roy Kent is vying for the attention of head coach Ted Lasso. The players are lined up; what could he be saying?

But Roy doesn’t say anything. He just points, arms still folded across his chest, until Ted looks up to the stands behind them.

Both coaches now, looking up at the audience. Surely they’re not surprised at the show of support for the Richmond Greyhounds? They’ve sold out almost every game since their relegation …

The rest of the announcement fades to the background when understanding spreads across Ted’s face. Roy knows he’s seen the empty seat, knows he’ll understand the concern Roy can’t put into words. He raises an eyebrow when Tim looks back to his face, and the other coach nods.

“Just be in the locker room for halftime, yeah? The guys are countin’ on you for a speech to hype them up for the rest of the game.”

Roy jerks his chin up and down, then heads for the tunnel that’ll take him out of view of the crowds. The announcer’s voice comes behind him again.

Coach Kent, now heading off of the pitch. Makes you wonder what’s going on for the Greyhounds. Have they sent a coach away in the middle of a match, or did he ask to be excused? And why? But gameplay continues without him …

It’s only a few steps before he’s in the locker room, trying to shake off the memory of the last time he’d left the pitch before a match was up. It’s empty, no signs of another occupant, but the solitude gives him an opportunity to fish his phone out of his pocket.

No texts, no missed calls. Right away, he dials Keeley’s number.

If you’re looking for the PR Manager for the Richmond Greyhounds, leave a message for Keeley Jones after the beep. If you’re trying to reach your best friend Keeley for a round of drinks, hang up and text me. Oh, and Rebecca? If it’s too long to text, I’ll check my emails soon. Kisses!

“Oi, it’s me,” Roy all but grunts into the speaker when Keeley’s voicemail recording is done. “You’re not in your seat. Not that you have to be, but Rebecca hadn’t seen you, and I didn’t …” he trails off, suddenly afraid of sounding clingy and controlling. “Anyway, call me when you get this.”

He stares at his home screen after he hangs up, a selfie Keeley had nabbed his phone to take. He’s got an arm wrapped around her shoulders and his lips pressed against her temple, and her face is scrunched up in laughter. It’s ridiculous, the first time anyone but a blood relative has ever been his background, but he can’t help smiling at it, even as the worry knots itself tighter in his stomach.

When he can’t stand it any longer, he texts Rebecca.

You seen her?

Her reply is almost instant.

Not since she left. I have her coat, phone is in the pocket. Heard it ring.

Well, shit. She doesn’t have her phone, and as far as Roy knows, nobody has any idea where his girlfriend is.

But then there’s a sniffle from inside one of the toilet stalls. He’d know that sound anywhere; it’s the same noise Keeley makes every time they watch a Disney film together, right before he teases her for crying and she pokes fun right back at how he’s not.

He’d peered under the doors when he walked in, checking for feet, but he knocks on the stall anyway.

“Keeley?” He calls, pushing the door open slowly. Sure enough, she’s inside, sitting with her feet tucked up onto the seat, head wedged between her knees and hands clamped tightly around the back of her skull. “Babe, what’s going on?”

“It’s so … it’s so loud out there,” she whispers, but doesn’t look up. “All the yelling and shouting and cheering. It’s a good thing, I know, that the fans are engaged, but it was just pounding on my brain, making my eyes go all spotty. I tried to stick it out, Roy, really; I know how much these games mean to you, to the whole team. But then I felt like I was going to vomit and-” Keeley chokes on a sob. “I couldn’t find anywhere else quiet to go.”

“Right, well come on,” Roy reaches out slowly and squeezes one of her shoulders. “There’s got to be somewhere better to sit than a men’s toilet stall. You’ve met the lads, they’re disgusting.”

Keeley chuckles, thick and teary, but drops her knees and lets Roy pull her to her feet. As soon as she’s standing, she wraps her arms around his waist and buries her face in his chest. It can’t be too comfortable; he hasn’t taken off the Richmond windbreaker he wears for every game, but Keeley relaxes when Roy doesn’t push her away. Instead, he locks his arms around her shoulders and walks them both slowly back until he can drop onto one of the benches. Keeley stays leaned against him, but brings one hand up to cover her eyes where the harsh lighting seeps in.

“Alright, now, what is it?” Roy asks, when Keeley hasn’t said anything for a while. “You seemed alright when we left this morning.”

“I was. Or, I thought I was anyway. Just a little tired, maybe, but that was all. It was fine until the car ride, but then I got really queasy, and my head started throbbing.” Roy reaches up to scratch his fingers gently through her hair and she sighs. “It got a little better when we got out of the car, but then it was just so-”

“Loud, I know,” he finishes for her, then they both fall silent.

Exhaustion. Nausea. Headache. His sister had those symptoms once, just shy of eight years ago.

Shit.

“Keel. You don’t think you’re … You – we – couldn’t be … you aren’t …"

“What?”

“Um, pregnant? I know we’re careful, but …" Keeley cuts him off with a laugh that turns into a whimper, and he tightens his hold on her.

“No. Definitely not. Not this week, for sure. Just a migraine, I think. Used to get them sometimes, but it’s been a bit.”

“Good,” Roy sighs. “I mean, someday, maybe, but not …”

“Not yet,” Keeley agrees, and something goes warm in his chest, knowing that they’re on the same page. Right now, they don’t need to worry about anything except getting Keeley back in fighting shape.

“Have you taken anything?” She nods against his chest.

“This morning, um, in the car. It didn’t help much. Just need it dark. And quiet.”

“OK, that’s alright,” Roy whispers, dropping his voice even quieter. “It should be almost half, what say we find somewhere else for you to hole up before everyone comes barging in like heathens?”

He’s not sure exactly where they can go, but he knows he’s got to get Keeley out of the locker room before they clear the players off the pitch. She shrugs half-heartedly, and lets Roy pull her back to her feet. He doesn’t have a plan yet, but he starts walking them slowly toward the door as he looks around. There are no offices in here, no treatment rooms or storage closets.

He hasn’t checked the time since he found Keeley, but he’s played enough years of football that his body’s internal clock can feel the seconds ticking away. There’s maybe two or three minutes left, and Ted wants him to give the halftime pep talk. If he asked, if he explained everything, he could probably get out of it, maybe trade Beard for next week or something. Keeley needs him.

But the team needs him too.

All at once, it hits him.

Rebecca.

Rebecca doesn’t have a role in the halftime routine. There’s nothing happening on the field and she almost never comes to the locker room before the match ends. And she’s got a car here; that’s somewhere quiet Keeley can sit, at least until the second half gets underway.

He wiggles his phone out of his pocket again and reopens the text thread.

Found her in locker room. Migraine. Can you meet us and take her outside for halftime? Ted wants me to give speech.

Rebecca doesn’t reply, but a minute or so later, Roy hears the steady click-clack of her heels coming down the hall. Keeley whimpers, and he presses a kiss to her hair as the door swings open.

“Hey,” he says, shifting around to look at Rebecca.

“Hello,” she whispers back.

“Hey, Keeley, Rebecca’s here now,” Roy tips his face back down to whisper against the shell of her ear. “Think you can make it outside with her?”

“We can head back to the hotel, Keeley, if you think that’d help? It’s only a few minutes’ drive.”

“Yeah, ‘s quieter there,” she says, but doesn’t move.

“And I’ll meet you there just as soon as the match is done, hmm?” He runs his fingers up and down her arm, shifting away slightly. “Here, want to take my sunglasses, block out some of the light?”

At that, Keeley squeezes her eyes shut and turns her face up toward Roy. He chuckles and slides his glasses over her eyes, then brushes a kiss to the tip of her nose.

“Alright then, off you go,” He lets Rebecca take her by the arm and lead her back out of the locker room, trying to ignore the way his heart clenches at the sight of her trudging away, hunched over against her own discomfort.

He’ll be back with her soon enough. But the door has no more than swung shut behind them when it bounces open again. Jamie and Sam are leading the pack, the whole team piling in around him.

As usual, their energy is infectious, and Roy finds himself slapping hands and patting backs as he makes his way across the room to where Ted is bringing up the rear.

“Hey, Roy, you get everything all squared away?”

“For now. Rebecca’s taking Keeley back to the hotel; she’s not feeling well.” He should have known better than to hope that Ted Lasso would ever let anything drop with a simple explanation.

“Well that’d explain the text message I got from Boss Lady asking if she’d be alright rooming with me tonight.” Roy’s eyebrows go up at that. “And I’m guessin’ from the look on your face that she didn’t mention anything about that to you? Aw, geez, I hope I didn’t spoil a surprise or anything. But the cat’s out of the metaphorical bag now, isn’t it? So I might as well tell you that I told her that I was a-OK with switching up the room arrangements if that’s what’s best for everyone tonight. Thataways you can keep an eye on Keeley, and down the hall we can have Biscuits with the Boss: Evening Edition. How’s that sit with you?”

“Honestly, Ted, I have no opinion on what time of day you eat biscuits,” Roy sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “But thanks. I think. For making sure I can be there for Keeley.”

“We’re all on the same team here, right? What’s good for the goose and all that, we’re at our best when everyone is at their own, individual best. Hey, speaking of, there are some guys in here, waiting for someone to put a little extra pep in their step for the back end of this game. If you’re not up for it, I can see what Coach Beard has up his sleeve, or-”

“No, it’s fine,” Roy cuts him off before the rambling can reach full speed again. “I’ve got this one.”

He turns back to the group, and yells for everyone to listen up. When he’s got their attention, he takes a deep breath.

“What you’re doing on the pitch today, it’s fucking amazing,” he starts. “Not the score, though that’s pretty alright too. But that doesn’t matter half as much as how you’re playing. Hell, you assholes keep communicating this well, you’re going to put us coaches out of a job. I know Ted’s all about the rhymes and anecdotes and shit, but that’s not … I’m not a walking greeting card store,” everyone chuckles, Ted included. “But get back out there, keep working together, and dammit, make the four of us redundant!”

There’s a round of half-sarcastic applause, then Ted steps forward.

“Alright, y’all heard the man. Don’t get tired, get us fire—well, actually, don’t get us fired. That’s not … take the sentiment of what Roy said, but do me a favor and don’t take him literally. I like working with y’all. Anyway, Coach Beard’s gonna take it from here, walk y’all through a couple plays for the second half.”

The players cluster around Beard and his whiteboard diagram, and Ted finds his way back over to Roy at the back of the group.

“You know, if you need to head out a little early today, we can pull through without you. Sometimes a team is strongest when it’s split up to work on all the different things it needs to get done. Like taking care of each other.”

Any other day, he likes to think he’d insist on staying for the rest of the match. But if he’s honest with himself, he knows that he’ll put Keeley first anytime she needs him to.

“That’d be great, Ted. Thanks.”

“Hey, no problem, Roy. I’ll come check up on y’all when we get back?” Roy nods and shakes Ted’s hand quickly, then slips out of the locker room while Beard is saying something about the Sheffield players having “lots of power, like a high-watt light bulb.”

He doesn’t have a car, doesn’t feel like waiting on an Uber, so it’s a half-hour's walk back to the hotel. When he gets there, Rebecca is already waiting for him in the lobby.

“Ted gave me your room number,” she starts, as soon as they’ve said their hellos. “Keeley’s up there lying down. I, uh, I assumed yours was the bed with the unicorn on it?”

“It’s Phoebe’s,” he groans. “But yes.”

“I’m sure.” But she’s smirking like she might not be. “Anyway, Ted’s things are already taken care of, and I think I got everything of Keeley’s into your room, but she unpacked her entire suitcase first thing, so I might’ve missed some shoes or something.”

“No problem. She’ll get them back, I’m sure. Thanks for taking care of her.”

“Anytime, Roy. Really. I’m just down the hall, if either of you need anything.”

Roy nods his thanks and steps into the elevator.

He swipes his key card to unlock the door, then turns the handle and pushes it open slowly. The lights are turned off, and the curtains drawn, so he makes his way carefully, trying to remember if these rooms have any wayward furniture for him to stumble over.

Thankfully, the walkway is clear. He sits gently on the edge of his bed, smiling when the Keeley-shaped lump of covers shifts closer to him.

“Hey, babe,” she mutters.

“Hi,” Roy presses his lips together and pats what he thinks is probably her knee through the blankets. “Feeling better?”

“A little. Rebecca gave me water. And it’s quiet here.”

“Yeah, it is.” He’s not sure what else to say, but Keeley saves him from having to carry on the conversation.

“There’s a unicorn on your bed. ‘S soft.”

“His name is Captain McKibbin,” Roy replies, rolling his eyes even though he knows she can’t see from here. “I’ll tell Phoebe you like him.”

“Please do.”

“Anything else you need?”

“Just you,” she says, and it’s so quietly honest that if Roy weren’t already pretty sure he’s in love with her, it would have sealed the deal. He toes his shoes off and shimmies out of his windbreaker and trousers.

“Alright, well shove over then,” he teases, nudging her shoulder until there’s room for him to lie down beside her. When he pulls the covers back, he recognizes the hoodie she’s wearing as the one he’d crammed into the top of his bag when he packed last night. It’s three sizes too big, and she’s got one of her own just like it, but she looks far better in Roy’s than he ever will.

As soon as he’s lying down, Keeley is turning over and fitting herself against his side, tucking her face back into his bare chest. It’s still early in the evening, and Roy knows that if he falls asleep now, he’ll spend all week regretting it. But Keeley needs the rest, and there’s not much he can do without turning on the TV or lighting up his phone screen.

Besides, one afternoon nap never killed anyone, right?

So he closes his eyes and listens to her steady breathing. When Keeley wakes up, hopefully the worst of the migraine will have passed, and she’ll feel more like herself again. Roy knows they’ve got a pass on team bonding tonight, if they need it, and he doesn’t want to push Keeley into anything she’s not up for. But rumor has it that Beard found a pub with a bowling alley in it, and that’s bound to be entertaining, no matter the scores at the end of the night.

For right now, though, the only thing that matters is Keeley, curled up against him and warmer than all the blankets stacked on top of them. She’s asleep, and he’s following close behind, and nothing matters beyond the comfort they share.

Not migraines, or bowling, or trick plays, or shoes that might have been left down the hall, or anything but Roy and Keeley and this moment together, in the dark and the quiet.

Just them.

[snake-rot]

(EXCLAIMING)

(ORCHESTRA MUSIC BLARING)

(GROANS)

(WHIMPERS)

(GRUNTING)

(MYSTICAL INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC PLAYING)

(GROANS)

(COUNTRY ROCK MUSIC PLAYING)

(COUGHS)

Sweet home Alabama

Where the skies are so blue

WOMAN: Excuse me, sir, is there a commode?

Sweet home Alabama

(GRUNTING)

Lord, I'm coming home to you

(GRUNTS) Justin!

Quick, honey, take my picture. I got the pyramid in my hand.

(CAMERA CLICKING)

Yeah

Justin, you get back here right now!

No, stop!

GUARD 1: No, no, no! Stop him! GUARD 2: Go back! Don't climb!

(JUSTIN IMITATING AIRPLANE WHOOSHING)

Wait, wait.

Hold on. Easy, little boy.

Okay, stop, child! Stop right there. No!

(GASPS)

No, no, no, no, no! Oh! There he goes.

(GASPS)

Justin!

I've got him! I've got him!

(JUSTIN GRUNTS)

(AIR ESCAPING)

Outrage in Egypt tonight as it was discovered

that the Great Pyramid of Giza had been stolen

and replaced by a giant inflatable replica.

There is panic throughout the globe as countries and citizens

try to protect their beloved landmarks.

Law enforcement still has no leads,

leaving everyone to wonder, which of the world's villains

is responsible for this heinous crime?

And where will he strike next?

Gru: Freeze ray! Freeze ray! Freeze ray! [laughs evilly] Fred: Morning, Gru! How you doing? Gru: Hello, Fred. FYI, your dog has been leaving little bombs all over my yard, and I don't appreciate it. Fred: Sorry. You know dogs. They go wherever they wanna go. Gru: Unless they're dead. [laughs] I'm joking! Although, it is true. Anyway, have a good one. Fred: Okay. Yeah. Steamrolling whatever Gru: [groans] You've got to be pulling on my leg! Margo: Hello! Cookies for sale. Gru: Go away. I'm not home. Margo: Uh, yes, you are. I heard you. Gru: [gasps] No, you didn't. This... [monotone] is a recording. Margo: [scoffs] No, it isn't. Gru: Yes, it is. [o.s.] Watch this. Leave a message, beep. [Edith kicks the door] Gru: Ow! Agnes: Goodbye, recorded message. Margo: [o.s.] Agnes, come on. Gru: Huh? [screams] Kyle! Bad dog! No! No, no. Sit. My muffin. Dr. Nefario: Gru! Gru: Ah, Dr. Nefario. Dr. Nefario: I know how you must be feeling. I, too, have encountered great disappointment, but, in my eyes, you will always be one of the greats. Gru: What? What happened? Dr. Nefario: It's all over the news! Some fella just stole a pyramid. They're saying he makes all other villains look... lame. pause Gru: Assemble the minions! [throws Kyle off of his arm] Minions, assemble! Minion: Okay. Okay. Hey! Gru: Looking good, Kevin! How is the family? Good? All right. That's my Billy boy! What up, Larry? Hello, everybody! Yeah, all right! Simmer down. Simmer down! Thank you, okay. Now, I realize that you guys probably heard about this other villain who stole the pyramids. Apparently, it's a big deal. People are calling it the crime of the century and stuff like that. But am I upset? No, I am not! A little, but we have had a pretty good year ourselves, and you guys are all right in my book. Minion: Ooh! Ooh! Ooh! Gru: No, no raises! You're not going to get any raises. What did we do? Well, we stole the Times Square JumboTron! Nice! That's how I roll. Yeah, you all like watching football on that, huh? But that's not all. We stole the Statue of Liberty, the small one from Las Vegas. And I won't even mention the Eiffel Tower! Also Vegas. Okay, I wasn't going to tell you about this yet, but I have been working on something very big! Something that will blow this pyramid thing out of the water! And thanks to the efforts of my good friend Dr. Nefario... Dr. Nefario: Thank you! Gru: There he is. He's stylin'. Now, we have located a shrink ray in a secret lab, and once we take this shrink ray, we will have the capability to pull off the 'true crime of the century. We are going to steal... The Minions all pull out their weapons in response. Gru: Wait, wait! I haven't told you what it is yet. One of the Minions, Dave, shoots his rocket launcher at a crowd of Minions. Gru: Hey. Dave, listen up, please! Dave: Ditto. One of the Minions Dave shot walks over to him and punches him on the shoulder. Gru: Next, we are going to steal, pause for effect, the moon! The Minions cheer in response. Gru: And once the moon is mine, the world will give me whatever I want to get it back! And I will be the greatest villain of all time! That's what I'm talkin' 'bout. [picks up his phone] Yes? Dr. Nefario: Hello, Gru? I've been crunching some numbers, and I really don't see how we can afford this. It can't be done. I'm not a miracle worker. Gru:Hey, chillax. I'll just get another loan from the bank. They love me! Margo: Edith, stop it! Edith: What? I'm just walking. Girls: Hi, Miss Hattie. We're back. Miss Hattie: Hello, girls! Agnes: Anybody come to adopt us while we were out? Miss Hattie: Hmm... Let me think. No! Edith immediately puts a mud pie on Miss Hattie's desk, much to her displeasure. Miss Hattie: Edith! What did you put on my desk? Edith: A mud pie. Miss Hattie: [sighs] You're never gonna get adopted, Edith. You know that, don't you? Edith: Yeah, I know. Miss Hattie: Good. So, how did it go, girls? Did we meet our quotas? Margo: Hmm... Sorta. We sold 43 mini-mints, 30 choco-swirlies and 18 coco-nutties. Miss Hattie: [gets up] Okay.

Well, you say that like it's a great sale day. [furious] Look at my face! Do you still think it's a great sale day? Edith rolls her eyes in response. Miss Hattie: [hangs up a portrait] Eighteen coco-nutties. I think we can do a little better than that, don't you? Yeah. We wouldn't want to spend the weekend in the Box of Shame, would we? No. Girls: No, Miss Hattie. Miss Hattie: Okay, good. Off you go. Go clean something of mine. Girls: Hi, Penny. Penny: Hi, guys. Gru: Hello, Mom. Sorry, I meant to call, but... Gru's Mom: I just wanted to congratulate you on stealing the pyramid. [Gru sighs in disgust] That was you, wasn't it? Or was it a villain who's actually successful? [laughs] Gru: Just so you know, Mom, I am about to do something that's very, very big, very important. When you hear about it, you're going to be very proud. Gru's Mom: Ha! [sarcastically] Good luck with that. Okay, I'm outta here. [hangs up the phone before sending her karate instructor flying] Gru: Gru to see Mr Perkins Receptionist: Yes, please have a seat. Neil Armstrong: That's one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind. Young Gru: Ma, someday I'm going to go to the moon. Gru's Mom: I'm afraid you're too late, Son. NASA isn't sending the monkeys any more. Vector: Hey. I'm applying for a new villain loan. Go by the name of Vector. It's a mathematical term, a quantity represented by an arrow, with both direction and magnitude. Vector! That's me, 'cause I'm committing crimes with both direction and magnitude. Oh, yeah! Check out my new weapon. Piranha gun! Oh, yes! Fires live piranhas. Ever seen one before? No, you haven't. I invented it. Do you want a demonstration? Shoot! So difficult, sometimes, to get the piranha back inside of my... Receptionist: Mr Gru, Mr Perkins will see you now. Gru: So, all I need is money from the bank to build a rocket. And then, the moon is ours. Perkins: Wow! Well, very nice presentation. I'd like to see this shrink ray. Gru: Absolutely! Will do. Soon as I have it. Perkins: You don't have it? And yet you have the audacity to ask the bank for money? Gru: Apparently. Perkins: Do you have any idea of the capital that this bank has invested in you, Gru? With far too few of your sinister plots actually turning a profit. How can I put it? Let's say this apple is you. If we don't start getting our money back... Get the picture? Look, Gru, the point is, there are a lot of new villains out there, younger than you, hungrier than you, younger than you. Like that young fellow out there named Vector. He just stole a pyramid! Gru: I've got it. I've got it. So, as far as getting money for the rocket... Perkins: Get the shrink ray, then we'll talk. Minion: Suckers! Suckers! Gru: We got it! What? Hey! Hey! What! Hey! No, no, no! You! Vectors: Now, maybe you'll think twice before you freeze someone's head! So long, Gru! Gru: Quick! We can't let him get away! Up ahead! Up ahead! Fire! Fire, now! Vector: You missed me! Gru: Come to papa! Take that. Vector: How adorable. Gru: Got you in our sights! Like taking candy from a... What? Vector: Hey, Gru! Try this on for size! Gru: That's weird. What is going... This is claustrophobic! No, no, no! Too small! This is too small for me! [groans] I hate that guy. Margo: ...and please watch over us, and bless that we'll have a good night's sleep. Edith: And bless that while we're sleeping, no bugs will crawl into our ears and lay eggs in our brains. Margo: Great. Thanks for that image, Edith. Agnes: And please bless that someone will adopt us soon, and that the mommy and daddy will be nice and have a pet unicorn. Amen. Margo/Edith: Amen. Agnes: Unicorns, I love them Unicorns, I love them Uni, uni, unicorns I love them Uni, unicorns, I could pet one If they were really real And they are So, I bought one so I could pet it Now it loves me Now I love it Gru: Don't you... What the... Good luck, little girls! Edith: Whoa! Cool. Margo: Hi! We're orphans from Miss Hattie's Home for Girls. Vector: I don't care. Beat it! Margo: Come on! We're selling

cookies so, you know, we can have a better future. Vector: Wait, wait! Do you have coco-nutties? Margo: Yeah. Gru: Light bulb. Dr Nefario! I'm going to need a dozen tiny robots disguised as cookies! Dr. Nefario: What? Gru: Cookie robots! Dr. Nefario: Who is this? - Gru: Oh, forget it. Mrs. Hattie: Well, it appears you have cleared our background check, Dr Gru. And I see you have made a list of some of your personal achievements. Thank you for that. I love reading. And I see you have been given the Medal of Honor and a knighthood. - Minions: Me, me, me. Me, me, me. Minion: Kevin? Mrs. Hattie: You had your own cooking show and you can hold your breath for 30 seconds? It's not that impressive. Minion: Idiot! - Minions: Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight! Mrs Hattie: What in the name of... What? Gru: Well, here's the dealio. Things have been so lonely since my wife, Debbie, passed on. It's like my heart is a tooth, and it's got a cavity that can only be filled with children. I'm sorry. You are a beautiful woman. Do you speak Spanish? Mrs. Hattie: Do I look like I speak Spanish? Gru: You have a face como un burro. Mrs. Hattie: Well, thank you! Gru: Anyway, can we proceed with this adoption? So, so excited! Mrs. Hattie: Please tell Margo, Edith and Agnes to come to the lobby. Margo: I bet the mom is beautiful! Edith: I bet the daddy's eyes sparkle. Agnes: I bet their house is made of Gummi Bears. [Edith and Margo look at her curiously] I'm just saying it'd be nice. [picks up a Cheeto] Aww. My caterpillar never turned into a butterfly. Edith: That's a Cheeto. Agnes: Oh... [eats said Cheeto, making Edith and Margo recoil in disgust] Miss Hattie: Well, Debbie was a very lucky woman. [pause] Gru: Who's Debbie? Mrs Hattie: Your wife. Hi, girls! Girls, I want you to meet Mr Gru. He's going to adopt you. And he's a dentist! Agnes: Yeah! Margo: Hi. I'm Margo. This is Edith. And that's Agnes. Agnes: [sing-song] I got your leg, I got your leg! Gru: Okay, that is enough, little girl. Let go of my leg. Come on. You can do it. Agnes: Higher! Higher! Gru: Just release your grip. Wow! How do you remove them? Is there a command? Some nonstick spray? Crowbar? [sighs] Okay, girls, let's go. [They drove off in the distance.]Vector: Uh-huh! Oh, yeah! Pretty impressive! What are you looking at? Boo-ya! You got shrunk, tiny mouthwash! Take that! You done been shrunk! (His phone rings) Yello? I got the shrink ray, all right. No, I'm not playing with it. Gru? Don't make me laugh! No. P.S., he is not getting the moon, and P.P.S., by the time I'm done with him, he's gonna be begging for mercy. (Shrinks a toilet) Okay, bye. (Hangs up) Look at you, a little tiny toilet for a little tiny baby to... [The toilet pops out and water sprays him.]Vector: Curse you, tiny toilet! [Gru and the Girls arrive at Gru's Home.] Gru: "Okay, here we are. Home sweet home. Margo: So... This is, like, your house? [realizing] Wait a sec... You're the guy who pretended he was a recorded message! Gru: No, that was someone else. [Margo gives a skeptical look before she, Edith and Agnes enter Gru's house, with Gru following suite.] Agnes: [scared] Can I hold your hand? Gru: Uh... No. Edith: [looks around] When we got adopted by a bald guy, I thought this'd be more like "Annie". Gru: No, hey! [screams] Kyle, these are not treats. These are guests. Girls, this is Kyle, my... Dog. Kyle snarls in anger. Agnes: Ooh! Fluffy doggy! [approaches Kyle before he runs away, much to her disappointment] Margo: What kind of dog is that? Gru: He is a... I don't know. Margo: Do you really think that this is an appropriate place for little kids? 'Cause, uh... It's not. [Edith sees a closet that is sharp and goes in it.] Gru: No! No! Stay away from there! It's frag... [He sees juice spilling on the floor.]Both: (Gasps) Gru: Well, I suppose the plan will work with two. Edith: [muffled] Hey! It's dark in here. [Gru opens the iron maiden, revealing Edith, who spits out a straw]Edith: It poked a hole in my juice box. [They went to the

kitchen.] Gru: As you can see, I have provided everything a child might need. All right. Okay. As I was saying... (Edith knocked a bottle down) Gru: (Cont'd) Hey! Oh. Edith: Somebody broke that. Gru: "Okay, okay. Clearly, we need to set some rules. Rule number one. You will not touch anything. Margo: Uh-huh. What about the floor? Gru: Yes, you may touch the floor. Margo: What about the air? Gru: Yes, you may touch the air! Edith: (Gets out a laser gun) What about this? Gru: (Screams) Where did you get that? Edith: [shrugs] Found it. Gru: Okay. Rule number two. You will not bother me while I'm working. Rule number three. You will not cry or whine or laugh or giggle or sneeze or burp or fart! So, no, no, no annoying sounds. All right? Agnes: Does this count as annoying? [popping] Gru: Very! [sighs] I will see you in six hours. Margo: Okay, don't worry. Everything's going to be fine. We're gonna be really happy here. Right? Agnes? Gru: Question. What are these? Dr. Nefario: A dozen boogie robots! Boogie! Look at this. Watch me! Gru: Cookie robots. I said cookie robots. Why are you so old? Dr. Nefario: Okay. I'm on it. Margo: Hello? Agnes: TV! Margo: What is that? Edith: Whoa! That is cool! Come on! Agnes: I don't think he's a dentist.Dr. Nefario: We've been working on this for a while. It's a anti-gravity serum. I meant to close that. He'll be all right, I'm sure. Gru: Do the effects wear off? Dr. Nefario: So far, no. No, they don't. And here, of course, is the new weapon you ordered. Gru: No, no. I said "dart gun," not... Okay. Dr. Nefario: Oh, yes. 'Cause I was wondering under what circumstances would we use this? But, anyway. What I really wanted to show you was this. Gru: Now those are cookie robots! Agnes: La, la, la, la I love unicorns Gru: What are you doing here? I told you to stay in the kitchen! Margo: We got bored. What is this place? Edith: Can I drink this? Dr. Nefario: Do you want to explode? [Edith kicks him in the shin] Dr. Nefario: Gru! Gru: Get back in the kitchen! Agnes: Will you play with us? Gru: No. Agnes: Why? Gru: Because I'm busy. Margo: [scoffs] Doing what? Gru: Umm... Okay, okay, you got me. The dentist thing is more of a hobby. In real life, I am a spy. And it is top secret, and you may not tell anybody, because if you do... Edith: What does this do? [She fires a laser and it hits Agnes's unicorn and it burns to ashes]Gru: Hey! Edith: Whoops. Agnes: My unicorn! You have to fix it. Gru: Fix it? Look, it has been disintegrated. By definition, it cannot be fixed. [Agnes gasps in shock, then starts holding her breath] Gru: That's freaking me out. What is she doing? Margo: She's gonna hold her breath until she gets a new one. Gru: [sighs] It is just a toy. Now stop it! (Agnes faints) Gru: Okay, okay! I'll fix it! Tim! Mark! Phil! This is very important. You have to get the little girl a new unicorn toy. Gru: Hey, hey, hey! A toy! Go, and hurry! What are those? Gru: They are my... Cousins. Jerry! Stuart! Watch them and keep them away from me please. [The three minions put on a disguise and head to the store.]Minions: Wow!- Wow! [Meanwhile the two minions and the girls are tossing toilet paper at each other. Gru comes up and he sees the Girls and the two minions having fun.]Edith: It was your cousin's idea. Jerry: What? Gru: Okay, bedtime. Girls: Aww... Minions: Aww... Gru: Not you two! Minions: Yay. Gru: Okey-dokey. Beddie-bye. All tucked in. Sweet dreams. Margo: Just so you know, you're never gonna be my dad. Gru: I think I can live with that. Edith: Are these beds made out of bombs? Gru: Yes, but they are very old and highly unlikely to blow up. But try not to toss and turn. Edith: "Cool." Agnes: Will you read us a bedtime story?" Gru: No. Agnes: But we can't go to sleep without a bedtime story. Gru: Well, then it's going to be a long night for you, isn't it? So, good night, sleep tight, and don't let the bed bugs bite. Because there are literally thousands of them. And there's probably something in your closet. Margo: He's just kidding, Agnes. Agnes: It's beautiful. Gru: Girls, let's go.

Time to deliver the cookies! Margo: Okay. But first, we're going to dance class. Gru: Actually, we're going to have to skip the dance class today. Margo: Actually, we can't skip the dance class today. We have a big recital coming up. We're doing an excerpt from Swan Lake. Agnes: Yeah, Swan Lake! Gru: That's fantastic. Wonderful. But we're going to deliver cookies! Come on! Margo: No. Gru: No? Margo: We're not going to deliver cookies until we do dance class. Really? Gru: Well, I am not driving you to dance class. So if you want to go, you are going to have to walk yourselves. What are you doing? Margo: Walking to dance class. Gru: Ya? Okay, fine. You just keep walking, because I'm really not driving you! Margo: Okay. Gru: You're going to suffer the wrath of Gru! Seriously, I'm going to count to three! And you had better be in this car! Here we go! One! Two! Teacher: ...three, four and five. And lift, and stretch. And one, and two... Agnes: Here you go. Gru: What is it? Agnes: Your ticket to the dance recital. You are coming, right? Gru: Of course, of course. I have pins and needles that I'm sitting on. Agnes: Pinkie promise? Gru: Oh, yes. My pinkie promises. All right. Our first customer is a man named Vector. Margo: But he's a V. You know, we're supposed to start with the A's. Then we go to the B's. Then we... Gru: Yes, yes! I went to kindergarten. I know how the alphabet works! I was just thinking that it might be nice to deliver Mr Vector's first. That is all. Almost over. It's almost over. Vector: Girls, welcome back to the fortress of Vector-tude! Do you have my cookies for me? Margo: Four boxes of mini-mints, two toffee totes, two caramel clumpies and fifteen boxes of coco-nutties. Vector: Exactly. I'd like to see somebody else order that many cookies. Not likely. Name one person who ordered more cookies than me. Margo: That'll be $52. Vector: Right. Seven, eight, nine... Tic Tacs! Where was I? Seven, eight, nine... Agnes: Why are you wearing pyjamas? Vector: These aren't pyjamas! This is a warm-up suit. Edith: What are you warming up for? Vector: Stuff. Agnes: What sort of stuff? Vector: Super-cool stuff you wouldn't understand. Agnes: Like sleeping? Vector: They are not pyjamas! Here you go, 52 big ones. Bye! Gru: Come on! Vector: What the...? Quiet down, fish. Down, boy!Gru: [laughs] We did it! Come on, girls, let's go! Margo: But what about the other people who ordered cookies? Gru: Life is full of disappointments... For some people. [chuckles ominously] Agnes: (Screams) Gru: Don't do that! Agnes: Super Silly Fun Land! Can we go? Please? Gru: No. Edith: But we've never been. And it's the funnest place on earth! Gru: "Don't care." Girls: Please? Please? We'll never ask for anything else, ever again! Pretty please? Please? Come on! Come on! Gru: "Light bulb." Edith: Come on! Gru: "Goodbye, have fun. [He began to leave. But a attendant of the roller coaster stopped him.]Carnival Ride Worker: Sorry, dude. They can't ride without an adult. Gru: What? [groans] [Soon Gru gets sick from the roller coaster ride.]Agnes: Oh, my gosh! Look at that fluffy unicorn! He's so fluffy, I'm gonna die! Margo: You've gotta let us play for it! Gru: No, no, no. Agnes: Come on! Gru: How much for the fluffy unicorn?Carnival Barker: Well, it is not for sale. But all you gotta do to win it is knock down that little spaceship there. It's easy! Agnes: Yay! Again! Margo: Wait! Edith: Come on. One more time! Agnes: Just one more. I accidentally closed my eyes. I hit it! I hit it! Edith: That was cool. Awww. Gru: Whoa, whoa, whoa. What was that? She hit that. I saw that with my own eyes.Carnival Barker: Hey, buddy, let me explain something to you. You see that little tin spaceship? You see how it's not knocked over? Do you know what that means, professor? It means you don't get the unicorn! Somebody's got a frowny face. Boo! Better luck next time! Gru: Okay, my turn. [Gru uses a fire gun and it blows up the whole booth.]Gru: "Knocked over!" Agnes: It's so fluffy! Yeah! Margo: That was

awesome! Edith: You blew up the whole thing! Agnes: Let's go. Let's try another game!Dr. Nefario: Gru, do you mind if I have a quick word? Gru: Okay, girls, go play. I got the shrink ray! Cotton candy! Dr. Nefario: We have 12 days until the moon is in optimum position. We can't afford any distractions! Gru: Get me Perkins. Sorry to bother you, Mr Perkins, but I figured that you would want to see this! Mr. Perkins: What? Well done, Gru. Rather impressive.Gru: Now, the rest of the plan is simple. I fly to the moon. I shrink the moon. I grab the moon. I sit on the toi-let. What? (girls start laughing) Sorry. Sorry! Could you excuse me for just one second? I told you not to touch my things. I told you, I told you. I've told you a thousand times. Margo: Hey, can we order pizza? Gru: Pizza? You just had lunch. Edith: Not now, for dinner. Gru: Dinner? Just... Fine, fine, fine, whatever. Just get back in there! Margo: Can we get stuffed crust? Agnes and Jerry: Stuffed crust!Gru: I'll stuff you all in the crust! Agnes: [giggles] You're funny! Gru: Just don't come out of that room again! All right. Sorry about that. Where were we? Mr. Perkins: You were sitting on the toilet. Gru: No, no, no! No, I'm sorry. It was a little attempt at humor. I know how much you like to laugh... [Mr. Perkins glares at him] Inside. Eh, now, I was saying... [the door suddenly opens] You don't seem terribly focused, Gru. Believe me, I am completely focused. Right? Edith: Hello! Mr. Perkins: What? Edith: That guy is huge! Agnes: Are we on TV? Mr. Perkins: What are those? Children?Gru: What are you doing? I told you to stay out of here! No, no, no! *Agnes: Freeze ray!Mr. Perkins: Mr Gru? Gru: Okay. As I was saying... Mr. Perkins: No need to continue. I've seen quite enough. Gru: But my plan... Mr. Perkins: Is a great plan. I love everything about your plan, except for one thing. You. Young Gru: Look, Mom, I drew a picture of me landing on the moon! Look, Mom, I made a prototype of the rocket out of macaroni! Look, Mom, I made a real rocket based on the macaroni prototype! Gru: I don't understand. Mr. Perkins: Let's face reality, Gru. You've been at this for far too long with far too little success. We're gonna put our faith, our money, into a... Well, a younger villain. Gru: But I... Mr. Perkins: It's over. Goodbye, Gru. Gru: Now, I know there have been some rumours going around that the bank is no longer funding us. Well, I am here to put those rumours to rest. They are true. In terms of money, we have no money. So how will we get to the moon? The answer is clear. We won't. We are doomed. Now would probably be a good time to look for other employment options. I know. I have fired up my resume as I suggest that all of you do, as well. What is it? Can't you see that I am in the middle of a pep talk? Yes! Yes, we will build our own rocket using this and whatever else we can find! Grab everything! Hit the junkyards! Take apart the cars! Who needs the bank? Let's go. Let's go! Mom! What are you doing here? Gru's Mom: And here he is in the bathtub. Look at his little buns. Gru: Mom. Not cool. Gru's Mom: And here, he's all dressed up in his Sunday best. Margo: He looks like a girl! Gru's Mom: Yes, he does. An ugly girl! Agnes: You're funny! Edith: Yes! Mine's shaped like a dead guy! Receptionist: Mr. Perkins, your son is here. Mr. Perkins: Send him in. Vector: Hey, Dad. You wanted to see me? Mr. Perkins: Yes, I did, Victor. - Vector: I am not Victor anymore. Victor was my nerd name. Now I am Vector! Mr. Perkins: Sit down. Do you know where the shrink ray is? Vector: Duh! Back at my place. Mr. Perkins: Oh, is that right? Back at your place? That's cool. I guess Gru must just have one that looks exactly like it! Vector: What the...?! Those girls sold me cookies! Mr. Perkins: Do you have any idea how lucrative this moon heist could be? I give you the opportunity of a lifetime, and you just blow it! Vector: No, I didn't. Mr. Perkins: Oh, really?Vector: You just wait until Gru sees my latest weapon. Squid-launcher! Oh, yeah! Man:

There's a squid on my face!Vector: Don't worry. The moon is as good as ours. Gru: Come on now, it's bedtime. Did you brush your teeth? Let me smell. Let me smell. You did not! Put on your PGs. Hold still. Okay, seriously! Seriously! This is beddie-bye time, right now. I'm not kidding around. I mean it! Edith: But we're not tired! Gru: Well, I am tired. Agnes: Will you read us a bedtime story? [pause] Gru: No. Agnes: Pretty please? Gru: The physical appearance of the "please" makes no difference. It is still no, so go to sleep. Edith: But we can't. We're all hyper! Margo: And without a bedtime story, we'll just keep getting up and bugging you. All night long. Gru: [sighs] Fine. All right, all right. Sleepy Kittens. Sleepy Kittens? What are these? Agnes: Puppets. You use them when you tell the story. Gru: Okay, let's get this over with. "Three little kittens loved to play, they had fun in the sun all day. "Then their mother came out and said, 'Time for kittens to go to bed."' Wow! This is garbage. You actually like this? Agnes: Keep reading! Edith: Come on! Gru: All right, all right, all right. "Three little kittens started to bawl, "'Mommy, we're not tired at all.' "Their mother smiled and said with a purr, "'Fine, but at least you should brush your fur."' Edith: Now you brush the fur. Gru: This is literature? A 2-year-old could have written this. All right. "Three little kittens with fur all brushed "said, 'We can't sleep, we feel too rushed! ' "Their mother replied, with a voice like silk, "'Fine, but at least you should drink your milk."' Agnes: Now make them drink the milk. Gru: I don't like this book. This is going on forever. "Three little kittens, with milk all gone, rubbed their eyes and started to yawn. "'We can't sleep, we can't even try.' Then their mother sang a lullaby. "'Good night kittens, close your eyes. Sleep in peace until you rise. "'Though while you sleep, we are apart, "'your mommy loves you with all her heart."' The end. Okay, good night. Agnes: Wait! Gru: What? Agnes: What about good night kisses? Gru: No, no. There will be no kissing or hugging or kissing. Margo: He is not gonna kiss us good night, Agnes. Agnes: I like him. He's nice.Edith: [turns off her light] But scary. Like Santa! Dr. Nefario: Only 48 hours till the launch, and all systems are go. Gru: About that, I was thinking that maybe we could move the date of the heist. Dr. Nefario: Please tell me this is not as a result of the girls' dance recital, is it? Gru: No, no, no! The recital? Don't... That's stupid! I just think it's kind of weird to do it on a Saturday. I was thinking, maybe a heist is a Tuesday thing, right? Dr. Nefario: Gru, you and I have been working on this for years. It's everything we've dreamed of. Your chance to make history, become the man who stole the moon! But these girls are becoming a major distraction! They need to go. If you don't do something about it, then I will. Gru: I understand. Dr. Nefario: Good. Minion: Butt. Butt. Butt. Gru: All right. Now, when we put our cups together, we will make the "clink" sound with our mouths. Ready? Edith? Gru: and Edith: Clink. Gru: There we go. And now we drink. And Agnes? Gru and Agnes: Clink. Gru: Very good! Excuse me, girls. Girls: Come on! Gru: Don't worry, I'll be back. Keep clinking. - Clink, clink. - Clink, clink.Gru: Miss Hattie, what are you doing here? Miss Hattie: I'm here for the girls. I received a call that you wanted to return them. [Gru gives her a quizzical look] And also, I did purchase a Spanish dictionary. [swats Gru's head with the dictionary] I didn't like what you said. Gru: But... I will get the girls ready. Agnes: Don't let her take us, Mr. Gru! Tell her you wanna keep us. Mrs. Hattie: All right, girls. Come on, let's go. Margo: Goodbye, Mr. Gru. Thanks for everything. Dr. Nefario: I did it for your own good. Come on, let's go get that moon. Gru: Right. What is this for? The recital? I am the greatest criminal mind of the century. I don't go to little girls' dance recitals! Dr. Nefario: Opening launch bay

doors. Commencing launch sequence. And we are good to go in T minus 10 seconds. Ten, nine, eight, seven, six... Vector: Oh, yeah! Gru: Nice work, Doctor. All systems go. Vector: Boo-ya! My flight suit. Oh, yeah! Once again, the mighty... Gru: I've got it! I've got the moon! I've got the moon. I can make it. Dr. Nefario: Wait a minute! Jerry: Kevin! Gru: Come on! Come on! Agnes: He's still not here. Margo: Why would he come? He gave us up. Agnes: But he pinkie promised! Teacher: Girls, girls, places. Edith: No, we can't start yet! We're still expecting someone. Agnes: Can we just wait a few more minutes? Teacher: All right. But just a few more minutes. Margo: He's not coming, guys. Dr. Nefario: Gru! Gru, can you hear me? Quick, we have to warn him, and fast!Gru: Okay, okay. There's the library. That's Third Street. The dance studio... There! There! There it is! Janitor: Sorry, buddy. Show's over.Gru: Over? Gru: Vector, open up! Vector: First give me the moon. Then we'll talk. Agnes: Mr. Gru! Vector: Zip it, Happy Meal. Gru: Now, the girls. Vector: Actually, I think I'll hold on to them a little while longer. Gru: No! Vector: Oh, yeah! Unpredictable! Gru: Listen close, you little punk. When I get in there, you are in for a world of pain! Vector: [laughs sarcastically] I'm really scared. Agnes: He is gonna kick your butt. Vector: What? He punched my shark! Dr. Nefario: There he is! Hang on, Gru. Oh, no! Gru: Vector has the girls. Go! Dr. Nefario: What happened to the ship? It's big again! Not as big as the moon is going to be! Gru: What? Dr. Nefario: The larger the mass of an object, the quicker the effects of the shrink ray wear off! I call it the Nefario Principle. I just came up with it now, actually. Gru: Oh, no! Margo: Did you see that? Girls: Vector! Help! Vector! Over here! Vector: Hey! What are you girls doing back there? Girls: The moon! Watch out! Vector: Ouch! Gru: Get as close in as you can. You got it. Margo: Mr Gru, up here! Agnes and Edith: Mr Gru! Gru: Okay, girls! Girls! You're going to have to jump. Edith: Jump? Are you insane? Gru: Don't worry, I will catch you. Margo: You gave us back! Gru: I know, I know. And it is the worst mistake I ever made. But you have to jump now. Margo: It'll be okay. Gru: Okay, girls. Margo: Jump now! Gru: Margo, I will catch you. And I will never let you go again. Vector: Not so fast! Gru: No! Margo: Let me go! Gru: Margo! I'm coming, Margo. Hang on! I got you.Vector: No! Oh, poop. News Reporter: This time, good triumphs, and the moon has been returned to its rightful place in the sky. But once again, law enforcement is baffled, leaving everyone to wonder, who is this mysterious hero? And what will he do next? Gru: Okay, girls. Time for bed. Edith: Come on! We want a story. Agnes: Three sleepy kittens! Gru: Oh, no! Sorry. That book was accidentally destroyed maliciously. Tonight we are going to read a new book. This one is called One Big Unicorn by... Who wrote this? Me! I wrote it. Look, it's a puppet book! Here, watch this. That's the horn! Agnes: This is gonna be the best book ever! Gru: Not to pat myself on the back, but, yes, it probably will be. Here we go. "One big unicorn, strong and free "thought he was happy as he could be. "Then three little kittens came around "and turned his whole life upside down." Edith: Hey, that one looks like me! Gru: No, what are you talking about? These are kittens! Any relation to persons living or dead is completely coincidental. "They made him laugh. "They made him cry. "He never should have said goodbye. "And now he knows he could never part "from those three little kittens "that changed his heart. "The end." Okay, all right. Good night. Margo: I love you. Gru: I love you, too. No, no! All right. Didn't I get you already? They're very good! Gru's Mom: I'm so proud of you, Son. You've turned out to be a great parent! Just like me. Maybe even better. Gru: No, I'm fine. Go ahead. No, no, no! THE END Hey, Carl! Hey. No, no, no. Me, me, me. John? No, no. Me, me, me. Oh,

poop. Oh, no! Stop! Stop! Hello, I am Gru. Back to work, back to work! Back to…

IS THIS THE ENTIRE FUCKING SCRIPT?

[emospritelet]

Twisted Fate - chapter 27/28

Last time, Gold essentially told Neal that he was his father, and it didn't go all that well. Here's what happened next

[AO3]

-

Belle licked her lips somewhat nervously as she approached the entrance to the park. It was a walk she and Gold had taken before, though not since she had given birth, and it felt strange to be out on her own with Gideon in his stroller. The maple trees were thick with leaves, the air pleasantly warm in the late spring sunshine, and she pushed the stroller at a sedate pace, eyes casting right and left for any sign of her father.

He was waiting for her near the diner entrance, baseball cap twisting in his big hands, his shoulders a little hunched, and she was surprised to feel a sense of relief at his own signs of nervousness. He smiled awkwardly as she approached, cramming the hat back on his head and wiping his hands on his jeans before stomping over to meet her halfway.

“Hey,” she said. “Right on time.”

“Yeah, traffic wasn’t too bad,” he said gruffly.

He hesitated before leaning in to kiss her cheek. Belle put her free arm around him, and he surprised her again with a quick hug before drawing back.

“So, this is the little fella, is it?” he said heartily, peering into the stroller. “He doing okay?”

“Keeping us up at night,” said Belle. “Alex tends to get up to see to him, though.”

Moe’s smile slipped a little at the mention of Gold’s name, but he nodded.

“He’ll soon settle down, I guess,” he said. “Took you a little while to start sleeping through.”

There was a moment of silence, and Belle tried to think of something else to say. Moe lifted a hand to gesture towards the diner and let it fall against his thigh with an awkward slap.

“Uh - shall we go and see about something to eat?” he ventured.

Belle nodded, and he went to hold open the diner door for her to enter with the stroller. By the time they were seated, their coats off and drinks and food ordered, Gideon had woken up and was staring around with bright-eyed interest. Belle struggled to pick him up out of the stroller with her broken arm, and Moe took over, unfastening the straps and scooping him up in the crochet blanket of soft yellow wool.

“Here we go, little man,” said Moe. “You come and sit with Grandad.”

Belle couldn’t help smiling as he bounced Gideon gently in the crook of one arm.

“Seems a sharp little mite,” he said, grinning as Gideon grasped his finger. “Strong grip.”

“I think he might end up with your height,” said Belle. “He’s got long legs.”

“Nice to think he’ll have something from our side, I suppose,” said Moe. “Not got your eyes.”

“Eye colour can change,” she said. “Hair colour, too. But yes, I think he’ll have brown eyes in the end.”

Moe grunted, but didn’t comment further. The waitress brought their drinks: iced tea for Belle and beer for her father, and she stirred the tea with a straw before taking a drink. He sipped at his beer, looking out the window towards the park.

“Looks like a nice neighbourhood,” he observed.

“Yes, it’s lovely.”

“I guess Gold likes his comforts.”

“No reason he shouldn’t, is there?” said Belle, a little stiffly.

He shrugged, and there was a moment of awkward silence. She prayed that he wasn’t going to pick a fight five minutes into their reconciliation.

“So,” said Moe. “This is your life now, is it? You’re staying in Boston?”

“Until I finish my studies, yes,” she said.

“And after that?”

“Well, I need to find a librarian post,” she said. “So we’ll see.”

“Guess you won’t be back to Storybrooke, then.”

“Not unless the library opens up again.”

“Always thought you might work with me in the shop,” he grumbled, and she sighed.

“That was alright to help out and for something to do between my studies, but you know it was never my interest,” she said. “Besides, I don’t have your talent for it.”

“So you’ll be moving elsewhere?” he said. “Maybe to the other end of the country?”

“I don’t know, Dad.” He grunted, and she added: “I’m not thinking that far ahead, to be honest. Let me get my Master’s out of the way and we’ll see.”

He grunted again.

“How’s the shop doing, anyway?” she asked, in a bid to get off the topic of her life plans. Moe grimaced.

“It’s going okay. Lot of work for one person.”

“I told you to get some help.”

“I told you I couldn’t afford it.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him that he could if he cut back on the booze, but Belle let it go.

“And how are you feeling?” she asked. “Last time we spoke you said you were going to see the doctor.”

He rubbed the back of his neck with an awkward hand.

“Haven’t had time.”

“Dad…”

“Don’t fuss, I’m okay!”

Belle bit her lip and took a sip of tea to keep from snapping in frustration.

“What about you?” he asked after a moment. “You feeling okay?”

Belle wrinkled her nose, but nodded.

“I’m okay,” she said. “A little tired, that’s all.”

“You look thin.”

“Yeah, well, looking after a newborn is pretty hectic,” she said. “I don’t know how people cope alone, I really don’t. Having Alex there has been a godsend, really.”

Moe grumbled something under his breath.

“Took him long enough to step up,” he muttered, and Belle’s mouth flattened.

“He didn’t know I was pregnant,” she said coolly. “The moment he did, he turned his life upside down to provide for me and the baby. Do I need to remind you of the level of support I had from you?”

Moe looked uncomfortable.

“I thought we’d moved past that,” he said. “I told you I wasn’t proud of myself.”

“Oh, and while we’re on the subject,” added Belle, voice sharp with her rising irritation. “What did you think you were doing, telling Alex I was engaged to Gaston, of all people?”

His discomfort seemed to grow, and he shifted in his seat as though he would rather be elsewhere.

“I just wanted what was best for you,” he muttered. “Thought it’d make him back off.”

“He couldn’t have backed off any further if he tried,” she said tartly. “Our break-up was pretty extreme, if you recall.”

Moe looked down at Gideon, who was still staring up at him curiously, and sighed.

“Look, I thought I was doing the right thing,” he said awkwardly. “Not like I knew what would happen. I never wanted you mixed up with that man.”

“Well, I did get mixed up with him,” said Belle bluntly. “We’re now in a committed relationship, and he’s the father of your grandson. And of future grandchildren, if I have any say in the matter.”

Moe looked up sharply, mouth open, and the outraged look on his face made her want to giggle, even as she clicked her tongue in exasperation.

“He’s changed,” she said. “He’s not the same person that broke up with me. He’s facing his issues and being honest with me, and with himself.”

“First time for everything.”

“He’s well aware of his failings,” she said sharply. “He wants to make up for what he did. He already is!”

Moe grumbled something incomprehensible, turning the beer glass between his fingers, and Belle wanted to snatch it out of his hand and dump it over his head. She swallowed her anger down and concentrated on trying to make him see sense.

“He’s good to me, and to Gideon,” she went on. “He’s a wonderful father, and I think he’ll be a wonderful partner, too. He’s already made himself indispensable; I honestly don’t know what I’d do without him.”

“It’s a start, I suppose,” said Moe grudgingly.

“Plus,” added Belle, as if he hadn’t spoken. “I love him. I know you two don’t exactly get along, but I’m afraid you’re going to have to learn. Or at least pretend, for Gideon’s sake.”

Moe wrinkled his nose a little, but nodded reluctantly.

“Suppose I can try,” he said ungraciously.

“Suppose that’s all I can ask,” said Belle, in a very dry tone, and sipped at her iced tea.

-

The door had slammed shut when Neal stormed out, and Gold leaned his free hand against it, letting his head drop as he clutched the handle of his cane. For a brief moment he considered going after Neal, but dismissed the idea almost immediately. He would need both time and space to process the idea that - what? That he had a father who wanted him? Who had searched for him? Who had failed to protect him?

The oven beeped cheerfully from the kitchen, announcing that the brownies were done. Gold sighed, pushing back from the door and making his way to the kitchen on feet that felt like lead. His mind was a tangled mess, filled with loud admonitions, heavy, cloying guilt and the biting shards of anxiety. It took all of his concentration to get the brownie pan out of the oven, and he still managed to burn his thumb, dropping the pan of brownies onto the cooling rack with a curse hissed out through gritted teeth. He rushed to run the burned skin under the cold tap, eyeing the pale ghost of his reflection in the kitchen window. He looked sad and drawn, insubstantial, as though a part of him had left the apartment along with his son. His son.

Gold shut off the water, leaning on the sink, shoulders hunching as they began to shake with his weeping. He sucked in air, trying to calm himself, but it was as though a dam had broken inside him, torrents of emotion pouring through to drown him. He lifted a shaking hand to wipe his eyes and burst into fresh tears, leaning on the counter to hold himself up as his legs threatened to give way beneath him.

Somehow he managed to get the cane underneath himself and make his way into the lounge, where he dropped onto the couch and buried his head in his hands, his body wracked with heavy, choking sobs. Bae was alive. Alive and well, and with a son of his own. It was more than he could have hoped for. More than he deserved. It was too much.

-

Belle rolled her shoulders in an attempt to work out the tension as she made her way up the street to the apartment building, the cool of the evening just enough to make her shiver. Gideon dozed in the stroller, oblivious to passing strangers and the steady hum of traffic, and Belle turned to avoid another woman with a stroller, a jogger veering around both of them before carrying on his way at a steady pace.

She had sent Gold a text to let him know that she was on her way back, but he hadn’t responded. Belle hoped that that meant he had been taking a nap; he needed to if he was going to insist on getting up with Gideon every night. What she had told her father about his indispensability was true, and she was aware that the drive and determination that had made him a successful businessman had the potential to break him. He would run himself into the ground trying to care for her and his son if she didn’t remind him to rest.

All things considered, the meeting with her father could have gone a lot worse. He had shown an interest in Gideon, had almost apologised for lying about Gaston, and had seemed, if not exactly enthusiastic about Gold being in her life, at least grudgingly accepting. Over the meal, she had encouraged him to speak further about the flower shop, and life in Storybrooke, and once they were off the topic of her relationship, he was relatively pleasant company. It was a start.

She called a cheerful greeting to Marco as she entered the apartment building, heading for the elevator and letting out a sigh of relief as the doors swished closed and it made its way upwards. The corridor leading to the apartment was silent, and she opened the door, pushing it closed behind her and locking it. A quick peek into the bedroom told her that Gold wasn’t sleeping. The apartment smelled like warm chocolate, and she suspected that he’d been baking something. She shook her head with a fond smile; it seemed she would have to force him to take a break after all.

“Hey!” she called. “I’m back, and I managed not to yell or storm out of the diner, so that’s progress, don’t you think?”

She opened the lounge door, putting her head around it, and Gold glanced up from where he sat on the couch, elbows on knees, his head having been buried in his hands. He had been crying, his face wet with tears, his eyes glistening. She hurried over, falling to her knees on the rug at his feet and putting her hand on his thigh.

“What’s wrong?” she asked anxiously. “What is it?”

“It’s him,” wept Gold. “Neal. It’s him. He’s my son. He’s my boy.”

He began to cry again, his face crumpling, and Belle pushed up on her knees, sliding her free hand over his shoulder and pulling him into a one-armed hug.

“But that’s wonderful!” she said excitedly, sitting back on her heels as her fingers combed through his hair. “How did you find out? Did you talk to him?”

“He came over.” Gold wiped his eyes, dashing away tears. “Dropped off some books for you. They’re in the kitchen.”

“Never mind the books,” said Belle impatiently, and he let out a laugh that was almost a sob.

“That must be the first time you’ve ever said that.”

“What did Neal say?” she persisted. “What did you say?”

“I - I was just talking, really,” he said, his voice still trembling. “About Milah, about Bae. And - and I mentioned Milah’s name, and the name she had given our son, and - and that’s when he knew, I think.”

“So it’s really him?” asked Belle. “It’s really Bae? He must have changed his name.”

“He did.” Gold nodded rapidly. “He changed it. He told me. He - God, Belle, he just left! I told him, and - and he stormed out! I - I don’t know what to do. What do I do? What if he won’t talk to me?”

Belle drew back a little, hand sliding on the smooth wool of his pants.

“I think you should give him some time,” she said gently. “It’s a lot to process. For both of you.”

“Yes.” Gold ducked his head, nodding again. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.”

“He’ll need time and space to think about it,” she added. “And I suppose he’ll want to talk to Emma about it, too.”

Gold nodded, lower lip trembling.

“In the meantime,” she said. “I think you should call Archie, tell him what’s happened.”

“Yes,” he whispered. “Yes. I’ll call him tomorrow.”

“You should keep your Friday appointment,” she added. “Gid and I can drive up with you, and I can go and see Dad.”

Gold sat back a little, a tiny smile on his face.

“Your meeting went well, then?”

Belle pulled a face.

“It went okay,” she said. “I only wanted to smack him around the head a couple of times, so I guess it wasn’t too bad.”

Gold’s mouth twisted wryly, as though he understood her feelings.

“I’m glad it went well enough that you want to see him again, though.”

“Yeah.” She sat back on her heels, chewing her lip. “He was happy to see Gideon, anyway.”

“Good.”

He had dropped his eyes, biting anxiously at his lower lip, and she tilted her head to the side a little.

“Try not to worry that Neal left like that,” she said gently. “It must have been a shock, but you can’t think that means he won’t ever talk to you.”

“I know,” he whispered.

“I know he doesn’t want anything to do with his mother,” she added, “but your part in his early life was very different. You wanted him. That must mean something.”

“Yeah,” he breathed. “But what?”

He glanced up at her, dark eyes wide and anxious and filled with fear, and her heart broke for all the love he had inside him, and all the years he had kept it hidden away and locked up tight to stop it hurting him.

“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “All you can do is be patient with him, and I’m sure he’ll talk to you. I gave Emma your number. Maybe he’ll use it.”

Gold smiled, another tear spilling over and tracking its way down to run over the curve of his lower lip. His hand cupped her cheek, his touch warm, and he leaned forward to touch his forehead to hers, breath sighing out to brush her lips.

“Thank you, Belle,” he whispered. “I already owe you more than I can ever repay, and now you’ve led me back to my son. Thank you.”

She smiled, reaching up to stroke her fingers through his hair as she nuzzled his nose with hers.

“It’s fate,” she whispered. “It wasn’t my doing, it was just meant to be.”

“And without you, I would never have found him,” he said softly. “Thank you, Belle. I love you.”

He kissed her forehead, his lips a soft, wet circle between her eyes, and he lowered his mouth to hers. Belle kissed him gently, lips pulling, tasting the salt of his tears, and Gideon broke into a grumbling cry behind them, making them break the kiss with a soft chuckle.

“I’ll see to him,” she said, and pushed to her feet. “What can I smell, by the way?”

“Oh - brownies,” he said, sitting back and wiping his eyes again. “Can I get you one?”

“Please.” She smiled at him. “Shall we have some tea? And then you and I can curl up and have an early night. I think we both need some sleep.”

Gold returned the smile, and nodded.

“I am in your hands.”

-

Belle leaned on the kitchen counter, listening to the low hiss of the kettle as the water began to heat. Gold had gone to take a shower after putting Gideon to bed, and she was making a cup of chamomile tea for them both, hoping it would help him get some sleep. Her phone buzzed urgently in the pocket of her loose pants, and she fished it out, smiling a little as she saw Emma’s name on the screen. She swiped with her thumb to answer, nudging the kitchen door closed with a foot.

“Hey,” she said. “You okay?”

“Holy shit, Belle!” exclaimed Emma. “What the fuck?”

Belle sighed, leaning back against the worktop.

“I know,” she said.

“This is - I mean this is insane!”

“Tell me about it,” said Belle, with feeling. “How’s Neal coping?”

Emma sighed heavily.

“Still kind of freaking out,” she admitted. “How’s Alex?”

“He stopped crying, so that’s progress.”

“Shit.”

“Yep.”

There was a moment of silence.

“What do we do?” asked Emma. “This is huge.”

“I told Alexander that Neal was gonna need some time to process the idea,” said Belle. “I think they both will. Alex has spent decades looking for him, and to actually find him, not just a random stranger, but one of my best friends… he’s feeling kind of overwhelmed.”

“Overwhelmed is an understatement,” said Emma. “We haven’t said anything to Henry, by the way.”

“Oh, I didn’t expect you would,” said Belle. “I won’t mention it, of course.”

“Thanks.”

Another moment of silence. Belle hesitated before speaking.

“What’s your gut feeling on how this’ll go?” she asked, and heard Emma inhale deeply.

“Honestly? I don’t know right now. It’s brought back a lot of the crap he was dealing with in therapy, so I’m hoping he goes to see his therapist again. I mean he spent a lot of time dealing with his mother abandoning him, but this is a whole new thing.”

“Yeah, Alex is seeing his therapist on Friday.”

“Hey, maybe we could get a discount for multiple referrals.”

Belle chuckled.

“I doubt Neal wants to drive to Maine each week.”

“Guess not.” Emma was silent for a moment. “How are you coping?”

“Saw Dad today,” said Belle. “He managed not to piss me off too much, so that’s progress.”

“Good.”

“Yeah, he seems to want to patch things up,” she said. “I don’t think he and Alex are ever gonna be the best of friends, but I’m hoping we might at least be able to dump the hostility.”

“Knock their heads together if they’re gonna be assholes about it.”

“Yeah.” Belle sighed. “Right now it’s the least of my worries. I need to concentrate on Gideon and - well, and Alexander. He’s been making really good progress at opening up and being honest with me. I don’t want him to start reverting because things get difficult, you know?”

“You should get him to talk about it,” suggested Emma. “Don’t let him sit and brood. I’ll do the same with Neal.”

“Okay. Good idea.”

“Well, I’d better go,” said Emma. “I think that’s him back from the store. Call you tomorrow?”

“Okay. Thanks, Emma, I really appreciate it.”

“Anytime.”

Emma rang off, and Belle slipped the phone into her pocket, hearing the shower shut off. She turned back to the tea, pouring hot water onto bags of dried chamomile flowers and stirring. Emma hadn’t given an outright no to Neal wanting to accept Gold, and that gave her hope for a happy ending. After all their years of loss and pain, they deserved it.

-

The next day dawned dull and cloudy, which suited Gold’s mood. He had checked his phone several times during the night, just in case Neal had sent a message. Nothing. He supposed that wasn’t surprising. Belle had been the one to get up with Gideon in the night, telling him firmly to stay in bed, but sleep had been elusive, and so he found himself making coffee at five-thirty in the morning with grainy eyes and a heavy ball of anxiety in his belly.

He carried the cup of coffee through to the lounge and sat down, staring out through the window as the city came to life. His eyes strayed to the toy rabbit, tucked onto the end of one of Belle’s bookshelves, and after a moment he got up to take it down. Sitting back down, he turned the rabbit between his hands, the familiar feel of soft plush fur against his fingertips. He wondered if Neal would remember it, if he would remember anything of the short time they had had together. Not for the first time, he felt a surge of anger at Milah for taking him away, but his rage burned brief and hot, quenched by a heavy wave of overwhelming sadness for all they had lost. Tears pricked at his eyes, and he blinked them away, shaking his head. What’s done is done.

“You know, you really should rest.”

Belle’s voice made him look around with a sad smile. She was leaning in the doorway, the light from the hallway behind her, but he could see the look of sympathy in her eyes. It only made him want to cry again.

“It’s early,” he said. “Go back to bed.”

“I will if you come with me.”

His smile grew, and he set the rabbit down on the coffee table, propped up against Belle’s book pile.

“Alright,” he said. “But I’m bringing my coffee.”

“Deal.”

Lying down beside her felt good, his tired body sinking into the mattress as her arm went around him, and she pressed a kiss to his shoulder.

“Try to get some sleep,” she said softly. “I can get up to feed Gideon. You need to rest if you’re not gonna fall on your face.”

“I’ll try,” he murmured.

He could already feel his eyes sliding closed, Belle’s warmth and scent a balm to his soul. The coffee grew cold on the nightstand.

-

He woke with a start to find the bed beside him empty. Glancing at the clock he swore under his breath. Ten seventeen? Fuck!

He bounced out of bed, grabbing his robe and pulling it on as he grasped his cane and headed for the kitchen. Belle was making tea, and smiled brightly as he entered.

“Morning sleepyhead,” she teased. “How are you feeling?”

“A little better,” he admitted. “Thank you for letting me sleep.”

“I think you needed it.”

“Yes.”

He had needed it. He certainly felt better, although that underlying fear was still there, creeping beneath his skin.

“How’s Gideon?” he asked. “I didn’t hear a thing. Must have slept like the dead.”

“He was pretty quiet,” she said. “I fed him and changed him - gotta say it’s not that easy with one working arm - and now he’s sleeping.”

“Did you have breakfast?”

“Just tea so far.”

“In that case why don’t I make it?”

He opened the fridge, taking out a pack of bacon and fumbling it in his tiredness. The bacon hit the floor with a slap, and Gold sighed.

“You know what?” announced Belle. “I think it’s a little late for breakfast. What do you say to going out for brunch? We could go to the diner. Eggs Benedict, coffee and cinnamon Danish.”

He smiled, bending to retrieve the bacon.

“That sounds perfect.”

-

By the time they had drunk their tea, and Gold had dressed, Gideon was awake and clamouring for attention. He took over from Belle, changing and dressing him before tucking him into the stroller. He took a seat on the couch while Belle was tying up her hair, one eye on the stroller, and checked his phone for what felt like the hundredth time. His mouth flattened when he saw there were no messages, and when he looked up Belle was watching him with a look of sympathy in her eyes.

“It’s still early days,” she said, and he nodded.

“I know.”

He turned the phone between his hands restlessly, and Belle put her head to the side.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Fine,” he said automatically.

“Do you not want to go out?” she asked. “It’s okay if you don’t.”

“Of course I do,” he said. “You’re right, I should really eat something.”

“I can live without cinnamon Danish.”

He flashed her a grin.

“Perhaps, but that sounds like a terrible existence.”

Belle giggled, and he slipped the phone into his pocket and pushed to his feet, tugging the cuffs of his jacket straight and grasping his cane.

“Lead on,” he instructed, and she smiled, pushing the stroller towards the door.

“You’ve made the right choice,” she assured him. “I’m sure everything will seem much better after we’ve eaten our own weight in pastries.”

“I’ve no doubt you’re right,” he remarked, still grinning.

“Besides,” she added. “Getting out into the fresh air will do you good. It’s not like staying in the apartment will make a difference, right?”

She pulled open the door, and Neal blinked, fist raised ready to knock. Gold felt his heart leap into his mouth and pound against the back of his throat. He swallowed it down, trying not to let his raging anxiety show on his face.

“Neal!” gasped Belle. “You scared me half to death!”

“Hey,” said Neal, looking uncomfortable. “Sorry. Bad timing, I guess.”

“Not at all,” said Gold, his tone light.

Belle glanced at him, and then at Neal, and beamed.

“Uh - you know what?” she said brightly. “I think I’ll just - uh - I’ll go on ahead and wait in the diner. I could really use a cup of coffee. I’ll see you later.”

She scurried off before Gold had a chance to object, and he raised a hand and ran it through his hair, trying to think of something to say.

“Well,” he said, to fill the silence.

“Yeah.” Neal hunched his shoulders a little. “I - uh - I guess we need to talk.”

“Yes.” Gold hesitated, then stepped back and held open the door. “Please. Come on in.”

Neal seemed to slip past him, shoulders lifted awkwardly and body twisting, as though he wanted to be sure they didn’t touch. It made Gold’s heart sink a little, but he reminded himself that Neal could have avoided him altogether. The fact that he had come over at all was promising. He shut the door behind them, following Neal into the lounge.

“Can I get you something?” he asked. “Coffee?”

Neal shook his head, and Gold gestured to the couch before sitting in his chair, setting his cane to the side. Neal perched on the edge of the couch, threading his fingers together nervously, and Gold was reminded of himself in Dr Hopper’s office. The thought made him want to smile.

“I’m glad you came over,” he said gently.

“Getting news like that isn’t the kind of thing you can just ignore,” said Neal.

“Perhaps not,” agreed Gold. “But even so, I wasn’t sure you’d want to see me again. At least not right away.”

Neal shrugged awkwardly.

“I spoke to Emma,” he said. “And - and I know she didn’t say anything to you about my mother, and she’s the only one who knew her name. So there’s no way you could know unless - unless you knew, right?”

“I suppose not.”

“So I figured we should probably talk.”

“Right.”

Silence, but for the gentle tick of the clock on the lounge wall. Gold threaded his fingers together, in and out, trying to think of something to say that wasn’t trite or just plain desperate.

“I’m sure you must have questions,” he said. “I’ll try to answer them. Whatever you ask me.”

“Okay.”

Gold waited for him to speak, but there was only silence. He bit his tongue to keep from filling it with his own pointless rambling. Neal was looking at the floor between his feet, but after a moment he picked up the toy rabbit on the coffee table, turning it over in his hands.

“That belonged to you,” said Gold, making him look up.

“Yeah, so Belle said. At least - she said it belonged to your son.”

“It’s all I had left,” said Gold quietly. “Milah - your mother took all the pictures. Not sure what became of them.”

“I dunno.” Neal looked uncomfortable. “I don’t have ‘em. Maybe she took them with her. Maybe she threw them away.”

“I hope not.”

Gold thought it was the most likely explanation, but decided against saying so.

“I don’t suppose you remember me,” he added, and Neal wrinkled his nose.

“Sorry.”

“That’s alright. You were very young.”

“I kind of remember this.” Neal held up the rabbit, ears flopping from side to side as he did so. “I mean I don’t have a clear memory of it, or anything, but it seems - familiar.”

Gold smiled wistfully.

“That was your favourite toy.” he said. “When your mother took you, she left it behind. I was frantic. Wondered how you’d sleep without it. I suppose she got you something else.”

“I think there was a bear at some point.” He shook his head. “I don’t know. Like you say, I was very young.”

He ducked his head, and Gold tried again.

“I used to tuck it in bed with you when I read you stories at night,” he said. “You liked to be read to. You liked painting too; I’d put paper down on the kitchen table and you’d make a wonderful mess with the colours.”

Neal said nothing, thumbs stroking the fur on the rabbit’s cheeks. Gold wondered what he was thinking.

“I wouldn’t have been surprised if you’d said you didn’t want anything to do with me, you know,” he said. “I’m sure you blame me for a great many things, and sometimes it’s easier to make a clean break to spare yourself more pain.”

Neal looked up at that, dropping the rabbit back on the table and sitting back a little.

“Like you tried with Belle, you mean?”

His voice was flat, and Gold inclined his head.

“I deserved that,” he said quietly. “Breaking up with Belle was a terrible thing to do. It was one of the worst mistakes I’ve ever made. I was a coward, and I pushed her away. You are clearly far braver than I.”

Neal glanced away, his mouth twisting, but after a moment he looked up.

“Why did my mother leave?” he asked, and Gold let one shoulder rise and fall in a half-shrug.

“She and I were incompatible,” he said simply. “She wanted travel and excitement and lots of attention, and I wanted to provide a stable, secure home for my son. There wasn’t much we could have compromised on, looking back.”

“Guess not.”

“Perhaps it was my fault,” he added. “I knew she was unhappy, but I don’t think I realised the extent of that unhappiness. I never thought that she’d leave and take you with her. Looking back I should have. She was always - restless. Never content. Always chasing whatever she thought was over the horizon.”

“Yeah, I remember that we never stayed in one place long,” said Neal. “One day she’d decide it was time to move on, and we’d take the car and go. I guess maybe it was because she hadn’t paid the rent or something, right? She used to tell me it was an adventure. I don’t even remember going to school all that much.”

Gold shook his head, anger at Milah bubbling up once more after years of simmering beneath the surface. He tried to swallow his rage; Neal didn’t need to see it.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I should have protected you. I should have made sure she couldn’t take you from me. I - I tried to find you, I swear! I searched everywhere I could think of, followed every lead...”

“Yeah, well, when I got older, I guess I looked for you too,” said Neal, shoulders hunching a little. “Hit a dead end pretty much straight away. How come you weren’t on my birth certificate?”

Gold spread his hands, palms upward.

“Because I didn’t know,” he said simply. “As I said, by the time she saw fit to tell me I had a son, you were eighteen months old, and I was young and stupid and didn’t realise the importance of being formally named as your father. Another mistake I’ve been kicking myself over.”

“Was she with someone else?” asked Neal. “Before she came back to you, I mean.”

Gold pulled a face.

“I presume so,” he said. “She never liked to be alone, it has to be said. When she left I assumed she’d had a better offer.”

“So - so how did you know?” asked Neal, ducking his head a little and looking up through dark lashes. “You said you knew I was your son. How? Maybe she lied to you about that, too.”

“Maybe she did,” admitted Gold. “I can only tell you what I felt in my heart when I held you for the first time. I could feel that you were mine. It’s hard to explain.”

Neal wrinkled his nose, glancing away for a moment.

“No, I kind of get it,” he said. “I felt like that with Henry.”

“But with Henry there was no question that you were his father, was there?”

“No, of course not,” said Neal. “But I still get what you mean. It’s - it’s like there’s a bond there. Instant love, right?”

“Right,” said Gold softly. “That’s it exactly.”

Neal nodded, looking down at his joined fingers and swallowing hard.

“You were really looking for me?” he whispered. “All this time?”

“Ever since I lost you.”

Gold could feel a lump in his throat, tears threatening to well up and spill over once more, but Neal shook his head.

“No!”

He pushed to his feet, hands opening and closing as he paced back and forth, shaking his head. Gold got to his feet, stepping forward and grounding the cane between his feet, his heart hammering against his ribs, and Neal whirled to face him.

“I know how much you hurt Belle, how you forced her out of your life,” he said. “How do I know you won’t do that to me? How do I know you won’t do it to Henry?”

“Please!” Gold could hear the desperation in his voice. “I swear to you, I would never do that!”

“Why not?” demanded Neal. “You did it to Belle. You claim to love her now, but you pushed her away like she was nothing!”

“I pushed Belle away because I was afraid,” said Gold, his voice shaking a little. “It was a terrible, hurtful thing to do, and I regret it every day! But I swear to you, son, I will spend the rest of my life trying to make her happy, and - and being the best father to Gideon. And - and if you let me, I want to be the best father I can to you, too.”

Neal shook his head, pacing back and forth.

“Man, I turned my back on my parents years ago!” he protested. “I thought I was done with this! I’d made up my mind that you either didn’t know or didn’t care and I’d made my peace with it! And now - what? You want to play happy families? You can’t make it right! You can't open the story of my life and go to page 738 and think you know me!”

“I know that,” said Gold gently. “I know. You and I have missed time together that we are never gonna get back, and there’s nothing I can do to make it right. I know that.”

Neal ducked his head, almost as though it hadn’t been what he had expected to hear. Almost as though he had wanted reassurance instead of reality.

“But I want to try to build something,” Gold went on. “I want us to - to have the best relationship we can. I’m well aware that I’ve missed almost the whole of your life, and it kills me, son. I swear that I will do whatever it takes to win your trust and - and be a family.”

Neal was silent, staring at him for a moment, and then he let out a heavy sigh, running his hands over his face.

“I don’t know what you could do,” he said. “I don’t know what anyone does in this situation.”

“No,” admitted Gold. “I don’t think there’s a protocol for this sort of thing.”

“Should maybe ask one of those shows where they find long-lost family members.”

“Oh, believe me, I went on a number of those,” said Gold dryly. “With no photographs of you I knew it was a shot in the dark, but I tried anyway.”

“Wow.” Neal shook his head. “That must have been—”

“Soul-destroying,” Gold supplied quietly. “But it was all I could think of left to try.”

Neal stared at him for a long moment, then let out a mirthless chuckle.

“I guess this makes Gideon Henry’s uncle, huh?” he said. “That’s weird.”

Gold smiled, a little thrown by the abrupt change of subject.

“Yes,” he said. “Would Henry mind, do you think?”

“Probably take it in his stride,” said Neal, with a shrug. “He doesn’t let much faze him.”

“He seems a very bright boy,” said Gold, and he smiled.

“Yeah, he’s amazing” He shifted, toes scuffing the rug a little. “I don’t want him hurt. You get that, right?”

“It’s the last thing I want, believe me,” said Gold sincerely, and Neal nodded.

“Emma and I haven’t said anything to him,” he said. “Figured I’d talk to you first.”

“I understand,” said Gold. “It’s a lot to take in.”

“It’s not just that,” said Neal. “More like - we don’t actually know, do we? I know you think you’re my dad, but from what you say, my mother could have been lying. Guess there’s only one way to know for sure.”

Gold felt himself relax a little further.

“A test, you mean?” he asked. “Yes. I could arrange that, if you’re willing.”

“I’d rather know than not, wouldn’t you?”

“It wouldn’t make any difference to me,” said Gold. “But I can understand why it might to you.”

Neal blinked.

“It wouldn’t?” he asked, looking surprised, and Gold smiled.

“You’ve been my son in my heart from the moment I knew of your existence,” he said calmly. “Test results wouldn’t change that.”

Neal stared at him for a moment, then shook his head.

“You really mean that?” he asked quietly. “You’d really want to be a family with - with someone who isn’t even your kid?”

Gold licked his lips, hands folding over the handle of his cane.

“My father never wanted me,” he said bluntly. “He made it very clear throughout his life that I was nothing but a drain on his time, his money and his spirit. When I lost you, he told me I should count my blessings. That I’d been given a second chance at life, and I should make the most of it.” He shook his head. “Family - true family - it isn’t about blood. It’s about those you choose to be with.”

Neal pressed his hands together in front of his face, almost as though he was praying.

“Emma said that to me once,” he said quietly. “Back when we first got serious.”

“She seems like an extraordinary young woman,” said Gold.

“She’s the best,” said Neal immediately. “Way too good for me. I guess maybe that’s something we have in common, huh?”

Gold let out a soft chuckle. There was a moment of silence, and Neal let his hands drop to his sides, shaking his head a little.

“Papa?” he whispered. “Is it really you?”

Gold’s self-control crumbled, tears spilling over as his lip wobbled uncontrollably.

“Oh God, Bae!” he wept. “Oh God, I’m sorry! I am so, so sorry!”

He reached out, desperate to touch his son, expecting him to recoil, but Neal stepped forward, hesitating only slightly before throwing his arms around him and hugging him tight. Gold wept, clinging to him as he felt a loosening in his chest, a lifting of the heavy weight of grief and guilt. He wasn’t sure how long they stood there, but when Neal drew back he too had tears in his eyes. Gold smiled, trying to steady his trembling lip.

“I guess Belle must be wondering where you are,” said Neal, his voice a little rough with emotion. “This is so weird. It’s almost like she’s my stepmother.”

Gold laughed.

“I’m sure she won’t mind that,” he said.

“You should marry her.”

“Oh, I intend to,” he said. “If she’ll have me.”

“Are you kidding?” Neal shook his head, dashing tears from his cheeks with a thumb. “She’s crazy about you.”

“Then I’m possibly the luckiest man on this earth,” said Gold.

“Something else we have in common.”

They shared a grin, and Gold made a decision.

“Would you come to brunch with us?” he asked. “You could invite Emma and Henry, if you like.”

Neal ran his hands over his face and let out a tearful chuckle.

“What the hell,” he said. “Brunch it is.”