#even really gotten to yet but hopefully this answered the questions you posed in a mostly satisfying way ^_^

[pyrriax]

hello here to ask about the seraphim au again lol

what are wisps? how is disability handled among seraphs? what is the most common way for them to get disabled? how fucked up is spoke exactly? like does he have abnormally long limbs? does he have limbs that he really shouldnt? is there a way for the ones in the fray to get up to the vesper esp with all the ruin? are there any other weapons of war lying around aside from centurions?

this au is really interesting and i love finding out more about it :D

Hello welcome back! I'm happy to answer your questions i love talking about this thing ^_^

Yet another long post ahead, but I've gone ahead and answered all of your questions in as much detail as I can without fully spoiling anything! 👍

What is a Wisp? (Where do they come from, what're they like?)

Wisps are another common creature, originating from cast magic. They vary in size, shape, color, and type, although the most common are ones which have a tendency to either cause small explosions, or light fires. Because of the way their bodies are comprised primarily of magic, they are constantly expending this energy, and thus don't accumulate it the same way that most things do.

These wisps are a common pest in the Vesper, a little like rats, but also a bit more potentially damaging, as they're drawn to places with a high magic content and flow. Although, they're rarely found at the pools in the Fray. This is mostly because Centurions have taken to killing them on sight, since they are quite fond of feeding off the energy which is used to keep them functional. It's a special thing, and it's their favorite.

Once upon a time, they actually had a use, but now they're just considered a bit of a waste product from magic casting.

(Although, that hasn't stopped some curious Seraphs from wondering if it'd be possible to domesticate them in a sense. They aren't inherently harmful, even if they have a habit of starting little fires or blowing cracks in walls. Some wisps simply sap energy and laze about, and though they become rarer later on, these are the ones that stick around places the longest.)

Certain wisps expend their excess energy with mimicry and shapeshifting, some of my references for them are birds like European Starlings and Superb Lyrebirds. Often times, their mimicry can make them even more of a nuisance, especially before the Seraph's extinction, as they were known to lead Seraphim astray by mimicking distress calls and even the sounds of clashing metal. Shapeshifting-wise, they tended to prefer creatures of a similar mass, so most often they'd take forms no bigger than medium sized cats, since anything larger is significantly bigger than any typical wisp. These ones didn't often last long after being created, but they were well documented.

They used to be kept out of important places in the Vesper with gates and small spells, but as those diminished, they began to creep in once again. Their presence sped up the collapse, but it couldn't exactly be prevented.

How is disability handled among seraphs? (Along with a brief explanation of some pieces of Seraphim culture)

Overall, it's treated as something to be respected, as it tends to be the result of actions not the Seraph's own, or of actions that were for the greater good of either the Seraph, or the Vesper as a whole. But, there are certain things which are much more looked down upon, and that is typically things like blindness or missing wings. These types of injuries, and related disabilities (stunted flight, limited vision [in cases where the blindness is partial], etc.), are viewed as almost childish, due to the fact they're especially common occurrences for Seraphim youth.

Older Seraphs commonly deal with lower mobility, at least in comparison to their younger counterparts. While Seraphs will snip and bite at each other (both literally and metaphorically), they are still a social species and care for their ill and disabled. Typically, any care being done for a Seraph will be done by those closer to them, mostly their inner circle and occasionally those associated with those Seraphs.

In cases of lost limbs, for any reason (regardless of how it may be viewed), if all the injury does is heal over and become more of a typical stump, the spot will be adorned with jewelry, and even tattoos or specifically dyed feathers, depending on the specific spot. Rather than being something hidden, these things are typically decorated, highlighted as a show of life and living. This is a bit of a remnant of an old myth which was lost long before anything was written, but it speaks of highlighting these losses as a triumph of life. It's a little bit of a "this is our gift from the stars [in reference to an almost-god] and we must show our appreciation, lest it be taken from us." Along with that, it's viewed as a way of warding off Wisps and other pests from these vulnerable spots.

Common patterns & symbols in these types of jewelry include but aren't limited to: ferns / laurel, flowers (varying types depending on the city, although the most common ones in Vesper are lily of the valley and bleeding hearts), spirals, and insects (again, of varying types depending on the city, the most common ones in Vesper are beetles or millipedes, although the latter are much less common.)

These pieces are made out of a variety of materials, but typically the basis is metals, either cast and shaped or twisted wire, depending on the Seraph's preferences. Pieces of the grown stars used for Centurions are also common place, along with common crystals. Everything used is subject to change, as these are personal to the Seraphs and will reflect their preferences, and even their favorite things. Over time, this jewelry may be reforged and adapted to better suit the Seraph, as time goes on.

What is the most common way for Seraphs to end up disabled? (And maybe a little hint of lore, as a treat)

So, I've mentioned some of the most commonly disabling things, but how the hell does that even happen?

Seraphs have their nasty habit of fighting amongst themselves, which is only more common with the younger of the bunch. While it isn't pleasant, it isn't unheard of for these fights to reach the point of weak points being clawed at/out. Which often entails wings being at the least taken out of their sockets, and at worst clawed off. In the same thread, eyes are also a common spot to be gone after.

But, as time went on, these types of fights became less common, so scars and marks from these fights are more often seen on the fully grown Seraphs. At least, this is the most accepted answer. Though, the truth of it is that usually, Seraphs lost limb and life to the fights which were so often instigated. While it's been most attributed to overly violent youth, it was much more an effect of war. At least, that was before the Centurions.

After them, however, things shifted. Without nearly as many Seraphs out actively participating in the fight aside from those that remained to ensure the Centurions' function, the most commonly disabling occurrences were related to either overexertion of magic over a long period of time (leading to effects a little similar to chronic fatigue & pain) and flight related injury. Though, that was tied with... Poaching related damage to stars.

Damaged stars? Poaching?

As I've already mentioned briefly here, Seraphim stars became a useful weapon due to their properties. While I won't elaborate much more than that for some mild spoiler reasons, let it be known that Seraphs were once revered as gods, but this began to turn into resentment over time. But, what does a damaged star entail for them?

A Seraph with a damaged star (whether it be cracked or chipped, both having different but lasting effects) doesn't often live more than a handful of years longer, as the magic that typically circulates through their body will begin to stagnate. This causes to formation of a sediment of sorts that accumulates in extremities and places like the eyes, mouth, and will even begin to seep into the keratin in their body, as well as their bones/marrow, coloring any new growth anything from pink to deep blues and greens.

While Seraphs are known for having a variety of colors which naturally and commonly occur in their feathers and flesh, these colors are associated heavily with this type of ailment, and those with these colors are often avoided by some of the more paranoid. (There is no risk to other Seraphim, this is a lot like how people will avoid those they perceive as ill / sick even when they know it won't affect them.)

Cracked Stars (All pieces present, but with slight separation or small fragments loose): Slower overall progression, characterized by weakness and general lethargy, along with sharp pain and numbness in extremities as time goes on, since the magic that Seraphs rely on doesn't flow quite how it's supposed to, along with the appearance of the aforementioned colors, since they tend to live long enough for it to completely change their appearance.

Chipped Stars (Pieces are missing, typically from failed removal attempts): Much faster progression, often to an almost violent effect, as instead of accumulating slowly, the magic which would form a sediment will instead begin to crystalize rapidly, making them only really able to live about a year after at most. This can also be the most sudden, as a chipped star likely won't be noticed until there are Wisps circling the Seraph, and sharp pain and complete loss of feeling (a side effect of the magic that's basically pouring out of them, which will make them much like the Centurions in this regard, as they cannot contain the magic.)

Malformed Stars (Not injury based, but included due to the relation and similarities): Some Seraphs are born with malformed stars and will have coloration associated with cracked stars from the very start. Although, it's entirely possible that they can live for a while longer than those whose stars get cracked, as their bodies are given the opportunity to properly adjust, as well as the lack of excess magic directly leaking into their bodies. Varying from Seraph to Seraph, they can have much more volatile magic, or that's less potent than is typical.

So what the fuck is the deal with Spoke? (Why is he like that?)

Spoke is a case of a potentially good thing being used in the worst way possible. Grown stars (or artificial stars, or anything to that degree) are perfect for Centurions, being able to be used as a baseline for the creation of pseudo-personage, a pseudo-soul, if you will. But, the problem is when they interact with another soul. Natural souls will eat away at artificial ones, and this lead to an extremely volatile reaction within Spoke. Along with the issue of souls, human bodies are not exactly made to regulate the magic that comes with these stars, and it causes... Complications.

Caught in an odd place where he both does and doesn't even physically exist at all, Spoke is a little like the ghosts that've taken to haunting the library in the absence of Seraphs. Varying even minute to minute, he can go from looking a little off (almost a little uncanny, in a way. Limbs slightly the wrong proportions, just enough to ring as odd, but not completely distorted) to being almost unrecognizable as human at all, practically surrounded by a thick layer of ambient magic, which can make him look like a bit like a shadow.

Although, as time goes on, this becomes much less varied, and instead, it manifests in the beginnings of Seraph-like features, including an additional set of non-functional eyes. As well, there is a certain dark-green-almost-black that makes his extremities look almost necrotic, although they aren't. This is just a manifestation of the excess magic, much like how it looks for Seraphim with cracked stars. For a period of time, he had grown the beginnings of an additional limb (although, it never got far, as it began to become excruciatingly painful for him), but it was removed.

Spoke is basically in limbo between being alive and dead, which has had its own interesting effects on his psyche, and really, if any true Seraph were there, he likely would've been mercy killed to spare him from this. But, he's happy as can be, despite the agonies. Much like any other human with a star place in them, there is most definitely a noticeable mark that resulted from it, something which has only grown over time. A little like what could've just been a scar at the start begins to morph into creeping vines, looking more and more like they've been struck with lightning.

(This is probably the most subject-to-change-as-i-write thing here, since I'm not 100% set on the primary appearance of it. There are major differences between Seraphim-stars and Grown-stars, and one of those major differences is that Seraphim-stars are much more stable, as they've had a long period of time to be refined and cultivated. Meanwhile grown-stars aren't given that kind of time, and are only an approximation of the real thing. While they can heal and prolong life, they lack the rhyme or reason that Seraphim ones will abide by. They don't know when to quit. They will form tumors and create what I can only describe as an excess of life, they make people sick, they shouldn't be used on organic things even if it's the only option. There's a reason Seraphs will sooner die than use one. They are viable for Centurions purely because of the lack of organic growth.)

Let's talk the Fray (and a little bit about the War, shall we?)

is there a way for the ones in the fray to get up to the vesper esp with all the ruin?

Really, it depends on the scenario! Before the death of the Seraphs, going between the two places was inconvenient, but possible. Typically it involved making some kind of trade with one of the Seraphim in order to be brought to the Vesper, although this was rare. The handful of human mages that did exist were able to move freely between the two places, but they disappeared not long after they began to be noticed. Though, they made a little bit of a resurgence as almost ghost-like figures, after the Seraphs' death.

Seraphim were able to go between the two places, as they never lost their flight, but even those who struggled with it were able to use their magic in order to go between. Centurions were unable to go between the two, as they were designated their places and functionally left to continue that task ad infinium. Humans were a rare sight, but on occasion human merchants were known to get up to the Vesper, usually using crude airships.

are there any other weapons of war lying around aside from centurions?

To be a little ominous for the sake of not spoiling too much: yes. Yes, there are, and they are only getting worse for wear, and even if their creators are long dead, they are not. They're still there, waiting to be called upon once again, to lay the world to even greater waste. Slumbering giants, if you will. I'll be elaborating on these especially in the main fic I have planned, so this is a "wait and see" kind of deal ^_^

Also if you've gotten this far I want to point you toward some art that vaguely inspired the baseline I have for wisps because I love this art and it fascinates me!

first piece is by ida lissner, second by tealnewcombart on etsy, third by tracy debenport!

i couldn't find the much more vibrantly colored type of almost psychedelic art that i've really drawn a fair bit of inspiration from, at least with the colors, these show a lot of the Shapes that i think of with them

[karatekels]

Disorderly Conduct - Chapter 5

We're almost at the end! I hope you've all enjoyed this series so far!

Previous Parts:

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

TW: Bondage, threats, hostage-taking, violence

---

Chapter 5 - Pursuit:

---

Cash's POV:

The first thing he notices upon waking is that you’re no longer in his arms, where he had left you before falling asleep. He hasn’t opened his eyes yet, hasn’t even taken that deep breath that you breathe when you first regain consciousness in the morning, and he knows you’re gone.

He’d been wanting it for years, after all, had fantasized about it as he fell asleep alone after getting himself off, coming into his own fist with a groan of your name. Of course it would be on his mind now that he’d actually, finally had you, but you were gone.

The cuffs should have prevented that, even if his arms around you hadn’t.

Opening his eyes slowly, seeing your half of the bed empty, he rolls onto his back with a groan, tilting his head back to confirm that yes, the cuff was now attached to his own wrist.

He’s only half-surprised to see you next to the foot of the bed, sitting in a chair with your feet kicked up on the mattress.

You’re still only wearing his shirt, the sleeves rolled up and only half of the buttons done up, your hair a tangled mess. He also doesn’t miss the gun – his gun – held loosely in your grip.

You look good.

Despite the gravity of the situation, Cash finds himself unable to refrain from checking you out, eyes roaming across your bare legs, easily making out your nipples through the thin material of his shirt, hard from the morning chill. He thinks he can spot a couple of love bites on your throat and along your collarbone that aren’t concealed by the shirt. You’re also surveying him with a cold stare, nibbling your bottom lip as you think.

He finds himself getting hard, and kicks the blanket off of him, exposing himself fully to your stare, folding his free hand behind his head to serve as a pillow as he looks back at you unflinchingly. Your eyes never leave his, but he watches an appealing blush spread across your face and down your neck at his nakedness.

“Morning, sunshine,” he purrs, giving you a cheeky grin. Maybe he can talk you into banging one more time before you put a bullet in his skull. Your lips press into a thin line.

“I want answers,” you say bluntly, rudely ignoring his morning greeting. Cash isn’t deterred.

“Yes Y/N, you’re the best I’ve ever had,” he admits unabashedly, before you even ask a question. “But I told you that last night. Now c’mon, untie me and let’s go another round!” he cajoles, watching your flush deepen with a great sense of pleasure. He still couldn’t believe he’d finally gotten to be with you last night, that you wanted him the same way, and had for ages…

Fate was a cruel mistress.

“Don’t be an ass, Cash,” you snap at him, trying to get your own agenda back on track.

He pretends to look around the room as if pointedly ignoring you, looking for anything that either of you could use against one another. In addition to the gun clutched in your hand, he can see his cellphone on the dresser that sat along the wall beside the door. He hadn’t put it there, which meant that you likely had. He wonders who you’ve contacted; It posed a problem. He tests the limits of the cuffs, feeling confident that he could snap them, but there would be no point while you were still armed. He would need to wait for an opportunity.

“Can’t we multitask?” he asks hopefully. He can see you gnash your teeth in response.

“Are there any officers involved in your little scheme other than you, Glen, and Ray?” you ask, doing your best to ignore his proposition.

“No.” He’s being honest, not only because you could probably detect a lie but because telling you the truth was likely the easiest way to get you to let your guard down. Fuck, he really didn’t want to kill you; part of him hopes you’ll get him first.

“How long have you been… doing things like this?” you press, struggling to even ask the question. Your disappointment in him stings, it really does.

“This is the first. We’ve been planning for a month or so.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “You expect me to believe that I’ve just happened to catch you in the act before you’ve really done anything?”

“Shouldn’t you catching me in the act so easily support the fact that I’ve got no experience doing this sort of thing?” he replies, arching an eyebrow at you.

“So why did you?!” you exclaim, frustration and pain evident in your voice. He debates how much to tell you, before settling on all of it. He slides up the bed, leaning back against a pillow pressed against the rails of the headboard, one knee bent and the other straight, one arm uselessly attached to the head of the bedframe. He locks eyes with you before answering, wanting to be able to detect every nuance in your expression as he finally gave you the truth.

“I did everything by the book for years, Y/N. I’ve been on the force almost as long as you’ve been alive. I did everything right, always.” Looking back, he’d probably been as uptight as you were, at least in the beginning.

“When I got suspended, it was the first time I’d ever received any form of discipline in my entire career. If it had stopped there, I… I probably would’ve been fine. I know that it was wrong of me to pulverize that guy,” he pauses, starting to see red as he did any time he thought about that day. He had almost been too late…

“I wasn’t thinking in the moment, I was just so angry… I wanted that fucker in agony until his dying breath, and then some…” he takes a deep breath, trying to refocus. “They were right to suspend me. But then Levinson told me that I couldn’t work with you anymore, that I couldn’t even tell you anything, that I needed to stay away from you…” he seethes, thinking back to how he had coped with that bit of news during his suspension: drinking himself into a stupor and waking up every morning with a new room of his house completely destroyed.

“I lost all my respect for the department that day. More than twenty years of service, a spotless record, but one bad judgement call and they were determined to keep me from… the one thing I really wanted.”

He runs his free hand through his short hair, trying to maintain his composure, but seeing the pain in your eyes as you watch him struggle through the explanation nearly has him losing it.

“Everything stopped being black and white to me that day. I couldn’t just mindlessly follow the rules, upholding a system that had fucked me over so completely. When Glen came to me with the idea to make some money selling drugs we’d already seized, it was… it was like an opportunity to fuck over Levinson and everyone else that wanted to keep me away from you. And so I agreed to work with him. I had nothing left to lose.”

There’s a prolonged silence between you as you digest this information. You’ve set his gun down, your hand trembling, your head in your hands. He debates taking the opportunity to break free, though he’s not sure if he’ll move for the gun or you first. His arms ache to hold you.

“Bet you really regret saving my life, huh?” you joke, barking out a humourless laugh through your tears, and his heart stops beating, clenching tightly at the very thought.

“Not for a second,” he hisses intensely, the venom in his voice making you look up at him. If he thought he had any chance of convincing you to just run away with him, leaving everything behind, he would. But you wouldn’t.

His response has lost him the element of surprise, your focus back on him, so he pivots, trying for something else.

“I’ve been honest with you. Will you do the same for me?” he asks you, despite already knowing the answer. You always gave as good as you got, both the good and the bad – you would answer his questions, he was certain of it. Sure enough, you nod at him, wiping your tears away with the back of your hand. You still haven’t picked up the gun.

“Was last night all bullshit? Just a means to an end?” He fights to keep his tone and expression nonchalant.

“No,” you respond immediately, the amount of passion you manage to convey with that one word astounding him. “No, Cash, it wasn’t. I had feelings for you, and I wanted you. I just… I couldn’t not take the opportunity to take the key when I saw it. But if that hadn’t been in the cards, and you had just killed me in my sleep last night, that’s… it wouldn’t have changed last night, for me at least. I’m glad it happened, even like this.”

He’s not sure why he asked; maybe if you had said you had just played him, it would’ve made it easier to kill you. But no, of course you hadn’t. You were you, and for all your obnoxiousness and nagging you had always been an unwaveringly honest, ethical woman. You had made him want to be better, right from the moment he’d started working with you, after all.

He sighs deeply, collecting himself.

“So, when’s your backup arriving?”

You blink at him, startled.

“What?” you ask, looking horribly guilty, and he just looks at you with exasperation. You could never make it as a criminal.

He points his chin in the direction of his phone on the dresser, and you follow his gaze. He can practically hear you cursing yourself in your head for leaving it within his eyesight.

“Probably ten minutes,” you answer quietly, still looking at the phone, your head and body turned away from him. He twists his hand, gripping the cuff to protect his wrist before pulling it suddenly with all his might, snapping the chain of the cuffs against the bedpost. They break down the middle, one cuff now dangling uselessly from his wrist. You turn, jumping at the noise, but he’s already lunging towards you, snatching his gun back and knocking you off of the chair, sending you sprawling to the ground.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he says by way of apology, looming over you. Even now, he finds himself admiring you in his shirt. If only things could be different…

“You son of a bitch!” you screech at him, rolling away before getting back to your feet. “I trusted you, Cash!”

“No you didn’t,” he fires back, all cockiness once more. Keeping one eye on you, he moves around the room, collecting his clothes. “If you did, you wouldn’t have cuffed me or had this–” he gestures with the gun in his hand “–within arm’s reach the whole time.”

He tosses you his boxer shorts; they land on the floor at your feet.

“Put those on, princess. Don’t want you catching a cold.”

You make no move to obey, and he sighs, raising the gun to your chest.

“Don’t make this difficult, Y/N. I’m leaving – you can either come with me, or make me kill you now.”

Cash watches the expressions flit across your face: fear, defiance, sadness, anger… finally, you scowl at him, bending down to grab the boxers. He tries not to look at you wearing them, not wanting to get hard again, especially in nothing but his jeans. Fuck, he should just drive off with you, and keep you with him forever, parading around in nothing but his clothes.

Well, he’d have to get out of here with you first to even pitch you the idea.

He gets dressed one-handed with some difficulty, watching you do up the rest of the buttons on his shirt to cover yourself, trying to be prim and proper even now, then gestures to the door with the gun.

“Time to go. Nice and slow,” he instructs you, following you through the house. He slips his shoes on, pulling yours off the top of the fridge where he’d stashed them – they were the only things of yours that hadn’t been exposed to the chloroform – and grabs you by the upper arm the moment they’re on your feet.

Leading you out of the house, he stops outside the driver’s door of his trucking, opening it and half-lifting you inside, keeping the gun trained on you as he runs across to the passenger’s side.

“Drive,” he orders you, tossing you the keys; they land in your lap. “Do it, Y/N!”

Snapping out of it, you fit the keys into the ignition, starting the truck. He thinks he hears sirens in the distance.

“Get us out of here, take a left.”

You seem to be on autopilot, actually listening to him for once, your expression blank and dazed. The tires spin out on the gravel for a moment before the truck speeds out of the driveway and down the road, flying down the deserted street.

“We’re gonna keep going until I’m sure they’re not after us, and then we’re gonna find somewhere nice and quiet for us to talk,” he coos reassuringly, his heart thudding against his chest.

You continue down the lonely road for awhile, never seeing another car, before you suddenly take a sharp right, turning down an old logging road. After about a minute or two, you slam on the brakes, and the truck stops abruptly in the middle of the road.

“Keep going, Y/N,” he pushes, growling when you don’t make a move to take your foot of the brake. “Drive, god damnit!”

“No.” You don’t even look over to him, just continue staring straight ahead with that vacant look.

“‘No’?! What the fuck do you mean, ‘No’?!” he snarls, his heart pounding in his panic.

“Someone’s going to get hurt, the longer this goes on. I can’t let that happen.”

“You’re going to get hurt in a second if you don’t fucking drive!” Cash hisses, cocking the gun and pointing it at you. He hopes you don’t notice his hand shaking.

You stay silent for a moment before slowly turning your head and looking past the barrel of the gun to stare into his eyes, your expression somehow managing to be both resolute and distraught.

“I’m sorry, Cash; I can’t. You’re going to have to kill me.”

---

...Sorry.

Part 6

[canonicallysoulmates]

J2 Chicon Gold Panel 2023

The boys are looking gorgeous, Jared's hair has gotten longer and is so fluffy it’s very Sam Winchester 😍 

Let’s hop right into the questions!

The first one isn't really a question it’s a fan letting them know what they'd like to see in a 16th season which is pretty much everything but the kitchen sink including the Walkerverse cast making guest appearances. Jensen says that would be an interesting challenge to pull off, he’s not sure how that would work. Jared says he’s gonna be really honest that now that he’s gainfully unemployed for the foreseeable future he’s thought it’d be fun to start trying to think of stuff but legitimately they can’t talk to writers because of the strike, they can’t have creative conversations right now but hopefully they [the writers] come to terms that are agreeable for everybody and they can start developing it while still looking like Sam and Dean. Jensen echoes that, and says that they have some time on their hands and think let’s make some phone calls then remembers they can’t, nobody will take their calls right now because everybody’s on strike. x

There were a lot of little nods to different shows in SPN, what other shows would they have liked to have given a nod to in the show?

Jared says it would have been fun to show up on TVD or Arrow, that they had buddies on all sorts of networks. Jensen says that they would always joke about the last episode of TVD just being the Impala rolling into town, and they often joke too about Sam and Dean showing up on TWD and just dealing with zombies in such an easy way by just walking away from them and they give an example of this, he also says that some didn’t even have lower halves they were just crawling how does that pose a threat to anything- I don't watch Walking Dead but I know those zombies have evolved so I wouldn't be so confident about being able to just walk away from them boys  x

Were there any characters, like guest stars, that they wish had had a bigger role?

Jared answers that it would have been great to have JDM around more, and he thinks JDM wanted to be around but Grey’s Anatomy picked him up before they could, Grey’s made an offer and SPN didn’t know where s1 was going yet, and although selfishly he would have like to have had the dynamic of dad and sons more it’s kind of perfect for what the story became; looking at the show as a whole it’s like well that’s great cause it made Jared as Sam kinda want his dad more without being willing to say it so when they had JDM come back and at this point he starts laughing as he recalls that he hit Jeffrey in the balls by mistake which he says was the most epic shot in all years of SPN. Seriously, if you have somehow not seen that blooper look it up it's so funny.

Jensen would say there are kinda two lists. There are actors they would love to have come back and then there’s the list of the characters they would love to have come back and a lot of times they coincide for instance an actor and character he would have liked to have had explore the story more is Benny. He was such a unique character in that situation especially given that Dean has always been so black and white about if it’s a monster it had to die and here you have somebody who was a monster but was also a friend to him so he thought that posed some really good issues. But ultimately it’s a show about two brothers and that’s where it always kinda came back to; Jared mentions Sully, Jensen agrees, says again both the actor and the character were fantastic. 

They ask the fan who they would have liked more of and the fan replies Charlie, Jensen says to have her more involved with the brothers story would have been great. x

If they could add another ep to SPN what would it be about?

Jensen would have just added one scene, in the scene where Sam and Dean get out of the Impala next to the barn when they go into the fight he would have just had Dean put on a backpack. Would have just added that little nugget. So it would have been like ow instead of 💀

Jared says they should have had an alternate ending where Jensen was like 'oh that could have been bad', and Jensen says were the rebar would have gone in the space between his arm and his torso.

Jensen feels like they did every episode imaginable, they did a musical episode, they did an episode with dancing like Fred Astire, they did one from the car’s POV there wasn’t a lot left unturned after 15 seasons. 

A fan screams out gender swap and they reply they did a body swap but Jared adds that while he thinks it would have been amazing to do a gender swap and he bets the writers probably thought about it to be brutally honest he thinks it would have been really difficult to try and make sure that everybody knew it was in good fun, that they weren’t making fun of men or women. Fans would have known but maybe a broader audience wouldn’t have. x

What’s been their favorite fan interaction?

Jared can’t think of a specific instance off hand but something that has happened a couple of times is he’ll get the chance to talk to a fan and they’re with a friend and it seems like they’ve known each other their whole lives and they’ll be like ‘yeah we met on a chatline 5yrs ago, then met up at a con 2yrs ago and we’re best friends’. So seeing connection just seeing how the show has helped not just people enjoy it by themselves but strengthen their relationships. Sidenote: chatline my boy 😂

Jensen shares that Make-A-Wish would go to their set maybe like once or twice a year and that’s always a real treat and they try to make it as special as possible but the’s one that will always stand out to him and he doesn’t know if he can get through it without getting emotional but there was a youg lady about 13-14 yrs old and she had Leukimia or something- it was terminal and she went with her family, and her dad who was a firefighter he had a really beautiful ornate tattoo on his arm that was like a rose that went down to where he was holding it that represented her essentially but what really stood out about that visit was that he pulled them aside and he said through tears that there’s only so much that he can do as a father for his daughter but the smiles that they bring her on a daily basis when she watches their show that’s something he can’t bring and so he hugged them and said thank you for making his daughter smile even though she was dying essentialy, and that meant a lot to he and Jared and it’s one of those things that's like 'oh what we do here it does truly affect people', and there’s a saying in the industry 'we’re not curing cancer' and they’re not but what they might be doing is giving somebody a little bit of hope, giving somebody an escape from dealing with that; it just really hit home for him, it means a lot and it left a big impression. 😭

If they were a muppet which muppet would they be?

Jared would be Big Bird. Jensen would be Oscar the Grouch. And here’s your fun fact of the day, because when Jared answered Big Bird Jensen said that’s Sesame Street not Muppets before the fan said it counted, and it does because Sesame Street characters are technically Muppets! They were created by Jim Henson, and over the years there were actually crossovers between the Muppets and Sesame Street characters my personal favorite instance of this is the Muppet Family Christmas special from '87. And if you wanna bawl your eyes out you can see Big Bird pay homage to Jim Henson in his memorial by singing It’s Not Easy Being Green, both the Christmas special and that are available on youtube. x

Back to the boys, knowing what they know now were they to go to school tomorrow where would they go? And for what?

Jared quips the fan might not be far off because their industry is a little interesting right now. He thinks if he could go back to school there’s so much he’d love to learn, so many things he’s fascinated with he wishes there were 11 of him that could go and earn different degrees. One of the things he’s fascinated by is history and he thinks he would learn a lot about people and himself even from history, and that’s kinda what he tends to read is historical nonfiction, as of right now that would be his answer but ask him tomorrow and he might say French 😆 But he would love to learn more about history.

Jensen doesn’t know maybe a mechanics class, or they were just talking a little bit that morning about neuroscience and it’s just kinda fascinating what we know and what we don’t know about how the human brain works and functions, and another fascinating thing too is astrophysics. He says he and Jared were talking about this last night at which point Jared says Jensen has them in a rabbit hole but basically it was a conversation between Neil deGrasse Tyson and another astrophysicist and he was asking of what we can see and what we know of the universe how much has been researched in the last 50 years, and the professor said that if you were to take the universe and make it the size of the oceans on earth what we know and what we can see would be the equivalent of a 12oz glass of ocean water, and so if you were to say is there life out there well what we can see is no but that would be like taking your glass of water out of the ocean and being like there's no fish so that must mean there’s no fish in the ocean but clearly that’s not true, and Jensen finds that mindblowing.

Jared jokes this is why you don't want to be friends with Jensen cause you stay up all night trying to figure out what the hell he just showed you. x

J2 Chicon Gold Panel

[youmarin]

Ch. 00 Pt. I : To-Not-Do-But-Actually-Do List | JJ Maybank × fem! reader

a/n : I wrote this between last night and this morning. It's not my first time writing fanfic but it is my first one of JJ Maybank. I always delete my works thinking they ain't good enough. Hopefully I won't delete it this time and when I get some breaks I can keep writing. Anyways to whoever stops and reads: Thank you very much and enjoy the story!

tw: underage drinking, smoking, slight mention of anxiety (it's barely there).

There's a small conversation in Spanish but I clarified what is being said.

word count: 3.0k+

You were studying for an upcoming test. It was Friday evening and you were sure nobody liked to study on Friday evenings just when the school week had come to an end. But you had nothing better to do. Well, you were invited to a kegger by your friends, which you were seriously considering going to since you already knew the material and didn’t know what to do now. But you were unsure about parties. One goes to have fun, right? But fun usually means getting drunk, high or hooking up. And you weren’t about to do any of them. But you figured it wouldn’t hurt to put in practice your socializing skills. 

You told your parents you were going out for the night. They looked at you oddly, but didn’t say anything, only wishing you had a good time, telling you to be safe and to call once you got there, once you were on your way back and if something came up. Of course, they also asked who you were gonna be with, where were you gonna be, if someone was going to pick you up, who would bring you home. The whole interrogation. 

After taking a shower and dressing up, you called your friends hoping someone could give you a ride. Luckily for you, your best friend hadn’t arrived yet and was close by. He was always late for everything so you kind of figured that’s how it would be. 

“Hey pretty lady.” , he smirked at you as you got on the bike behind him, arms around his torso, “What made you change your mind?”

“Got bored.”, you answered simply.

“That 's weird. You're not one to get bored. But guess we’re actually having fun tonight so let ‘s go!” he answered, hyped as ever, you chuckled as he drove off to the beach. 

You lost sight of him as soon as you stepped on the beach. And that's on having fun tonight together, huh. “So, now what?” You asked yourself looking around for some familiar faces. You managed to spot some of your friends among the crowd but they seemed to be having fun engaged in conversation and you didn’t want to burden them. Yeah you had just arrived and you already were starting to regret coming, and being surrounded by a squirming crowd, all dancing and moving around wasn’t helping. You made a haste turn and gasped when you felt something spill over your top.

“Oh dammit.” The boy cried over the spilled drinks. Some had gotten on his T-shirt too. “I mean shit, I’m sorry dude. It was kinda your fault too though.” You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help but smile as you looked up. “Oh shit. Sorry Y/N.”

“You’re great with apologies, Maybank.” He smiled back, but he grimaced seeing your ruined shirt. You noticed and looked down, the thin fabric of your blouse letting into view your bra. You crossed your arms over your chest trying to make it better, looking up at him again and smiling awkwardly to try and hide your embarrassment. But he could make out your flushed cheeks and your discomfort. He felt his own cheeks get warmer at the fact you caught him staring and that you crossing your arms definitely didn’t help. 

“I try my best. Care for a drink?” He offered you the one cup that didn’t spill over you. You scrunched your nose and nodded your head hesitantly, reaching for it. “Actually, can you wait here for a sec.?” You nodded again and there he left you, looking around awkwardly waiting for him to get back. You looked at your drink, swirling the liquid in the cup, questioning if you should drink it. You had never drinked before. And you were alone, well, JJ was with you but you didn’t know if he was actually coming back or if he had just grabbed the opportunity to spare you from your embarrassment. You took a sip, making a face - there goes the no drinking thing you were talking about- and you saw JJ approach, eyes squinted looking for someone. He spotted you and smiled as he came to a stop in front of you, holding a drink and a sweatshirt. He offered the sweatshirt to you “Here.” 

“Oh, um, thanks.” He held your drink as you put his sweatshirt on. It was like two sizes bigger. You extended your arms making a silly pose and he approved, making you do a little spin. 

“Never seen you around one of these before. Didn’t think it was something you liked.” He started walking, you by his side.

“I actually don’t like it. You just bumped into me right when I started to panic about being here.” You said jokingly although it was actually the truth. JJ let out a laugh. “But I thought I might do something different tonight. Get out of the comfort zone, you know?”

“And how’s that going?” He questioned, you could see a smile hidden by the rim of his cup. You smiled.

“Not bad. I’m actually talking with someone, I had my first drink…” You said, and downed the last of said drink. “Not a fan of them to be honest.” you made a face and blinked a few times, not liking the taste. 

“No way.” He said incredulously. You nodded, letting out an affirmative sound. “ What would people think of me for corrupting Y/N Y/L/N?” 

“So bad of you.” you played along. “Nah, it’s just one drink. As long as you drink moderately it’s fine. Also I could’ve refused, so you’re not corrupting me.” You shrugged, then widened your eyes because of all your blabbering. “I went too deep on that joke. I'm sorry.” You smiled nervously, smoothing your hair. He just laughed.

“That ‘s fine. You have no idea how much shit I can talk.  My friends are shutting me up all the time. Wait- Not that you were talking shit- Oh God.” It was your turn to laugh about how conflicted he looked. He smiled and calmed down seeing that you didn’t take it wrong. 

There was a beat of silence before he spoke up again, “So… You wanna go somewhere more quiet?” The question caught you off guard. He sensed your hesitation and rushed to explain. “I mean, since you don’t really like parties. Thought you might want to head over to somewhere else? You don’t have to if you don’t want to. “ 

You nodded, “Wait, but what about you? I don’t wanna make you leave.” you worried

He brushed it off. “There’s always more of these.” 

So you both went further down the beach, the sounds from the party heard from a distance. You sat down and saw him take out something from his pockets. “Do you mind if I burn one?” You shook your head. He lighted it up and took a hit, slowly letting the smoke out after. You caught yourself staring, and he also caught you, showing you a smirk,  “You probably haven’t smoked before either, right?” He said mockingly. You pushed him jokingly, then overthinking about if you weren’t getting too confident around him. You hadn’t spoken more than a couple times before. 

“No, I haven’t.”

“Such a good girl.” he cooed, “I shouldn’t be the one to make you drink and smoke in the same night but, who’s better than me?” He offered you the blunt. 

“Yeah right.” you answered sarcastically, and once again hesitated but took it from his hand - there goes the “no smoking”. The same night, in less than an hour. You just need to hook up with someone and you shall check out your To-Not-Do-But-Do List-. You looked at it and proceeded to put it in your mouth. 

“Easy there.” He warned as you inhaled the smoke. You coughed it out, laughing as he caressed your back, trying to ease you. 

“Whoah.” you blinked a few times as you tried to get used to it. And that's how you spent the rest of the night there talking and smoking. Usually you had trouble making conversation but with the help of the alcohol and weed you were more easy going tonight, mostly talking nonsense and laughing at everything, which had JJ glancing at you with an amused smile. “Yeah, she definitely had never smoked before.”  He saw as you scrunched your nose, suddenly, and smelled his sweatshirt that you were wearing. “I smell like weed.”  You said, disgusted. Apparently, you forgot you were smoking. “And I’m wearing a boy’s sweatshirt.” Your eyes widened as you lifted your arms and looked at the sleeves of his sweatshirt as they dangled when you moved them around. “My parents are gonna kill me. Twice!” You cackled almost hysterically, which made JJ burst in laughter too at the sight of you. 

It was a little past midnight and after running out of energy, you had fallen asleep profoundly, leaning over JJ, your head resting on his shoulder. He didn't bother to wake you up at first, being very comfortable with how you two were. But then he almost fell asleep too and it was pretty late so he gently tried to shove you awake. “Y/N.” you grunted, and tried to ignore him. “Y/N we have to go. It 's late. Don’t wanna fall asleep here for some creep to come and kill us.” 

“You can fight them.” you mumbled. “You look like a very brave courageous prince.” 

“Do I now?” He looked at you, trying to hold back a smile. “Yeah this prince you’re talking about is lacking money. And sleep. So let 's go.” He helped you stand up. You made eye contact with him and your eyes widened. “What now?” he questioned, amused.

“Your eyes are very pretty.” 

“Oh you’re gonna make me blush. C’mon, I can give you a piggyback ride until we meet with John B.” In fact, he did blush a little by the intensity of your gaze. Not that you would notice being as you were right now. You fell asleep again almost immediately once on his back, your head resting on top of his. He almost dropped you when you got too relaxed and your grip around his shoulders got a little too loose. He hoped John B hadn’t left.  He didn't feel like walking all the way to the château. He figured you’ll stay with them. He didn't know where you lived and even if he did he wasn’t about to drop you off high out of your mind. 

“Hey, I was looking all over for you. Kie and Pope already left.” John B started as he looked at your sleeping figure being carried by his friend, his curious eyes making the question for him already but he spoke nevertheless, “You’ve been with her all this time?” 

“Yeah. She’s out like a light. And she doesn’t look like it but she’s starting to feel heavy so let’s get to the Twinkie. Also, have you seen my backpack? I thought I left it around here." He started to make his way to the van, John B keeping his pace.

“ Yeah, I grabbed it when I started looking around for you." He said before saying what he really wanted to say at that moment, "Listen, man, I know you… Are JJ, " He missed the puzzled look JJ was giving him, "Like the JJ Maybank. Big time player.  But Y/N. Out of all people? How did you even get with her? We actually know her and it would suck to hurt her feelings.”John B kept going, just astounded with how far JJ could go.

“We didn’t do anything of whatever you’re imagining.” JJ squinted his eyes at him. “I bumped into her and we stayed together after that, we chatted, drinked, smoked a little…”

“You let her smoke? Since when does she smoke?” 

“Since today man, I don’t know. And it’s not like I forced her to do it. She can make her own decisions. Also she was with me so it’s not like something would have happened to her.” John B raised a brow, “At least nothing that she didn't want.”  He opened the sliding door of the van. “Just help me out, dude. Geez, you’re supposed to be my best friend bro. Wouldn’t hurt to show a little trust.” 

“Precisely because I am your best friend is why I care about it.” He helped JJ get you inside of the van. 

“If someone was looking at us they would say we’re kidnapping her.” John B stated as he made his way to the driver’s seat and started the Twinkie. JJ took a seat, while you laid there sleeping, your head resting on his lap. He made sure you wouldn’t move and smack your face with the van or fall to the floor. When they arrived at the Château, they both helped you out of the van and got you inside the house. JJ went to bother a sleeping Kie, asking her to help you get changed out of your clothes, though he thought you looked cute with his sweatshirt on. 

_________________

You woke up, slightly disoriented but well rested. The smell of food reached your senses. Stretching, you looked around and saw you were sleeping next to Kiara Carrera. How the hell did you get there? 

“Goodmorning.” she said, startling you. 

“Good- Morning?” You stared at her. Kie saw the confusion in your expression and smiled. Teasing a little wouldn’t hurt anyone.

“Did you enjoy last night?” Kie asked, and purposely got a bit closer, looking at your lips.

“What?”

“You don’t remember?” she clicked her tongue. “That’s a shame though.”

“What? No! No. I do remember.” Kie raised a brow, “ No, I was with JJ-” you stopped yourself, “Not! Not in a sexual way.” You rushed to explain. Sheepishly, fidgeting with your hands, you looked up at her again. “Did we really…” God,I thought I was straight. I mean, I am straight. Kie is really pretty though. God you just had sex for the first time and you don’t even remember,  you shook your head to stop the nonsense that were your thoughts at the moment.

At that point, Kiara couldn’t hold it anymore and started laughing at the conflict you were having in your head, your troubled state written all over your face.

“You two! Come and get breakfast before we eat all of it. And Kie, stop messing with Y/N.” You heard John B and JJ shout from the kitchen. You were really hungry, now that they mentioned food. And it smelled really nice earlier. You both got up and went to the dinner table, where you found JJ fixing up a plate for you. He motioned for you to sit. “Goodmorning.” He said, giving you a smile. “You good?” 

Nervously, you greeted him back, nodding. You probably made some trouble for them last night, especially for JJ. You all sat at the table, chatting and recalling stuff from last night. Guess you still were straight, and didn’t hook up with Kie. She was just taking advantage of you not being able to process anything too well before eleven in the morning and making fun of you. You were enjoying yourself but, 

“I should be going home.” you said, excusing yourself.

“I can go with you. Also, your phone went off a few times this morning while you were sleeping.” JJ mentioned casually as he stood up after you. 

“You don’t have to do that.” You told him but he brushed you off, saying it was no problem.  “Oh my God, my phone! I mean, my parents! They’re totally gonna kill me!” The other two held their laughter towards your distressed face and JJ grimaced as he motioned for you to follow him and you went to the room he always stayed in. He gestured towards your clothes and your phone. He had washed your clothes earlier after he woke up. When you looked at your phone’s screen, you saw all the missed calls you had from your mom, your dad, even your brother. Your stomach dropped. 

“You didn’t tell them you were going out?” JJ asked. 

“I did! I just never said I was going to stay at someone else’s place!” As if on cue, your phone went off again. You both looked at each other and you answered, already grimacing at what was coming.

“Hey ma’.” 

JJ frowned, your voice sounded different for a moment. Then he heard a loud voice from the other end of the call, most likely your mom’s. He couldn’t make out what she was saying because it was in Spanish? and she was talking way too fast in a hysterical tone. He looked curiously as he heard you both.

“¡No! Mami estoy bien. Es que se hizo tarde y me quedé en casa de Kiara.” You lied, saying you stayed over at Kie’s as your mom asked you who the hell was Kiara. “Una amiga, ma. Perdón que no dije nada. Ya voy para allá. Sí, sí, bye.”  You sighed. “I’m grounded.” you fake smiled and looked over at JJ. He gave you an apologetic look. “Well I don’t really go out much.” You laughed nervously. “I should go. I'm sorry for all the trouble I caused you guys.” 

“Yeah, yeah, no I mean, not at all.”  JJ answered awkwardly, a hand brushing his hair back  as he smiled at you nervously. 

They let you take a shower and change back to your clothes before making your way out. You thanked them, and both you and JJ made your way out of the château and back to your house. You decided to walk, since it wasn’t too far. You stopped a couple houses before yours, telling JJ that going back after staying out the night without telling anybody and coming back home with a boy was just you asking to get yourself killed. He laughed, telling you that he understood. 

“I have no problem introducing myself to them. Since I am indeed very brave and courageous and all.” He teased, trying to see if you remembered what you said to him last night. You did remember, but did your best to play it off as if you didn’t, feeling kinda embarrassed. He laughed it off when you looked at him as if you didn’t know what he was talking about, a little hurt but he wouldn't make a big deal about it. You were high as a kite anyways. “Forget it.” he finished with a sigh. “See you around?” He asked, hopeful

“Sure. See ya around.” You gave him a hug, then started to make the rest of your way back to your house. You turned to look at him once more and gave him a smile and a small wave. He smiled and waved back. It would be hard to take that smile off his face for the rest of the day. 

[vagrantblvrd]

The AU where Anakin doesn’t dramatically die on the second Death Star, right?

Luke is like, well, medical treatment is a thing. Comes in hand-y, get it dad? Hand-y?

Anyway.

Luke ~sneaks about getting Anakin medical treatment, some nonsense about “Hey, so. How does one treat electrocution? Asking for a friend,” and other such things.

Some doctor somewhere being, “Oh, well, if it’s for a friend...” and then gives Luke all the information and whatnot he’ll need, and also does this friend of his need life support equipment???

Anyway.

For Plot Reasons Anakin doesn’t die over Endor and Luke is trying to get supplies - he just got this rad new shuttle to fly - the Emperor won’t mind if he borrows it - oh, man. Is it too soon?

Anyway.

One of the Rebels who was on the mission to destroy the shield generator is like, “Vader’s dead, is he?”

Because Luke said so, and also the funeral pyre with his armor and hahaha, why would he ask that?

Weird, right?

Friend I found on the Death Star being held a a prisoner for many years who I then rescued because hero, don’t you think that’s a weird question to ask?

Anakin who is hooked up to many life-saving machines until Luke can get him somewhere to get replacements for the Vader suit as what the Emperor fried while trying to kill them is just.

“Hello, Rex.”

And Luke being, omg, DAD, at least pretend to go along with Luke’s terrible ruse for like. A whole minute, pls.

This fraught moment where Luke isn’t sure what’s going to happen because clearly these two know one another and there’s so much anger and hurt and betrayal in Rex and his dad is this sucking pit of shame and guilt and misery, self-loathing and -

“OKAY, WELL. Unless you’re about to kill him - us - we have places to be. Specifically not here.”

Because everything is celebrations and relief and so on? But also Imperial ships and forces and Alliance forces and so much could go wrong so fast and Luke would like to get his dad somewhere safe before people figure out his deception and brand him as a traitor or whatever and anyway

Does Rex wanna come with?

He gets looks from Anakin and Rex at that and shrugs because hey, no one’s dead yet.

And aside from a few notable exceptions dead people can’t answer whatever questions others might have for him, and anyway, anyway.

Rex sighs, this tired little smile on his face as he looks at Anakin. “He’s definitely your kid.”

Which.

What? But it gets an equally tired smile from Anakin, this sadness to it but also this flicker of pride and Luke escapes to start the pre-flight before he cries, again, and anyway.

Rex joins him up front and offers up somewhere they can go. Friends of his - might not be glad to see Anakin, but they’ll listen to Rex, and so off they go to, idk, someplace clone troopers set up a place for themselves.

(Because I need there to be more of those bastards out there after the mess of Order 66 and other nonsense okay.)

They get Anakin set up with new life-support suit or whatever, one that’s not horrible and awful and a goddamned gift from the monster who created Darth Vader, and anyway. (I may have feelings on the matter.)

Luke avoids calls from Leia and Han and everyone if he can, and when he can’t tells them he’s fine, really, just. Jedi stuff. Feels guilty as hell but he knows Leia can’t handle he truth of it just yet and technically it kind of is Jedi stuff,because Anakin.

Ben visits every so often and Luke pretends he doesn’t know his father was crying afterwards, but after a while he’s so relieved he could cry when he realizes his father didn’t cry in talking to Ben.

(He does, though. Luke cries so much, but conveniently wherever they ended up is in the rainy season and Rex just pats him on the shoulder when Luke comes in and gives him a solemn nod, and anyway. Yes.)

It’s like. Not Done, this whole Vader Thing of Anakin’s, he’s done so many terrible things and all that? But he finds a way to make peace with that, or whatever the proper term is I don’t even know at this point, okay, just.

You know.

Also, though, also.

All the information he knows, or knows how to get his - or any Alliance Intelligence agents - hands on.

Things he gives to Luke or whoever to pass on to the right hands, help the Alliance, and then the New Republic root out the Imperial remnants before they can pose a threat to the fragile peace being built in the Empire’s fall, and so on.

Luke just ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ and tells anyone who questions where he got the information it’s from the prisoner he rescued and so forth and so on. (Rex backs him up, and his position in the Alliance’s ranks lends Luke more credibility, and anyway. Yes.)

Eventually though, Luke can’t just hide out for forever with his dad and his dad’s old war friends, and also Leia would hunt him to the end of the galaxy if she doesn’t see him soon, and.

Anakin more or less boots him out of the little homestead or compound or whatever it is where they are, tells him to come visit but really, get out, son.

So Luke does.

Tells Leia he’s fine, he’ll tell her what everything was about and such, but. Later, you know? Later.

She lets it go because other business to deal with and anyway, Luke’s gallivanting about and gets ambushed by a Togruta with twin lightsabers who nearly takes his head off before she asks how Rex is doing and has Anakin gotten over himself yet, and also, Luke might want towork on his form a bit.

Which, you know, hi, hello, who the hell are you? But more politely worded and Luke gives Ahsoka the commlink number? address?? whatever??? to contact Anakin.

Hopefully she understands why he didn’t just give her the coordinates to their location, what with nearly taking off Luke’s head and all.

Ahsoka laughs, and does the shoulder pat thing Rex does to him, says, “You’re your dad’s kid alright,” which.

WHAT DOES THAT MEAN???

Anyway.

More adventuring about, Ashoka ambushing him every so often. Payback, she tells him, for everything Anakin ever put her through - before Everything -  she’s quick to clarify, tired smile on her face and Luke understands, but dear God is he so tired of seeing these people who are so important to him looking like that?

ANYWAY.

Some more adventuring about and then this SOS call through the Force and an Imperial light cruiser and this sad panda Mandalorian and.

“Okay, you? You’re coming with.”

And since Luke doesn’t actually have a spot for his school yet and he doesn’t know where this Mandalorian calls home he’s like. “I know a place.”

Anakin and Rex share this look when the shuttle Luke borrowed lands at their little hideaway and Luke comes out with this tiny green gremlin kid toddling after him and this sad panda Mandalorian trailing behind them, and really, the family resemblance has never been stronger, you know?

ANYWAY.

Din and Grogu and Luke trying to figure out how to juggle this whole...Thing.

Anakin never feels comfortable giving Luke advice, because talk about bad role models?

But.

Anakin was raised to follow the old Jedi Order’s rules and whatnot and Vader came of it. (Maybe not the sole reason, but the Order was definitely a factor.)

Also, also.

Anakin doting on Grogu and being his best partner in crime - :D smile when Din comes looking for his tiny green gremlin kid and finds him with Luke’s dad and they’ve both been Up To Something but there’s never any proof, and anyway, yes.

(Also, also. Luke and Anakin bonding over working on this old speeder that’s never run right, or Luke’s X-wing - and okay, yes, maybe someone finds an old Y-wing or something and there are “training exercises” in which everyone takes bets on which Skywalker wins this time and Luke actually hears his dad laugh for the first time and it’s pretty awesome okay.)

But also Boba Fett and Fennec and the whanot finding them and Drama and Boba being like, “Always hated Vader anyway,” and Luke being like !!! but also huh, and Din is like NO.

Because the whole reason Boba and Fennec are even there is because of Bo-Katan and the whole Darksaber business and c’mon, dude, you can’t avoid your duties forever, nice as it might seem.

Anyway.

Anakin looking at his kid who is totally in love with the leader of Mandalore and then at Obi-Wan who is off to the side trying so freaking hard not to laugh, and anyway.

Yes.

(But also, okay, also. Luke trying to tell Leia that hey, their dad’s kind of not dead? And she’s angry - every right to be - and upset and neither of them expect her to do anything, just. They didn’t to keep it from her anymore and more than that she deserved to know, and anyway.

One day, you know. One day she makes a trip out to this hideaway Luke told her about that one time. There’s yelling and crying and not everything is resolved, but. It’s a start and more than Anakin ever thought he’d get and. Yes.)

Also, also.

Anakin and Rex and whoever else going to check out this school Luke is building on Mandalore, Ben beinng like “Oh,” because Luke and Din are like, they found some things he might care to see, and everyone leaves him with old journals or whatever from Duchess Satine and Anakin and Rex wait for him outside, and just, yes.

Basically good, nice things for everyone because I need it today, so yes. /o\

[lastbluetardis]

Sacred New Beginnings (1/?)

Summary: James Noble thought he traded away his chance at love and a happy-ever-after when he signed a contract with a record label that turned him into an international celebrity. But a chance meeting in a dive bar may prove him wrong.

Ten x Rose AU, @doctorroseprompts

This Chapter: Teen, ~5500 words

Note: Er... surprise? This idea has been in my head for months but my brain took it and ran with it this weekend. I plotted the whole thing and am gonna try to update every weekend. I don’t anticipate this being more than like... 7-10 chapter? I’d love to keep it under 5 chapters but that might be trimming things down too much for my liking. Anyways, I really hope you enjoy this little story!

AO3

Flashing lights and shrieks of his name greet James the moment the back door to his armored car is opened. His head of security ducks out first and James can only see a mass of feet and legs but it’s more than enough to let him know it’s a heavier than usual crowd. Not surprising, considering the news of his latest break-up just dropped while he’d been flying back from a visit to America.

He slides out of the car, helped by hands that pull him as much as guide him through the throng. He ignores the shouts of his name—telling him to look left or right or up or down or every combination therein—and the barrage of questions and jokes that aren’t funny.

Was it you or him that ended it?

Three weeks, is that a new personal record?

Another notch in the bedpost, eh James?

Got another beau lined up yet?

If you’re looking for candidates, what do we have to do to get our names in the running?

“Ignore them,” he mutters to himself, too quietly for anyone except his security team to hear.

In answer, one of them gives his shoulder a reassuring squeeze as they reach his front door. Someone has already unlocked it for him and the darkness within is a blessing he’s all too willing to be shoved into. The cacophony muffles once the door shuts, and finally he’s alone, a rarity for him. If it’s not his security, it’s personal assistants and writers and producers and photographers and the paparazzi.

Or his lover of the month, as the papers have taken to calling his partners.

But nope, his home is empty and quiet and bloody freezing. A shiver ripples up his spine as he treads to the thermostat controller. Summer finally released its hold on London, and the muggy heat has been replaced with a damp chill that burrows down into his bones.

Several button-presses later, James hears the familiar clank of the radiator and he can smell the heating kick on. It’ll take a while for his house to warm up, so James keeps his peacoat on for the time being as he putters around his home, checking the fridge and the cabinets. As always, they’re well-stocked. He hasn’t had to do anything as mundane as grocery shopping in the five years since his YouTube channel full of acoustic covers of popular songs went viral and landed him a lucrative deal with a prestigious record label. Only in his wildest dreams had he expected to find fame and fortune in the hobby he loved so much—for it to have actually happened still took him by surprise, as though any minute he’d be told “it was fun while it lasted, but it’s time for you to leave wonderland now.”

Shaking his head of those thoughts, he goes to the antique dining table that can easily seat ten people, which is great for holidays or in-home meetings, but just plain depressing every other day of the year. A stack of mail has piled up, and he spends the next five minutes attempting to sort it before giving up and telling himself he’ll look at it in the morning, once he’s not quite as groggy—transatlantic flights always take it out of him.

Instead, he rootles around his fridge until he comes up with the necessary items to make himself a ham and cheese sandwich. With the prospect of food in front of him, James realizes he is starving. He shoves a whole slice of ham in his mouth while he assembles his pitiful meal, heaping on lettuce and sliced tomatoes as though that’s enough to negate the pile processed protein and greasy chips he layers in for crunch.

It’s tastier than any sandwich as a right to be, and he nearly makes himself a second one before catches sight of his phone screen and the slew of incoming notifications. His work is never finished, is it?

There are several texts from his publicist, Donna, welcoming him home and congratulating him on not making an arse of himself just by trying to walk up the front drive of his home. (To be fair, he felt entitled to channel his inner crotchety old man and tell reporters to get off his damn lawn if they encroached on his personal property.)

“Though some photos are surfacing of your trip to New York… Anything you need me to get ahead of?”

He rubs his fingers into his eyes, knowing she’s probably referring to his last night out in the city, where he went bar hopping until the wee hours of the morning to try to forget the text his subsequently-ex-boyfriend had sent him.

Thanks for everything, but I need to focus on my career. Cheers mate.

The career that James had kickstarted for him by introducing his rising actor boyfriend to several of his friends in the film industry, because James had been so damn desperate for affection that he’d once again let the wool get pulled in front of his eyes.

And so James had reached out to mates who lived in New York and they’d all gone out and acted half their age and had a wonderful time once James forgot about why he’d gone out in the first place.

But none of that now. Nope. No sir.

“Not that I’m aware of,” he replies. “Let me know if you catch wind of anything.”

Despite the fact that he only just got home and he’s jetlagged and still feeling the effects of his night out in New York, James can’t stay in his house right now. It’s so quiet that his brain is creating its own white noise. He can’t stand being in his head on a good day, and today is not a good day.

He grabs his keys and wallet and makes for the back of the house. His property is landlocked with the back gardens of other houses; the paps have learned the hard way that James is dead serious about protecting his neighbors’ privacy and will not hesitate to phone the police to arrest and sue anyone caught trespassing on private property to snag a photo of him. James hosts dinner for his neighbors several times a year and buys them gifts any chance he can to show his appreciation for their patience and tolerance.

In the dead of night, he slips out into his back garden, the crisp October air burning his lungs in the best way as he ducks his way through the neighborhood, his feet taking him far away from the crowd of reporters that are still stationed in front of his own home. Hopefully they’ll all have dispersed by the time he gets back. Perhaps he should have turned on music or a movie or something, made them think he was settled in for a lazy night in.

He wanders aimlessly for a while, enjoying this taste of freedom and trying to remember the days when he could leave out the front door of his flat without any fanfare.

It’s dark, and thick clouds obscure whichever moon phase they’re in, but the street lamps glow yellow on the damp pavement, lighting his way forward. A crisp autumn breeze ruffles his hair and the leaves, sending them tumbling around him and skittering across the residential street that’s so much quieter than the bustle of New York. It’s good to be home, though.

He arrives at a bus stop and catches one headed into the city proper. It’s no secret that James lives in London, and therefore the general population has gotten used to glimpsing him on the tube or walking on the street or frequenting pubs. He knows people snap quick photos of him, and he’s always happy to stop and pose for a selfie with respectful fans, but mostly he’s left alone when he’s out by himself like this.

Nevertheless, he hears the excited undertones of people trying to inconspicuously point him out to their oblivious friends. He keeps his head down, mindlessly opening and closing apps on his phone for something to do as he pretends he doesn’t notice them. He won’t be on the bus much longer anyway.

Several people get off the bus with him, including a group of teenage girls who are whispering heatedly among themselves. It’s almost funny, watching them debate amongst themselves before one of them approaches him.

She’s red-faced but determined as she blurts, “Can we get a photo?”

“Sure thing,” he says good-naturedly, inclining his head for them to come closer. “Need me to take it?” He holds out a lanky arm and flops it around a bit. “Got a longer reach than any of you.”

He’s certain one of the girls is about to start crying with joy as they all nestle into his side and hand him a new-model iPhone. Damn, it’s fancier than his own. When he was their age, he had an old flip phone that lost reception if he breathed on it wrong. It was a tank though—he’d dropped that thing hundreds of times, and nary a scratch.

“Do me a favor,” he says, handing the phone back to its owner, “and don’t ping our location if you post to social media, yeah? I appreciate it.”

“You’re my favorite person ever,” one of the girls squeaks.

His face splits into a grin and he tucks his hands into his pockets. “Is that so?”

The girls spend the next five minutes chatting with him about music and how they’ve been following him ever since his YouTube days. He listens and chimes in every now and then when they ask him a direct question, but he prefers being passive in exchanges like this, content to hear peoples’ stories. It makes him feel normal, if only for a little while.

Finally, they take their leave, and James turns in the opposite direction even though the destination he had in mind is down the street the girls had just taken. But he’s been burned far too many times by encounters with seemingly innocent fans, only for them to begin following him around and showing up outside his house to talk to him again. He makes a point of not drawing out public encounters with his fans.

He wanders down a street he’s vaguely familiar with, figuring he can backtrack in a couple blocks. The night is too beautiful for him to be upset about needing to take a detour.

Everything looks different in the dark, the glow of neon signs bathing everything in hues of greens and blues and pinks and yellows. Shops and restaurants are mostly shut up for the night, their windows dark or blinds drawn. Dingey motels with pay-by-the-hour rates are in full swing, as are the pubs that have a revolving door of people in varying states of intoxication.

Deep bass that he can feel all the way in his chest catches his attention, and he gets turned around a few times, but he eventually finds the establishment: Bad Wolf Brews. At first, he doesn’t think it’s open, and that he must be mistaken about where the music is coming from, but the heavy front oak door opens, and he realizes the glass on the door is tempered so that the interior lights don’t shine through. The music is clear and heavy and vibrating in his bones. He doesn’t think twice before catching the door before it closes and slipping inside.

The air is humid and smells of sweat and stale beer. Bodies are writhing and gyrating to the rhythm blasting through invisible speakers. The acoustics are phenomenal; none of the layers are lost and the sound quality is nearly as good as if he were listening to the record at home on his own stereo system.

The lights are low, and he’s sure he trips into a few people in the minute it takes for his eyes to adjust to the dimness, but finally, he’s at the bar. There are three open stools, and he claims one between a blonde woman and a red-haired man as he wonders what the hell this dive bar serves. He can see beer taps, but he’s more of a cocktail guy. He must look as lost as he feels, because the bartender hands him a menu that looks like it was hand-written and then photo-copied. It jives with the overall vibe of the pub.

The bartender checks in with him a minute later. James opens a tab and orders a sidecar sans sugar, and is pleasantly surprised by the quality. Not to make assumptions, but he’d figured an establishment such as this would have cheap liquor. If the alcohol in his drink is cheap, it’s well masked.

When he’s drained the last drop and about to signal for another, a hand rests on his shoulder. “Can I buy your next round?”

James looks up into the face of a stranger. It’s a woman with striking green eyes and a disheveled pixie cut. Judging by her crimson cheeks and glazed eyes, she’s three sheets to the wind. There’s buzzed, then there’s drunk, and then there’s plastered. He prefers not to let himself get to that last category, and by extension, he doesn’t really like to associate much with people who won’t remember the night come morning.

“Thanks, but I’m good,” he says with his most charming grin. “G’night.”

He has no idea if the woman knows who he is, but the way she shrugs and saunters to the gentleman sitting beside James, he doubts it.

He gets clumsily propositioned a few more times and always politely declines with a smile. So far, nobody here seems to recognize him and he is going to ride out this anonymity for as long as it’ll last. It has been too long since he’s been able to sit in a pub and drink quietly. Well, quietly, insofar as crazed fans or paparazzi aren’t harassing him—the music is loud enough that he’s sure to have ringing in his ears for a few hours once he gets home.

But he’s not really in any rush to get home, and so he orders his fourth cocktail before making his way to the loo. Alcohol goes right through him, and it’s nearly gotten him in trouble on tour a time or two.

There’s no line, but the loo is crowded, and he tries to ignore the double-takes as he stands in front of a urinal to take care of business. If he wakes up tomorrow morning to find that someone snapped a photo of him having a piss, he’s going to lose his goddamn mind.

Bladder tended to, James keeps his head ducked and shoulders his way back into the bar. His stool is unoccupied, and when he steps forward, he realizes why. A purse sits on it, seemingly reserving the seat but he can’t figure out for whom. He’s about to take the cocktail the bartender hands him and stand against the shadowed wall when someone picks up the purse.

It’s his blonde-haired stool mate. She flashes him a broad grin that lights up her entire face and squeezes something deep in his stomach.

“Saved your seat for ya,” she says with the ease and confidence of someone who’s known him his whole life.

“Thanks,” he manages through a suddenly dry mouth.

Feeling like an idiot for standing and gaping, he slips into his seat and downs half his new sidecar in one go. It’s as though the ice has been broken now, and she turns to him, her elbow on the counter and her cheek propped on her fist.

“Pretty sure you could outdrink a fish, mate,” she drawls, smiling again in that easy way that does too many strange things to his insides. “You’ve been knockin’ ‘em back for over an hour now.”

Has it really been that long? James checks his watch, and yup, it’s half past ten. The paps should be gone from his house by now, but he feels no draw to leave this place. The alcohol has left him pleasantly tipsy and warm, but he’s more drunk on the fantasy that he’s just a normal bloke having a nice night out in a newly-discovered dive bar.

“Fish don’t really drink though, do they? They absorb water through their gills via osmosis,” he replies, and he wants to bite his tongue off because what the fuck was that??

This woman, whatever her name is, doesn’t seem to mind his answer though, because her face scrunches in a giggle. His body is hot and throbbing with more than drink now, and he wants to hear that sound again but his brain has stopped working.

“Is that so different from you absorbin’ alcohol through your bloodstream?” she muses, finishing off whatever is in her short tumbler.

“Can I buy your next round?” he blurts rather than responding to her question, which he’s almost certain was rhetorical.

Her smile melts into something softer, something private and a little shy. “If you’d like.”

“I do.” He flags down the bartender and glances at his new companion expectantly.

“Gin and tonic,” she says. She thanks the bartender, then James when she takes her first sip. “I’m Rose, by the way.”

“James,” he says, feeling stupid because his face is plastered all over London, which likes to boast that it’s the home of international celeb James Noble. But wouldn’t he seem more of an arse if he just assumed this gorgeous woman knew who he was?

Nevertheless, his stomach sinks a bit when she snorts into her drink and says, “I thought it was you.”

“Yup, it’s me,” he forces, his voice flat. He hides his frown with his glass, knocking back the rest of his sidecar like it’s a shot. The room sways slightly with the violent motion of his head, and maybe he’s slightly drunker than he’d thought.

If Rose catches on to his sudden sour mood, she doesn’t mention it. “What brings you here to Bad Wolf?”

He shrugs and blows out a noisy breath. “I dunno. Went for a walk, ended up here.”

“Those are the best sort of adventures.” She hums wistfully. “Sometimes you find what you didn’t know you needed when you let yourself get lost.”

That observation is far too astute for his current state of mind, so instead he says, “Would you like to dance with me?”

Her eyes flicker across his face for a brief moment before she says, “Okay.”

He hops down from his stool, but Rose hesitates, clutching her purse and coat awkwardly. The bartender helpfully tells her to keep them on her stool, and he’ll keep an eye on it. Rose flashes him a grin that James would rather she flash at him, but he realizes that is utterly absurd, so he simply rests his coat on top of her things to better hide them from view. He then holds out his hand for her. Her palm is soft and warm against his as he leads her to the crowded dance floor.

They find space towards the back of the pub, hidden in the shadows of a hallway that states it’s closed off to patrons. And of course, of fucking course, right when he rests his hands on her hips to find the rhythm of the song, a new one comes on, and his own voice belts from the speakers.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters. He loves his music—he made it, after all—but he can’t help but feel pretentious and more than a little silly to dance to it like this.

Rose, however, grins and says, “Oh, come on, this is one of my favorites.”

She catches his hands where he’d loosened them at her waist and forces him to grab hold of her. She’s wearing high-waisted trousers and a top that leaves a sliver of her belly exposed. His thumb grazes the skin of her bare side, and it’s enough to send tingles through his body. Rose, meanwhile, slings her arms around his shoulders and begins to rock her hips from side to side in sync with the bass, embellishing the motions until she looks absolutely ridiculous but so, so beautiful.

He can’t help but grin and laugh, and he mirrors her movements until they’re both dancing like idiots to his music.

“This is how my baby brother dances,” she explains, bouncing up and down while twisting her hips. “We have regular dance parties together.”

“How old’s your brother?” he asks.

“Just turned four.”

He blinks, and blood rushes from his face. “And… and how old are you?”

“A perfectly legal twenty-four,” she drawls, reaching up to flick his nose. “You can start breathing again.”

Thank fuck.

“That’s quite the age gap.”

“My mum got remarried when I was nineteen,” Rose says with a shrug. “She and my stepdad didn’t waste much time.”

“Clearly,” he mutters under his breath.

“It does feel a bit like they’ve started over,” Rose confesses with a too-stiff shrug. “New family, new life, and I’m the interloper.

There is no way this vivacious woman in front of him could ever be considered an interloper, but before he can tell her that, she continues, “Mum does her best to assure me otherwise, but still. It’s hard to watch all the things Mum and Dad are able to do for Tony—that’s my brother, Tony—when Mum struggled so much as a single mum with me.”

“Your dad’s not in the picture?”

A sad smile pinches her face, and he regrets asking.

“No, I never knew him. He died when I was a baby.”

“I… I’m so sorry.” Well, he’s totally buggered this all up, hasn’t he? He wracks his brain on how to salvage the easy banter they’d had at the bar, but draws a blank.

Rose seems to realize they’ve lost the mood, but she breaks out into a lazy grin and says, “Since you seemed so opposed to dancing to your own music, it’ll please you to know a new song’s on. C’mon, show me your moves.”

He’s not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, and so he follows her lead, watching her dance her heart out until her cheeks are pink and her hair is damp with sweat. He’s sure he doesn’t look much better, since he can feel the perspiration beading down his back and beneath his arms, but he can’t bring himself to care. Tonight has been the most fun he’s had in a very long time. Clubbing in New York had been a lark, but he’s been swarmed by his American fans half the night, and had been busy drowning his latest heartbreak to fully enjoy it. But here, now, with Rose, it’s like he’s any other bloke in a pub, chatting up a pretty girl he wants to get to know.

Their bodies are wrapped around each other with the ease and grace of partners who have known each other for years, and he forgets that he has known Rose for all of a few hours. He never wants this night to end. He wants to cling to this fairytale and pretend that the clock isn’t about to strike the proverbial midnight.

But time marches on as always. The clock really does strike midnight, and the bartender begins to clear people out of his establishment. James is as exhausted as he is exhilarated, no longer drunk on booze but rather the company of Rose and the magic they made together by simply dancing the night away.

They head back to the bar to retrieve their coats and her purse, and to close out their tabs. James slides his credit card to the bartender and asks him to charge everyone’s tab to his card. If the bartender is surprised, he hides it well. A few minutes later, James is signing off on the receipt of purchase of several thousand pounds-worth of alcohol. His personal assistant is sure to be confused as hell when she wakes up to see the charge. He fires off a quick warning text to her so she doesn’t open up a fraudulent charge claim.

James salutes the bartender, knowing he’ll come back to this pub as often as he can until he’s found out and this place once again becomes somewhere that’s overrun with his fans.

The night is refreshingly cold when he and Rose emerge into it, a nice change after the stifling, sweaty heat of the bar. However, she hunches her shoulders against the chill, prompting him to wrap his arm around her waist and tug her into his side, all too eager to lend her some of his body heat.

“Can I walk you somewhere?” he asks, glancing around the street that is now full of the drunken patrons who’d been in the pub with them. They all disperse in different directions, stumbling home or to a different bar that is still open. “Or wait with you ‘til you catch a cab?”

“Yeah, sure,” she says, pulling up her phone to order a ride. She taps on the screen for a few quiet moments then says, “Done. Should be here in a few minutes.”

They descend into a slightly awkward silence that James wants to break, but he can’t think of anything clever to say. So he says nothing, and finally headlights wash over them, momentarily blinding them before a taxi pulls up.

“D’you wanna share?” she asks, opening the door to the back seat.

Is she as reluctant to leave him as he is to leave her? Or is she being polite and eco-friendly by ride sharing? Nevertheless, he nods and slides into the back seat beside her.

There is something incredibly intimate about sitting with Rose in the dark interior of the taxi, and he feels like he’s fifteen and wondering how to hold his date’s hand after a cheap night out at the cinemas. He fists his hands together, knotting his fingers until his knuckles pop.

The driver goes to the address Rose provides first, and all too soon they’ve arrived.

“I’ll cover the fare,” he says when she makes to hand over some bank notes to the diver. “It’d be my pleasure.”

She hesitates, but nods, then opens the door to climb out of the car. His pulse quickens as he watches her walk away with nothing but a, “Goodnight.”

“Can you wait just a minute?” he asks the driver.

“Meter’s still runnin’,” he grunts.

“That’s fine.”

James scrambles out of the taxi. “Hey, Rose?”

She turns back to face him, frowning.

“I… er… I had a great time tonight,” he says lamely, but her frown relaxes into a smile. “It was fun. With you. I had fun.”

“Yeah, me too,” she answers.

He licks his lips; his mouth is bone dry and his pulse pounds in his ears, making his vision throb with each frenzied beat.

“Do you… do you maybe wanna do it again some time? Hang out together? I… I’d really like to see you again,” he says, cursing his clumsy, fumbling words.

She scrutinizes him for a long moment, her expression indecipherable. His stomach sinks. Maybe this was a one-off, a story for her to tell her mates.

You’ll never guess who I met at the pub last night. James Noble! He paid for all my drinks and we danced like idiots.

He stews in his misery of doubt, and just when he’s about to tell her to forget about it, she slowly nods.

“Yeah, okay. I’d like that.”

“Really?” he asks, a hopeful edge creeping into his voice.

She laughs. “Really.”

“Brilliant!” James fumbles in his pocket for his phone, and he thrusts it at her. “Give me your number? I’ll text you. Or call.”

He rocks back and forth on his toes and heels, waiting for her to finish up with his phone. He has a sudden, potent bolt of panic that she’s snooping through his private messages or photographs for something to use against him to make a quick profit, but before that panic can take root, she hands his mobile back to him. It’s open to a new texting conversation.

From: 🌹 Bad Wolf Girl 🌹

Now I’ve got your number too 😉

He beams at the name she’s given to herself in his contacts, then he pockets his phone.

“I’ll see you later,” he says.

“You better,” she replies with that knee-weakening smile he’s grown to love over the course of the night. “See ya.”

“Bye.”

He stands there like a moron until she’s safely inside, then he turns back to the taxi and climbs in. The deserted streets streak by as the driver takes him to his neighborhood. He never gives his address though; he always chooses a destination a few streets away, just in case.

James generously tips the driver and bids him goodnight before slipping into the night to his home. He was right: the paparazzi are gone. There is no fanfare as he slips his key into the lock and lets himself into his house. It’s warm and cozy, but still too quiet for his liking.

Between the plane ride and his night out, he feels greasy and disgusting, and indulges in a hot shower before bed. He washes Rose’s scent off of his body, an intoxicating blend of jasmine and vanilla that’s as sweet as it is musky.

He’s groggy by the time he crawls into his giant, king-sized bed and burrows deep into his mounds of pillows and duvets. One of his ex-girlfriends once teased that he turns into the marshmallow man when he sleeps.

His sleep is deep and dreamless, and when he awakes with the sun the following morning, he feels more refreshed and invigorated than he ever remembers being. He’s got a full day of meetings with his songwriting team to brainstorm his next album, and he is ready.

But first, he checks his phone. There’s nothing from Rose, which makes him a little sad, but also nothing from his publicist, which is always a good sign. If ever she messages or calls him first thing in the morning, it always means there’s some sort of dumpster fire to put out. Usually a dumpster fire full of compromising photos of him.

He makes a point of not Googling himself, but he does occasionally check his social media pages for new posts about him, wanting to know when, where, and how his fans came across him in the wild. He easily finds the photo that he took with the group of teenage girls, and makes a point to like the original post and type a quick, “Nice to meet you all. Thanks for chatting with me last night - J” in the comments section. He snorts to himself as his comment blows up within seconds.

But other than some grainy photos of him riding the bus, he can’t find any other photos of himself. Nothing of him wandering the streets or drinking in the pub or even having a wee in the mens’ room. And best of all, there’s nothing of him and Rose. No photos of them dancing together or sharing a cab. If Rose has a social media account, it didn’t post any sneaky photos or bragging stories about dancing all night with James Noble.

He can’t quite believe it; he managed to have a fun night out drinking without it all being thrown back in his face the next morning. Within seconds, he’s grinning to himself and pulling up Rose’s contact information. It’s still in his phone, further proof that his night with her wasn’t some sort of jetlagged fever dream. She was real.

“Good morning. I hope you slept well. Thanks for last night.”

She responds almost instantly. Good morning to you too. I should be thanking you for paying my drink tab and taxi fare 😉 And for being an excellent dance partner.

“The pleasure was all mine, on all counts.” He sends that message, then types out a new one, “I’m gonna be in meetings all day (yes, I know it’s Sunday), so please don’t be discouraged if I don’t reply. But I’d really like to see you again. Want to do dinner or drinks or coffee or something?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, needing to make himself presentable for when his driver picks him up in an hour. Yet he can’t help but check his phone every three seconds, until finally there’s a message from Rose.

Yeah, I’d like that. I work ‘til five most nights, but I’m free after that. Or we can wait ‘til the weekend.

With spirits lighter than they’ve been in months, James steps out of his house with a broad, stupid grin that the ever-present crowd of paparazzi are all too happy to photograph.

[my-writings-and-musings]

TFA Bulkhead/Bumblebee

Bulkhead, hoping to paint Bumblebee, finds a number of unexpected hurdles in the form of a willing but very fidgety model.

Got a lovely commission that the commissioner was okay with me sharing, so here it is! I had so much fun writing this, and remember, I'm always open if you'd like a fic for yourself.

Working up courage wasn't something one had to do often when they were as big and strong as Bulkhead, but he'd needed every bit he could spare to approach Bumblebee with what he'd feared was a ridiculous request. The fact he could expect his friend to say yes had brought him little comfort, because being rejected just scared him too much. He didn't want to admit how long it had taken him to prepare…

But finally, the day had come, and he approached the little bot as one might an armed explosive.

"Uh… Bumblebee?" he spoke softly, tapping his big servos together to try and call himself down. Bumblebee was relaxing and watching something on TV, and Bulkhead was so nervous he couldn't even tell what. Primus, he was just grateful they were alone, or else this would have been impossible! Bumblebee thankfully noticed him right away, lifting his helm to look at his friend with a smile.

"What's up, Bulk?" he said in greeting, half turning back to the television before doing an actual double take back to the big bot. Concern crossed his features, and he raised a curious brow ridge before he spoke again. "You feeling okay?"

Bulkhead realized just then that his nervousness was probably showing through like a beacon, and he gulped in embarrassment, wanting nothing more than to disappear on the spot. Just his luck that things would already be going poorly… Steeling himself, he took a deep vent and put on the biggest smile he could manage. "Yeah, f-fine!" he gasped out, trying not to tremble. Wishing he'd written down what he wanted to say, he just managed to put some words together and speak, hoping he didn't look as ridiculous as he felt. "I just wanted… wanted to ask you something."

"Yeah?" Bumblebee asked, expression not changing once. Near to collapsing, Bulkhead soldiered on, wondering with every word if he'd made a huge mistake.

"Well you… you know I've been painting a lot lately, and I was wondering…" he gulped again, closing in on the final thing he'd come to ask and hoping he wasn't making a huge mistake in the process. If this worked, it might just be the happiest day of his life…

"I'm kind of tired of painting trees and flowers… could I paint… you?" he asked, not even waiting for a reply before he clarified extensively. "Paint a picture of you, I mean! Like… would you want to model for a painting? That's… what I meant…"

"Oh, model?" Bumblebee repeated, optics lighting up like a supernova as he repeated the word. Bulkhead felt relief like nothing he'd ever experienced wash over him as the question got exactly the answer he hadn't dared to hope for, enough so that he struggled to stay standing as he sighed. Bumblebee hopped upright and stretched, lean little frame already eager to get moving as he stepped beside his much larger friend. "What are we waiting for? Let's go!"

"Yeah, sure!" Bulkhead said with enthusiasm, trying his hardest not to cry a few happy tears at the turn of events. Moving as fast as he could, he followed Bee to his room, where all of his supplies were waiting for them in the unlikely event this worked out. The big bot had done everything in his power to get all the paint and brushes he would need if Bee said yes, so hopefully he did indeed have enough, or at least what he'd require to get started. He'd gotten so many shades of yellow…

When they arrived to his room, he briefly scolded himself for not fixing it up better, not that Bumblebee ever bothered to clean his own room, but he wanted to be a good host.

Pointing to the smushed couch he sometimes liked to relax on, which was also in a good spot for lighting, he tried to ensure he was calm despite his still fluttering nerves. "You can, uh, pose however you like. How about there?" 

"Sure, sounds fun!" Bumblebee replied, quite enthusiastic as he hopped on over. Not minding that the furniture was beyond lumpy, he began finding a comfortable way for his frame to lay, moving his tiny self about as Bulkhead got everything ready. Trying not to blush at how happy he was, the big bot grabbed a spare canvas and his favorite cans of paint, along with a few brushes in his size. Someday he'd have to properly thank Sari for introducing him to art, and being kind enough to provide tools in his size as well. When his easel was in place, he looked up to see Numb laying himself over the couch and grinning in his usual goofy way. "Paint me like one of your French bots, Bulkhead…"

Even if he hadn't been so distracted by what he was feeling, the big bot would have had no ability to make sense of what he'd just heard. All he could manage was a one word reply of total bafflement. "...What?"

"It's a… a human quote. I don't get it either." Bumblebee mumbled in reply, likely referencing some movie he and Sari had watched together at some point. Not wanting his friend to feel awkward, Bulkhead happily helped the conversation continue, smiling as he grabbed a brush.

"Oh, well um… how about we start small? Just sketches and stuff, you know?" he offered, trying to think of the best way to proceed. It was hard to plan much of anything when he was this happy, especially because he didn't want Bee to know how he felt, in more ways than one. He had to keep going as if this was just a casual thing, and not something that really meant the world to him.

"Works for me, just don't forget to get my good side… which is all of me." Bee said proudly, striking a pose and grinning as he did so. It was a perfectly in character position, so Bulkhead got to work right away, carefully articulating his large digits to control the brush. While small mistakes were just part of the process for painting, he didn't want to make one here. This piece was going to be perfect, so every stroke had to be the same, and thus his digits had an almost vice-like grip. It didn't escape his attention how few bots got to pursue their greatest wish like he was doing now. Keeping his smile to himself, he cast his optics to Bumblebee and back to the canvas, wanting to have the perfect grasp of scale before he began. Having a friend with such particular proportions wasn't going to make this any easier.

Sticking with the core of his muse, he made a few careful strokes to get the basic gist of his friend's pose, hoping to capture both his sense of excitability and his current relaxed mood. It would be hard, but he was more than up for the challenge. This would be worth every last second of work...

"Actually, hang on, my arm looks better like this."

Bumblebee surprised him with the words and the sudden movement he made to match, his arm swinging about to rest almost opposite to its original pose. As he hadn't yet started drawing that particular spot, Bulkhead let it go, having expected a little bit of restlessness. It was also only fair that Bee liked the final result and was comfortable with the process. Getting back to work, the big bot wondered if his friend's face might be a good place to start. His horns certainly added an additional detail for him to take into consideration… Perhaps he'd ask if Bee wanted his face to be more in profile or at an angle. All he wanted was to capture the essence of the bot he was so close to.

Bumblebee coughed, optics looking about bashfully as he blushed and shifted on the couch to move his other arm. It wasn't a big move, but the small bit clearly realized it was inconvenient, and looked guilty for the move. "Need to change this too, it's not working. This look better?"

"Oh uh… yeah!" Bulkhead replied quickly, uncertain how he should respond beyond acceptance as the last thing he wanted was for this to be uncomfortable for either of them. Some small changes would need to be made to what was already on the canvas, but that was hardly a bother. Getting more paint on his brush, he tried to work a little faster as he got the bottom layer established. Not that he didn't trust Bee to keep his word, but the little bot often fidgeted without even meaning to. Sticking out his glossa in concentration, Bulkhead worked fast, using up a fair amount of paint as he got what he presumed to be the core of the piece. Next would come the much tricker details…

Or at least they would have, if he hadn't glanced up to see Bumblebee in a completely different pose and half asleep...

"Bumblebee?" he said on reflex, coughing to try and gain his friend's attention. Startling awake, the little bot looked around in surprise, seeming to have forgotten exactly where he was and what was going on. When recognition dawned on his features, embarrassment wasn't far behind. A light blush lit up his cheeks as he shrunk down on the couch.

"Scrap, sorry, wasn't thinking." he apologized, trying to remember how he had originally been posed and failing to do so. Bulkhead felt a bit of frustration stirring, but he kept it well under wraps. Just because this wasn't going according to plan, didn't mean he was going to give up.

"That's okay! Just… need a new canvas." he said, keeping his smile even if he was a little more flustered. With a little bit of white paint he could salvage the canvas and use it later for something else, plus it wasn't like Sari didn't provide him with plenty of supplies. Getting set up all over again, he looked back to Bumblebee, who was once again settled in what appeared to be his position of choice. Hoping to begin in earnest, he was careful as could be when he broached the question on his mind. "Is that the pose you want?"

"Definitely!" Bumblebee said enthusiastically, giving him hope that he'd be able to paint for real this time. Not wasting even a moment, he painted as fast as he could, glancing back and forth between the painting and his subject to make the process as smooth as possible. It was an effective strategy, as it allowed him to get the outline twice as fast. This time he wanted to fully capture his friend in the picture as he'd been trying from the start. Some part of him just knew it would be worth it, and that they'd both be thankful he put in all this effort.

Or, at least, he thought he knew...

"Actually, sorry about this, but…" Bumblebee was bashful but not especially hesitant as he moved to lay on his side, stretching as he moved into an entirely different position. The poor artist felt his spark drop at the loss of progress all over again, even as his friend tried to cheer them both up by looking as chipper as possible. "That was so much more uncomfortable than I was expecting. Go on!"

Bulkhead didn't say a word as he grabbed another canvas, and did his very best not to look as discouraged as he felt. It didn't seem like this was going to stop any time soon, as much as he wished it would, and that didn't bode well for his wish to get this done. Perhaps he'd been far too hopeful…

Still, he did everything in his power to stay positive and make the painting he'd dreamed of become a reality.

Painting faster than he ever had in his entire life, the big bot ignored the imperfections that came from moving so rapidly, setting his jaw tight as little flecks of paint spattered across the canvas. At this point, such little things hardly seemed to mind. What really mattered was getting this done. A familiar form began to take recognizable shape on the canvas, and the artist started to plan ahead for his next move from then on. Shading would come after these little details, which he'd be able to put together thanks to having a lot of his friend's appearance memorized. Hope blossomed in his spark as he finally saw Bumblebee in the picture he was painting.

Getting so close to what he wanted made seeing a repeat of what had happened before hurt more than it should have.

Catching himself, Bumblebee blushed and shrunk down on the spot, smiling bashfully in apology for his unintentional movement. It really wasn't something he was doing on purpose; he wanted to see his friend happy! Sitting still just didn't work for him. Seeing Bulkhead look hurt, however, made him feel especially bad for the mistake.

"I don't think this is a good idea." Bulkhead said with a sigh, putting yet another canvas to the side and looking quite deflated as he did so. There wasn't anything he could think to do that might change this, and he was ready to just throw in the towel. Perhaps this was just the one thing he wasn't meant to paint.

"Aw come on, why not?" Bumblebee pressed, aware of the answer but hoping there was something he could do to fix it. Staying still just wasn't in his programming, but perhaps… he could get some tape? That wasn't realistic, but he wanted to try something to make up for this. Bulkhead only sighed again.

"You won't stay still?" he said simply, frustrated but not antagonistic in his summation. It was something neither of them could change, and that left both more than a little helpless.

"I…" Bumblebee stuttered off, tapping his digits together as he saw his friend get even more sad. Unable to help getting a little defensive, he got up from the couch, throwing up his arms as the big bot cleaned up some of the mess. "Come on, Bulk! You know me! Staying still isn't my thing, and I can't force that!"

"Well yeah, but… couldn't you just stay mostly still?" Bulkhead asked, still not ready to just give up all at once. Even if he had no idea how to fix things or make it work, he wanted this painting too much to just give up, no matter how many canvases it took. All he needed was a little bit more time than he had been getting. His determination must have shown, because Bumblebee furrowed his brow ridges in consideration.

"I… I can try! I…" he faded off as the pressure weighed on him, and thankfully his friend caught that quickly. To be clear; he wanted this a lot, but he could never want anything badly enough to make Bumblebee uncomfortable. Perhaps it was best they rested a bit, to restore their patience and approach this with clearer heads. He certainly needed a minute to relax from all this frustration...

"How about a break? We've been trying for a while, maybe a bit of down time will help." he proposed, already feeling a little better at the prospect of cooling down. Bumblebee shared the sentiment straight away, visibly relaxing on the spot and letting out a tiny sigh of his own. 

"Great idea Bulk! Let me just grab something…" he said happily, darting off and leaving the big bot alone with his supplies. Deciding to clean a bit to ease his mind, Bulkhead sorted the discarded canvases, hoping that he could paint over the unusable pictures with some white and reuse them. Seeing how much and how little progress he'd made at the same time made him wonder how he might improve on their next attempt. Nothing was coming to mind just yet, but that didn't mean he had lost hope. There had to be something on this planet that would motivate Bee to stay still, and by Primus he would find it!

As he was wiping up some paint that had managed to drip onto the floor, Bumblebee quite literally skidded back into the room, coming to a dead stop after running at full tilt. 

"I'm back! Just wanted to grab my game!" the little bot declared happily, waving the device about as he went to sit back on the smushed couch. The game had been a gift from Sari as well; some kind of earth console that had been sized up a few times over to better fit the servos of a Cybertronian. Smiling in acknowledgement, the big bot nodded as he went back to cleaning. Digital music met his audials as his friend started up the system and began to play, reclining on the couch as he settled in for a much needed break. Bulkhead had only had middling success with the games popular on earth, owed in large part to his size, but he was at least happy his friend could have some much needed fun with them. 

When the floor was finally cleaned up, he took stock of his slightly diminished inventory. There was still plenty of paint, and more than a few canvases, but if they continued at their current pace… He'd have to figure out a strategy before they tried this again, because otherwise this just wasn't going to work. Looking up at Bumblebee, he briefly considered proposing that they try this another day before his thoughts were systematically interrupted. 

Laying on his back over the pile of stuffing that had once been a couch, the small mech was entirely engrossed in his digital world, optics focused only on the screen as his digits rapidly tapped away on the controls. Other than the occasional shift of his expression, he was entirely motionless. It took Bulkhead a moment to process what he was seeing. Bumblebee was so rarely still, and never for this length of time… He didn't need to think much before he was reacting the only way he could.

Moving as silently as a mech of his size was able to, he grabbed what he needed, gathering his paints around himself as he got a fresh canvas and sat down before his easel. He couldn't have asked for a better setup; the pose, the lighting, it was all perfect. It was almost too much to hope this was real. Considering how many false starts he'd had, most could probably understand why he felt that way.

Daring to take his time, the big bot made every brush stroke count, trying to think of all the reasons he liked Bee so much as he made each one. His friend was confident, energetic, brave… All those thoughts motivated him every second he worked, and the results were soon apparent. The form of Bumblebee began to take shape rather quickly, coming together far more smoothly thanks to how relaxed he was. A base layer was ready to go in what felt like only a few minutes.

Oblivious to everything, Bumblebee kept right on playing, occasionally sticking his glossa out as he did so. Bulkhead contemplated including that detail in the piece, but ultimately decided against it. This was going to be a somewhat more dignified painting than that. 

When the time came to add lighting, he was almost over the moon, but he kept all the excitement to himself. Colors mixed together beautifully on his palette, forming the light and dark shades to the vibrant yellows and deep blacks that made up his friend's paint job. It was far more satisfying than painting even the most beautiful landscape he'd ever seen. Perhaps he was just a little biased on that front, but he did believe that painting things you truly cared about just brought them to life. One only had to glance at this piece to understand how much this bot meant to him.

It almost seemed like he was dreaming when each and every glance revealed Bumblebee to be sitting perfectly still, without a hint of movement beyond the minor. If this did turn out to be a dream, he'd at least be happy it was going so well. Fate had truly designed the perfect setup for them to finally get this done without any stress for either individual. 

Everything came together with what felt like only a few of the most well done strokes he'd ever painted. At long last, the bot he'd wanted to paint so badly had been captured on canvas! It was so exciting he couldn't hold back an exclamation as he set his brush down theatrically.

"Done!"

"Huh?!" Bumblebee gasped, half jumping on the spot as his game nearly flew from his servos. Looking about in a daze, he put the pieces together when he saw his friend, at which point guilt crossed his features. Time had slipped away from him even more so than it had for the very busy Bulkhead. "What? I… oh, Bulk! I didn't mean to get distracted! You could have stopped me earlier, I wouldn't have minded."

Waving off the appreciated but unnecessary apology, the big bot only smiled and wiped some paint from his servos, rising from his chair to puff his chest out with pride. "That's okay, I'm already finished."

"How?" the little bot gasped in awe, checking his internal chronometer to see just how long he'd been wrapped up in his game. It had only felt like a few minutes, but this wouldn't be the first time he'd gotten lost in a video game.

"Well, you were pretty content playing your game, so…" Bulkhead allowed his friend to put the rest of the pieces together, and in no time understanding dawned on the little mech. 

"Oh, I gotcha!" Bumblebee replied happily, quite relieved to have not held them up. If playing video games was what it had taken to make his friend happy, then he was quite fine with that. All he wanted was to get a look at the results, which he was certain would be incredible. "Here, let me see!"

Feeling a bit of shyness amongst his pride, Bulkhead handed over the canvas, careful to avoid the still drying paint.

"This is amazing!" Bumblebee proclaimed without hesitation, trying to be delicate even as he felt a surge of excitement upon beholding the painting. Of course he knew his friend had talent, but this was incredible! "Look at me, I look even better than usual!"

Bulkhead looked down to the floor and shuffled his pedes, doing his best to hide the blush creeping along his cheeks. "Well, I had a pretty great model."

"That's gonna sell fast, Bulkhead. No doubt about it." Bumblebee praised as he gave the painting back, confident in what he was saying. It didn't hurt that he was a good looking bot, but his friend had really done an especially good job on this one, and he was sure it would be bought up in no time. Taking the piece, the big bot smiled softly as he beheld it again. It had taken a lot of courage for him to get this, and he was quite proud of himself for that. As such, he held the painting very near and dear to his spark.

"Maybe, but… I think I'm gonna keep it, actually." he said softly, wanting to see it every day. There was a perfect place for it where he could do just that, not that he would say where that was. Bumblebee didn't mind the decision in the slightest.

However, when the little bot ducked in his friend's room later to pick up a borrowed item, he learned the true value of the painting to Bulkhead. On a wall reserved for only his most precious of works, the portrait sat high in a position of honor. Usually unable to say everything that came to mind due to overwhelming volume, Bee had been rendered speechless by the sight. Only a soft smile revealed how touched he was by the gesture. 

[atsushigre]

night terrors III

pairing: dabi x reader

summary: comfort is a two way street; he has a nightmare and you come to his rescue

wc: 3117

warnings: reader briefly gets choked and not in the kinky way (but not intentionally in the abusive way either if that makes any sense), potential manga spoilers for dabi!!

a/n: AHHHH it’s finally done!! cannot believe this is my longest piece yet LMAO if i’d kept it all one part like i had intended it would have been stupid long so. here we are!! hope y’all enjoy and reblogs are appreciated (and i’ll try and be back with more stuff soon!!)

part i / part ii

the third time you really see him is maybe the most shocking of all (though if you’re serious with yourself, you really should have seen this coming). 

the mission had gone bad in every conceivable way, and you couldn’t say you were necessarily surprised. all signs had pointed to things going horribly awry, and yet you had volunteered your expertise regardless, and dabi had been quick to follow (though he maintained that same air of disinterest despite himself). but, even with your best efforts the mission had fallen to pieces and the two of you had barely managed a (fairly) safe retreat- he had gotten pretty badly wounded but all things considered, it could have gone far worse. 

barely holding yourself together as you escaped, you quickly tried to assess the situation, and soon realized that in the state he was in dabi wouldn’t make it back to where you were stationed fast enough. seemingly coming to the same conclusion, he had reluctantly directed you to help him to a place he had, some safehouse or abandoned apartment he kept when he spent time away from the league, and you had done your best to keep him conscious and drag him along with you as discreet as possible; the last thing either of you needed was for the heroes to have caught you in the state you were in - you wouldn’t have stood a chance. 

and here is where you find yourself, in the bathroom of an abandoned apartment, rifling through the near barren medicine cabinet for supplies to dress wounds as your partner in this mission bleeds out on the dusty couch. scooping up a variety of medical supplies (including a staple gun, though hopefully you wouldn’t have to use it - you may be handy but you were by no means qualified to be adding more staples to that man) and rushing out into the living room, you quickly dumped the supplies on the floor before rushing to the (similarly barren) kitchen, looking for any sort of alcohol for disinfecting. snatching the half-empty bottle of vodka, you came back down to crouch in front of the man and get to work. he hadn’t said much of anything since you’d unceremoniously dumped him on the couch and began your search, but those same electric eyes had tracked your movement throughout the apartment, pain clouding them as he grits his teeth. 

you set to work dressing his wounds, hoping and praying that your minimal first aid experience would be passable enough that he would survive the night and be able to see a real doctor (one that had undoubtedly been paid or strong-armed by the league, of course) in the morning. every once in a while he would seem to make a move, almost as if he intended to take over for you and patch himself up, but between the energy he had expended earlier that evening and your quiet soothing, every time he seemed to concede, sinking deeper into the ratty couch cushions and allowing you to continue your work in (mostly) silence. he barely had the energy for remarks, only able to summon a deep hum in affirmation when you would periodically ask him if he was awake. 

you pull back just a bit to admire your finished handiwork before looking up to meet his gaze, half-lidded eyes still watching you in silence. you can practically see the fatigue pulling at him at that moment but he musters up his last dregs of energy to straighten his slumped form on the couch, groaning in pain as he does so. you quickly lean forward, hands securing themselves on his shoulders as you crouch down to eye level.

“i’m gonna move you to the bed, okay? can i?” your eyes search his for an answer, and as you hear him grunt and seem to nod his head, you begin to lean his weight onto yourself as you maneuver him into the bedroom. you busy yourself getting him set in bed, acutely feeling the weight of his exhausted eyes on you as you make your way out of the bedroom once he’s settled, pausing in the doorway to give him one last once over.

“call for me if you need anything,” you sigh, and you hear the sarcastic snort as he faces his head away for you, eyes sliding shut as you linger in the doorway a moment longer. hesitantly you creep back to the living room, setting yourself down on the couch and dropping your head into your hands, waves of exhaustion rolling over you as the adrenaline of the evening seeps out of your system, and its as you run your hands exasperatedly over your face that you are met with the massive bloodstain covering the couch, where you’d intended to sleep this evening. a sigh leaves you as you set to work using the remaining (mostly) unstained cushions to form a makeshift bed of sorts before allowing the exhaustion of the day to settle over you like a blanket.

it’s less than two hours later when you’re woken with a start to the familiar sounds of a nightmare; however, this time, they’re not coming from you. no, instead, you can hear the distressed noises echoing off the walls and emanating from the bedroom, and panic grips your heart as you try and orient yourself, scrambling up off your makeshift bed and over to the doorway.

he’s thrashing around in the sheets, panicked gasps coming out of his lungs, and you can see his face screwed up in an expression of terror before he thrashes once more, facing away from you. scarred hands are fisted in the sheets, and you can hear the sizzling of what you can only assume is his flesh as his temperature begins to rise. you can almost hear him starting to mumble under his breath before the mumbles get louder and he begins to frantically shout. you’re practically paralyzed, standing in the doorway mouth agape as you take him in before something snaps in you and you quickly close the distance.

bracing yourself as you begin to shake his shoulders, you feel his form shuddering under you as he’s gasping for air. you shout his name as you try and still him before he can further disrupt your shoddy stitch work, but nothing could have prepared you for what came next.

electric eyes shoot open and meet yours, wild and feral as he launches himself forward, toppling off the bed with you as the room erupts in blue flame. one scarred hand is wrapped tightly around your throat, fingers digging into your skin as you feel the heat of his fire coalescing in his palm, and the other is reared back in a threatening pose, cobalt flames licking at his skin and casting their sickly glow over the dingy bedroom. his eyes are cloudy and wild, like a feral animal as he keeps you pinned to the floor, chest heaving with exertion, and as you struggle to claw your way out of his vice grip around your neck you barely see the fire growing dimmer as he comes to his senses.

“dabi,” you choke out, prying his fingers away from your throat, and it’s as if your raspy voice breaks the spell that had fallen over him as he scrambles off of you, blue flames extinguishing and leaving nothing more than the faint sound of sizzling in their wake. the room is dark, almost pitch black, besides the faint glow of city lights peeking from behind the curtains, and you take a long moment of pause, gaze glued to the floor as you gently run your fingers over the bruises you don’t doubt are already forming around your throat. you finally manage to lift your gaze, only to find him recoiled up against the wall, clutching the hand that was moments ago choking you out close to his chest, wild eyes flitting around and occasionally risking a glance in your direction.

it’s almost funny, in that tragic way; you know very little about the fractured man before you, nothing of his life before the league and barely anything even now that he is with you. he makes a point to dance around pointed questions (not that you were brazen enough to ask any) and keeps everything besides burning ambition locked inside of him, hidden away and detached from his person. but now you can almost see his edges fraying, that tightly wound façade unraveling, and in that minute he just looks very small and very sad, huddled up like a feral animal backed into a corner. he looks almost like a child; alone and afraid and unsure. you know logically you should turn your back and leave him, especially after what just transpired between you, but between the way he’s looking right now and the phantom feeling of a hand carding through your hair that threatens to overwhelm you, you feel your resolve cracking as you clear your throat.

his gaze jumps up to meet yours, eyes so wide the scarred skin around them is pulling on his staples, and you draw a deep breath in before reaching out a shaky hand, crawling slowly towards him. he flinches backward, and you watch as his eyes linger on the angry markings left around your throat as you hesitantly continue your approach.

“you uh. you had a nightmare. but it’s just me okay? you’re safe; we’re at your safe house.” you speak gently as you crawl right up to him, slowly moving to place your hand on one of his drawn in knees, and when he shows no signs of lashing out you close the last bit of distance, shaky hand resting lightly on the fabric of his pants as you patiently wait for any sort of response. you can feel how tense he holds himself, how tightly wound he is, and in the position he’s pulled himself into it’s impossible for you to get a good look at his abdomen; you’d have to assume that in the struggle he’d done something to disrupt your subpar sutures, and you couldn’t in good faith let him bleed out on the floor in a state like this. it seems like you’re going to have to push a little harder to get any sort of response out of him, shock setting into his bones as his vacant eyes fixate on where your hand meets his form. 

“i don’t know what you saw, and you don’t have to tell me- i don’t want you to tell me anything, okay? all i wanna do is help you right now; so, can you help me help you? is that okay?” your gentle whispers fill the air, and you can see some of the tension melting from his shoulders as his ragged breathing steadies, and that clouded look in his eyes seems to dissolve under the soothing tone of your speech. your thumb rubs gentle circles on his knee, and after a few long minutes of near-perfect silence, you can hear his bones begin to crack as he slowly unfurls himself, allowing you access to his injury. you quickly assess the damages, sighing in relief when you see they’re minimal, and look up to see him staring down at you while you work, eyes swirling with an undecipherable blend of emotions before he angles his head away. 

you know he feels guilty for what transpired; you can feel it rolling off of him in waves, see it in the way his eyes keep finding their way to the marks blossoming on your skin, sense it in the way he flinches away from your touch, almost sitting on his hands so as to not let them come in contact with you again. you can practically hear the apology in the air, but the little you know about him tells you he’d never manage to choke it out, and so you rise and busy yourself with the bed, resetting the cushions and fluffing the pillows before you cross back to crouch in front of him again, hand extended with confidence this time. 

he stares blankly at your extended hand for a long moment before looking up and almost past you, eyes still sparkling with fragments of fear, and a gentle smile creeps across your face as you let out a soft hum. 

“let’s get you to bed, okay?” reaching down you grasp his hand in yours, pretending not to notice the way he jumps slightly at the contact before you gingerly pull him up, resting his weight on your frame before getting him settled under the covers once again. you pull the blankets up to cover him before you hesitate for a moment, locking eyes with him again, and it’s almost as if something possesses you as you reach forward to smooth his hair back and away from his forehead. his eyes widen in surprise, and you can’t help the gentle smile that creeps onto your lips before you pull away, lingering in the doorway and casting one last look over your shoulder.

huddled under the covers, fully and properly exhausted as he comes down off of the fear-induced adrenaline spike of moments ago, it strikes you again just how small he looks; if you were really being honest with yourself, fragile was the word for it. a man held together by staples, body and soul, tormented by what you can only assume are ghosts of his past. 

maybe that’s why you linger in the doorway longer than you should. maybe that’s why instead of shutting the door behind you, you step back inside before gently pulling it shut, creeping back over to the bed and crawling up and on top of the covers. those same eyes track your movement, and you can almost feel him going to ask why you’re doing this as you push yourself up against the headboard and angle yourself towards him, gently carding your hand through his hair. you feel his questioning gaze before you hear the involuntary exhale of relief.

“this is so you’ll go back to sleep, so hurry up and close your eyes already. i don’t have all night.” you managed to make it through the whole sentence before you softly giggle, recalling the flipped scenario no less than a few weeks ago, and you feel him still below you before sighing and shifting his head into your lap, relaxing fully under the feeling of your hand smoothing over his hair. it seems that after the evening’s events, he’s simply too tired to keep up pretenses, melting under your gentle touch, and you can feel a small smile stretch over his face, staples grazing over your thigh where his face is angled into your lap. you think you hear a muttered thanks, and though you weren’t quite sure you wouldn’t dare ask him to repeat it, pleased enough at the prospect of a thank you in the first place.

you’re up for an extra hour, watching the man melt under the repeated caresses and allow sleep to take him (peacefully, this time), before that same exhaustion comes creeping back and sleep comes for you as well.

you wake as the late afternoon sun creeps through the ratty curtains, full-body exhaustion threatening to draw you back to sleep but the nagging urge to get dabi checked by a doctor pulling you back to consciousness. during the night you’d shifted, laying down against the bed, and a blanket previously nowhere to be found had been tucked over you. you push yourself up as you notice you’re sleeping in an empty bed, and as you tighten the blanket around your shoulders and hurry back into the living room, you can’t help the sigh of relief you let out when you see dabi standing in the barren kitchen rifling through a shopping bag.

“you scared me.” leaning up against the counter next to him, you can’t help the small grin that stretches across your face as he produces a steaming mug of tea, gesturing for you to drink before he draws his own to his lips. warmth bubbles up in your chest, doubled as you take slow sips of the tea, and you spare a few glances down at his torso, trying to catch a glimpse of his injury.

“we should go see the doctor,” you sigh, head tipped back, and he makes what you can only interpret as a dismissive noise as he rifles through the shopping bag again before producing a mound of fabric, lazily outstretching it towards you as he gazes out the window and sips on his own tea. you gingerly take it from him and unravel it, coming face to face with a soft black scarf, and you can feel your face heat up as your grin grows wider.

“here. wear this,” he drawls, and you can practically feel the apology stitched into the soft fabric as you wind it around your neck, covering the marks of yesterday. you can see his posture loosen once you finish and turn to him, taking a moment to show off, and a low chuckle and a wolf whistle fills the air as you strike an objectively ridiculous pose.

“lookin good,” he scoffs, eyebrow quirked and smirk tugging at his lips, before he gathers his things and unceremoniously dumps them back in his bag. he moves for the door, gesturing for you to follow, and something in you has you reaching out and catching his arm, fingers gripping onto his coat sleeve.

“we aren’t talking about it after this, i promise, but i get it, okay? i get it. so thanks for what you do for me, and i hope i can keep doing the same for you.” 

“i thought i told you not to mention it,” you hear him say, and before you can quickly rush to drop an apology you notice the small smile on his face, and that now-familiar warmth bubbles up inside of you again.

“you’re right. my bad; won’t happen again,” you grin, brushing past him to lead the way. you hear him scoff once more before following quickly behind, and you know deep inside you that you’ve come to cherish this rather unconventional arrangement the two of you have found yourself in. despite yourself, you can’t help but quietly wish for more opportunities to support and be supported like this; after all, you enjoy it far more than you’d be willing to admit. for as long as the two of you have night terrors, you hope the other will be there to pick up the pieces, night after night.

[depressedhatakekakashi]

High School Crushes

AU: High School Au

Words: 1576

Rating: General

Pairing: Sakura/Lee

Warnings: None

Summary: Sakura and Kakashi are setting up for the LGBTQ+ club when an unexpected guest shows up, and Kakashi’s forced to watch awkward high school flirting.

Completed with help from @cryptic-summons

Counting the chairs that Sakura had set out, Kakashi wondered to himself if it would be enough. Surely there would be more than five people showing up today. Even if he stood, that only left four open chairs for new arrivals.

“You’re thinking too hard about it, Sensei,” Sakura tossed a plastic cup at his head, giggling when he shot a glare towards her. “I triple-checked the signup sheet. The only people coming are Kiba, Naruto, Hinata, Choji, and Tenten. We don’t need any more chairs.”

Four people. Surely that couldn’t be it.

“I feel like I’m forgetting something,” his brain was telling him that there was someone else he should be expecting, but no matter how hard he tried to remember a name wouldn’t come to him. “Oh well, I guess if an extra shows up we can just pull out another chair.”

“An extra!?” Sakura gave him a scandalized look. “Sensei! I bought just enough snacks and drinks for the people who were scheduled to come!”

Oh, right. The snacks and drinks.

Glancing towards the table, Kakashi sighed. There were exactly Six cups, and enough pizza to feed about six people, so Sakura wasn’t lying about having just enough for the people she was expecting.

He certainly had gone and picked the most organized person in his class to lead the LGBTQ+ club. At least he knew for sure that she would always have things under control, even during those days he might not be able to be there to help her with.

Still, his brain refused to let him rest. Trying desperately to remind him of whatever it was he was forgetting.

A sharp knock on the door forced him to forget about his memory struggles and turn to greet whoever it was that had arrived first. As he raised a hand and opened his mouth to say ‘hello’, the answer to his question finally hit him.

There he was, standing at the door.

The person he had forgotten to add to the attendance list so that Sakura could account for his arrival.

Rock Lee.

“Shit.” He muttered under his breath, cringing when Sakura glared at him.

“Language, Sensei,” she scolded him before turning her attention back onto the new arrival. “Hello, Lee-kun. Are you looking for something?”

Lee-Kun? Since when did Sakura refer to any of the other kids with an honorific? Usually, she just called them by their name, or in Naruto’s case there was a fond ‘Baka’ attached to her sentence whenever she mentioned him.

“Well,” burying a hand into his short black hair, he beamed at Sakura. A small hint of a blush painting his cheeks. “I was hoping to take part in the LGBTQ+ club that you were having. I tried to write my name down on the list, but by the time I confirmed with Gai-sensei that Taijutsu practice was on Thursdays now, the sheet was gone.”

Right. Gai had mentioned changing the day of his Taijutsu lessons so that Lee and Tenten could attend the LGBTQ+ club that Kakashi had finally managed to get approval to organize. He even mentioned that Lee was afraid he wouldn’t be welcome to join after missing his chance to add his name to the list that Sakura had put up just outside of Kakashi’s classroom.

Sakura was going to be upset with him for forgetting. She had put so much effort into making sure that everything was perfect for the club so that they could all sit down, share stories, and have a fun relaxing time.

And here Kakashi was, forgetting to inform her that there was actually one more person to expect.

“Oh,” Sakura’s voice cracked, and Kakashi couldn’t help but notice that she had brought her right hand up and started drumming her fingers against her left arm. Almost as if she was embarrassed. “I didn’t realize...Kakashi-Sensei we have another chair, right?”

Usually, he’d complain about being asked such a dumb question, but he was already thinking about all of the ways he could tease the poor kid about this later. He was willing to cut her some slack.

For now.

“I’ll find a chair, you two keep chatting.” with a wave of his hand he turned his back to them and headed towards the closet for an extra chair. Though, if Sakura thought they were getting some sort of ‘alone’ time because he happened to be across the room she was wrong.

They weren’t even bothering to try to keep their voices down.

“I didn’t realize that you would be in charge of the club. Sakura-Chan,” Lee’s voice buzzed with excitement. “What made you want to volunteer?”

“Volunteer,” Sakura huffed, and Kakashi was pretty sure she was throwing a glare his way at that exact moment. Thankfully, he was focused on getting a chair out of the closet without dropping something on himself. How Sakura had done it so easily, he would never know. “Kakashi-Sensei told me that I had to do it. That there was no one else suited for the job as well as me.”

And he stuck by his words.

“Well, I think Kakashi-sensei made the right choice,” He could just imagine Lee doing the signature ‘Maito pose’ that Gai had taught him. It was cringy and horrible and he loved that Gai had passed it down to his student so that future generations would have to suffer seeing it. “You’re the most organized person in our school. Plus you’re easily the friendliest.”

Kakashi snorted.

“What was that, Sensei?”

“Nothing,” turning his head, he smiled at the pair innocently. “I was just clearing my throat. Lots of dust in this closet you know.”

There was no doubt in his mind that Sakura didn’t believe him for a second, but he considered it a small victory when she didn’t press him for a better explanation.

“Well, I hope that I’m able to contribute something to the group tonight,” Lee continued as if Kakashi hadn’t interrupted him. “I’ve never really been part of a group that doesn’t have to do with Taijutsu or Soccer.”

“You’ll be an amazing addition,” Sakura smiled. “Well we wait for everyone else why don’t you have some pizza or a drink? You’re always working so hard so I’m sure you’re hungry.”

Finally wrestling a chair free, Kakashi turned just in time to see Sakura leading Lee towards the table she had set out with snacks.

“I thought you said we didn’t have enough for any extra’s.” he teased, a playful smirk on his face until Sakura smiled back at him with such innocence that he knew only the worst of thoughts could be running through her mind at that moment.

` “You were saying you needed to start a diet anyway, right Sensei?” A diet? What a rude little shit. “I’m sure you’ll be fine if Lee-Kun eats your share of Pizza.”

Great. Now he had to rely on Gai having made something actually edible for dinner after he had told him he would eat Pizza during the club’s get-together. Hopefully, he hadn’t made his signature ‘curry of life’ or Kakashi was going to bed hungry.

“You really are the best, Sakura-Chan,” Lee complimented her again as he picked out his Pizza slices. “Thank you.”

“You know, you should try out a new outfit one of these days, Lee-Kun. I mean, if you want to of course.” Kakashi wished he could disappear when he saw Sakura poke Lee in the side and giggle. This was not the Haruno Sakura he was used to. The girl who always teased him over his relationship with Gai, or had to speak her mind about whatever was happening around her. This Sakura was...timid. It was concerning.

“A new outfit?” Lee blinked, clearly confused by her comment. “But why would I…”

“The green tracksuit is cute, don’t get me wrong,” She corrected herself quickly. “I just think, you know, you’re always wearing the same thing. Wouldn’t it be cool if you tried on a new outfit?”

“A new outfit…” Looking down at his green tracksuit, Lee smiled slowly. “I guess i could try. Then I could just wear this when I’m training in the morning.”

Well, at least Sakura was improving Lee’s sense of fashion.

“I think I have some clothes at home that I haven’t gotten rid of yet. If you want you could come over and try them on. See if there’s anything you want.”

Kakashi felt like he was witnessing the worst attempt at flirting ever. Was this how kids asked each other out these days? Was there really no romance left in the world?

“You do have the best fashion sense,” Lee whispered, a smile slowly appearing on his face. “I think I’d like to take you up on that offer, Sakura-Chan.”

Kakashi was desperate to scream. To demand an explanation for how that worked.

He held his tongue though.

Seeing Sakura smiling proudly and Lee already starting to discuss the type of clothes he liked was well worth having to witness whatever messed up version of flirting it was that the two of them were doing.

“Hey!” Glancing towards the door, he sighed when he saw Tenten walking into the room, followed closely behind by Naruto, Kiba, Hinata, and Choji. Finally, his suffering could end. “Sakura, Lee! I hope the old man hasn’t been bothering you too much.”

Right, never mind. Tenten was here.

The bullying had only just begun.

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Snowdrifts ch.3 (spicyhoney)

Summary: Edge is still adjusting to the new status quo

Tags: Spicyhoney, Violence, Rescued Child, Medical Experimentation, Babybones

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

It wasn’t particularly late, especially for a movie night, but Edge was already in bed, lying on the same mattress on the floor that he’d slept in the night before. In the corner of the room was a dresser drawer lovingly lined with blankets, but otherwise empty. Its intended occupant was on the mattress where she was not supposed to be, carefully tucked between the wall and Edge.

Snow was lying on her back in a sprawl, her little hands lying next to her skull and fingers curled into loose fists. Her knees were drawn up, the socks sewn onto her pajama bottoms concealing and protecting her tiny feet. Her sockets were closed, her mouth working occasionally, dreaming of tomorrow’s bottle. Once, she startled, all her limbs going stretched and stiff. She settled back with a sigh when Edge reached over to lay a hand on her ribcage. Sleeping soundly, which was exactly what Edge was supposed to be doing.

Before he and Stretch took Snow upstairs to bed, they and their brothers came to a tentative agreement. For him and Stretch, if the child woke at night then only one of them would get up at a time to give the other a chance to sleep. Red would take her for a few hours in the morning, at least until he found work, and Blue would watch her in the afternoon for an hour or two after his work and training. Out of all of them, Blue had the most rigid schedule and despite his disappointment, he reluctantly agreed it was for the best.

Right now was supposed to be Edge’s chance to sleep, the next feeding would go to Stretch. Despite his exhaustion, his body didn’t seem to have gotten the message. It was far more accustomed to staying up until the wee hours of the morning, then snatching a few hours of sleep before heading out to check the trapline around Snowdin. The best he could do was resist the urge to shift restlessly to keep from waking Stretch.

At least his bed companion wasn’t having any issues, not that it was particularly surprising. Stretch had never met a nap he didn’t like, and he was out cold, sprawled out on the mattress behind Edge in a pose that was amusingly similar to Snow’s.

It was strange. He’d never really slept with Stretch simply to sleep. Always before it had been preluded by some kind of sex act and even if he felt up to indulging, which he decidedly did not, he wasn’t about to allow any shenanigans in the same bed as a sleeping child.

Stretch never said a word when Edge laid the baby on the side of the bed where she’d ended up sleeping the night before. He’d only shook his head and said, “gonna let me stay on the mattress this time? i’m still a little floored from last night’s sleeping arrangement.”

Nothing else, not even a little sly flirting. He’d crawled into the bed next to Edge, slung an arm around him, and quickly fallen asleep. Edge wasn’t sure what to think about that. That afternoon, he’d said that this wasn’t about debts or fucking, but he supposed he’d still been expecting…he wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting—

(maybe let me love you, too? just a little?)

--but now was not the time to figure it out. He closed his sockets and firmly told himself that he needed to sleep. Right now.

He lay there, practically feeling the minutes ticking by and with a quiet sigh, he opened his sockets again irritably. The baby hadn’t stirred, utterly unmoved by his inner turmoil. One should admire the ability to ignore unnecessary distractions, certainly his brother would, and behind his wry jealousy came the sudden, ridiculous urge to wake her.

Not out of petty spite, never, it was his simple desire to see her awake, smiling and happy as she raised her hands to him so that he could hold her as long as he liked, something he had yet to manage.

That evening, she’d woken halfway through the movie, some ridiculous heist flick that Edge mostly ignored in favor of watching Snow breathing, a far more interesting sight in his opinion. Until she woke, that was, and then she spent her time being passed from lap to lap, only returning to him when the Tale brothers left for home and by then she’d been yawning again, ready for a hopefully longer sleep that night.

Only Sans hadn’t held her. Edge saw his expression when Papyrus offered their home if they ever wanted another universe to try. It wasn’t obvious, only a twitch of his socket, a slight tightening of his jaw. Edge didn’t ask, he wasn’t about to press Snow on anyone. He’d declined Papyrus’s offer with the excuse that he didn’t want to try bringing her through the machine portal again anytime soon, and Papyrus accepted that readily despite his obvious disappointment.

Snow had drowsed off before the door even closed behind them and Edge couldn’t help being disappointed that he’d spent so little time with her. He’d have plenty of opportunity to see her awake, he reminded himself. Tomorrow the Swap brothers would be returning to their duties and his brother would be going out to search for his version of gainful employment. He’d be spending plenty of time alone with her and the idea was both thrilling and intimidating. For all that he wanted to care for her, it would be their first time together without Red or Stretch lingering close by. What would he do if something went wrong? If she were hurt or she began to cry and refused to be soothed, what if she choked or—

“you’re supposed to be sleeping.”

Edge did not flinch, but it was a close thing. He hadn’t even noticed Stretch waking. “I’m resting.”

“uh huh.” Stretch rolled over and snugged up behind Edge, dragging the blankets closer around them both. Despite the bareness of their bones, his embrace was more soothing than sexual, his thumb gently rubbing Edge’s spine between his shoulders where stress gathered. “s’ok edgelord, her new car smell will wear off eventually.”

“She doesn’t smell like a car,” Edge said, offended. She smelled like a combination of milky-sweet and clean lavender soap, as a child should.

“i didn’t…nevermind,” Stretch chuckled and pressed a light kiss against the back of Edge’s skull. "scared she's gonna disappear if you stop looking at her?"

"Yes."

It was the wrong thing to say. Stretch was teasing, the question an easy, shallow one. His answer should have been the same, not pulled from the deepest quagmire of his soul.

Behind him, Stretch went briefly still, then his arm around Edge tightened almost to the point of pain. His own version of making sure no one disappeared, perhaps, that if he held on tightly enough Edge would stay. Unnecessary, Edge had no intention of going any further than the kitchen for a warm bottle. He said nothing, only leaned back into that embrace, guiltily indulging in its warmth as he kept his gaze on the peacefully sleeping baby who knew nothing of the upheaval she’d caused.

"she's not going anywhere," Stretch said. There was an unexpected fierceness in his words, whispered low against the side of Edge’s skull, his breath gusting down lightly over Edge’s cracked socket. "you and me? we aren't letting her go, not for anything, you get me?"

Edge closed his sockets. Tried not to let the sudden surge of emotion deep in his chest work its way loose to rattle away in any of the rest of his bones. He didn’t want to wake the baby. "Yes."

"do you?" Stretch persisted, "i'm being really real here, i won't let anything happen to her, okay? i promise you."

The intensity of that promise settled a lingering uneasiness in his soul, one that had stirred to new life at Sans’s question about Underfell; Stretch was not one to break a promise and despite his lazy nature, Edge trusted him to keep his word. It wasn’t only him and Red who would stand for her, Stretch would keep her safe at any cost. That was something Edge could believe in.

“Thank you,” Edge said quietly.

“heh, told you before, you don’t have to thank me for this. you still don’t.”

Edge said nothing. Stretch was correct, but not in the way he thought. There was no gratitude that would be enough for what he’d offered, no polite social contract could compensate for what was priceless. His was a debt that would never be paid and yet, somehow, that bothered him less than it would have only a day ago.

Edge sighed and let himself relax back into Stretch’s arms, letting the dual sound of those breathing around him lull him to sleep.

tbc

[lov3nerdstuff]

Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 7.6}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 1.4k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

______________________________

A glimpse into the fifth week of travels (or the fourth week of July):

"This place is incredible!" Robin marveled at the high columns and the even higher ceiling that spanned out so far into the distance that it was too dark to see. She was impressed beyond measure, taken aback by the sheer size and grandeur even though she couldn't see all of the hall they had just entered. And a hall it really seemed to be, like the open space of a cathedral, but ancient, underground, and filled to a third at least with deep black water. The only dry space posed the stairs at the edge of the grand room, which were running along the wall from the high entrance level down to the deep blackness. That was where they were currently descending to.

"Fascinating indeed." Snape replied in equal curiosity about the unique place, as he followed Robin down the narrow staircase, all the way down to where it led into the water. "Do you think it has always been flooded like this?"

"I honestly have no idea. Neither do I know how a ten foot fish is supposed to live down here, nor how it's gotten to this place."

"Well, what do you know about this place then?"

"Not much, admittedly. I only read about its existence in a book that's older than I even care to admit, as well as some specifics about the living conditions in places like this in the country."

"Places like this? I sincerely doubt there are other places like this anywhere in the world at all."

"Well… not exactly like this, of course. But water and darkness and no movement nor exchange of streams… that's probably close enough." Robin replied softly, but even in their quiet tones, their voices echoed off the high stone ceiling and distant walls in an eerie manner. In addition to the lumos' bright but cold toned greenish light, the entire place had an otherworldly feel to it in general. Like it wanted to swallow them with its darkness, and their little bubble of light served as their only protection.

"So tell me, why exactly didn't you want to tell me what exactly today's method is going to look like? Acquiring a giant fish's scale surely isn't as easy as simply 'going fishing'." Snape inquired as they reached the edge of the water, and he observed with a curious frown how Robin simply dropped her backpack on a higher step in the security of the dry.

"You wouldn't have believed me if I had told you, so I'll just have to show you." Robin replied in amusement, smirking to herself for making things a mystery for once. This was one of her newest theories, she had only come up with it in the first week of summer while bored at her parents' house. In that sense, it was as unrefined as it would get. And yet here they were, seeing as finding the right place at least had proven to be a success. Hopefully the next step would, too. "And I haven't really tried this before either, so consider it a Plan A, for now."

"You never cease to build suspense…" He sighed in return, and his frown only grew when Robin took off her boots and socks and placed them next to her bag. "...and you never cease to confuse me either; what exactly are you doing? Certainly not going for a swim in that blackness, which is inhabited by who knows which horrors, are you?"

"I don't have a deathwish, no." Robin laughed in return, and gave him one of her most reassuring smiles. "I just want to try out something. If it doesn't work, we can go over to Plan B, alright?"

"Fine."

"Would you, uh…" Now there was the part where Robin could technically do it alone, but honestly didn't want to. Her heart was beating faster than it should anyhow, and asking for help, even if for this kind of help, certainly wouldn't change that for the better. "Would you give me your hand? Please?"

After two seconds of surprise or confusion, or both perhaps, Snape did as she had asked without a comment and Robin held onto him tightly as she took a deep breath. Really, holding his hand never ceased to overwhelm her senses with rushes of energy and tingles. But they were here to work, and she had asked to hold his hand for entirely professional reasons. Well, almost entirely… She tried to ignore it either way and went on with the plan. For a short moment she focused on the spell she had come up with those few weeks ago, took another deep breath, and then took one large step forward into the water. Or rather, onto the water.

An instantaneous relief overcame her as she saw that it actually had worked, she was standing on top of the water's surface just as she had planned. A few reluctant steps around the staircase on top of the deep water confirmed that her spell was working perfectly fine, and yet she still stayed close enough to still hold onto Snape's hand. Bloody hell, she really could walk on water. Amazing! With the biggest smile on her face, she looked up from her rolled up jeans and naked feet to Snape in front of her, who only seemed beyond surprised at what he saw.

"Impressed?" Robin couldn't help asking with a smirk, and she positively noted how it was him now who held onto her hand tightly. Perhaps he was afraid she would go under and vanish after all…

"How?" Was all he asked after a few seconds of silence.

"Well, you see, when I thought of this spell I had some inspiration from my parents' guests from the US… Very religious people, they keep talking about God and Jesus all day, and I'm sure you can see the connection to the spell there. And from that point forth, it really was only a day's worth of research." She shrugged with the very same smile as before. "The spell freezes the surface of the water in time. Or to start explaining at the beginning, I had to think of skipping tones over the water. They touch the surface for a very brief time only, and therefore they don't go under. To recreate that effect I would either have to be really really fast…"

"Or to slow the water down." He added with a sincerely impressed expression that made no secret of his utmost fascination, and perhaps even a little admiration as well. "How are you even able to mess with time? I haven't got the slightest idea about it, and neither should you."

"I researched time turners. Someone had to make them at some point, which means that there had to be spells to mess with time. Admittedly, reducing the effect to one specific thing, and especially something as vague as the surface of the water, was a bit more complicated, but still nothing I couldn't do in a day."

"Why am I even surprised by anything you do at this point…" He sighed, and then reluctantly let go of Robin's hand when she let go in return. She stayed standing on the water, which was a good sign, and even took a step further into the room, over the mirroring blackness below. Still, the concerned frown never left his face even as she turned back around to him. He opened and closed his mouth to speak a few times, before at last words came out along with it. "Be careful, yes?"

"Of course. But if it suddenly stops working for some reason, and I go under and drown, you'll get me out, right?" Robin asked while taking a few more careful steps over the water. Really, these questions were merely a method of reassuring herself; she knew the answer, but she still needed to hear it. "Because I really don't care for a run-in with any of the beasts living down there. If I mess up, you'll have my back as always… right?"

"Of course I will. As always."

"Good… Thank you."

"And what do you plan on doing now?"

Robin looked up at him once more, smirking already at the thought. "Now, I'm going to steal a giant fish's shiny scale."

______________________________

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[a-n-conrad]

Starcrossed (Dabi x Reader)

[Summary: Being a hero makes dating a little hard. Most heroes either don’t do committed relationships or end up in pretty forced, unhealthy ones. You figured you’d be alone until you either died or retired until you fell in love with a villain.

Warnings: Swearing, alcohol mention, injuries, blood, knives, Endeavor, not canon]

It was a pretty boring day when you met him, to be honest. A regular patrol. You were on your own since your agency was still pretty small and you only had two sidekicks, who you didn’t want to be alone on the streets. You were a bit protective of them. You were a relatively young hero, but you knew that you could hold your own. You trusted them, but they were still just sidekicks. They were your responsibility, and you took that pretty seriously.

Patrols were usually the most boring part of your job. Meet a few civilians. Take a few pictures. Smile and nod while they talked about other heroes. You weren’t very well known, so you didn’t exactly have a very big fanbase of your own. It was getting a little old having to explain that, no, you weren’t friends with All Might. That even the top heroes that you did know weren’t really your friends, and that you just worked together. That, no, you couldn’t say hi to Hawks for them. And no, you weren’t going to give Midnight their number. 

You were on your way back to your office and it was starting to get dark. You were always a little more cautious when it started to get dark. Your quirk was shadow-based so it’s a little harder to use at night when there aren’t really that many shadows. It was during one of your overly cautious glances into the alleys that you noticed the bright blue eyes watching you. They looked like Endeavor’s, but you knew that there was someone a little more dangerous with those eyes to keep watch for. And the shining of the staples signaled that you were right in your second guess. The League of Villains was in your section of the city. Dabi was in your section of the city. Shit.

He broke the eye contact that you had with him to turn on his heel, heading into the alley that he had been lingering in. It took you a second before you thought to follow. You jump into a shadow, hoping to follow a little more stealthily, using your quirk. Manipulating the shadows to cover you so that you wouldn’t be seen. 

“You know that I know you’re following me, right?” He sighed as you reached a secluded section of the alley, “It’s cute that you’re trying though.”

“What are you here for?” You asked, stepping out of the shadows.

“Not ‘work’ if that’s what you’re worried about, sweetheart,” His voice was almost a little amused, despite the fact that he seemed so bored with everything. Something about his voice made you pretty sure that if you were in a different situation, you’d swoon a bit, “Look, Doll, I’m not in the mood to fight you, so maybe we can just both go on our way. I won’t cause you any trouble. Tonight, at least.”

“And why would I let you go? Do you realize exactly how much of a wanted man you are?” Why hadn’t you attacked him yet? Tried to restrain him in any way? Were you just waiting for him to get the drop on you?

“Aren’t you bored?”

“Bored?” What the hell kind of game was he playing?

“All the posing and smiling and playing nice while everyone ignores you for people like Endeavor?” His voice held a special brand of venom for the flame hero, “It’s gotta get exhausting. How do you play nice all the time? Don’t you just want to do something bad?”

“I’m working my way up,” Why were you indulging him? You didn’t have to answer his questions.

“Working your way up? I’ve seen you on the news. You genuinely help people. I’ve seen you on those debates trying to advocate for counseling for villains,” He rolled his eyes, “They’ll never actually let you rise in the rankings.”

You knew that. You’ve gotten enough “subtle” threats from the commission to figure that out. But why did he care? “What’s it to you anyway?”

“You know, this may sound weird,” He finally looked you in the eyes, that shade of blue looked so good on him, “I kinda like you.”

- - - - -

You let him go that night. And you had been seeing him more and more since then. And every time, as long as he promised not to cause any trouble in your area of town, you’d let him go. You had started to actually look forward to your talks. And you had started to worry when you went too long without seeing him.

Eventually, he had started coming to your apartment. It was safer than having discussions out in the open. You’d just come home from a night of patrols and find him half-asleep on the couch of your apartment.

One night you came home a little later than usual. One of the other agencies across town had insisted on a meeting since they had been having a bit of trouble with a small gang of new villains that they had a feeling was crashing in your turf. When you walked in the door you were greeted by the usual shine of the hallway light reflecting off of his staples, but you were missing his blue eyes. Usually, by then you’d already hear some sort of snarky greeting, but everything was quiet.

You flipped in the light to see him, lying on the couch, slumped over with his usual white shirt slowly turning more and more red.

“For fuck’s sake, Dabi,” you say, rushing over to crunch next to where he was sitting, “What the hell happened.”

He groaned and opened his eyes, smirking as he looked at you, “You’re pretty cute when you’re worried.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“A mission went bad,” He said, trying to sit up, only for you to push him back down, “Boss told us to lay low for a bit and I couldn’t think of anywhere else to go.”

You sighed and left to grab the first-aid kit. You knew there was no way he could go to the hospital, but you also weren’t about to let him bleed out on your couch. No matter how much of an idiot he could be sometimes, “Take your shirt off.”

“That’s moving a little fast there, dollface.”

“Shut the hell up and let me make sure you don’t die,” You quipped back, rolling his eyes, “Do you need some booze or can you handle the pain?”

“I’m a big kid, doll,” He groaned, throwing the torn shirt on the floor and the jacket on the couch next to him.

He laid back as you brought all the equipment over. He had a pretty decent gash across his chest. It was deep, but not too deep for you to deal with. It’d leave a scar. But considering the amount scars he already had painted across his body, you figured he wouldn’t mind all that much.

“This might burn a little,” you say, before pouring a little bit of hydrogen peroxide on the cut. He didn’t even flinch. You supposed he was used to pain enough that this was nothing. It honestly made you sad to think about all of the pain he must have been through in his life.

You pulled out one of your sanitized needles that you kept in the kit and a bit of surgical thread that you had convinced a doctor friend of yours to give you for free. You were stitching yourself up a lot, and you weren’t exactly proud of having to buy medical supplies that often. At least the practice was coming in handy. 

It took you about an hour to sew him all up, and another few minutes to get him bandaged up. At least he was cooperative. It was actually a lot neater than you expected. Hopefully, it would heal alright.

“You’re staying here for the next week at least,” You command. You’d have to make sure that no one came over and that all of your blinds were closed the entire time, but you were sure you could pull it off. You had to make sure that his stitches didn’t break and that the cut didn’t get infected.

“Stay where, darling, the couch? It’s not exactly comfortable,” He chuckled, obviously trying to lighten the mood. You were starting to be able to read him a bit better. It always made him uncomfortable when you cared about him. He wasn’t used to anyone trying to protect him, so he didn’t know how to handle it. You just had to insist. 

“No, idiot. You take the bed. I’m not even home often enough to need it, I’ll take the couch.”

“Oh, come on, doll. I may be a villain, but I’m not stealing your bed after you sew me up. I don’t need charity.”

“Fine, then we’ll share, you big baby.”

You could see him think about. You wondered if he’d refuse, “Alright, one condition, though,” He said, the usual joking tone in his voice, “Kiss me.”

You know he didn’t actually expect it. He was teasing you, as he often did. But you did. You kissed him. You didn’t think you would, but you did. His lips were rough, and the staples that touched the sides of your mouths were surprisingly cold. You’d think that his body heat would warm them up, but apparently not. It was new, but you wouldn’t say it was bad. It definitely wasn’t bad.

He froze at first, not expecting you to actually kiss him. You took it to mean that he didn’t actually want you to kiss him, and started to pull away. However, before you could actually pull away too far from the kiss, you felt a hand on the back of your head, tangling in your hair and pushing you back into the kiss. It was rough, but somehow also sweet. He tasted a bit like ash and cigarettes and whiskey and you wondered if he always tasted like that. And you wondered why you cared what he always tasted like. 

Eventually, you had to pull back for air. He looked at you with his fiery blue eyes, a little glazed over, and pupils blown out, and you felt your heart skip a beat. He was so pretty. His eyes and his hair. Even the map of scars painting rivers and caverns across the landscape of his body. Fuck. You were hopeless. You had to be the worst hero in the world to fall in love with a villain. But you wouldn’t change it.

“I think I definitely have to take you up on that offer to share a bed now, honey,” He winked at you, and you led him to your room.

- - - - -

You and Dabi had been together in secret for months when you got the call from Endeavor. It was usual for a high ranking hero to talk to the lower running heroes if they were going to be doing an operation in their district. Especially if their quirk could be helpful. And your quirk was plenty helpful in fights. 

He wanted you to help him with stopping a villain attack on a local hero agency. Apparently, one of the other agencies in town had intercepted some of the League of Villains’ goons and had confiscated some sort of new weapon that they had been carrying. Apparently the League wanted it back. And apparently they were sending some people to get it that night. And you’d have to be an idiot to throw away the career-boosting move of helping the now number one hero help take down some of Japan’s Most Wanted. You just hoped you wouldn’t have to face Dabi.

Of course, your hopes were quickly dashed when your eyes met the fiery blue ones that you had gotten so well acquainted with. You hoped he understood why you were on opposing sides, but you didn’t get a chance to even try to read him before Endeavor throw a fireblast directly at him. You froze for just a moment. Just long even to end up with a knife in your side, thanks to the little serial killer that they had adopted, named Himiko Toga.

“Shit,” You didn’t want to fight her, either. She was still a kid. She was in her high school uniform. Obviously she needed help, and you didn’t understand how anyone could possibly fight her full force without guilt. But you needed to. 

She lunged at you, a grin on her face and a new knife in her hand. You quickly dodged and used the shadows to push her back. It was getting pretty dark, so your quirk was kind of weak at the moment. 

It was a struggle. She was faster than you, especially since you already had a knife wedged between your ribs. You were managing, though. At least, well enough. You were starting to get a bit dizzy, but you had managed to keep her from getting any more hits in. 

About ten minutes into the fight things started heating up. Literally. Dabi and Endeavor had been facing off against each other. You had a feeling there was some sort of history there, but you had never really asked Dabi. You had a feeling he couldn’t really tell you without revealing a ton of his past. And he was pretty private about that. 

Either way, the two of them were facing off without much thought about anyone else. Before you knew it, flames had engulfed most of the building that you were fighting in. The mix of blue and orange flames showed that neither one of them was holding back. But it was getting hard for the rest of you to continue fighting. The flames were starting to lap at your legs and your uniform was starting to get a little singed. 

Just before Toga could lunge at you again, somehow ignoring all of the fire, a warp gate appeared. It was a signature of Kurogiri, meaning it was time for the League to leave. Either they got what they wanted, or they were running out of time. You couldn’t help but hope Dabi would just leave.

“Oh,” Toga sounded a little disappointed, “It looks like it’s time to go. And I was actually having some fun.”

She took off and you didn’t even try to stop her. Your legs were starting to give out. You had lost a lot of blood. You were pretty sure you couldn’t even chase her if you tried. You just watched as the Vanguard Action Squad of the League of Villains started to flee. And Dabi didn’t.

You watched as he and Endeavor continue to face off while his friends tried to pull him away. They continued to throw flames at each other for a good two minutes until you noticed something off with Endeavor. He was charging up for a “Hellfire Storm”, which he didn’t use all that often. He was going to do anything to capture Dabi. Even if it meant killing him.

Before you could even think about it, you activated your quirk and jumped into the shadow right in front of Dabi. Just as Endeavor fired off his attack, you used your quirk to create a bubble around you and Dabi. You were straining your quirk, that was for sure. And you had no clue how long you’d be able to hold out, but hopefully longer than Endeavor.

Your nose started bleeding and the shield you created started falling apart. There were cracks and holes where the flames were starting to peak through, but you weren’t about to give up. Dabi was frozen behind you as this all went down. You just hoped he’d be able to get out once you dropped the shield.

Eventually, Endeavor let up. It felt like hours, but you were sure it wasn’t nearly that long. Your brain was pretty fuzzy and your vision was starting to go black. As you dropped the bubble, your legs finally gave out. The last thing you registered before the world went black was a pair of arms wrapping around you.

- - - - -

You woke up what you were pretty sure was a few days later. Your limbs were sore and your head was still fuzzy. You were so goddamn thirsty. And you weren’t in your apartment. Where were you exactly?

“Thank god, you finally woke up,” You heard next to you. It was a familiar voice, though it held a whole lot more relief than you were used to, “I thought you died on me.”

“This was revenge for you bleeding all over my couch,” you rasped, “Can you get me some water or something?”

“Already ahead of you,” He handed you a glass of water. You took a sip, realizing just how thirsty you were. Your throat was so sore. How long had you been out?

“Alright, update me,” You said once you set the glass down, “I have a feeling there’s a lot I need to know.”

“You mean like how you’re now a wanted villain? Or how I got Shiggy to let you stay as long as you promise not to turn any of us in.”

Wanted villain, huh? It was kind of funny. You had a feeling you got more news coverage from just that than you ever had as a hero. To be honest, you feel like you might do more good as a villain too.

“Welcome to the League, (Y/n),” He said, “If you’ll join, that is.”

[Might do a part two if requested?]

[missdawnandherdusk]

Something Old

Draco X Gryffindor!Reader

Part One    Part Two    Part Three    Part Four    

Part Five    Part Six    Part Seven    Part Eight

Part Nine

Summary: Now that winter break was upon you, you finally had time to look into what your mother told you about as well as confront the other parent in the situation, the one you dread to think about and the one Draco had to live with.

A/N: Hello my darling loves! We’re finally getting somewhere with plot! And lore! And Latin! ((Seriously, something is lost when you know Latin and can translate the spells on the top of your head... it’s less... magical. But funny because the spells mean exactly what they’re doing and I don’t know if that a cheap lazy move or brilliant.)) Let me know what you guys think! Also I’m toying with the idea of uploading this to AO3... would you guys want that? Love you guys, stay safe. 

Tags: @un-limiteddd @geekysimmerthings @coffee-addicti @ilikestuffproductions @msmcsmutt @ravn-87 @artemismohr18 @whygz @crazywritingbug @dolphincommander @bisexualbumblebeesstuff @fuzzy-panda @bitemebro522 @zombiesnips-blog @jillanaholland @shookyungsoo @savingdraco @welcometomyworldwithoutrules @akari180 @slytherin-emerald @chaotic-good-gemini @memalfoy-spidey @theres-a-dog-outside-omg​ @queenfeatherwings​ @fanficflaneuse​ @go-whovian-universe​ @spicyshenanigans @darling-im-not-okay-i-promise​ @dietkiwi​ @katsukink​ @takemetothekingdom​ @strangerr-things​ @tmnt-queen​ @mccloudchloe​

Snape eyed me as I smiled through my exam, on cloud none the entire way. I had gotten through my History of Magic exam no problem and now Snape wanted us to recreate our Bellum Amoris antidotes. Weeks of worrying and I was finished with the second fastest time.

Draco beat me by a few minutes—he was allowed to the ingredients first—and we walked out of the exam hand in hand, not caring much about anyone who decided to gawk at us.

I was in too good of a mood. The term was done for the winter, I had finished all of my exams, and I wouldn’t be alone for the holidays when I remained at Hogwarts this year as I had the years before.

“I told you, you had nothing to worry about,” Draco nudged my shoulder. “Except beating my time of course.” A grin stretched across his face. “Which you couldn’t of course,”

I rolled my eyes and let out a laugh.

“I think I’ll be okay missing one point because I wasn’t as fast as you,” I drawled.

“Oh, I’m sure you’re dreading the fact,” He teased back as we made our way to the Great Hall. “Have you heard anything from your mother?” His voice lowered.

“Not yet, thought I suppose she’s waiting to hear from me,” I mumbled. 

“You didn’t answer her!?” Draco grew agitated.

“I did,” I reaffirmed, giving him a look. “But I said that I would talk about it later when we had time to... figure things out? I didn’t know what to say...”

“We’re gonna figure this out,” He reassured as we entered the Great Hall that was really magical with the Christmas decorations and warmth from the people within.

“Y/n! Draco!”

We both tensed until we saw Hermione waving at us along with the four Weasleys and Harry. No one was glaring at us—Draco—so I took that as a good sign as we sat down for dinner.

It was easy to sink into the familiarity and safety of the school, but with the Yule Ball coming, worry nagged at my mind. It was a big deal and an even bigger deal to pure-bloods. Another occasion to show off and “be better” than everyone else. My mother wouldn’t care, and I knew that... but Draco’s parents—father—had to have something to say about it and it worried me.

“Have you heard from your father?” I asked in a soft voice during dinner when the others were concerned with the upcoming task for the tournament.

His expression darkened as he glared at his plate.

So, yes then.

“Dray,” I whispered softly, rubbing his arm softly. “What happened?”

“Not here,” He said curtly, his eyes dancing around the merry scene around us.

I nodded and we both put on masks of calm and ease through dinner. His hand held mine throughout and we both lost our appetites. Maybe I should have written my mother a bit more than the vague note I gave. She would know what to do.

____________________________

Draco had gotten the letter last night, before he sent you the invitation to dinner. It what prompted him to send it in the first place. He knew that you could take away the depressing cloud that hovered whenever his father spoke to him.

And you did, almost easily. When he was with you, it was easy to focus on your smile, the way your hair fell into and out of place constantly, the way you almost danced down the hallways because you always gave off the demeanor of not having a care or fear in the world. It rubbed off on him. He’d rather be frustrated with the simple secrets that you kept than frustrated with the conflict about family and legacies.

And you were exactly what he needed last night. Your warmth, and comfort, the games you played and gentle touched you gave and small sounds that were his now to hold. But there were

still dark moments of the night that he couldn’t escape when his father’s words weighed him down.

Draco would never understand how you managed to pick up on the fact that his father had sent him something. Maybe he hadn’t given it away and you were just worrying again.

After dinner the two of you split up for some time, to drop off books and changed from school uniforms and in your case hopefully to find something warmer to wear.

Draco almost didn’t want to take you up to the Astronomy Tower because it was so frigid outside. He racked his brain for anywhere else to go in the school that offered solidarity and warmth. He could sneak you into the Slytherin dorms... but it might pose a danger to you as his house wasn’t as welcoming as yours had been to his relationship with you. The library seemed to be the best place at the moment to finally start looking into what was going on.

He met you outside you Common Room, as always and the two of you walk together. he had taken your books from you the moment you stepped out and though you gave him a curt you, you said nothing.

“I was thinking maybe we go to the library,” He offered. “It’s too cold for you in the Tower.” You hummed in agreement, silent in your thoughts again.

“It’ll probably be empty because of the end of term,” You mused, nodding as if you had settled on the idea.

“You’re quiet again,” He noted, the notion bothering him more than he thought.

“Thinking,”

“Now there’s an idea.” He teased as the two of you sat in a back table in the vacant library. 

__________________________

It wasn’t the same as being alone with him in the Astronomy Tower, but it was much warmer being surrounded by lit fires and a million books.

“Where do you want to start?” The question slipped through as I pulled out parchment and quill to take notes.

I knew the last thing he wanted to talk about was his father, but that’s what worried me the most. It was all for naught if his father could get between us and make whatever this had become into a tragedy. As if he knew this, he slid a folded parchment over to me, not meeting my eyes.

Taking it, I took a breath in and opened it: 

~

Draco,

I have heard many rumors about you, and I pray that none of them are true. You have been raised better than to fraternize a Lupine let alone allow her to kiss you. It is atrocious behavior and it will stop immediately.

They are a disgrace to pure bloods everywhere and are almost worse than the Weasleys. I have raised you with higher standards than this. I am appalled to even hear that these things might be going on.

I do not want you to go near her. I want to hear nothing of you being with her or the people she considers friends. Do not believe her lies or the things that she tells you. It is what the Lupines do. They lie and bend the truth into something that is horrendous. It is what they have always done, and you know this.

She is nothing more than a she-demon come to ruin everything that I have built for you and to steal everything that I have worked all my life to give you.

You are a Malfoy. Do not forget that.

I am beyond disappointed to hear this. Correct what has been done immediately. 

Your Father,

Lucius Malfoy

~

I frowned at the letter as I read it a few more times, trying to figure out what I wanted to address first. At the moment, I just wanted to send this to my mother and see what she would do knowing the fire in her was stronger than mine. But I didn’t do any of that.

Instead, I placed the letter down and looked up to wary blue eyes. “Well,” I whispered. “What are you going to do?”

“What do you mean what am I going to do?” He snapped; a soft look from me and he took a deep breath, calming.

“If... I know that I’ve dragged you into this. And that you didn’t have much of a choice. So, if you want to... I...” My gaze fell to my lap as I tried to find the right words to tell him... to let him go.

“Why would you think—”

“Because I don’t want you to get talked down to like this by someone who’s supposed to love you!” I threw the letter on the table. “I’m... I’m not worth ruining... You shouldn’t be treated like an errant child because you’re talking to me,”

“I’m always treated like an errant child Y/n,” He scoffed. “Now at least I have a good reason.” 

“What?” I looked up, the frown returning to my face.

“Nothing I ever did for my father has been good enough. I think landing in Slytherin was the last time he was actually proud of something that I did.” Draco picked up the letter and rolled his eyes, tearing it in half.

“What are you doing?” I demanded.

“What I should have done when I got this letter,” He muttered, tossing it into the nearest fireplace.

I marveled at him, a small smile playing at my lips. I had hoped he would choose me, but now that he had, something heavy was lifted from my shoulders. Though I still wasn’t quite taken with how his father talked to him, but I knew it wasn’t my place to go against Lucius no matter how much of a...

Never mind.

“Now, to the books?” He sat back down, picking up the book I had taken from him not too long ago and he leafed through the pages.

I smiled and wrapped my arms around him, hugging him tightly for a moment and whispering a small thanks before we settled in to read. Taking another book—The Nature of a Soul— from the stack, we got to work. My eyes scanned the table of contents and then the pages.

...Every person has a soul created of the either stars, or earth. Those who have earthen souls are born without magic, but those with Souls of The Stars will grow to be wizards. It is not genetics that decides but the universe itself...

I scribbled down notes as I read, leafing through pages.

...Souls born of the same matter bond to another. It is rare for a Soul of The Stars to bond, but when it does happen it is the work of the universe and no man or magic can break it. This was known as the Consentire Animi Pace. Seers of our kind have often prophesied about Great Darkness that would take hold before these Animi came to unite what was unraveled by generations past. Millenia has passed since this foretelling and it is doubted to exist...

I nudged Draco and showed him the page, watching the way his eyebrows furrowed slightly and he gnawed on his lip when he read something due to concentration. It made me smile.

“Great Darkness?” He muttered softly.

“You know as well as I do who it could be,” My voice was soft and hesitant.

I knew that Draco’s father had fought alongside Voldemort in the first war and I wondered what happened if it came down to it, what would Draco choose? With what I knew from Harry’s

adventures and life story, the threat of Voldemort loomed now more than ever. Was that the Great Darkness that the text referred to?

“This talks about a prophecy,” He murmured, pulling the book that he was reading. “That might be what this is, I can only make out some of it...”

He showed me the carpet page filled with intricate designs and detailed lettering. Some of the page was burned away, leaving half in its wake. I ran my hand softly over the artwork before reading the script:

Nox defluet et malum surget. 

Dos Animī consentiens

Eō die, nox non vincet

Cum illī ...

I stared at the text, grabbing my parchment and slowly translating.

“What do you know?” I asked softly. “What could you translate?”

“Nox is night, malum, evil...” His brow furrowed again.

“Night... falls—will fall and evil will rise. Two souls... joining?” I wrote down what I could. “On that day, night will not conquer, because these souls...”

“You can read this?” He was baffled.

I shrugged. “Just some Latin. Mother taught it to me. That’s why spells are so easy for me... it’s just Latin all I have to do is translate.”

“Bloody hell that’s genius,” He muttered.

“But some of the prophecy is missing... I think most of it probably.” I mused, leafing through the book to see if I could find anything else.

“Do you really think that this is about is though?” He asked softly, timid. “Even if it’s not... it’s still something to know. And it might be important.”

“The only person who would see this as important is Trelawney.” Draco scoffed, leaning back in his chair.

“Maybe she’s the one we really need to talk to if prophecies are caught up in all of this.” I thought aloud. “Did you find anything else?” I looked up from my notes.

“Nothing of use. You?”

“Souls apparently are made from either stars or earth and magic or muggle has nothing to do with genetics,” I shrugged, reading over my notes. “So that’s new I guess.”

“What do you mean it has nothing to do with blood?” He snapped.

“I read it; I didn’t say that it was law. And what does it matter anyway? Magic is magic, no matter who uses it or doesn’t.” I defended, narrowing my eyes.

He grumbled and folded his arms sulking.

“Draco,” I chided, but gave up the notion.

I knew it would take time to undo what his father had engrained in him. Maybe this was step one.

Soon after finding nothing more about the prophecy or soul matter, Pince said that she was closing the library for the night and that we should head to bed before curfew. Returning the books to their proper places, Draco and I walked quietly along the halls.

“I didn’t mean to snap at you.” Draco sighed, taking my hand. “Forgive me?” 

I nodded and offered a small smile.

“We grew up in different worlds, it was bound to clash eventually.”

“Doesn’t make it right for me to take it out on you,”

I raised an eyebrow at him, a smug smile finding its way to my face.

“Yeah, yeah shut up.” He muttered.

“One step at a time,”

We walked along in thought, no words needing to be spoken. Pausing outside the Gryffindor portrait, Draco leaned down and pressed a soft and gentle kiss to my lips.

“Goodnight Y/n,” 

“Goodnight Draco,”

There were words stuck on the tips of our tongue that neither of us dare to utter but felt all the same:

I love you.

.

.

Part 11?

[solalunar-eclipse]

Team Dark: A Holiday Special

Chapter One: Omega

Two | Three

Word count: about 5800 words

WARNING: this chapter contains entomophagy (eating insects)

Author's Note: I'm finally back! Sorry to make you all wait so long, but I really wanted to get this project out by December, so...here it is. I hope you all enjoy! (Also, apologies in advance for any bad formatting: Tumblr is being very uncooperative right now.)

...

It was, officially, a ‘lazy day’.

Team Dark was spending time at home, resting after the holiday frenzy of yesterday. Rouge had suddenly realized that they hadn’t decorated yet and that they all still needed to come up with present ideas for Team Sonic, so she and Shadow had spent the entire time in a sort of constant state of panic. Omega tried his best to help them, intermixed with a lot of gloating about his perfect memory and how he’d remembered to get a gift already.

He’d gotten punched halfway across the room for that one.

Now, a certain striped hedgehog was relaxing in his room, reading a book quietly. Until (of course) the peaceful silence was shattered by a loud blaring noise that sent him racing out the door and halfway down the stairs to their common area. Rouge was standing in the middle of the room, and shouted out to him, “Shadow! Come down here, I’m calling a group meeting!” Shadow winced and massaged one of his ears, his quills relaxing from their startled position as he walked over and sat down on the couch. He glowered at Rouge, who stood in front of him with the ‘team meeting airhorn’ still in hand. Despite his stare, she was still poised to blast again if Omega didn’t show up soon. Thankfully for Shadow’s hearing, Omega appeared quickly, albeit with much complaining about being dragged away from his targeting system calibrations. “Alright, Rouge, what’s all this about?” the hedgehog sighed, leaning forward and resting his arms on his knees. She smiled cautiously at the two of them. “Before I say anything, I want you guys to know that this offer is optional. If it’s too much for you, you don’t have to say yes.” Omega spun one of his hands around, making a slight whirring noise. “Please continue.” Rouge sat down on one end of the aforementioned couch, sinking into the cushions with a sigh. “Okay. Let’s see. I haven’t...ever talked to you guys about my family before, have I?” “I do not recall you initiating any such conversation.” Omega answered, at the same time as Shadow replied, “No….?” “Well. Considering everything...I kind of figured it’s about time I told you all my story.” She smiled again, but it was a little bittersweet. Shadow inched closer, caution sparking in his eyes. “Where to start...I mean, I have a mom, two sisters, a stepsister, a stepbrother, and a stepmom. And a dad too, I guess?” “You guess?” Omega asked skeptically, before being shot a fierce ‘no questions‘ look by Shadow. “It’s alright, hon.” Rouge said, putting a hand on the hedgehog’s shoulder. “I guess I should really start at the beginning.” “My dad was a cat and my mom is a bat- obviously, hah. My two officially related sisters are twins, three years younger than me. Right before they were born, though...my dad left. He took all the cash with him when he did. And, well. Left Mom with a barely-paid-for apartment and without a job. “We, uh. Heard later that he ran off with some lady from his job. Mom...didn’t take it too well.” Shadow’s eyes widened and Omega smacked a fist into one hand. “Rouge. Is your father, hypothetically, good at withstanding high-powered attacks from a hypothetical extremely destructive robot?” She snickered. “No, he’s not. But please don’t actually fight him, alright?” His hands crackling with chaos energy, Shadow hissed, “Rouge...I think I like his plan.” He bared his fangs as he spoke, looking furious. Rouge smiled gratefully at the both of them. “Thanks, guys, but he’s really not even worth your time. Let me keep going, okay?” Omega sat back, irritated at the lack of pulverizing Rouge’s father going on, and Shadow, reluctantly, allowed his chaos energy to dissipate. “Yeah, so he left, and that was a whole thing. Mom worked hard for us, but it just...wasn’t enough to make ends meet. I started my career of...relieving people of their fancy objects-” here she winked- “at the age of eleven to help out. Dropped out of school after eighth grade to start full-time thievery once I turned fourteen, and, yeah. I had to leave home, otherwise Mom and the twins would’ve been in real trouble. “I got busted after two whole years by the one and only Guardian Units of Nations- not a bad streak, if I do say so myself. Then, I started working for G.U.N. to pay my dues to society, and...you all know the rest after that. I still kept sending checks back to the family, though.” Shadow and Omega were both looking at her with unreadable expressions at this point. “I’ve stopped doing that now, actually, since Mom’s been with her girlfriend for like a year now. She’s dating this super sweet cardinal who gives her basically everything my dad never did- her name’s Camellia and she has two little kids from her last marriage. She’s been so good for Mom, honestly.

“I know it’s usually supposed to be this whole thing where the stepdaughter hates the stepmom, but that’s not for me. When I got the news, I was just like ‘Oh, so that’s why I’m pan’ - yeah, really- and now I’m cool with it. Plus, I’ve got two new little sibs, so it’s all fine.

“So...yeah. That’s my family.”

Shadow sat there in deep thought for a minute. “Your family sounds nice...I’m just sorry you had to go through all of that.” he said, when he finally spoke up.

“Yeah, they’re great- and it’s okay. I mean, if it wasn’t for all that, I never would’ve found you guys!” she said, looking much brighter now. “Now that you know about them, you wanna see some pictures?”

“Certainly.” Omega said, curious to see these people that Rouge cared for so deeply.

“Okay, so...these are my twin sisters, Midori and Neela.” she said, showing a social media post of two identical coffee-colored cats posing for a selfie. Even their fur markings were exactly the same, as well as the shade of their golden eyes. Despite the fact that they were felines, something about them looked an awful lot like Rouge. The shape of their faces, perhaps?

“And here’s Camellia and Mom.” A picture came up of a beaming, moderately curvy white bat and an equally overjoyed cardinal with their arms around each other in front of a beautiful sunset.

“This is Jade, my stepsister, she’s ten-” Rouge showed an image of a young goldfinch playing soccer, kicking the ball fiercely. “-and that’s Spark, my stepbrother.” A small cardinal with a grin as broad as his mother’s was swinging on a swing at a playground, his eyes bright with the excitement of childhood.

Shadow smiled, looking as though he were a mixture of genuine happiness and a little ever-present pain. “They all look wonderful, Rouge. I’m...honored...that you felt like you could show us this.”

“That wasn’t so bad, honestly- I’ve been wanting to figure out how to do that for a while.” the bat said. “This is going to be the hard part.”

Two pairs of eyes watched her expectantly.

She exhaled. “Every year...my family has this big, three-day Wintersweek party. And when I say big, I mean seven out of my mom’s nine siblings and their spouses and kids. Like, more than twenty guests big.”

Omega interrupted her there. “If your mother has nine siblings, why did none of them bother to help her when she needed them?”

Rouge looked at the floor, a little sad. “Four of them were in debt themselves, two live in crazy places around the world and didn’t really know, and...the other three tried to help. Mom refused to take more than she could pay back. They still helped do other stuff like watch us while Mom was working, though.”

“Understood. You may continue.” Omega replied, shifting into a slightly less confrontational pose.

“So. I always go to this party, except for those two years when I was on the run. This is going to be my third year back. And…

“I really, really, reallyreally want to introduce my family to my two best friends. You know, the ones who live with me and always have my back and mean the world to me.” she said, looking straight at Shadow and Omega. The former blushed a faint green at the praise, while the latter scoffed.

“Of course you wish to do so. Our excellence is unparalleled.”

Rouge smiled hopefully at them. “I know it’s a lot to ask of you guys, but...will you come to the party this year?”

Omega processed this for a minute. “How amenable is your family towards weapons of incredible destructive power being present in their home?”

“Well, see, about that….” Rouge muttered. “...you might have to empty your weapons cartridges before we go.”

“I am unsure if this is an acceptable outcome. I will respect your wishes to an extent, but I refuse to be without weaponry at my disposal.”

The bat thought for a moment. “...you can bring the flamethrower, but only if you put a PIN lock on it.”

“...”

“...”

Rouge stared him down. “There’s going to be kids there. Kids.”

“Accepted.” Omega said finally. His tone switched to a more triumphant note as he added, “I shall come and impress all of your relatives with my power.”

Shadow had reservations, too. “Won’t it be weird, having people who aren’t really your family there?”

“Shadow…” she said gently. “...you two are as close to me as my ‘real family’, and I want you to be there.”

Omega noted that Shadow was behaving in a manner that suggested he was ‘flustered’. He folded his arms tightly, lowered his head, and his mouth was pressed tightly into a line- an attempt to hide a smile. “...but won’t I take up too much space? An extra bed is more difficult to manage than an outlet.”

Rouge sighed sharply, becoming frustrated with his hesitance. “Mom has air mattresses up to her ears specifically for this, and she lives in Camellia’s house now, which has like ten bedrooms anyway. And you’re totally not going to be ‘a bother’ or anything, so don’t even say that. Mom basically screamed when she found out I was bringing people, and I mean that in a good way. She didn’t stop asking me questions for half an hour.”

“I…” Shadow said tentatively, close to giving in.

“If they’re ever too much for you, though, just feel free to hide in one of the back rooms. There’s plenty of places where you won’t be disturbed.”

The hedgehog sighed, but he didn’t look upset. “I suppose I can try, for you.”

“Yes!” Rouge shouted, kicking her legs before getting up and bouncing up and down. “Heck yeah! This is gonna be great!”

…

Over the next week, they discussed the party numerous times, and Rouge spent a lot of time sitting in the middle of mountains of wrapping paper, packaging presents for her family. Omega and Shadow had tried to help her, but she’d insisted that they not worry about it. “It’s my family,” she had said, waving them away. “You being there is already more than enough. I’d never ask anything else of you.”

Shadow had still made cupcakes, though. Omega helped with the icing.

On the first day of the event, they set off early, making the several hours’ drive from Central City up to Rouge’s family’s house (north of Empire City) so that they’d arrive just before lunch. Thinking of Shadow, Rouge didn’t want him in particular to get caught up in the early (and supposedly quite intense) greetings that her family usually participated in. Omega resolved to turn his force output down just a little- he didn’t want to accidentally break someone’s hand instead of merely shaking it in introduction.

Of course, this all meant they had to endure a four-hour car ride together, involving lots of fights over what music was playing, several different long-distance driving games, and multiple threats to toss one another out the window while moving at 80 mph or more.

So, generally uneventful for them.

...

When they arrived at the family’s house, the E-series robot decreased his optic zoom to 85% just to take the entire place in. It was truly an enormous building, built from what appeared to be stone but on closer inspection was...actually stone. Unexpected, yet impressive.

Omega was mildly uncertain about the heating capabilities of such a house, but at least it was structurally sound. He would have to decide on its defensibility later.

“Wow.” Shadow muttered, his eyes wide. “I know you said it had ten bedrooms, but...wow.”

“I said I wasn’t messing around with you!” Rouge laughed brightly. “This place is crazy big.”

As soon as they opened the door and the bat stepped inside, the team was greeted by a loud shout of “Rouge!” from various delighted family members.

Her immediate family rushed over first, giving her lots of hugs (while her parents relieved Omega of the numerous presents she’d had him carry). Her stepbrother jumped up and down, asking, “Did you bring a present for me? Do I get one? Do I?”

Rouge smiled at him, picking the little cardinal up and giving him a hug. “Of course you do. There’s one right over there!” she said, pointing towards the giant pile of presents.

Rouge’s mother came rushing back over at that, greeting her daughter with a tight embrace. “Oh!” she exclaimed, noticing Omega and Shadow standing by the door. “Are these your friends, Rouge? Come on, introduce us!”

The younger bat grinned. “Alright, so this is my partner-in-crime and our resident edgy goth, Shadow,” she said, gesturing towards the hedgehog. He responded with a glower at Rouge for the latter remark and a polite “Nice to meet you.” to the family.

“And this is my personal palanquin (just kidding, just kidding) and awesome destroyer of enemies, Omega.”

“Greetings, Rouge’s relatives.” Omega said, turning his volume down to a level that Rouge had termed ‘inside voice’. First impressions and all that.

After making their way through many, many more greetings- which Omega recorded to play back for name storage later- the team were finally seated at one of the large couches in the living room. Rouge, being Rouge, began to chat cheerfully with a couple of her family members, describing her latest escapades with the other two team members as well as her general social life.

Shadow and Omega didn’t speak much at first, but the latter in particular soon began to interrupt her stories to point out multiple inaccuracies (mostly Rouge underplaying how utterly awesome he was). He found that he quite enjoyed talking about their various adventures, in fact.

However, the three quickly discovered that some of Rouge’s relatives had...misunderstood her stories.

One of the many aunts- whose name Omega had not yet stored- spoke up. “Rouge, I know you said you were bringing friends, but you don’t have to be shy with us, sweetie. Shadow here seems like a very thoughtful boyfriend.”

Chaos ensued. Rouge choked on her water and Omega had to pound her on the back to help her breathe again. Meanwhile, Shadow seemed to have reflexively assumed a defensive, curled-up position, yet Omega could still make out a faint glow of green from within the black and red ball.

“No!” the bat shouted, once she’d regained her breath. “No, no, we’re only friends, really!”

Her aunt seemed unconvinced, as did several other guests.

Shadow slowly uncurled, prepared to back Rouge up- though he seemed to have temporarily forgotten how to speak in his shock. His mouth moved silently, and he seemed to be having trouble stringing together a coherent sentence.

“I am not romantically involved with Rouge in any way.” he began slowly. “I assure you, she means the world to me, but in a platonic manner. I am grateful to have a friend like her, but that is all we are to each other.”

Several other relatives decided to weigh in on this.

“He seems like a very polite friend!”

“Rouge, even if you’re not together, you had better hang on to this one.”

“He certainly likes you, and that’s what’s important.”

“It’s alright if you aren’t dating, honey!” Rouge’s mom added. “Healthy platonic relationships are very important.”

The younger bat shook her head, covering her eyes with her hand. “Guys, please.” she groaned, before looking over at Shadow.

The hybrid appeared to be surreptitiously trying to get in touch with his hedgehog heritage and burrow underneath the cushions by this point. Rouge grinned at him and wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling him back out into the open. “Come on, don’t make him embarrassed! It’s only day one, guys!” 

Shadow cringed at that. Omega, meanwhile, was most definitely not recording any of this and storing it safely in his blackmail folder. Not at all.

…

A little later on, after everyone had eaten lunch, Omega (being the strongest on the team, despite Shadow’s protests otherwise) hauled their suitcases upstairs with little trouble. Rouge had been too busy talking to come with him, and Shadow looked as though he’d buried himself in a pile of cushions and probably wouldn’t be moved without extreme force, so he’d gone up alone.

Looking around the small room, he...found it quite tolerable, honestly. Sunlight streamed in through two medium-sized windows, and there were several empty floating shelves on the walls for their things, as well as a linen closet. There were only two beds in the room, since Omega just required a…

Ah, there it was. A charging port.

The robot was actually more pleased than he expected with the amount of mock evergreen, poinsettias, and other such ornaments in the room, though. He wasn’t much one for artistic expression himself (preferring to express his thoughts via some choice language and a few well-aimed rockets), but his friends were more...appreciative of such things and would likely enjoy the decoration.

Bored with examining the room already, he put down the suitcases and began to explore the house, trying to figure out what the floor plan looked like. He walked through all of the different rooms, enjoying himself while examining all of the possible defensive vantage points and the most optimal attack areas. 

Sure, fighting was his job, but who said he couldn’t enjoy contingency planning? Mapping out attacks on his place of residence and figuring out how to best repel invaders was one of his favorite pastimes (right up there with visiting the mall with his friends).

However, once he had planned out about five different strategies, he realized that an hour had gone by and that it was probably a good idea to go check up on said friends.

After he carefully made his way back downstairs- trying to walk in a way that didn’t shake the house was difficult- he saw Rouge still chatting with some of her cousins and looking very happy. Shadow was barely even visible, curled up in a dark corner and alternating between reading and listening to the conversation. Everyone honestly seemed to be enjoying themselves.

However, there was one jarring thing about this warm, familial scene that Omega noticed. 

The little children.

They were everywhere. Climbing their parents like a jungle gym, interrupting conversations left and right, running around underfoot, and generally causing mayhem in their wake. While Omega highly appreciated their impressive ability to cause confusion and chaos, he suspected that most of the other people here did not. Multiple guests looked ready to break something, and the robot was fully aware that Rouge’s family did not share his opinions on wanton destruction.

So, he decided to do something about this.

“SMALL CHILDREN,” he shouted, gaining the attention of the entire household. “I CHALLENGE YOU TO A SNOWBALL FIGHT.” That was an acceptable (and fun) form of violence, if he remembered correctly. Rouge certainly looked interested.

The children began to bounce around in various states of excitement, their energy somehow increasing exponentially at this prospect. “Whose team will you be on, mister?” Rouge’s stepbrother asked bravely. 

“MY OWN. NONE OF YOU CAN DEFEAT ME.” Omega declared.

“Yeah, right!” an older child shouted. “Come on, guys, let’s go!”

The entire group rushed outside and began to build a snow fort for the upcoming attack. Most of the children were clearly struggling to organize, as half seemed to comprehend the need for a well-structured creation and half were just piling up snow like maniacs.

Meanwhile, Omega began to carefully form large building blocks out of the snow, building a formidable fortress (snow could be imposing, alright??). Once he was satisfied with his semicircle construction, he noticed that he still had a few minutes to wait before the children finished theirs. He spent this time making snowballs, as well as a few other...adjustments. When the children shouted out “Ready!”, he was more than prepared.

Since they were, again, Rouge’s relatives, he was very, very generous and gave them the first chance to fire. The children launched snowball after snowball, but he ducked behind his fort and only one found its mark. Once they were all out of ammunition and scrambling for more, he felt a smug sense of satisfaction.

It was time.

He loaded his arms full of snowballs…

And proceeded to launch them out of his machine gun ports at the children.

The kids scattered in all directions, shrieking with a mixture of fear and excitement. Omega, during their attack, had thought to make even more projectiles, turning what was supposed to be organized warfare into a one-sided rampage of destruction.

By now, Rouge had appeared on the deck and was currently howling with laughter, tears streaming down her face as she watched Omega launch his onslaught of snow. Shadow was standing at the doorway along with several others, a giant wicked grin spread across his face.

The E-series robot truly wished he could make that second expression right now. He turned to Rouge, watching her cackle…

...and immediately proceeded to fire a massive amount of snow at her as well. Her laughter transformed into a gasp of mock betrayal as she scooped up some of the offending substance, packing it into a weapon of her own. “Oh. It. Is. On.”, she hissed, shaking the snow off her wings.

Taking to the skies, she began a counterattack, distracting Omega with varied sizes of snowballs and forcing him to try and fire directly upwards. The children, realizing that they had a powerful ally in Rouge, began to make new projectiles themselves and threw them at him from all sides, until Omega finally found that he was struggling to handle the attack.

As he began to turn the tide again, he realized suddenly that this was entirely due to Rouge’s absence…

...and of course that was when a shadow fell over him.

Followed by a giant pile of snow.

He flailed in the icy trap as he struggled to regain his bearings. Once he had managed to clamber halfway out of the snow, he saw Rouge hovering above him. Her wings struggled to hold her in the air as she laughed again, and he noticed sulkily that she was holding a sheet.

“Cheater.” he muttered, indignant at having been trapped in such an unflattering manner.

“Cheating?! From the guy who launched snowballs like missiles? Really?” she shouted down to him good-naturedly, shaking her head. “Talk about hypocritical, Omega.”

The E-series robot still insisted on having the last laugh, though- he had to get out somehow, so he powered on all of his fans at full blast to clear away the snow. And if everyone was standing too close to avoid the resulting icy shower, well then that was their problem.

After that, though, everyone had to go inside and dry themselves off. Organics couldn’t handle being wet and cold very well, and Omega didn’t like the idea of his circuitry being shorted out. He felt a great sense of satisfaction at having established his status as the cool one on the very first day, though.

He spent a little more time with the young ones after that, playing several rounds of a popular card game called One with them and stacking up all of the plus-fours. The robot showed no mercy even in games.

Several children, evidently impressed by his prowess (or perhaps just in awe of the fact that he was a giant robot) begged him for promises that he would play more tomorrow, to which he quickly agreed. Not long after, to everyone’s disappointment, the kids’ parents came and practically dragged them to the dinner table, having shouted their names four or five times by this point.

As he walked into the dining room, Omega surveyed the area, focusing for a moment on the glow that the many candles gave off on the table. Fire was always a nice touch.

Looking further, he noticed that the wooden table alone was a formidable piece of furniture, filling the largest room in the house and forcing some chairs to squeeze up against the wall just to make space. And that wasn’t even mentioning the feast laid out on top of it. Omega ignored that for now in favor of sitting down on one side of Rouge after he saw her at the table. Looking over to her other side, he noticed Shadow surveying the food spread out on the table with what most would consider a completely blank look.

Omega, however, had experience with analyzing Shadow’s facial expressions, and noted the slight tension in his face as well as the fact that he was fidgeting with his silverware. Both he and Rouge had a good idea as to why, too- Shadow didn’t need any of this.

The hybrid had been created with incredible physical resilience, able to withstand the most arduous of conditions. This included a significant lack of food. He actually ate only about three times a week, and even then he only consumed small meals. While it was about time for him to eat today, the fact that there would be even more food over the next couple of days seemed to have produced a conundrum for him.

If he ate now, he wouldn’t need to later, which could be quite awkward, particularly when everybody else would. Omega thought through the options and decided that there were three main paths he could take: eat now and not later, not eat now but do so later, or possibly attempt to eat a little on all three days.

Rouge seemed to have realized this as well. Leaning over to Shadow, she whispered, “Whatever you want to do is fine, hon. It’s okay if you eat a lot over these few days- everyone else here will too. If you don’t want to, though, that’s cool- just make sure you have something at some point, alright?”

The robot watched as Shadow relaxed slightly at her understanding words. The change was almost imperceptible, but he now sat back in his chair instead of forward, and he’d stopped adjusting his place setting.

Once everyone was seated and they’d given a quick toast, the family began to dig in. Shadow sat back and waited for everyone else to take some food first- a wise choice. Rouge, on the other hand, entered the rather impressive food frenzy with a voracity that her team members knew all too well- she often complained that one of her few vices (aside from gems and other sparkly objects) was food.

Omega took this time to survey what he could see of the dishes, interested in finding out for himself what a proper Wintersweek meal looked like. He saw two dishes that appeared to be some sort of poultry, as well as bowls of finger food that looked like they were filled with crickets and beetles. Various platters of cooked vegetables in every color of the rainbow covered the table, some with sliced fruit available as well. Loaves of bread in multiple shapes and sizes were scattered throughout the presentation, accented by artfully placed centerpieces.

Quite honestly, it looked impressive.

Rouge had a little bit of everything on her plate, and was currently digging into a buttery baked potato like she hadn’t eaten in weeks. Omega silently put his napkin next to her plate, the (sarcastic) message clear: You need this more than I do.

Shadow, meanwhile, had taken a little fruit, one piece of meat, and two slices of bread, but seemed very hesitant to eat much more than that. He looked to be quite invested in a conversation that several of the adults were having about their own teenage experiences, often leaning in slightly when a funny story came up.

Omega mostly kept an eye on his friends, while also half listening to the children talk about the latest video game that had become popular. It seemed to contain lots of fighting combined with some impressive storytelling, and the robot made a note of the game title for his own use later.

However, as he checked on Rouge again, making sure she hadn’t choked on her food, he noticed that she had left her plate to the side in favor of talking to her family about...wait.

Omega knew this story.

This was a story where he was walking through the halls of an abandoned underground hideout for a highly sophisticated ring of criminals (an assignment for their entire team). In which said diabolical criminals had installed multiple traps designed to keep people out. And these traps. Included magnets. That specifically messed up artificial intelligence.

Omega’s memory had been severely impaired by the event, but Shadow and Rouge told him later that they had discovered him stumbling around the main hub of the base, rambling out loud about things as ridiculous as current weather patterns and- he shuddered internally- kittens. He was eternally grateful for this memory loss, though, as the two had apparently, instead of taking this seriously, dissolved into helpless laughter on the spot.

Of course, they had taken him to Tails to get fixed up. But not until after Rouge had filmed another five minutes or so of him acting absolutely loopy while their laughter, punctuated with the occasional gasp for breath, filled the background.

And she was just getting to the part where they found him now-!

The E-series robot shot out of his chair and clamped a hand over Rouge’s mouth, turning his volume low and hissing “Don’t you dare.” in her ear.

Unfortunately, this only added to everyone else’s interest, as Rouge began to cackle loudly at Omega’s evident embarrassment and her memory of the event. “Tell us! Tell us!” Camellia (Rouge’s stepmother) cried out, clapping her hands and looking for all the world like a child who had just been handed a chocolate bar. 

“Help me, Shadow!” Rouge shouted through the steel grip on her face, slurring her words with laughter. The hybrid, happy to take a break from the crowded room and equally happy to shame Omega, pried the robot off of Rouge and somehow managed to drag him out of the room as everyone now leaned in to hear her finish the story.

“So we were really worried, right? Since we hadn’t heard anything? And then we-”

Shadow shut the door on her voice and smirked at Omega, but there was a tinge of real happiness in his expression. “It’s alright, Omega. She doesn’t actually want you to feel bad, you know.”

“That’s what you say.” he scoffed. “Rouge isn’t in there telling them about the time you didn’t eat for a month on a mission and then binge-”

“Alright, alright!” Shadow groaned. “I get it, but let’s let her have fun, alright? This is her family, after all.”

“Fine.” Omega grumbled. “But I will get you back for this.”

“Sure you will.” Shadow raised an eyebrow at him.

This led to a fierce staring match/arm-wrestling battle and subsequent argument over who won, immediately followed by Omega pulling out his phone and the two watching a recently popular obstacle course show. Of course, they both agreed that they could do far better than any of the contestants.

Eventually, though, as the evening wore on, the two joined back up with Rouge to head to their room. Shadow took a hot shower while Rouge changed into her favorite pajamas- they were soft and white with little pink hearts all over (her favorite colors). 

She yawned loudly just as the hybrid walked in, already wrapped in a blanket and pulling on some plain black nightwear. He didn’t really need it, but his fifty-year stint in what was essentially a superpowered freezer had left him with a distinct dislike for the cold.

Omega had already plugged into the outlet and begun to charge, but yet…”Why don’t I get a blanket?”

“What the heck d’ you want one for?” Rouge muttered, already exhausted. 

“Well, you both have them.” he muttered sulkily, glowering at them from his corner of the room.

The bat opened up the closet in the room, looking up at the top shelf. “Shadow, c’mere. I can’t reach this thing by myself.” 

He walked over quickly, not appearing to be tired at all. Omega, as always, knew better, and saw the fatigue from the long day that he tried to hide behind his “Ultimate Lifeform” title.

Rouge jumped onto his shoulders in a practiced movement, snatching a pale purple fluffy blanket from the shelf and flinging it half-heartedly at Omega. “There’s your blanket.” she declared, before jumping straight from Shadow to her bed.

She settled into her usual sleeping position, with her feet hooked over the headboard and her face and pillow about halfway down the bed. It wasn’t a typical behavior for most, but she was a bat, after all. “‘Night, guys.” she murmured, already half asleep.

Shadow carefully lifted his blankets and slid under them, trying to keep them as neat as possible. The hedgehog shifted into a half-curled position, displaying his quills to the world and protecting his vulnerable legs and chest. “Sleep well, Rouge. Goodnight, Omega.” he said softly, still trying to stay awake.

“Good night.” the robot replied.

Omega kept an eye on his teammates, the room lit only by a patch of moonlight from the window. He listened to Rouge’s slight snoring, and watched as Shadow’s eyes slowly closed and his breathing evened out.

The robot was always cautious about shifting into his own form of ‘sleep’, but reminded himself that this was not enemy territory. This was Rouge’s family’s house, and they were all safe.

Still, he watched his friends sleep peacefully for a while longer. Then, he selected low power mode from his menu of choices and allowed his eyes to go dark.

[exhaustedfander]

You Don’t Want This [Intrulogical]

This idea wouldn’t leave me alone until I put it to paper so here we are. This includes mpreg, just as a warning if that’s not your thing. Requests are open so please, send me some! I’d probably be willing to do any ship besides r*mr*m. As always, likes and reblogs are really appreciated, enjoy and have a good day/night! 

word count: 3,106

a03 link

Logan hadn’t seen his boyfriend in a week now and that was decidedly very odd. Prior to now, they’d spent nearly every day together. At the very least, Remus would call him or send him a couple of dirty texts. But no contact at all? It just didn’t make any sense.

It wasn’t as though Logan hadn’t reached out. In fact, right before Remus had all but completely cut off contact he’d fallen ill. Remus claimed that it was nothing more than a stomach bug, probably some bad fish he ate. Normally, Logan wouldn’t doubt him; Remus was never one to forgo the truth, no matter how grotesque or messy it might be. But this…this didn’t feel quite right.

They’d been together for almost a year-in-a-half now, for god’s sake, they’d been talking about moving in together and now Remus wasn’t talking to him. He was dodging his call for the most part and the few times that Logan was granted the privilege of a conversation, Remus had come up with some very half-baked excuses as to why they couldn’t see each other.

Logan had asked if he’d done something to upset him. He put everything he had into his relationship, but he had never been the best at understand other’s emotions, as well as his own, so the idea that he had done something to unintentionally hurt Remus’s feelings wasn’t too out-there. Remus had sworn that it was nothing and that Logan didn’t need to worry, which only deepened Logan’s concerns. Still, Remus was upset and not knowing what he could do to fix it, he decided giving him some space might be the best course of actions. How it had gotten to an entire week of this almost radio-silence, Logan wasn’t sure, and he was damn near about to call Remus and demand some kind of an explanation when his phone began to chime.

Logan noted that it was Remus’s twin brother Roman calling. He and Roman had actually known each other for far longer than he’d been with Remus, having been friends for a long time now.

“Hello, Roman,” Logan said after pressing ‘talk’, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“When was the last time you talked to Remus?” The question came out of absolutely nowhere, effectively throwing him for a loop.

“Uh – just a few days ago. But I suppose we haven’t seen each other in a week now.”

“You suppose?” There’s an anger in Roman’s tone, fiery and frantic.

“What exactly is going on here? Clearly you know something I don’t.” Roman scoffed.

“Yeah, clearly.” Logan huffed out a sigh, his concern only escalating from where it had been. “Logan, you need to talk to my brother. Now.” In all honesty, Logan was surprised that Remus and Roman were even on speaking terms. They’d never gotten along very well in all the time that he’d known them and now apparently Roman posed vital information about his boyfriend that he lacked.

“I don’t understand. Why won’t you explain to me what the situation is? What did Remus tell you? Is he alright?” Roman sighed.

“I can’t be the one to tell you, Lo. And I know he’s gonna be too scared to tell you if you call him. Please, go see him. He’s in a really fucked up mental state and he needs you, even if he’s too afraid to admit it.”

Logan felt his heart beginning to hammer in his chest. Remus was in a, as Roman explained it, a “fucked up” mental state and he was afraid to explain the reason to him. The very thought of such things and all the many possibilities of what it could mean swirled in his head.

“Roman – please, just explain it minimally. You’re, you’re elevating my concerns. Is Remus unsafe? Is he injured or ill?” “Please, go talk to him, Lo. We can talk about everything once you guys have had a conversation, but I need that to happen first.”

“Fine, don’t tell me,” Logan muttered through gritted teeth, “Goodbye, Roman.” Before his friend could even respond he’d ended the call. Logan buried his face in his hands, fear settling deep into his bones. He’d felt like something was off, but he’d dismissed it. Why had he been so foolish? Why hadn’t he applied any logic? Of course something was wrong! Something had felt amiss for the entire week and yet Logan hadn’t wanted to upset Remus. Now, it seemed, he needed to go see him. He needed to know what the hell was going on.

Logan drove faster than was considered legal on his way to Remus’s apartment, something under almost any circumstance he wouldn’t do. But his anxieties were gaining in momentum and they wouldn’t let up until he saw his boyfriend.

Hopping out of the car, he pulled the key from his back pocket in case Remus refused to answer his knocking and approached the door. Logan gave a knock, feeling his hands beginning to shake.

“Remus, it’s Logan. Please, open the door.” Logan was met with silence.

“Dear, I saw your car in its spot; I know you’re there. Let me in, please.” Nothing.

“Roman just called me. He sounded…incredibly concerned for your well-being and I’m worried too. Whatever it is, you can tell me. I’m here…” Logan was just about to use the key when the door swung open, revealing a disheveled Remus.

“Rem –.”

“Remind me to kick my brother’s ass for calling you,” he snarled, though he stood aside so that Logan could enter, “It was none of his goddamn business.” Logan came inside hastily, noting that it was in even more of a disarray than usual. The coffee table and counter were littered with dishes and there were crumbled pieces of paper all over the place. Remus would often get like this when inspiration struck him like a bolt of lightning and he needed to write every idea that came to mind. Seeing the state his boyfriend was in, however, Logan highly doubted that was the reason.

“Remus, I know you’ve been avoiding me. I wanted to give you space, assuming I’d done something to upset you, perhaps. But getting that call from Roman…” Logan trailed off, seeing the look of utter exhaustion on Remus’s face. Remus’s hair was ruffled, sticking up this way and that, and his makeup was smudged, mascara and eye shadow having left a purple and black trail down his cheeks. Logan reached out to touch Remus’s face, only to have him jerk back and slam the door shut, “you’ve been crying…”

“Yeah, no shit,” Remus huffed bitterly, walking over the sofa and flopping down. Logan noted that his boyfriend looked even paler than usual, something that deeply worried him. He sat down beside Remus, giving him enough distance to hopefully feel at least a little comfortable. Remus crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes cast downward.

Silence hung between them for a tense moment as Logan watched Remus try not to burst into a fit of tears. It was agonizing.

“Remus, whatever is going on, you can talk to me. I love you. You know that, don’t you?” Remus sighed, running a hand through his frazzled hair.

“That’s the thing though, isn’t it? Love’s conditional.” Logan knitted his eyebrows together.

“What? I don’t understand, why would you say something like that? Remus, what happened?” Remus shook his head, taking a trembling breath before meeting Logan’s expectant gaze.

“Oh, it’s nothing really.” “Clearly, that isn’t the case. Something’s the matter; I’ve never seen you look so upset.”

“Well, I’m pregnant, so that’s something, I guess.” Logan felt like the air had been punched out of his lungs. He looked at Remus, searching for some kind of falsehood, a practical joke of some kind. All he found was broken, terrified sincerity.

“W–what?”

“Pretty fucking wild, huh? We were using protection and all that shit – and yet here we are!” Logan felt his heart beating out of his chest, his mind going a mile-a-minute. He went silent, needing a moment to process before continuing.

“Remus why…why would you hide this from me? When did you find out?” “Week ago,” Remus said casually, or at least as casually as one can muster when they’re very near to tears, “I talked to Roman about it, by the way. So you don’t even need to worry. He said he’d help me out, honestly, it’s really sweet of him. I didn’t expect it of him, but what do ya know? People surprise you sometimes.” Logan blinked, feeling himself beginning to tremble as he reached out for Remus’s hand. His boyfriend pulled away.

“I don’t need to worry? Are-are you under the impression that I’m not going to help you? This all comes as quite a surprise but – Remus? Remus, dear, look at me? Won’t you look at me?” Remus shook his head, tears burning in his eyes once more.

“No, don’t do that. Don’t fucking do that, Logan. You don’t want any part of this, trust me, I can handle myself.” Logan finally acquired a grip on Remus’s hand, holding it tight. His boyfriend’s wide, tear-filled eyes met his.

“Remus, you should have told me the moment you found out. The fact that you’ve had to deal with this almost all on your own for a week now…darling, I would have never wished that upon you. You don’t have to ‘handle yourself.’” Remus sniffled as Logan rubbed the pad of his thumb along his knuckles.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about…don’t say all that, I-I know you don’t mean it. You’re not going to want anything to do with me after this.” “Who says I won’t?” Remus shuddered.

“I do! I – I don’t want to trap you in something you don’t want any part of! You’ve got a life to lead, so go fucking do it! Go and find somebody else, I’ll be fine. Always am.” Logan shook his hand firmly, feeling the emotions burning through him.

“No. Remus, don’t say that. I cannot fathom what you’re going through mentally at this time, but I can assure you, I’m not going anywhere. I’ve been terribly worried and when Roman called…well, I feared for the worst. Darling, I love you. I could never leave you, especially in the vulnerable state that you’re in.” Remus sniffed, jerking away from Logan’s grasp and burying his face in his hands.

“Stop saying that! S-stop it, I know it’s not gonna be true anymore. Please, just stop it…” A sob bubbled in Remus’s throat as he felt a hand settle onto his shoulder.

“Falsehood," Logan replied, far softer than he usually said the word, "I do love you, and this by no means changes that. Whatever course of action you want to take, I will continue to love you. You are my partner, you are the person who has stolen my heart, and I support you in anything.” Remus went silent, save for the sniffles, poking his head out from his hands and daring to make eye-contact.

“Even…even if I wanted to keep it?” Logan nodded, rubbing steady circles into Remus’s back.

“If that’s what you want then, yes. Even then. Is that what you want, Remus?” Remus whimpered.

“I…yeah. Yeah, I think so. Do you think I’m crazy? Me, thinking I could do anything like that? Even though it was a complete accident?”

"Of course I don’t think you’re crazy. As I said, whatever you want to do, I will put my support in you. I’m here, Remus, and I’m not going anywhere.” Remus sniffled, a hopeful smile wavering on his face.

“Do you promise? You’re not – you’re not gonna change your mind?” Logan pressed a kiss to Remus’s temple, reassuring and tender.

“I promise.” Logan suddenly found himself with a lap-full of Remus who was hugging him as tight as humanly possible and sobbing into his shoulder.

“Okay good b-because I was totally lying. I don’t have anything under control. Logan, I’m fucking terrified.” Logan couldn’t say he was much less scared. He’d never imagined himself being a father, never considered the possibility of having something like that with Remus. And terrifying though it was, the idea of Remus no longer being in his life was far scarier.

“It’s alright. Fear is a perfectly natural reaction. It’s going to be alright.” Logan felt Remus beginning to relax in his embrace, burying his face in the crock of his neck.

“I’m sorry…I just thought…” Remus trailed off, noting how he was getting tears and smudges of makeup on Logan’s shirt, though he lacked the energy to care, “I love you. I love you so goddamn much and I can’t believe you wanna stick around. I mean, you know I’m being serious, right? I wanna keep them…I know it’s nuts, and I’m just about the last person who should be having a baby but…”

“I believe you, Remus. I don’t think it’s nuts. We’re two perfectly rational, functional adults.” Remus snorted.

“Yeah, maybe you are.” “You don’t give yourself enough credit, darling. You’re a fantastic author. You’re a wonderful person.”

“You’re one of the only people who’d say that, babe. Me and “wonderful person” aren’t really words that go together.” Logan pressed a kiss to the crown of Remus’s head.

“You’re wonderful in your own ways, my dear. And I’m sure you’ll be a wonderful father.” Remus moved to look at Logan, an elated look in his eyes.

“We’re gonna have a baby,” Remus said before kissing Logan enthusiastically. It was a scary statement to contemplate, but one that excited Logan nonetheless.

“That we are,” Logan said fondly as they pulled away, “That we are.”

=+=

Logan rubbed Remus’s back as he heaved his guts out for the millionth time that night.

“It’s called fucking morning sickness,” Remus moaned into the toilet bowl, “Does it look like morning to you? It’s 10 o’clock, for god’s sake.”

“I’m sorry, Remus,” Logan said apologetically.

“That was my big tip off,” Remus said weakly, “The moment I got you to leave I was puking all the time. I figured either I was dying, or I was pregnant, and well, luckily it was the later. Though at this rate I might die from loss of vomit or something.” Logan decided against commenting on the fact that “loss of vomit” was not a cause of death, opting instead for getting a washcloth to wipe Remus’s mouth as well as a glass of water.

“Thanks,” Remus mumbled, dabbing the puke of his lips before downing the glass in two swallows. “I feel like shit.”

“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” Logan coaxed gently, helping Remus off the floor and into his bedroom. Logan’s very much set on having Remus move into his apartment as soon as possible, but for tonight this is where they’ll both stay.

“I really am sorry for how I acted,” Remus said uncharacteristically softly as Logan shut off the lights and slid into bed with him, “I was just so scared…ha, was. I’m still so scared, but you’re here. I can’t believe you’re here.”

“You don’t need to apologize, dear. You’re under an incredible amount of physical and emotional stress, your reaction, though unfounded, was understandable. I’m not upset with you, if that’s what you think.” Remus sighed, wrapping his arms around Logan and pressing his face into his boyfriend’s chest.

“That’s good…LoLo? Do you really think we can do this?” There was a fragility to Remus's voice unlike Logan's ever heard. “And – and you’re not going to get scared away? When things progress, I mean. We’re only in month two or so, I think?” Logan searched for Remus’s hand in the dark, finding it and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“You could never scare me away. I scheduled a doctor’s appointment for tomorrow, by the way. To check in on the baby.” Remus smiled, further ensnaring Logan in his octopus-like-grip.

“You’re the fucking best – shit, I probably got to stop cursing so much huh? Well…that’s a problem for a little bit later. Little bean’s too tiny to hear any swear words right now, anyhow.” Logan quirked an eyebrow.

“Little bean?” “Uh...yeah. That’s what I’ve been calling them, for the time being. I dunno I thought it was –.”

“It’s very cute. I’m not making fun of you.”

“Kinda sounded like you were about to,” Remus huffed.

“Well, I wasn’t. Go to sleep, Remus. You sound exhausted.”

“I’m still mad at Roman for telling you.” Logan sighed, carding a hand through Remus’s ruffled curls.

“I’m glad he told me, otherwise I wouldn’t have come here sooner. I wouldn’t have found out that we’re going to have a child.” Remus smiled.

“We are. Knowing you, we’re gonna have the smartest fucking kid. The two of you are probably going to make me feel like such an idiot.” “Don’t talk like that. You’re nothing of the sort. Our little bean,” Logan noted the way Remus squeezed him just a bit tighter when he said it, “Will be a wonderful combination of the both of us, I’m sure.”

“You have to promise me that you’ll help me find maternity clothes for when I look like a beached whale. Only fun colors though, none of those beiges or greys.” Logan smiled fondly.

“I promise, dear.”

“And when we tell our friends, you’ll have to do it. hearing it from me they’re just going to think I’m trying to pull a practical joke.” Logan chuckled.

“Of course.”

“I love you, Logan,” Remus said, voice layered with exhaustion.

“And I love you, Remus,” Logan said, listening to Remus’s breath even out as he drifted off to sleep.

Logan certainly hadn’t expected any of what played out to occur, but now that this was the situation he was in, he doubted he’d do much to change it. He loved Remus more than anything and though the thought of the two of them being a family hadn’t occurred to him much prior, it brought him joy to contemplate now. It was a scary concept, them being parents, but he was convinced they could do it. So many people even more ill-equipped had children every day, why should they be any different?

When Logan had called Roman after his and Remus’s conversation, he’d received a congratulation from his friend. Roman had known that Logan was going to stick by his brother, despite what Remus had been convinced of at the time.

Logan closed his eyes, holding Remus close and dreaming of the future they could make together.

=+=

[quicksilversquared]

A Very Jagged Take-Down Ch 3: The Last Lie

Marinette knows Jagged Stone, everyone knows that. She’s his favorite niece, never mind the fact that they aren’t actually related. And Jagged Stone is really famous, the exact kind of person that Lila loves claiming connections to.

That was never going to end the way Lila wanted it to.

(a collection of one-shots)

links in the reblog

Marinette had spent the past month getting everything absolutely perfect for Penny's birthday gift for Jagged Stone.

Shiny aluminum dragon scale beads shimmered and caught the light from between more muted scale-textured fabric on the slim-cut jacket. Uneven netting made the illusion of yet more scales, each texture carefully placed to make sure that it wouldn't impede Jagged Stone's guitar or piano playing. Marinette had gotten the idea from the Game of Thrones wardrobe and added her own spin, and she couldn't deny that both it and the pants that she had made- with the same fabric scaling texture wrapping around in uneven patches and lines- were absolute works of art.

(There had been so many hours spent frustrated as she worked at the texture, trying to get it to come out right, and then the actual pieces had taken ages, but- well, it was all worth it, both for her portfolio and for the check that she had gotten to cover the commission from Penny,)

And now- in only a couple of hours- Jagged Stone would have his birthday party and get to open his presents. The party wasn't in Paris- Jagged Stone's tour had him enjoying lovely summer weather in New Zealand while Paris shivered under a layer of snow and ice- and so obviously Marinette couldn't attend, but Penny had promised to send a video of Jagged Stone's reaction to his presents.

(Marinette was so glad that she- or rather, Penny- had paid for express shipping. Even with it, the package had only managed to arrive the day before, which was cutting it far closer than Marinette had wanted.)

"Are you going to make a piece for yourself that uses some of the dragon scale mail stuff?" Tikki wanted to know as Marinette anxiously waited for the text from Penny. "Or that texture? It turned out really cool."

"I think I'm going to give my fingers a break first," Marinette admitted with a laugh. "There was so much hand sewing on those pieces, my fingertips are pricked to bits. And it took up so much time- I haven't gone on any outings with my friends in forever, because I was trying to get that done. So I want to hang out with them a few times first, before everyone decides that I'm just flaking completely out on them, and then- yeah, I want to come up with some design to play around with."

"They wouldn't think that you're a flake if you hadn't decided to keep the commission and your gift for Jagged Stone a secret," Tikki pointed out. "I can understand why you wouldn't show anyone pieces in progress, so that the design wouldn't get leaked, but you could have told them that you had a commission for Jagged Stone, at least."

"And then everyone would be bugging me wanting to see it. No thanks." Marinette had considered it at first- after all, it would be a reminder to their class that she did know Jagged Stone, thank-you-very-much, and maybe if she said that one of Lila's stories about Jagged was a lie, people should actually consider listening- but then the cons had sunk in.

The pestering. The attempts to steal ("borrow") her sketchbook in hopes of getting a glimpse of the design. The snooping around her room- which would be a big problem now that she was also hiding the Miracle Box- to try to get a sneak peek at the piece. If she was especially unlucky, Lila or Chloe stealing or destroying her sketchbook out of jealousy.

It would be easy enough to admit to the commission after Jagged Stone had already gotten his present. That way, there would be no chances of sabotage. Then she could admit the reason why she hadn't been hanging out all month, everyone would stop complaining about her absence, and things would go back to normal.

(She had told Chat Noir, after her partner had dropped by her balcony while she was working on the texturing for the fabric scales, but he had been sworn to secrecy in return for a few pain au chocolat. Hopefully the rest of Paris never found out how incredibly easy he was to bribe.)

It was hard to do her homework with so much anticipation swirling around her gut, but Marinette forced herself through it. After all, as a superhero, she didn't exactly have time to spend just sitting around not getting her homework done, and there had been some projects that had been pushed aside towards the end of her present-sewing spree that Marinette had to get caught up on.

At least she had practice with shoving aside everything else in her life to focus on homework. Marinette had had to play catch-up after akuma attacks a few too many times for her to not know how to do that.

Two hours later, her email beeped with a new message. Marinette shoved aside her Chemistry practice problems at once, reaching for her computer mouse and opening the email from Penny.

Jagged LOVES his pants and jacket! the message read. They're absolutely gorgeous! He's gone to change into them right away because he just couldn't wait to wear them, so don't be surprised if you see a picture or two floating around on the Internet before long! Thank you so much for all of your hard work- I knew it was a fantastic idea to commission you!

Marinette had to laugh as she clicked on the video link and it started to play. That was so very Jagged, to be too excited about his new outfit to be able to wait.

Onscreen, Jagged Stone was opening a few presents, probably from his family and staff considering that they had been brought along on tour and weren't just waiting for Jagged Stone at his home studio. Marinette could tell the moment that Jagged spotted her present to him, because he lunged across the remainder of the pile to pounce on it at once. The wrapping paper- courtesy of Penny, because it was just more convenient to ship without extra packaging- went flying at once, the box was opened, and Jagged Stone crowed in delight as he pulled out the pants. A hand- Penney's by the look of it- slid another present to Jagged before he could run off and change into the pants. He opened that one eagerly, too- Marinette could just hear Penny over the music of the party telling him that she had commissioned her- and positively rocketed out of his seat with glee at the sight of the jacket.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Jagged Stone exclaimed, He waved the pants and jacket at the camera. "I'm gonna go change! These are too amazing to not be wearing this very instant!"

Marinette laughed again as the video cut off. She closed the window, only to spot a new email from Penny, with a series of photos. Jagged Stone was wearing his new outfit, posing in it with the world's largest grin on his face.

She could breathe a sigh of relief, at least- everything fit just like it was supposed to. The jacket sat correctly, and the pants were a perfect fit, slim-cut but with enough room for him to move around and rock out. With one more grin, Marinette emailed Penny back, asking her to wish Jagged a happy birthday from her. With the email sent, Marinette could only beam up at the ceiling.

Mission complete. She could breathe easier now, knowing for sure that Jagged loved the pieces she made for him.

She couldn't wait to tell Alya.

  "I can't believe you know the designer that did all of the Game of Thrones costumes, Lila! That's so cool!"

"Oh, what now," Marinette grumbled as she recognized Alya's voice. Couldn't she go one morning without hearing another new lie from Lila? Just once? "And why is she trying to claim a connection to a costume designer? I'm the only one that would be really interested in something like that."

Tikki was frowning as she peered out of Marinette's purse. "Marinette, she mentioned Game of Thrones. Isn't that the TV show where you got the idea for the dragon-scale patterning from?"

Marinette's stomach dropped. In a heartbeat, she knew exactly what Lila must be trying to claim. How dare she try to take credit for getting Jagged the jacket and pants that Marinette had spent hours slaving over, stealing Marinette's accomplishment away-

-but wait. There was no way that would stand. Maybe the paparazzi and the world had gotten a glimpse of Jagged Stone's birthday gift outfit already, but he probably hadn't felt like answering press questions on his birthday. If she knew Jagged Stone like she thought she did, he would no doubt gush to the press where, exactly, he had gotten the pieces, and who had made them, probably within the next day.

Marinette grinned. Lila had picked the wrong lie to tell for sure this time.

"Marinette, guess what?" Alya exclaimed as soon as Marinette stepped through the door to the classroom. Just as Marinette had suspected, everyone was clustered around Lila at the front of the room. Even Adrien, for once, but he seemed far more interested in the pictures that were being shown than he was in Lila's story. "Guess who Lila knows? She knows this really amazing costume designer who did a whole bunch of the Game of Thrones costumes, and she commissioned this really awesome jacket and pants combo from that designer for Jagged Stone for his birthday!"

"He clearly loves it if he ran off to change into it before the end of the party," Rose gushed. She beamed at Lila. "That was a really great idea for a gift, Lila!"

"Yes, well, it was a bit pricey even with my connections, since of course I wouldn't ask my friend to work for free, but since he and I are friends, I wanted to get a nice gift for him," Lila told them. "And since he has Fang, well- crocodile scales and dragon scales are pretty similar, right?"

Alya nudged Marinette. "Isn't it cool that she knows such a fantastic designer?" The implied be nice, maybe she can introduce you hung heavy in the air. "That jacket- it's incredible. I bet she has a lot of tricks and tips about design and sewing!"

Lila nodded, her hair bouncing. "Yeah, she's super talented! And I was lucky enough to actually get to help her with the jacket when she came through Paris a couple weeks back! I didn't do a lot, of course, because I didn't have the time, but it was super cool to see how the scales were made." Her eyes slid sideways to Marinette, a silent challenge that she was so sure that Marinette wouldn't take. "If you wanted, Marinette, I could maybe teach you some of the things that she taught me."

…yeah, okay, Marinette was not going to stand here and pretend to play nice with Lila, not even for the few hours it would no doubt take for Jagged Stone to tell the press who, exactly, had made the pants and jacket for him. Not when Lila was actively claiming credit like this, claiming that she had made part of the outfit when it was all Marinette's work.

Whelp. Time for her to step off of the high road and for the gloves to come off.

"That would be so nice, Lila," Marinette crooned, keeping her eyes on Lila's surprised face. Then her eyes narrowed. "Except for the fact that it's all complete bullshit."

There were gasps at that, and Marinette could feel Alya's hand tighten around her arm in a silent reprimand. Lila gasped, pressing a hand to her chest as though deeply offended. "Marinette! I was just trying to be nice, and this is how you-"

"Oh, save me the sob story." Marinette's eyes slid around the group and caught on Max and Markov, who was out and clearly listening. A conversation from a couple weeks back tickled at the back of her mind, and Marinette went for it. "Markov, you record video of things you see to review later, right?"

"I do!" Markov chirped, clearly pleased that she remembered. "And I usually retain the footage for one to five hours, depending on how common or uncommon a social interaction was."

"Can you retain the story Lila just told for a bit longer?" Marinette asked, ignoring how Alya's hold was getting tighter and tighter. "For a day, maybe."

"Of course!"

"Marinette," Alya hissed through gritted teeth. "Cut it out, Lila is trying to be-"

"After all, Jagged Stone is never quiet about the gifts that he likes or about giving credit where credit is due," Marinette continued, brushing Alya's hand off of her arm without sparing it a glance. "So I'm sure he'll tell the press about who actually gave him those gifts within twenty-four hours. So I'd like to have the footage of right now to make sure that your story doesn't magically change between now and then."

Lila blanched, then pasted her usual expression back on before anyone else could notice. "Actually, I asked him to keep it on the down-low right away- after all, I didn't want people flooding my other friend with requests, because she's starting work on wardrobe for a new movie soon. Besides, I don't need any public thank-yous. I know that he likes my gift, and that's enough."

Marinette didn't even bother hiding her eye roll that time. "Sure. And I'm the Queen of France." Brushing past the group, she headed over to her desk, ignoring the stares of her classmates.

She couldn't be surprised about that, really. After all, while Marinette had called out Lila's lies on a fairly regular basis before, it had always been more of a one-off comment, not- well, not her clearly calling Lila a baldfaced liar.

"That is not okay, Marinette," Alya hissed as she passed Marinette's seat. Apparently she was headed up to sit with Lila instead for the day. "I know you don't like Lila, but-"

"I'll accept 'sorry I didn't listen to you, Marinette' apologies in the form of fabric store gift cards once you realize that I'm right," Marinette told her instead of listening to Alya's scolding again. Alya scoffed.

"Well, when Lila is proved right you can apologize to her for not listening and to us for having to deal with this nonsense by taking us all out to lunch!" Alya shot back. "Lila loves this little seafood place a couple blocks away. I'm feeling hungry for their salmon bake already!"

"Don't hold your breath for it," Marinette muttered, but Alya had already flounced off, clearly entirely convinced that she was right.

Well. Marinette had more or less been kidding about the gift cards- after all, her allowance plus the money that she got from babysitting and commissions meant that Marinette wasn't exactly scrounging for money to buy the materials that she wanted for her projects- but if Alya was going to counter her joking suggestion with a completely serious response, then Marinette would gladly welcome a little extra fabric money.

Marinette turned back to the front, ignoring the looks that she was getting from the others around the room. Oddly enough, Chloe and Sabrina weren't sneering at her- in fact, they seemed to be hunched over Sabrina's tablet, which had the pictures of Jagged Stone pulled up on it. Chloe was tracing part of the picture, saying something quietly to Sabrina, and Marinette had to wonder what they were talking about. It wasn't as though the jacket was Chloe's style at all, so why were they finding it so interesting?

And then Marinette's gaze slid further around, and she practically had a heart attack when she saw Adrien turned around to face her, his chin propped up on his arms on top of her desk and his eyes sparkling.

"Hi, Marinette!" Adrien chirped, sounding incredibly cheerful and not at all bothered by Marinette abandoning the (incredibly ineffective) high road in favor of- well, calling out the bad guys. He grabbed his tablet, nudging it onto her desk. "I was looking at the picture of Jagged Stone's new jacket and- well, maybe it's not the highest-resolution photo in the world, but I thought I noticed your signature on it, like you did on the hat. Was Jagged Stone's outfit something you made?"

Next to him, Nino startled, glancing up from his notebook and back at Marinette.

"Yeah, I made it," Marinette told him, unable to hide her grin. Adrien had noticed her signature! He had looked closely enough at the jacket to notice it threaded in amongst all of the other patterns and textures going on. "Penny commissioned me for the jacket, and then I made the pants as a gift to go along with it. And I was going to tell people about it today, since I didn't want the news getting out early and spoiling the surprise, but Little Miss Lies-A-Lot decided to throw a wrench in that plan, apparently."

Adrien winced, then reached out to pat her hand comfortingly. "Well, at least you know that that lie isn't going to last long."

"Yeah," Marinette agreed. It was the light at the end of the tunnel, at long last. "Thank goodness."

  Marinette headed back to school after lunch feeling much less excited about going there than she had that morning.

Maybe every passing hour brought her closer to the time when Jagged Stone would mention to the press where his gift had come from, but ugh were those hours ever dragging. Maybe Adrien knew the truth- and Nino did now too, since he had overheard her and Adrien talking about the pieces and the work that had gone into them and other possible applications of the dragon-scale patterning- but the rest of her classmates were apparently convinced that she was being unnecessarily mean to Lila and were acting accordingly.

(Marinette really liked the idea of scaled boots. She would have to poke through thrift shops for a base shoe, probably, but when they were finished? It would be killer.)

"Cheer up, Marinette, maybe Jagged Stone has said something already!" Tikki chirped when Marinette sighed again, her footsteps still absolutely dragging. "You know it's possible, since you were too busy helping in the bakery for the last part of lunch break to be able to check!"

"But it's not likely," Marinette pointed out. "I did check at the start of break, after all. Add in the time zone differences and the fact that Jagged is probably moving to a new place for his tour, and what are the chances?" She sighed. "And now I'll have to deal with Lila's new conspiracy theory about why I got so ticked off about the pants and jacket for the rest of the afternoon."

Lila's conspiracy theory, which Marinette had overheard Lila telling their classmates just before lunch and which was possibly one of the most maddening things about this whole mess, the thing that had made her go from being willing to wait the whole thing out to being more than a little impatient. Lila had told them that she thought that Marinette had probably wanted to claim for the credit for the jacket, because she was jealous of Lila's connection to Jagged Stone and wanted the attention for once. The tantrum-throwing, Lila had continued loftily, was probably just because Lila had told the truth before she could start spreading her lie.

Ugh.

Tikki giggled at that. "Yes, but just imagine the look on Lila's face when she realizes that you were actually the one to make the pieces! She'll be so shocked!"

Marinette certainly hoped so. It had taken everything in her not to turn around, march up to Lila, and inform her that actually, I DID make that outfit, and I have the receipts and progress photos to prove it!

She could have. But Lila would shove right back, and Marinette really hadn't felt like getting into another argument, not when she would get proven right without wasting her breath.

At least Marinette had Adrien to keep her sane. He knew the truth, just like Marinette, and understood why that particular story had been the straw to break the camel's back. He had wanted to know all about the process of making the jacket, and Marinette had been happy to comply. She even had in-progress shots, which meant that by the time classes let out, Nino had been convinced, too. He had been furious on her behalf, but had agreed that maybe it would be best to wait for Jagged to make some sort of comment instead of trying to argue with everyone else.

(After all- well, Marinette didn't want to risk seeing doubt in her friends' eyes if she tried to tell the truth and told them that she made the pieces. That- that would just hurt.)

With one last sigh- ugh, an akuma right now wouldn't be so bad, at least then she wouldn't have to listen to Lila 'answering' questions about what getting an on-set peek of TV shows was like- Marinette headed into school and up to the classroom.

Oddly enough, despite the fact that class was about to start, there were a lot of people missing. Alya wasn't back yet, or a lot of the other girls. Lila was there, though, and she smirked at Marinette as she came through the door. Clearly she was still riding the high of having gotten a reaction out of Marinette earlier.

Marinette smirked right back as she slid into her seat, Tikki's words coming back to her. Lila could gloat all she wanted, but that didn't change the fact that Marinette had made those pieces and the truth would come out. Even if it was taking longer than Marinette would have liked.

She was just being impatient, honestly. After sitting through months of Lila's nonsense, one day more was really nothing.

The afternoon bell rang, and Adrien twisted around in his seat to give Marinette a questioning look, glancing around at the empty seats before quirking an eyebrow. Marinette could only shrug in return.

After all, she didn't know where everybody was, either. Normally, she would have guessed that people had gotten distracted by a Lila-story in the cafeteria, but considering that Lila actually was in class, that clearly couldn't be it. She would suggest that Adrien ask Nino since Alya was his girlfriend, except Nino wasn't back yet, either.

...odd.

Before Marinette could spare much more of a thought to wonder where in the world everyone was, the door burst open and their missing classmates tumbled in. They practically swarmed Marinette's desk, pushing Alya to the front to drop a gift card in front of her.

Marinette blinked.

"Wait, what's going on?" Lila demanded, her voice shrill. "Why- why are you giving her a gift card?"

"Because, Lila," Alya started, her voice absolutely dripping ice, "Marinette was the one that made Jagged Stone's new outfit. The jacket was commissioned from her by Penny Rolling, and the pants were a gift directly from her."

"But- no, I already told you guys that she would claim that," Lila said with a titter. All of it came out too pinched, too high-pitched, too fake. "I knew Marinette would claim-"

"Jagged Stone told the press who it was from himself. Marinette never claimed anything." Alya cast a disparaging look at Lila. "Now I have to wonder how much of what you've told us is a lie. All of it, probably. Did you even leave Paris when you tried to claim that you were out traveling around the world?"

"The packages must have gotten mixed up," Lila tried, her voice climbing higher yet. Their other classmates were sending her dirty looks now, too. "The tags on them, I'm sure that they must have been switched-"

Chloe scoffed from her seat. "Right, and Marinette's signature just magically managed to jump from the pieces she made and onto your gifts, right? What a lame little liar."

…okay, Marinette was officially going to count herself impressed that Chloe had actually noticed her signature, because she had hidden it pretty well. That must have been what she and Sabrina had been looking at in the pictures earlier.

Maybe it wasn't that big of a surprise after all. Chloe had seemed annoyed by Lila's grand claims as of late, and Marinette wouldn't be surprised to hear that Chloe had wanted to discredit Lila and have her spot as the most connected person in the class back.

For once, Lila fell silent. Her face had gone pale. Alya spared her one more glance before rounding the desk and sitting in her regular seat.

"We all chipped in the price of what we would have ordered at the cafe," Alya explained as the rest of the students dispersed to their seats and Ms. Bustier headed up to the back to collect Lila, probably to march her straight to the office. "Food and drinks, and then- well, I at least threw in a bit extra, because we've been giving you a lot of grief about the whole Lila thing."

Marinette grinned, picking up the gift card. An amount was scrawled on the back, and- wow, it was not a small amount. Marinette was willing to bet that more people than just Alya had put in extra. Either that, or people had very expensive tastes. "Thank you."

"It's our apology to you. We should have listened to you earlier." Alya looked sheepish. "I was just too excited about all of the potential scoops that I could get from Lila, I didn't stop to fact-check and really think about what she was saying. I'll do better in the future, I promise."

Marinette could only beam. This was what she had been waiting for.

"So…" Alya started, leaning forward with her eyes alight. Marinette quirked an eyebrow back at her. "You dressed Jagged Stone and made the coolest jacket and pants that I've ever seen! What was that like? Nino says that you have progress photos- can I see them before Ms. Bustier gets back from the office? I want to hear all about it!"

With a laugh, Marinette pulled out her phone and swiped to the photos that she had taken. "Of course! So a couple months ago, Penny approached me about designing something…"

Maybe it would take a couple weeks for them to really get past all of this and for their friendship to fully recover, but Marinette was confident that they could. Alya had no doubt learned a few lessons about listening to Marinette, and something told Marinette that Lila was going to get in no small amount of trouble, potentially even getting kicked out of their school. Even if she didn't, Lila's power was gone. No one would believe her now.

And that was how it was meant to be.